Forgiveness, Epiphany 7B

Scripture appointed can be found at http://lectionarypage.net/YearC_RCL/Epiphany/CEpi7_RCL.html

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Shovel in hand, I was hard at work.

I’d been at it for a while, scoop after scoop, digging a hole with endless potential.

Australia? China? The world was my oyster—and I was tunneling through!

My sense of reason had vanished, in my four-year-old fervor to get to the other side.

It was preschool, 1981.

And, I had dreams!

But, those dreams would come to an end, swiftly and painfully--

As Tracy McClure dropped a plastic pail full of sand on my toe.

That bucket hurt!

And, it was with a sense of righteous fury that I swung my arm round with all my might—striking her across the face with my little plastic shovel.

She wailed, of course she would, and teachers came running…

I still remember my indignation as I protested, “but she!”

Only four, and I was already an expert in retribution.

An eye for an eye.

Tit for tat.

What you sow is what you reap.

Your bucket, my shovel! That’s justice for you!

 I may have been four, but I was no fool.

Hammurabi’s code was at work in the sandbox.

The sandbox, where the teachers’ intervention kept the violence from escalating—for violence all too often grows unbounded. Hammurabi’s ancient code, was established to maintain social order—and the laws that limited retribution to an “eye for an eye” were enacted in order to prevent the escalation of violence. The law of retribution brought limits to what could be done in retaliation for a crime—limits that were intended to prevent intertribal blood feud and keep the violence contained. The law of retribution is a form of justice but while it is understood to be just, it is not merciful.

Which is why today’s collection of readings can seem striking.

Let’s begin with a quick recap…

Joseph was the eleventh son of Jacob. Jacob made no secret of his love for Joseph and Joseph’s brothers grew resentful of the favoritism bestowed upon him.

The brothers plotted in secret and, capturing Joseph, they sold him into slavery—all the while claiming that Joseph had been killed by a wild animal.

Joseph ended up in Egypt, where he rose through the ranks of slaves—and where his ability to interpret dreams led him to the role of chief advisor to Pharaoh.

Joseph has become a man of earthly power and, when famine drives his brothers to seek help in Egypt, they fail to recognize that it is their own brother to whom they submit their petition.

But, rather than the vengeance they would have understood to be their due, they were met with mercy.

Joseph doesn’t behave in the way they expected and, rather than death, he offers his brothers a new chance at life, “You shall settle in the land of Goshen, and you shall be near me, you and your children and your children's children, as well as your flocks, your herds, and all that you have. I will provide for you there--since there are five more years of famine to come--so that you and your household, and all that you have, will not come to poverty.'" (Gen 43:10-11). In this, not only are the brothers’ expectations overturned, but the hearers as well—for, it is far too easy to make sense of revenge and non-sense of mercy.

Which is why this dénouement to the story of Joseph comes across as a surprise—to his brothers and to the reader!

For what Joseph gives to his brothers is not justice, it is mercy. Mercy born of God’s love.

Mercy, the intermingling of justice and forgiveness—born of God’s love and evidence of grace.

Justice and forgiveness.

This is the space in which we encounter the Gospel we heard proclaimed today.

The space in which justice and forgiveness meet.

When I was four, I understood justice. But, I did not yet understand forgiveness. And, if I am to be honest, I’m still working on understanding forgiveness.

“Jesus said, "I say to you that listen, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. Do to others as you would have them do to you.”

We have heard these words so often, that they can come across as platitudinous. But, if we listen, if we truly listen, we may find that these words are not intended to comfort—they are intended to confront. To confront us in our self-righteousness, to confront us in our desire for vengeance, to confront us in our hardness of heart. These are challenging words—not comforting ones.

And, in this, I want to issue a caution. Too often, these words have been used to proof text people in abusive relationships. Too often these words have been used to keep victims in “their place”. This is not that, and that is an interpretation I reject. Consider, “Do to others as you would have them do to you” and, in your consideration, take these words as an imperative to keep yourself safe from harm, just as you would have others kept safe.

Many of you know of the work of reconciliation spearheaded by Archbishop Desmond Tutu in post-apartheid South Africa. In Desmond and Mpho Tutu’s work, “The Book of Forgiving”, they reflect that “Some find forgiveness difficult because they believe forgiving means forgetting the pain they have suffered. I can say unequivocally that forgiving does not mean forgetting the harm. It does not mean denying the harm. It does not mean pretending the harm did not happen or the injury was not as bad as it really was. Quite the opposite is true. The cycle of forgiveness can be activated and completed only in absolute truth and honesty.

Forgiving requires giving voice to the violations and naming the pains we have suffered. Forgiving does not require that we carry our suffering in silence or be martyrs on a cross of lies. Forgiveness does not mean that we pretend things are anything other than they are.”

So, let’s not pretend, let’s not pretend that the words of scripture we heard today are easy or obvious. They are words of confrontation that, when applied, have the power to overturn the entire system of violence and revenge. They are words of challenge, that force us to rethink the limits of our capacity to forgive. They are words of comfort for those who long to see our communities transformed by the unsettling, uprooting, power of God’s love. Historian Christopher Dawson observes, that “love your enemies” is “not just some pious little moralism; it is something that will deconstruct the whole mythological world” (source: Religion and the Rise of Western Culture, pp. 80-83, as quoted in http://girardianlectionary.net/reflections/year-c/epiphany7c/.

These are words that threaten to deconstruct a world that operates with threat and vengeance. Deconstruct a world that relies on power for persuasion. Deconstruct a world in which too many see mercy as a weakness and forgiveness as a fault.

So, today let us proclaim it is in mercy and forgiveness that we will find our strength! That it is in mercy and forgiveness that we will live God’s love!

Hear the words of the apostle,

“What is sown is perishable, what is raised is imperishable. It is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory. It is sown in weakness, it is raised in power.”

Amen.