8-31-14: What Does God Have to Do to Get Your Attention?

Exodus 3:1-15 (NIV)

Now Moses was tending the flock of Jethro his father-in-law, the priest of Midian, and he led the flock to the far side of the wilderness and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. There the angel of the Lord appeared to him in flames of fire from within a bush. Moses saw that though the bush was on fire it did not burn up. So Moses thought, “I will go over and see this strange sight—why the bush does not burn up.” When the Lord saw that he had gone over to look, God called to him from within the bush, “Moses! Moses!” And Moses said, “Here I am.” “Do not come any closer,” God said. “Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground.” Then he said, “I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob.” At this, Moses hid his face, because he was afraid to look at God. The Lord said, “I have indeed seen the misery of my people in Egypt. I have heard them crying out because of their slave drivers, and I am concerned about their suffering. So I have come down to rescue them from the hand of the Egyptians and to bring them up out of that land into a good and spacious land, a land flowing with milk and honey—the home of the Canaanites, Hittites, Amorites, Perizzites, Hivites and Jebusites. And now the cry of the Israelites has reached me, and I have seen the way the Egyptians are oppressing them. So now, go. I am sending you to Pharaoh to bring my people the Israelites out of Egypt.” But Moses said to God, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?” And God said, “I will be with you. And this will be the sign to you that it is I who have sent you: When you have brought the people out of Egypt, you will worship God on this mountain.” Moses said to God, “Suppose I go to the Israelites and say to them, ‘The God of your fathers has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘What is his name?’ Then what shall I tell them?” God said to Moses, “ I am who I am. This is what you are to say to the Israelites: ‘ I am has sent me to you.’ ” God also said to Moses, “Say to the Israelites, ‘The Lord, the God of your fathers—the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob—has sent me to you.’ “This is my name forever, the name you shall call me from generation to generation.

Matthew 16:21-28 (NIV)

From that time on Jesus began to explain to his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer many things at the hands of the elders, the chief priests and the teachers of the law, and that he must be killed and on the third day be raised to life. Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. “Never, Lord!” he said. “This shall never happen to you!” Jesus turned and said to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; you do not have in mind the concerns of God, but merely human concerns.” Then Jesus said to his disciples, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it. What good will it be for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul? Or what can anyone give in exchange for their soul? For the Son of Man is going to come in his Father’s glory with his angels, and then he will reward each person according to what they have done. “Truly I tell you, some who are standing here will not taste death before they see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom.”

What does God have to do to get your attention?

This week the lectionary has us continuing with our Old Testament hero, Moses. And Moses' story is never boring. Saved during his newborn days by a combination of his mom's creativity and good luck, Moses had a rather charmed life growing up with Egypt's royals.

That is, until the very first time he faced controversy and acted out. He saw an Egyptian beating an Israelite slave, and killed the Egyptian in anger. This was the first time he ever broke out of his privileged life as the Pharaoh's adopted grandson, and tried to stand up for his oppressed neighbor. But as soon as word of what he did got out, he fled.

Sometimes it's easier to go into denial than deal with the consequences of our actions. Moses is a lot like you and me.

So now he's built a whole life for himself out of his denial. He's run away, and in his hiding place he's married to the daughter of a priest, with a son and a nice gig tending to his father-in-law's farm. Why get out of denial when it's made him as good a home as he's ever had? He knows perfectly well that he's an Israelite by blood, he knows that he's left all of his kin behind, suffering, but he hasn't given them a passing thought since he took off. He's very comfortable where he is.

I may have used this phrase from the pulpit before, but we people of God have a saying: we're here to comfort the afflicted, and afflict the comfortable.

And afflicted he shall be. But first, God has to get his attention.

Meanwhile, some thousands of years later, a thirty-something-year-old teacher is trying to explain the game plan to his disciples for what must be the hundredth time by now. And they still don't get it. Droves of other people get it. So many people understand who this teacher is, and how important his work is, that he hasn't had a minute to himself in nearly a year. He's surrounded by people who can hardly wait to see what comes next, so vigilant that they miss nothing. But the twelve men closest to him don't get it. They're distracted. And he has to get their attention.

Comfort the afflicted, and afflict the comfortable.

It wasn't even the sight of a huge fire feet away from him that pulled Moses away from what he was doing, it was his bizarre observation that the fire wasn't causing any damage. And finally, a man on the run is brought back home, and finally a man in denial is facing the truth.

What does God have to do to get your attention?

Lashing out against one of his best friends and telling him he may as well be Satan--he may as well be an enemy to him--might not have made Peter very happy, but it got his disciples to listen, if only for a moment, to the truth.

It's not easy to embrace God's plan for our lives, or God's call on us, especially when we always imagined our stories playing out rather differently. Jesus' disciples are a lot like you and me.

Much as we'd like to spend all of our time sitting at our teacher's feet, soaking up his wisdom, happy and comfortable, we're called to do more. Even Jesus' adversary could sit nearby, sharing in a common meal while contentedly listening to parables all day. Even Jesus' adversary can settle for a comfortable relationship with Jesus. We may as well be such an adversary if we're not willing to do the hard work of God.

What does God have to do to get your attention?

From the moment Moses saw that flaming shrubbery onward, his life was never comfortable again. He had to go back to the new Pharaoh and go head to head with a regime that was good to him. He had to stand by his word, and face an army. He had to take the Israelite's away from the only home and work they ever knew. Ironically, while lost and wandering for years on end in the desert, the Israelites complained that they were comfortable being slaves, and they fought, pleaded, and protested to Moses to just turn around and take everyone back to Egypt. What's the point of being free when your freedom comes with so much responsibility? The Israelites would rather just live with a broken, unjust system than take on the very hard work of change.

The Israelites are a lot like you and me.

Comfort the afflicted, and afflict the comfortable.

After all the years of grueling work he did, Moses never even got to see the promised land. In fact, the Israelites wandered in the wilderness for so long that very, very few of the people who left Egypt actually saw this journey through all the way to the end in the promised land. It was their children, and even their grandchildren, who got to benefit from the Exodus. That's how it works most of the time--we plant the seeds so someone else can benefit from the garden.

What does God have to do to get your attention?

Despite 50 years of dwindling numbers in our churches, we Christians are still in the majority among practiced faiths. Wherever you go, especially here in the United States, you're likely to find other Christians. It can be easy, and tempting, for us to settle for comfortable--a comfortable relationship with Jesus, a comfortable affiliation with a local church, and a comfortable Sunday morning routine. Comfortable. And distracted.

What distracts us? What comforts are we afraid of giving up? What stops us from taking up the cross, as Jesus says we have to do if we want to be true disciples? What makes us settle for something easier?

Jesus isn't the only thing we think about. And rightly so. We have families, and friends, and jobs, and mortgages, and student loans, and PTA meetings, and conferences, and errands, and plans. Getting through even the daily grind of all of our responsibilities can be enough to distract us, and enough to push Jesus off to the side.

And sometimes, we start worshipping Jesus the idea. Jesus the name. Jesus of our prayers. Jesus of tradition. Jesus of stained glass window art.

But not Jesus the real person. Not Jesus our Savior. Not Jesus, our advocate, our best friend, our everything. We lose focus.

What does God have to do to get your attention?

Nobody's angrily called me Satan recently, and if I see something on fire I'm much more likely to call the fire department than wait for it to start talking to me. Be that as it may, we can hear about the major moments in this Living Word and not realize that God is constantly breaking through, perhaps in more subtle ways, in our own narratives. To borrow a line from our friends in the United Church of Christ: God is still speaking.

How is God speaking to you? What is God saying to you? What has God done to break into your life and call you to action? How has God gotten your attention?

If you sometimes struggle to find where God is working in your life, try looking among the least of these--your neighbor who needs your help, your fellow disciple, your fellow child of Israel, is the very reflection of God. When you help that person, you serve.

And there are lots of people who need your help. The people who receive our Food for the Needy donations need your help. The families still affected by the flooding in Penn Yan in May need your help. Our local charity partners--the Living Well, the Middlesex Friendship House--need your help.

And that's just scratching the surface.

Listen to the voice of God, and don't run away if you hear him. God is still speaking.

What does God have to do to get your attention? Maybe he just did.

Amen.

8-24-14: Forgiveness, Part 3

Forgiveness, Part 3

Exodus 1:8-2:10 (NIV)

Then a new king, to whom Joseph meant nothing, came to power in Egypt. “Look,” he said to his people, “the Israelites have become far too numerous for us. Come, we must deal shrewdly with them or they will become even more numerous and, if war breaks out, will join our enemies, fight against us and leave the country.” So they put slave masters over them to oppress them with forced labor, and they built Pithom and Rameses as store cities for Pharaoh. But the more they were oppressed, the more they multiplied and spread; so the Egyptians came to dread the Israelites and worked them ruthlessly. They made their lives bitter with harsh labor in brick and mortar and with all kinds of work in the fields; in all their harsh labor the Egyptians worked them ruthlessly. The king of Egypt said to the Hebrew midwives, whose names were Shiphrah and Puah, “When you are helping the Hebrew women during childbirth on the delivery stool, if you see that the baby is a boy, kill him; but if it is a girl, let her live.” The midwives, however, feared God and did not do what the king of Egypt had told them to do; they let the boys live. Then the king of Egypt summoned the midwives and asked them, “Why have you done this? Why have you let the boys live?” The midwives answered Pharaoh, “Hebrew women are not like Egyptian women; they are vigorous and give birth before the midwives arrive.” So God was kind to the midwives and the people increased and became even more numerous. And because the midwives feared God, he gave them families of their own. Then Pharaoh gave this order to all his people: “Every Hebrew boy that is born you must throw into the Nile, but let every girl live.”

Now a man of the tribe of Levi married a Levite woman, and she became pregnant and gave birth to a son. When she saw that he was a fine child, she hid him for three months. But when she could hide him no longer, she got a papyrus basket for him and coated it with tar and pitch. Then she placed the child in it and put it among the reeds along the bank of the Nile. His sister stood at a distance to see what would happen to him. Then Pharaoh’s daughter went down to the Nile to bathe, and her attendants were walking along the riverbank. She saw the basket among the reeds and sent her female slave to get it. She opened it and saw the baby. He was crying, and she felt sorry for him. “This is one of the Hebrew babies,” she said. Then his sister asked Pharaoh’s daughter, “Shall I go and get one of the Hebrew women to nurse the baby for you?” “Yes, go,” she answered. So the girl went and got the baby’s mother. Pharaoh’s daughter said to her, “Take this baby and nurse him for me, and I will pay you.” So the woman took the baby and nursed him. When the child grew older, she took him to Pharaoh’s daughter and he became her son. She named him Moses, saying, “I drew him out of the water.”

Matthew 18:23-35 (NIV)

“Therefore, the kingdom of heaven is like a king who wanted to settle accounts with his servants. As he began the settlement, a man who owed him ten thousand bags of gold was brought to him. Since he was not able to pay, the master ordered that he and his wife and his children and all that he had be sold to repay the debt. “At this the servant fell on his knees before him. ‘Be patient with me,’ he begged, ‘and I will pay back everything.’ The servant’s master took pity on him, canceled the debt and let him go. “But when that servant went out, he found one of his fellow servants who owed him a hundred silver coins. He grabbed him and began to choke him. ‘Pay back what you owe me!’ he demanded. “His fellow servant fell to his knees and begged him, ‘Be patient with me, and I will pay it back.’ “But he refused. Instead, he went off and had the man thrown into prison until he could pay the debt. When the other servants saw what had happened, they were outraged and went and told their master everything that had happened. “Then the master called the servant in. ‘You wicked servant,’ he said, ‘I canceled all that debt of yours because you begged me to. Shouldn’t you have had mercy on your fellow servant just as I had on you?’ In anger his master handed him over to the jailers to be tortured, until he should pay back all he owed. “This is how my heavenly Father will treat each of you unless you forgive your brother or sister from your heart.”

Friends, this is the third and final part of this sermon series on forgiveness.

The last two weeks we've focused a lot on what forgiveness is not--that is, we've talked about the false definitions of forgiveness, our misunderstandings of what forgiveness really is that keep us from being able to appreciate forgiveness, and extend it to others.

These are the false definitions we've already talked about:

1) Forgiveness is the same thing as excusing or condoning.

2) Letting go of your resentment is the same thing as forgetting all about what the other person did--"forgive and forget".

There's one last false definition of forgiveness that I want to talk to you all about today: when we think forgiveness means reconciliation. And, finally, I think it's time we explore what forgiveness is, and, most importantly, what it means for us as people of faith when we say that God forgives us.

So, first our false definition of forgiveness--that forgiving someone is the same thing as reconciling with them.

We might have a harder time letting go of this false definition than any of the others. Partly because we want our stories to have a happy ending. We want to think that nothing but a grudge is standing in the way of saving our relationships. And we're people of God--we want to be kind and tender-hearted, and we want there to be a happy resolution to any disagreement we may have with another person. Reconciling, no matter what happened really sounds like the right thing to do. It sounds like the Christian thing to do.

We also might question, if we can't save our relationship, then what do we even get out of forgiveness? What's the point?

If you've ever been tempted to think you can't forgive another person without reconciling with them, you're in good company. The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. once wrote:

"We can never say, 'I will forgive you, but I won't have anything further to do with you.' Forgiveness means reconciliation, a coming together again. Without this, no man can love his enemies. The degree to which we are able to forgive determines the degree to which we are able to love our enemies." [Martin Luther King, Jr., "Loving Your Enemies" in Strength to Love (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1981), 51.]

I can't say I completely disagree with Dr. King on this one, especially when we consider why he said these words. Dr. King wanted to mend a rift between races as old as time. He wanted radical forgiveness to put a salve on very, very deep wounds, and he wanted to create healing. And only healing the wounds of his African American brothers and sisters would not have been enough--his work would not be done until he could start briding the chasm between white Americans and people of color. That's the legacy he's left for us.

Dr. King was completely right to say that we are called to reconcile with one another. We are called to extend the olive branch and heal the places where our society is deeply broken. As we tune in to the news this week, and read about the chaos that has unfolded in Ferguson, Missouri, we are reminded more than ever that we as a people will never be whole until we start to fix our relationships with people that we hastily write off as "not our kind". This is part of loving our enemies.

This might unfold from forgiveness. And sometimes someone who hurt you can have a happy, satisfying ending. Sometimes, forgiveness is all you need to save an ailing relationship. Sometimes, you can forgive and be friends again.

But not always. Sometimes forgiveness can't lead to reconciliation. Sometimes you shouldn't, or can't go on and be someone's friend, even if you do forgive them.

Sometimes, we need to forgive someone that we can't reconcile with. It's my opinion that every United States citizen, in one way or another, needs to forgive Osama Bin Laden. Even if you didn't know anyone who was hurt or killed in the terrorist attacks of 9/11/01, even if you don't know anyone who lived in the area of those attacks, even if you were safe and cozy at home when the planes were hijacked and didn't even know what happened until much later--we all have to forgive his attack on our country. And we have to keep forgiving.

Sometimes, you have to forgive someone you would never have a relationship with. And sometimes, you have to forgive someone you'll never see again. Forgiveness can't always lead to reconciliation.

In an article for the periodical, Psychology Today, Dr. Ryan Howes poses this hypothetical:

"Let's say a good friend does something horrible. She kicks your dog or kisses your date or destroys your reputation. Then she moves out of the country or ceases all contact. Or dies...You can still forgive. Reconciliation is a separate issue...Forgiveness is solo, reconciliation is a joint venture." (You can read the rest of this article here: http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/in-therapy/201303/forgiveness-vs-reconciliation)

You don't have to wait for the other person to be ready to reconcile in order for you to forgive. And sometimes, especially if that other person is not sorry for what they did, and especially if that other person would hurt you again if they had the chance, for the sake of your own well-being, you can't reconcile.

But none of that stops you from being able to forgive.

In the first part of this sermon series, we talked about what forgiveness actually does mean: to let go of your resentment toward another person, and to let go of the idea that they owe you something.

But if forgiveness doesn't excuse anyone, doesn't let us forget what happened, and might not save our relationships, then what does it do? Why should we bother? Why should we forgive?

There's a lot that forgiveness can't do. But what it can do within each of us is too great to ignore.

The Gospel passage I chose to read today will come up in the lectionary in September, but I chose to use it today because as people of faith, this isn't just a conversation about why we should forgive, or how forgiveness can help us. This is a conversation about why God commands us to forgive.

Jesus really gets our attention in this Gospel passage. It's jarring, and scary, and these words almost sound a little bizarre coming from our loving savior, who we've known as the Prince of Peace. This is one of those passages that we pastors need to handle with care from the pulpit, because if we're not careful, we can make it sound like it's out of fear of God's punishment, or fear of God's anger, that we choose to forgive.

That's not it. It's rather out of fear of God--fear in the sense that we don't typically use the word in, fear in the sense of awe. We forgive as God forgave us. And we can live in awe of what God's forgiveness has done for us. But if we don't forgive others, it does us enough harm to wipe out entirely what God does for us.

Forgiveness is a gift. It's freedom. Freedom from the burden of resentment. Freedom from the burden of holding on to our hurt. Freedom from being a victim. When you let go of what someone did to hurt you, they can't hurt you anymore. When you let someone out of their debt to you, you're both free. Forgiveness is a long, step-by-step process, but it cleanses you of your hurt, and sets you free. When you let go of that moment of hurt, forgiveness sets you free to move on and have a future.

And when you extend it to others, you give them that freedom, too. Jesus uses a parable this morning to tell us about the metaphorical debtors prison that God has set us free from by giving all of us a clean slate--we don't have to be held back by the shame or guilt over the mistakes we've made. We're free to move on. But we take that freedom away from ourselves if we're going to hold on to our scorecards of what other people have done to us. Resentment is a prison. Nobody wants to live that way.

Jesus said, "Come, you who are weary and heavy laden. My yoke is easy, and my burden is light."

Forgiveness is the easy yoke that makes us the beloved of God. Forgiveness gives us a second chance to show the light of Christ to the world. Forgiveness washes us clean, and lets us serve with pure hearts. And with a clean slate, and a pure heart, forgiveness frees us to see a tomorrow with less pain than today.

Amen.

8-17-14: Forgiveness, Part 2

Forgiveness, Part 2

Genesis 45: 1-15 (NIV)

Then Joseph could no longer control himself before all his attendants, and he cried out, “Have everyone leave my presence!” So there was no one with Joseph when he made himself known to his brothers. And he wept so loudly that the Egyptians heard him, and Pharaoh’s household heard about it. Joseph said to his brothers, “I am Joseph! Is my father still living?” But his brothers were not able to answer him, because they were terrified at his presence. Then Joseph said to his brothers, “Come close to me.” When they had done so, he said, “I am your brother Joseph, the one you sold into Egypt! And now, do not be distressed and do not be angry with yourselves for selling me here, because it was to save lives that God sent me ahead of you. For two years now there has been famine in the land, and for the next five years there will be no plowing and reaping. But God sent me ahead of you to preserve for you a remnant on earth and to save your lives by a great deliverance. “So then, it was not you who sent me here, but God. He made me father to Pharaoh, lord of his entire household and ruler of all Egypt. Now hurry back to my father and say to him, ‘This is what your son Joseph says: God has made me lord of all Egypt. Come down to me; don’t delay. You shall live in the region of Goshen and be near me—you, your children and grandchildren, your flocks and herds, and all you have. I will provide for you there, because five years of famine are still to come. Otherwise you and your household and all who belong to you will become destitute.’ “You can see for yourselves, and so can my brother Benjamin, that it is really I who am speaking to you. Tell my father about all the honor accorded me in Egypt and about everything you have seen. And bring my father down here quickly.” Then he threw his arms around his brother Benjamin and wept, and Benjamin embraced him, weeping. And he kissed all his brothers and wept over them. Afterward his brothers talked with him.

Matthew 18: 21-22 (NIV)

Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?” Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.

Good morning, friends.

This morning's sermon is going to be part 2 of this 3 part series on forgiveness that I started last Sunday. As a heads up, for our Gospel lesson for this week and next, I will be going slightly off lectionary, so that I can highlight what our Old Testament lessons are teaching us about forgiveness.

So, I started talking to all of you about this last week, but I really think forgiveness is a very difficult topic. And I don't think that's just my personal experience. It's my pastoral opinion that we, as a society, have a really immature understanding of what forgiveness means, and we frankly don't forgive very often.

But one of the biggest reasons why we don't tend to really, truly forgive people all that often is because we have a lot of false definitions about forgiveness floating around. Last week, we talked about one of those false definitions--that forgiveness is the same thing as excusing, or condoning. The false definition of forgiveness that concerns me this week is when we think that forgiveness is forgetting.

Now, I think that "forgiving" someone or something is totally different from "forgetting" something, and, in a different context, I think a lot of you would agree with me. They're two totally different words. But, when we're talking about forgiveness, and especially when we're talk it about forgiving a friend or family member for hurting us, we have this clichéd phrase that just rolls right off the tongue: "forgive and forget". We've heard it so many times we might not even think twice before we say it.

"Forgive and forget". Even I've said this after having a misunderstanding with a friend. This phrase comes from a really noble place, and I can't argue with that--I think the idea of letting go of a grudge and never bringing it back is very healthy, and very Christian.

In spite of that, though, I still do not agree with this phrase, "forgive and forget", and I'm going to tell you that I think this phrase is one of our worst false definitions of forgiveness. It sounds great in theory, and we really mean well when we say it, but it's not very realistic in practice, and it can lead to some bad consequences when we act on it.

This morning we're hearing the final stretch of Joseph's story in Genesis--his very emotional reunion with his brothers as he rescues them from famine. At long last, after everything he's suffered through, Joseph's story has a very, very happy ending, and he goes from slave to hero. He says himself to his brothers that all the terrible things that happened to him helped him, and he actually wouldn't be where we find him in this morning's passage had his brothers not betrayed him years ago. Maybe it was all just part of God's plan.

If ever there was a good moment in the Bible to use the phrase "forgive and forget", it would be right now. Joseph's in a great place in his life now, he has his family back, and he has no ill will at all toward them. Not anymore. He's made peace with his past. This is exactly the time when we might say that everyone should just move on, and never think of the past again, pretend it never happened.

But I say hold on--the past is Joseph's whole story. The past is the story of the Hebrew people. The past is a story of one man's triumph against the worst odds. If Joseph just "forgives and forgets", he wipes out everything that makes him the great man he has become. He's a mere shell of Joseph.

Certainly, the generations of Israelites that followed Joseph didn't believe that the past should just be left in the past. As they passed down this story in the oral tradition, they told their children, their grandchildren, their great-grandchildren every bit of Joseph's tribulations, leaving out no details of who wronged who. The past was not forgotten by the Hebrew people, and not forgotten to us.

Even if you don't end up living quite as dramatic a life as Joseph, this is true for all of us--it's a shame to want to forget about the things we've been through that have molded us into who we are. I'm not saying everything happens for a reason--that's another cliche, and I don't agree with it. But everything that has happened to you is part of your story.

And sometimes, even after we've forgiven someone for hurting us, and even when we intend to start over with that relationship with a clean slate, it's just not a good idea to "forgive and forget". Sometimes it's not helpful to you or anyone else to sweep the bad moments under the carpet and pretend they never happened.

But if you'd like a Bible story to turn to that will really drive this point home, then I recommend Luke's account of the parable of the prodigal son. I preached on this one about a year and a half ago when it came up in the lectionary, and it's one of those classic tales most of us know well, but in case you don't, the story goes something like this:

A very wealthy man has two sons. They're both due a huge inheritance when this man passes away. One of the sons is contented to stay, be responsible, and pull his weight at home. But the other son decides that if he's going to be rich someday, then he wants his money now. So he demands that his father give him his inheritance--even though he's still alive--he takes the money, and he splits. He hits the road with all that cash, and does the first-Century equivalent of partying it up in Vegas.

Only a few years of gambling, drink, and women later, all of that money is gone, and this son finds himself cleaning up after someone's pigs in exchange for starvation wages. He realizes what he did to his father was horribly wrong, but doesn't think his father would ever give him a second chance. He decides that he'll go back to his father's house and offer to be his servant, hoping he might end up with a roof over his head and a little more to eat.

But when his father sees him way off in the distance, walking with his head hung in shame back home, he runs to greet him, dresses him in the finest clothes, and throws a huge party to celebrate that he has his son back.

All is forgiven. The joy of having a loved one back in your life is more than worth swallowing your pride and letting go of a grudge. This is another great place in the Bible where we might be tempted to say "forgive and forget applies". But I don't think so.

What if the father did "forgive and forget"? What if he did sweep what his son did under the carpet, pretending it never happened? If he did that, I don't think he'd be helping himself, or his son, at all. Forgiving and forgetting would'nt do anyone any good--it might even set this family up for disaster.

It's one thing to drop your resentment. It's another thing entirely to forget the bad judgment calls someone close to you has made in the past. For the sake of his son's safety, this father has to hold on to what happened. He can't just "forgive and forget". He now knows his son has a problem with high-risk, impulsive behavior, and he needs to remember what happened last time he gave his son a large sum of money so that he doesn't make that mistake again. He'll forgive--he'll set a great example for the rest of us of what true forgiveness is--but if he doesn't forget, he can protect his son from getting hurt again.

It's okay to protect yourself and others--it doesn't mean you're not being forgiving. If someone hurt you, and would be likely to do it again if they had the opportunity, then it's okay to hold onto your memory of what went wrong before so that they don't get that opportunity. You know what they say--those who don't know history are doomed to repeat it.

"Forgiving and forgetting" can set you up to get hurt again, and because of that I can't get behind that life philosophy. But it's more than that. I also just don't think "forgiving and forgetting" is very realistic, and I don't think that's the kind of forgiveness Jesus teaches us.

When I picked this morning's Gospel reading, I went off lectionary on purpose because I wanted to share the two verses that sum up perfectly what it's really like to forgive someone who has hurt you. Peter asks Jesus, "how many times should I forgive a brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?" Peter hopes Jesus will be blown away by how forgiving Peter is. Instead he says, "not seven times, but seventy-seven times." Other translations say "seventy times seven times". The point is the same--what Peter was willing to do wasn't anywhere near enough. I personally like the "seventy times seven" translation better, because I think it's a better match for what forgiveness really is.

We'd like to think forgiving someone for hurting you is a one-time thing. And in some cases it might be--if it was something minor, then the other person might say they're sorry, you might say, Hey, no worries, and that might be the end of it.

But a lot of times it just doesn't work like that. You can't always just forgive someone in one easy step, and have that be the end of it. Especially if they hurt you in a way that left long-lasting consequences.

Then, you might be reminded all the time of what happened, and every single time, you will have to forgive again. Every time you feel those hurt feelings coming back, you will have to forgive again. Forgiveness might not mean forgiveness for forever, it might mean forgiveness for this moment. Then, you will have to forgive again.

Oftentimes we have to forgive in steps, and in small doses, and sometimes you heal one day at a time. Tomorrow, you will forgive again. The next day, you will forgive again. And eventually, you might lose count--have you forgiven 77 times yet? Or maybe even seventy times seven times?

Jesus understood that there are some hurts that strike us so deeply that we'll carry them with us for a long time. He also understood that inner peace isn't something we achieve in one day, it's something we work on over a lifetime. It's that we keep working on it that's important. And until we can perfect our forgiveness, we have a God that gives us perfect grace.

Amen.

8-10-14: Forgiveness, Part 1

Forgiveness, Part 1

Genesis 37: 1-4, 12-28 (NIV)

Jacob lived in the land where his father had stayed, the land of Canaan. This is the account of Jacob’s family line. Joseph, a young man of seventeen, was tending the flocks with his brothers, the sons of Bilhah and the sons of Zilpah, his father’s wives, and he brought their father a bad report about them. Now Israel loved Joseph more than any of his other sons, because he had been born to him in his old age; and he made an ornate robe for him. When his brothers saw that their father loved him more than any of them, they hated him and could not speak a kind word to him.

Now his brothers had gone to graze their father’s flocks near Shechem, and Israel said to Joseph, “As you know, your brothers are grazing the flocks near Shechem. Come, I am going to send you to them.” “Very well,” he replied. So he said to him, “Go and see if all is well with your brothers and with the flocks, and bring word back to me.” Then he sent him off from the Valley of Hebron. When Joseph arrived at Shechem, a man found him wandering around in the fields and asked him, “What are you looking for?” He replied, “I’m looking for my brothers. Can you tell me where they are grazing their flocks?” “They have moved on from here,” the man answered. “I heard them say, ‘Let’s go to Dothan.’ ” So Joseph went after his brothers and found them near Dothan. But they saw him in the distance, and before he reached them, they plotted to kill him. “Here comes that dreamer!” they said to each other. “Come now, let’s kill him and throw him into one of these cisterns and say that a ferocious animal devoured him. Then we’ll see what comes of his dreams.” When Reuben heard this, he tried to rescue him from their hands. “Let’s not take his life,” he said. “Don’t shed any blood. Throw him into this cistern here in the wilderness, but don’t lay a hand on him.” Reuben said this to rescue him from them and take him back to his father. So when Joseph came to his brothers, they stripped him of his robe—the ornate robe he was wearing— and they took him and threw him into the cistern. The cistern was empty; there was no water in it. As they sat down to eat their meal, they looked up and saw a caravan of Ishmaelites coming from Gilead. Their camels were loaded with spices, balm and myrrh, and they were on their way to take them down to Egypt. Judah said to his brothers, “What will we gain if we kill our brother and cover up his blood? Come, let’s sell him to the Ishmaelites and not lay our hands on him; after all, he is our brother, our own flesh and blood.” His brothers agreed. So when the Midianite merchants came by, his brothers pulled Joseph up out of the cistern and sold him for twenty shekels of silver to the Ishmaelites, who took him to Egypt.

Matthew 14: 22-33 (NIV)

Immediately Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead of him to the other side, while he dismissed the crowd. After he had dismissed them, he went up on a mountainside by himself to pray. Later that night, he was there alone, and the boat was already a considerable distance from land, buffeted by the waves because the wind was against it. Shortly before dawn Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake. When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified. “It’s a ghost,” they said, and cried out in fear. But Jesus immediately said to them: “Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.” “Lord, if it’s you,” Peter replied, “tell me to come to you on the water.” “Come,” he said. Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!” Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?” And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down. Then those who were in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.”

So I'm taking a chance here and trying out something a little different with my preaching.

A little over a year go, when I was still interning as a chaplain at Strong Hospital, I was challenged by a few of my fellow chaplains about my theology on forgiveness--they thought I needed to put more thought into it and strengthen my thoughts about forgiveness. At the same time, I'm looking ahead in our lectionary, especially at the Old Testament lessons coming up, and I'm seeing some common themes. So, to those colleagues of mine, who wanted me to work on my theology of forgiveness: challenge accepted. For the next few weeks, I will be building a sermon series about--you guessed it--forgiveness. We've touched on forgiveness in sermons past, but, for the next few weeks, I'm inviting you to really explore this pesky word, "forgiveness", with me.

Forgiveness. I'm guessing I'm not the only person in this room who finds this word, "forgiveness", challenging. So, first of all, if anybody out there cringed in your seat a little when you heard me say I'm going to spend the next few weeks talking about forgiveness, then I just want to assure you, I'm right there with you. Forgiveness IS a tough concept. Forgiveness IS challenging.

Why? Well, I think one of the biggest reasons why forgiveness is so challenging, so hard to talk about, and so tough to preach about, is because we don't have a good working definition of what "forgiveness" actually means.

You can't argue that forgiveness is a good thing, and essential for living a healthy life, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. We've all heard the arguments in favor of forgiveness. To share with you one of the wittier, yet classic arguments, spiritual author Anne Lamott writes, "Not forgiving is like drinking rat poison and then waiting for the rat to die." The point comes through loud and clear.

We also know that, as the people of God, we can't escape forgiveness. Our faith is all about forgiveness. We use that word all the time! And we can't get away with not forgiving--Jesus commanded us to forgive one another. Jesus commanded us to give to others what God gave us. Christian author CS Lewis, perhaps, put it best when he wrote, "To be a Christian means to forgive the inexcusable because God has forgiven the inexcusable in you."

Yet, we have so many false definitions of forgiveness going around that we still find ourselves saying, Sure, forgiveness sounds like a great thing, but I'm not going to do it. So, let me be clear. When I talk about forgiveness, I mean two things: I mean giving up your resentment toward someone who has hurt you, and I mean letting go of the idea that someone owes you something.

And let me also be clear about what forgiveness doesn't mean. Our society gives us a lot of false definitions of forgiveness, but the one that I'm most concerned with this week is when we believe that "forgiving" means "condoning". That to forgive someone is to excuse what they did, or that to forgive someone is to say that what they did is okay, or really wasn't that bad, or that big a deal.

That is not what forgiveness means. And even if that's the going street definition of forgiveness, that can't be what forgiveness means here, to people of faith, and that's not what forgiveness is to God.

Forgiveness, true forgiveness--that is, letting go of your resentments and your expectations for others to pay you back--acknowledges, first and foremost, that what the other person did to you was absolutely wrong, and you deserved better. If that weren't true, there would be nothing to forgive!

One of the hardest parts about talking about forgiveness, as people of faith, is that the topic, in and of itself, makes us face something we don't always want to face. Even though we want to see the very best in people, even though we want to see God's light in all of our brothers and sisters, if we're going to be mature and realistic here, then we need to acknowledge that sometimes people that God created to be good, sometimes even people we love and trust, do horrible, horrible things. That's the nature of living in a fallen world. There is no excusing, there is no condoning, the terrible things people will do to one another. When we talk about forgiveness, first we need to talk about the original offense. First, we need to talk about how we were hurt.

So let's consider our brother Joseph. The youngest of Jacob's twelve sons, and the favorite. And the whole family knew it. And if that wasn't already perfectly clear just by the way Jacob treated Joseph, it became clear as crystal after Jacob gifted Joseph with a particularly ornate article of clothing. Broadway would call this article of clothing an Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat; the text just calls it a robe with long sleeves. Regardless, it was the last straw for Joseph's eleven brothers.

And this is where Joseph's story becomes very disturbing. Most of us can understand sibling rivalry, and, sure, Joseph was being kind of annoying. But the extreme length Joseph's brothers decide they will go to just so they don't have to see his fancy coat or hear about his dreams that he will be in charge someday...how do we even begin to wrap our minds around this?

First, they decide they're going to kill him, throw him in a well, and tell Jacob that he was killed by a wild animal. But then they realize that if they did that, they'd get their hands dirty. They can't have that. So then Reuben suggests they just throw Joseph in a well and leave him there for dead. Secretly, he wants to come back later and save Joseph--but he doesn't want his brothers to know that. But then Judah suggests, maybe they shouldn't kill Joseph, he is their brother after all. So they decide to have mercy on him and, rather than kill him, sell him into slavery to a caravan of Ishmaelites headed for Egypt. So they do just that--they exchange their brother for money, and tell Jacob he died.

Not to spoil the end of this story, which I'll be preaching on next week, but it's really, really amazing that Joseph eventually reconciles with his brothers. It's more amazing, still, that he forgives them.

This is the kind of unspeakable hurt that any of us, no matter how loving or altruistic we are, would be tempted to call unforgivable. And if we think forgiving is the same thing as excusing, then we'd be right--this is inexcusable. We are called, as disciples of Christ, to be loving, graceful people, but we're not any less loving or graceful if we call this what it is. You're not any less Christian if someone hurts you and you call them on it. Being a loving, forgiving person doesn't require you to say that it's okay for others to hurt you--it isn't. And forgiving someone who wronged you doesn't mean what they did was okay--it wasn't.

That's not what forgiveness is. The mature, Christ-led forgiveness that God calls us to goes much deeper than simply dismissing our hurt. Forgiveness isn't about excusing at all. It's about trust.

When we forgive, we acknowledge that sometimes things happen to us that are so terrible that we're powerless to make it right. We're powerless to make justice on our own. When we forgive, we don't brush off our hurt--we hand it over to God. When we forgive, we give our hurt to God, and trust that he will make it right in his time. When we forgive trust that God can heal our deepest pain, even in the face of all reason.

When we forgive, we act like Peter in this morning's Gospel story. Forgiveness should never be something we take lightly. Forgiveness is more than a word, and more than an attitude. Forgiveness is walking on the water. Holding onto our resentments and debtors means staying in the boat with the other disciples. Who can blame them? They're safe there. They're comfortable there. But forgiveness calls us to so give up our comfort and safety that we'd put even our lives in God's hand. When we forgive, we walk on the water, and expect, only because of God, that we'll survive.

But most of all, like Peter walking on water, forgiveness is something we can only do because we have God's help. If you think it's hard to forgive, you're right. It's actually impossible. On our own, at least. If we don't ask for God's help, we can't forgive. It's too great a task on our own. But that's why we pray for the strength to do it. That's why we say, every week, in the Lord's Prayer, "forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who have trespassed against us." We can't do it on our own. But with God, even in the face of all obstacles, all things are possible.

Amen.