Grace Upon Grace

This sermon was preached at Grace Lutheran Church (River Forest, IL) on October 25, Reformation Sunday. You can watch the livestream recording and follow along in the bulletin. The picture was taken by me in Wittenberg Germany on July 21, 2023.

Friends in Christ, grace be unto you and peace in the name God the Father and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

1. As a Lutheran preacher, today tempts me into the past, or at least into my memories of it. Like many of you, I have walked the streets of Wittenberg, Germany, cradle of the Lutheran Reformation. I have fond memories of standing outside the Schlosskirche where Martin Luther *maybe* nailed the theses that lit the match of reform. I can picture Lucas Cranach’s altarpiece in St. Mary’s Church, where the townsfolk gathered to be nourished by Word and sacrament. I can even smell WittenBurger, which sells the best burgers and fries in town. But one of my favorite pictures from our last visit is of our two boys, then nine and eleven, standing in the street, looking at a phone, conferring with one another. We were walking back into town from our hotel, the oddly named Pension Alabama, and they were trying to navigate for us using the map on the phone. The picture reminds me that our Reformation heritage is not so much about where we have been; it’s about being honest about where we are so that we can discern where we’re going.
2. Those in the crowd who had been following Jesus have begun to feel a little lost. In the preceding nineteen verses, Jesus has both declared himself the Light of the World and foretold his own death. What sort of guy have they been following around? He invites them to continue in his word, and in him to find both truth and freedom. And this is where it begins to go off the rails. Freedom? Are you suggesting we aren’t free, or that we’ve ever not been free? It would be funny if it weren’t so sad. To be a descendent of Abraham is, of course, to be part of a people whose identity is marked both by their slavery and by God’s deliverance. And while they may not be slaves now, freedom is hardly the word you’d apply to a people living under the bootheel of Roman imperialism. They are being dishonest with Jesus but, even more, they are lying to themselves, unable to accept the truth of their past or their present.
3. It would be unfair, of course, to imagine that the crowds that day were having a unique experience. Accepting reality is not our strong suit as human beings. As has become increasingly clear in these days, there are plenty of folks who want to argue about past, too. About how wonderful it was, and how if we could just get back there, all would be well. Of course, many who do this forget that even when the past was good, it wasn’t good for everyone. Sure, if you can overlook the racism, the misogyny, the oppression of pretty much anyone outside of a very narrowly-defined norm, yeah, it was pretty great. Then again, for some that’s what’s most attractive, and there are swelling choruses seeking to restore a warped version of Christianity in which patriarchy and power are the bywords of the day. And while we see these lies clearly for what they are, we all live with warped vision. We deny our mortality, our sinfulness, our culpability in this world’s systems. We imagine we can correct course in an instant, for we are masters of our own destinies, are we not? We are free, are we not?
4. Well, no. We are not. It always catches up with us eventually. And in case we don’t notice on our own, Jesus points it out. Sinners are enslaved to sin. Paul drive home the point, noting that on our own, we can never be justified in God’s sight. The Episcopal preacher Fleming Rutledge gets at this in, of all places, her exploration of Tolkien’s Middle-earth, beginning with the hero of The Hobbit encountering the character Gollum for the first time. The wretched Gollum is “miserable, alone, lost,” living out “endless unmarked days without light or hope of betterment.” The reader’s “sense of horror is provoked not by Gollum’s sliminess but by the hopelessness of his bondage.” This, Rutledge writes, “mirrors the picture of the human predicament described by St. Paul in the epistle to the Romans. The universal human condition is one of bondage to Sin and Death.” We are all in thrall to a power greater than ourselves, but also a power to which we give ourselves over all too easily.
5. Whither then do we go? Jesus tells us that if we continue in his word, we will know truth and freedom. That word “continue,” however, isn’t quite right. Or at least isn’t the whole story. It comes from the Greek “meno,” better translated as “abide.” Jesus invites us to make his home with him and then, perfectly aware that we are unlikely to do so on our own, goes ahead and does it for us: “If the Son makes you free, you will be free indeed.” Freedom is being at home with God, at home with ourselves, and at home with one another in this world. In the words of the psalmist, “Be still!” Stop striving, pretending, avoiding. Just stop, sink back, and rest in the arms of the One who is your home. In Christ are forgiveness and life. In him, we find one another, and we discover who we actually are. In him, we find out where we are and where we are going – and it turns out both places are Jesus.
6. To an exiled people, Jeremiah brings words of promise. Goodness knows they could use the hope; when your country has been defeated, your temple destroyed, your family forced into a foreign land, it’s no use pretending you haven’t hit rock bottom. And what does the Lord say? That I will bring you back to the old covenant, put things back how they used to be? No. God promises something entirely new. In love, God will not even remember their sins anymore. This covenant is enacted by Jesus in his death and resurrection. Our sins die with him and we are made new. New hearts. New relationships with God. New invitations to live and serve our neighbors and this world. We were in bondage, and now we’re not. We were dead, and now we’re not. The Son has set us free, and his Word always does what it says. Where have you been? No matter; you are forgiven, you are found, you are beloved. Where are you now? Here, together in Christ, alive for the sake of the world. Where are you going? Through this world, for one another’s sake, toward Christ. You need no printed map, no written law. Christ is written upon your heart, and he is forever your refuge and strength, even in these anxious times. A mighty fortress with room enough for all. Come, and abide. The Son says you belong. Amen.

And now may the peace that passes all understanding keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus, this day and forever. Amen.

This sermon was preached at Grace Lutheran Church (River Forest, IL) on October 18, the Twenty-First Sunday after Pentecost. It was also Confirmation Sunday, and we celebrated the Rite of Affirmation of Baptism with ten of our young people (including my son, Anders). You can watch the livestream recording and follow along in the bulletin. The image is David Lyle, of course; that’s what’s on his name tag.

Confirmands, family and friends, all people in Christ, grace be unto you and peace in the name God the Father and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

1. I usually reserve props for my children’s sermons, but on Confirmation Sunday we don’t have one of those. So, this seems as good a time as any to reintroduce you to my best friend from childhood, David Lyle. I don’t remember getting this teddy bear, he was simply always there. And it does seem a bit odd that he has the same name as me, but it says so right here. My kids told me today that of all the David Lyles they know, this one is their favorite. I’m not sure what to do with that! Truth be told, nearly everything I owned as a little boy had this same name tape sewn onto it. My mother must’ve thought I would misplace everything I owned, which, now that I’m a parent, is a sentiment I can very much understand. But this David Lyle wasn’t just property to keep track of; he was (and is!) a beloved friend who is marked with my own name.
2. To put one’s name or image upon something is to make it their own, from brand-name clothing to the branding of cattle. This is what’s at the heart of the dispute in today’s gospel reading from Matthew. The assorted leaders arrayed against Jesus – today including the Pharisees and the Herodians, two groups who disliked each other so much that the only thing they had in common was their mutual dislike of Jesus – come to him with a question. On the third day of what would become known as Holy Week, they come to him with a trap: Tell us, is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar or not? The Pharisees are opposed to Roman occupation, while the Herodians gleefully support it for their own enrichment, but they both know that an answer one way or the other could doom Jesus.
3. No one likes to pay taxes. Not us, but especially not those who lived under the bootheel of Rome, where taxes were less a way to support the common good and more an extractive tool of oppression and subjugation. But Jesus sees something more than taxes at work here. He knows that their question means more than they know; it is about identity and belonging. Whose image is on the coin? Caesar’s? Fine, give unto Caesar. But another question lurks under the surface: Forget the coins; whose image is on you?
4. On this Confirmation Sunday, identity and belonging are what it’s all about. Friends, at some point in the past – for some of you, you were babies, others were old enough that you can remember – your parents brought you to the font, in this congregation or another, and God claimed you as a child of God in the waters of baptism. Last night, these ten young people stood in this space to give their witness statements, and they each offered incredible insight into the life of faith. What does it mean to be washed in the waters of baptism and marked with the image of God? For many, it is the profound reminder that God is with them in all things, now and in the future. After all, as Will points out, God “knows me better than I do” and “will be with me through everything.” Grace writes, “I know that Jesus will be with me no matter what the future holds.” Mae notes that her faith “has helped me focus on the present, instead of worrying about what is to come.” And of course, not everything that comes will always be good. As Avery succinctly puts it, “bad happens, but [God] can make good happen, too.” And when bad things happen, our faith opens us outward. Annelise, reflecting on a sad event in her school community, writes that, “My faith in God helped me realized that I needed to be brave in the face of my own grief so that I could help my friends face theirs.”
5. Jesus is well aware that we live in a broken world with many competing claims upon our lives, forces that seek to brand us. If we weren’t trapped in sin and suffering, if death did not hold such sway over the way we live, Jesus wouldn’t have had to come and save us. His encounter with the Pharisees and the Herodians happens just days before the death he knows is coming. The powers of this world, religious and political, are just not that interested in his message of grace and love. The empire – and there’s always an empire – is ruled by a Caesar who would put his own face on the coins to remind everyone who is in charge. The empire does all it can to rid itself of Jesus, putting him to death brutally and publicly. But God refuses to accept our “no,” and continues to say “yes” to us. Jesus’ death, in the mystery of God’s grace, becomes the mechanism for life. For God so loved the world. The giving of God’s Son is, as Angelina says, “the greatest example of God’s love.” Our lives in this world are ever shaped by the death and resurrection of Jesus in which we were baptized, and in which the imago dei, the image of God in which we were made, has been so beautifully restored.
6. Restored and reconciled to God in Christ, our faith opens us up to our neighbors, wherever they may be. After all, as Mikey reminds us, our neighbors “are also literally made in the image of the one true God,” and we are to treat them accordingly. Norah says, “Being a person of faith calls me to see others in the best possible light and not jump to conclusions.” The empires of this world will always seek to grind us down and build themselves up. Refusing to pay our taxes won’t do much to change this. Jesus knows that the whole order must be overturned, and that begins in his cross. As those joined to him in the resurrection, we know that the best insurrection is love. Seeing ourselves and one another as those made and marked by God begins to change everything.
7. So, dear friends, as you claim your faith as your own and say “yes” to God’s “yes,” keep living out the promises of your baptism. This begins, of course, by staying connected to your faith community. It’s not easy, as Jack notes, “especially when I wake up early all week and want to sleep in,” I hear you! But Jack goes on: “getting into the church and worshipping God and what [God] did as Jesus feels very rewarding.” Whatever your future holds, good and bad, your future is held by God. Let your life be a song of praise. Anders writes, “Singing is one of the best ways to praise God, and God even returns the favor by exulting over us with singing.” (Love you, kid.) Keep joining the song, friends. Keep praising your God. Continue to serve your neighbors. We are cheering you on, and you will always have a home here at Grace. So, sure, give to Caesar what is Caesar’s. But give to God what belongs to God. And that’s everything, for God gave everything, even the Son, for you that you would have life. God’s image is indelibly marked upon you, and you bear the name of Jesus Christ forever. You will never be lost again. Amen.

And now may the peace that passes all understanding keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus, this day and forever. Amen.

This sermon was proclaimed at Grace Lutheran Church (River Forest, IL) on October 4, the Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost. You can watch the livestream recording and follow along in the bulletin. The image is The Red Vineyard by Vincent van Gogh (1888, public domain).

Friends in Christ, grace be unto you and peace in the name God the Father and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

1. What a fortuitous set of biblical texts for Faith Promise Sunday! On this day when we focus on stewardship – of our time, talent, and treasure – we are reminded that we are, in fact, stewards. Stewards are, by definition, not owners. In Isaiah’s song and Jesus’ story, we hear of a landowner who owned a vineyard. Yes, we are back in another vineyard today. Isaiah and Jesus tell us of all the landowner has done to prepare the land. Stones have been cleared, choice vines planted, a fence and a tower built. What else could the landowner have done? Put into the trust of the stewards, the people, us, however, things go quickly and definitively awry. The good grapes of justice and righteousness have become bloodshed and a cry. The stewards have forgotten their place and are in full rebellion, thinking they can make the vineyard their own. They even put the owner’s son to death. And what will happen to such horrible stewards? The religious leaders with whom Jesus is speaking believe they know, perhaps because it’s what they would do. These wretched stewards will be put to a miserable death, and the vineyard will be given to others. So, if that is what may happen to bad stewards, I’d like to invite you into better stewardship. Please take out your Faith Promise cards and add twenty percent to your financial commitment. And while you’re at it, check a few more boxes for volunteer and service opportunities. Better safe than sorry, friends!
2. If only it were so easy. But frankly, things in the vineyard may be too far gone. Both Isaiah and Jesus are clear. God has done all that is needed for creation to flourish, and for us to flourish within in. Our readings are filled with details of judicious planning and care. In contrast to this is the violence unleashed by those called to care for the vineyard. The preacher Carolyn Sharp notes that “the affective force of the parable is generated in no small part by the contrast in verbs of tending and verbs of death-dealing.” The violence in the parable is, if we’re paying attention, startling. Those sent by the landowner are beaten, stoned, or killed. Finally, the owner’s son is seized, thrown out, and killed. And again, those with whom Jesus is speaking assume that the answer to all of this bloodshed is more bloodshed, violence upon violence to make things right.
3. As in the parable, so in our world – the violence, if we’re paying attention, is startling. There is, in our broken-down vineyard, never a shortage of examples. There is our extractive, violent attitude toward the vineyard itself, seeking as much as we can take for ourselves. Our minds range from Gaza to Ukraine to Iran. And closer to home, too. This week, a failed execution in Tennessee brought again to the forefront the notion of state violence and capital punishment. Is violence and death today really the way to find justice for violence and death in the past? This week, the allegations of Jane Doe against seven fraternity brothers at Cornell have made painfully clear, again, the prevalence of sexual violence, and of how often we, as a society, fail victims in the wake of this violence, which is a kind of violence, too. Justice and righteousness? Instead, a cry of pain and lament.
4. Into this vineyard of violence comes the Son. The response of the tenants in the parable is, of course, ludicrous. Not only do they think they can get away with this one last murder; they go so far as to believe they by killing the heir, they will become inheritors themselves. Why they would think such a thing is beyond me, but their bloodlust has clearly gone to their heads. So, they seize him, toss him out, and put him to death. What will happen next? Will the landowner enact violence and vengeance? That’s certainly what one would expect in this world. But here, the parable ends. This story is told by Jesus on the Tuesday of Holy Week. In just a few days, this world’s tenants will seize Jesus, take him out of the city, and put him to death. A state execution to get rid of this religious rabble rouser. Except for one thing: The landowner is the Lord, and God does not respond in the way we would expect. It is not Jesus who says here that the owner will repay violence with vengeance. Fire and brimstone will not rain down upon these wicked ones. No. God will take stone that was rejected and make it the cornerstone. This Jesus who is crucified will be raised, and he comes back speaking peace. In a twist both divine and bizarre, God makes the farcical claim of the tenants come true. In the death of the Son, they do become heirs, inheritors of the promises of God in Christ. Our old lives and our violent ways are broken open on this stone, and we are raised to new life. Jesus makes clear that violence and death-dealing are not the ways of our God, and we have been saved for a new kind of life. Life eternal, yes, but also abundant life in this world – a life marked by the sanctity, safety, and dignity of all people.
5. Friends, what a fortuitous set of biblical texts for Faith Promise Sunday. Not because we can make things right by giving a little bit more, but because God is making all things right by giving everything for us, even the Son, in whose death and life we live. We are not the owners. This is not ours and thank God for that! Called by Christ, our purpose at Grace is to grow in grace, live with love, and go to serve. We make commitments and promises, offering to share some of what has been entrusted to us so that this mission and ministry at Grace and beyond might flourish and thrive. We make these promises as signs of our whole lives being given over to God’s good purposes. We make these promises in response to the unbreakable promises made to us by God, in baptism and every day since. The vineyard is not yet as it should be. But God is still here, working and tending and caring for life. God is still here, turning us from violence and death, turning us toward our neighbors in love. God is still here, and we, in the grace of it all, simply get to join in. Amen.

And now may the peace that passes all understanding keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus, this day and forever. Amen.

I preached this sermon at Grace Lutheran Church (River Forest, IL) on September 20, the Seventeen Sunday after Pentecost, and the day after I travelled to Waypost Camp for its service of Holy Closure. You can watch the livestream recording and follow along in the bulletin. The photograph was taken by me in July, 2014, a classic Mission Lake sunset at Waypost.

Friends in Christ, grace be unto you and peace in the name God the Father and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

1. Having three children who play sports, people sometimes assume that they got their athletic talents from me. And they, of course, correct! I was, after all, named Defensive Most Valuable Player of my soccer team. In second grade. What can I say? I peaked early! Not only was I named Defensive MVP, but I have the trophy to prove it, somewhere in my dad’s basement. It is, sadly, one of only a few trophies I ever received, because back in my day you didn’t get trophies just for showing up. Trophies were for winners! Kids these days get trophies just for showing up. Participation trophies. Can you imagine?
2. I don’t think Jonah could have imagined. Or maybe he could have and just wouldn’t have liked it. I can almost hear him shouting at the kids as they walk past with their participation trophies, “Get off my lawn!” On the other hand, the prophet Jonah was not exactly a model of emotional maturity. You know the story. God desires the people of Nineveh to repent of their sin. So, God calls Jonah. The prophet, instead of travelling 500 miles east to Nineveh, hops a boat and tries to head to Tarshish, 2,000 miles in other direction. There’s a storm and a great big fish, in whose belly Jonah spends three days – foreshadowing! Why is Jonah so keen to avoid God’s call? Partly because of who the Ninevites are; they are sinful pagans and they are the enemies of Jonah’s people. But mostly because of who God is. Jonah knows that God is merciful, slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love. And Jonah can’t stand that about God. He knows that God is going to let the Ninevites off the hook and make room for them in God’s mercy and grace. What kind of God does such a thing? Are there trophies for everyone? By the way, when you get home today, read the whole book of Jonah. It won’t take long. Read it out loud. Use funny voices. This stuff is hilarious, and it gets at the absurd character of our God.
3. Of course, Nineveh was a one-time deal. Jesus, who would soon spend three days in the belly of death, came to enact God’s ways writ large. So, another parable. A landowner needs help in the vineyard. He hires workers. He finds the go-getters ready to go at 6:00 a.m. But there is too much work, so he hires more at nine, then noon, then three. Finally, at 5:00, he finds some idlers who haven’t found work yet. He needs them and brings them in. To everyone’s surprise – and this happens for everyone to see – the latecomers receive the usual full day’s wage. Excitement builds throughout the crowd. It looks like the landowner is now paying out a denarius per hour, not per day! But it is not to be. The 3:00 o’clock crew, then the folks from noon, the 9 o’clockers, and the all-day folks all open their pay envelopes to find the exact same thing, just as they were promised. It is, I confess, difficult not to empathize with them in their grumbling. They’d worked all day, bearing the full burden of the sun and the heat and the work itself. How dare the landowner do such a thing? A business, a world, run in such a way will soon fall apart! Why would anyone go to work on time the next day? What sort of way is this for a landowner to manage the land? What sort of way is this for God to run a world? Is there just going to be room for anyone, for everyone, now? Does Jesus think that God can just do whatever God wants? Oh. Wait.
4. While it is true that many of us have more in common with the all-day workers than the latecomers, it is also true that there was a time when we were outside looking in. And times we continue to feel that way. Where were you found? How did you come into the vineyard? Yesterday, I drove about 250 miles each way to that I could be at Waypost Camp. It was there, on the shores of Mission Lake in central Wisconsin, that I came to know the God who had first met me in the waters of the font. The first time I went there, I was a five-year old with a broken arm, a speech impediment, and lots of questions about my place in the world. I don’t know if it’s common for five-year olds to have existential crises, but that’s where I was at. Throughout the years, my life would intersect Waypost at the most important, formative times, both as a camper and then as a counselor. Waypost was where I found my voice, my vocation, my life. It is the holiest ground on which I have ever stood. I made the trip yesterday because, after years of declining attendance and the resulting financial burden, the decision was made to close the site and focus on the other two camps the organization runs. So, a bunch of us gathered to worship and to say goodbye to the land and the lake, holy places where Jesus let us know we were welcomed and loved and never left behind. So much so that he gave his life to seal the deal. In a wonderful act, the vast majority of the camp is being donated the Ho Chunk Nation, the indigenous people whose history in that place goes back much further that mine. It is sad and holy and wonderful. There was a time I was outside, a newcomer, unaware of God’s goodness and grace. And then I found out. Why wouldn’t I want the same for others? And why would I care who gets how much?
5. God, you see, doesn’t keep records the way we do. And God doesn’t deal in fractions. The laborers in the vineyard wanted to be paid per hour, but when God gives, God gives everything. When you come forward today to receive our Lord’s body and blood, you won’t get one twelfth, or one sixth, or half of what Jesus has to give you. You get everything, for you, for that is who our God is and how our God works. God isn’t interested in your bookkeeping. Heck, the books have been cooked by the grace of the cross. Your sins are forgiven. Your old ways are dead, but you are alive. Why keep anyone out, or jostle for position? Don’t count the hours. Be grateful for the time. Because God’s work is worth doing, and there are people in this world who still need to hear. To hear that God loves them, too. That the gifts of Jesus, of forgiveness and mercy and life and grace, are for them, too. Just as they are for you. How might your vision change if you kept this parable in front of you, reminding us all that God’s makes space for everyone? Christ, who was dead, is alive, and the old ways are over. First or last, who cares? The good news is that we’re in, standing together on the holy ground of the gospel. Enough with grumbling when gratitude will do. Thanks be to God that God is not like us, and that God will insist on doing what God desires to do, going out over and over again until all who were lost are now found. Amen.

And now may the peace that passes all understanding keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus, this day and forever. Amen.

This sermon was preached at Grace Lutheran Church (River Forest, IL) on September 13, the Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost. You can watch the livestream recording and follow along in the bulletin. The image is Parable of the Unforgiving Servant by Claude Vignon (1629, public domain).

Friends in Christ, grace be unto you and peace in the name God the Father and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

1. Although we were dressed in our Sunday best, Sunday mornings did not find my big brother and I on our best behavior. As our parents tried to cajole and corral us into the station wagon so that we could go to worship, we could be depended upon to bicker and fight all the way. Sunday mornings were the perfect time for us to get in one last jab or gibe. After all, we knew that we would soon hear those magic words: “I therefore declare to you the entire forgiveness of all of your sins.” Bam! Things done? No problem! Left undone? The same! Our sin-sullied souls would be spotless soon again. Why not call each other a few more names on the way there? While my brother and I were right to treat God’s grace as entirely dependable, we may have missed the point in several ways.
2. So, a parable: There was a man who owed his king 10,000 talents. Which is ludicrous. A single talent was worth roughly twenty years wages. This guy owes the king upwards of ten billion dollars. Billion, with a “b,” This is more than the case of a ne-er-do-well who bet too much on the ponies. It’s even more than could happen to a guy whose spouse got incredibly ill only to get the shaft from their insurance company. Ten billion? Jesus is teaching with hyperbolic hilarity here. But the man, get this, says, “Just give me a bit more time!” To get his hands on that kind of cash? Come on. The jig is up. Except for one thing: the character of the king. He doesn’t make a deal on the man’s term. Instead, he rips up the paperwork. Done! Free! Forgiven! You’d think a gift like that would change a guy. But as the parable continues, he can’t let go of this world’s ways. His fellow servant, who owes him like half a year’s salary, asks for more time. Why give it to him? Fair is fair, what’s his is his, so off to jail. Geez, man. No wonder the king is a bit, umm, peeved when he hears of it. Even when confronted by a grace beyond surprise, the man cannot conceive of a new way of living and being in this world. Debts, even if we’ve been forgiven, must be repaid. Evil must be punished. Violence must be met with more violence, repaying it seventy-seven times, as Lamech says near the start of the story, all the way back in Genesis chapter four.
3. The world has no shortage of violence and evil. On Friday, we marked the twenty-fifth anniversary of the September 11^th terrorist attacks. The attacks did not simply mar the blue skies of that Tuesday morning; they took away the illusion that the world was moving out of the horrors of the twentieth century toward something better. We did, for a time, band together in unity but that has long since been squandered. War continues to be the word of the day, as peoples all keep paying each other back in an endless cycle. For every step forward we seem to take several backwards and sideways. As my seminary professor, Terry Fretheim, once wrote, “Progress in sin and its effects matches the progress in civilization.” Which is to say, sin and the evil it produces are no less a problem today than ever. Where, we may well wonder, is God in all of this? Will human ways always rule the day?
4. Joseph’s brothers speak to this fear, and with good reason. They did, after all, sell their brother into slavery and tell their dad he was dead. For the record, my brother and I never did this to each other before church! In a long and winding road of family disfunction, Joseph and his brothers are reunited, the younger brother having risen to prominence in Egypt. He saves his family from famine and they’re all living happily ever after. Until, that is, their father, Jacob, dies. They begin to worry that Joseph has just been playing nice until Jacob is gone. They can’t imagine that he would treat them differently that they have treated him. Forgiveness, no matter how often we’ve heard of it, is always surprising when you’re the one mired in sin. So, here’s the surprise: “Do not be afraid! Am I in the place of God? Even though you intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good.” See what happens here! Joseph does not tell his brothers that their sin wasn’t evil or didn’t matter. Neither does he let them hide behind the idea that it was God’s will. Their sin is their responsibility alone. But, in the mystery of God’s will and work, God takes their sinful strands and weaves them into the fabric of the divine purpose. Or, to mix metaphors, in the words of J.R.R. Tolkien, God has taken what seem and sound like the most triumphant notes of evil’s song and “woven [them] into its own solemn pattern.” And in the promise of God’s refusal to let evil win the day, we can begin to find the grace to forgive one another.
5. Back to our parable. Which, by the way, has a word not just for those of us who act like the unforgiving servant, and, yes, clearly, we should try not to be such hypocritical jerks. Maybe God also wants the rich people of the world to model themselves after the king, because maybe a lot of this world’s problems would be improved if the boot of debt were lifted off the backs of the impoverished. There’s a word for the second servant, too, a word of promise, reminding the downtrodden that the King of heaven is on their side; they will not be held down forever. But the surprise of it all is that God isn’t quite like any of the people in the parable, none of whom can finally escape this world’s cycles. God, you see, is absolutely the king who looks at our ridiculous tab and then tears it up! You’re free! But when we then go back to being ungrateful hacks, God does not throw us in debtors’ prison or threaten us with hell. That would be fair and that would be just, but it’s not what God does. No. God simply goes and becomes one of us. Collects our ledgers and takes them to Calvary. “For to this end Christ died and lived again,” Paul writes, “so that he might be Lord of both the dead and the living.” So, you bunch of sinners, you who were dead: You are forgiven, not seven or seventy-seven times but infinitely. Forgiven, you are alive. Yes, you are off the hook, but you are also alive to the ways of this surprising God who is at loose in the world. You have the power of God and the keys of the Kingdom. You can unbind the debts and overcome the evil in this world, because God already has. So, yes, let’s all try not to be like the hypocritical jerk in Jesus’ story. But honestly, that’s a low bar to clear for the people of God’s promise. What might the world look like if we lived the Lord’s Prayer, forgiving others as God has forgiven us? And when you mess that up? Well, come back again next week. You may do things and leave others undone, but Jesus isn’t done with you yet. Amen.

And now may the peace that passes all understanding keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus, this day and forever. Amen.