Our need for God and for one another
Commentary
Conducting a workshop for a statewide gathering of Ph.D.s in psychology, my colleague and I asked the group, "How many of you have ever said to your patients, 'You've got to forgive yourself?' " Quite a few hands in the crowd went up. The next question was, "How many of you have had success with that approach?" Not a single hand was raised.
We talked together for quite some time about that lack of success and pondered the reasons. Our lessons for the day might help us explain why the approach meets with so little success.
Genesis 50:15-21
The verses of our pericope represent the conclusion of the story that made it all the way to Broadway. The narrative about Joseph and his brothers that began in chapter 37 finally reaches its end, but throughout the fourteen chapters fine threads of literary and legendary material are woven into a magnificent fabric.
The story begins with the somewhat understandable jealousy of the brothers against Joseph because of father Jacob's favoritism to this son. Dad's gift of the robe with long sleeves to Joseph certainly riled the siblings, especially because they were all wearing shirts that bore the sad news: "My father went to Shechem and all we got was this lousy T-shirt." On top of that, Joseph was sufficiently undiplomatic enough to share with them his dream that they rightly interpreted as Joseph's rule over them all, even over their parents.
At the first chance far from their father's eyes, the brothers "conspired against him to kill him" (Genesis 37:18), but as the well-known story goes, they sold him instead to a caravan headed for Egypt and went home to Jacob with the sad story that Joseph became the dinner menu for some hungry beast. In Egypt Joseph's misfortunes continued through the seductive advances of Mrs. Potiphar, the subsequent imprisonment, and the forgetfulness of the chief butler of his former cell mate. The rest of the story is history -- or at least historical fiction -- leading to the elevation of Joseph to such a prestigious position in Egypt that he was second only to Pharaoh himself.
Now our pericope describes how after many years and immediately after the death of Jacob the brothers came to Joseph asking for his forgiveness -- on the premise that they were simply revealing deathbed instructions from their father that Joseph should forgive them. While the text does not state explicitly that Joseph forgave them, his words about providing for them and their families indicate he was not about to hold a grudge. That message about the willingness of one who is wronged to forgive the offenders is the reason the pericope is chosen as the Old Testament passage for the day's Gospel from Matthew 18.
However, Joseph's response to their request for forgiveness includes another issue that might be fodder for preaching. He said to them, "Even though you intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good, in order to preserve a numerous people, as he is doing today" (v. 20). The RSV rendered the last portion of the line more literally: "to bring it about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today." The only advantage of the older translation is the sharper contrast between the beginning of the story where the brothers "conspired against him to kill him" and the end of the story where the brothers hear that God managed to work through their evil in order to keep people alive.
The story takes fourteen chapters to illustrate the point of several proverbs. "The plans of the mind belong to mortals, but the answer of the tongue is from the Lord" (Proverbs 16:1). "The human mind plans the way, but the Lord directs the steps" (Proverbs 16:9). "The human mind may devise many plans, but it is the purpose of the Lord that will be established" (Proverbs 19:21).
Whether this and other connections lead to the conclusion that the Joseph story is a historical wisdom tale (as Gerhard von Rad argued as long ago as 1938), the point is clear that God can work good out of the worst of situations, even ones caused by humans. In my work on grief with bereaved individuals and with communities following disasters, the question, "What good can come of this tragedy?" is commonly asked. The Joseph story does indicate the possibility for good out of an evil situation. The story demonstrates that God did not cause the evil. It was the sinfulness of the brothers and of Potiphar's wife that caused the trouble. God took their evil actions and turned them into something good, indeed, good for life. The story also warns against identifying that potential good too soon, for while many bereaved persons want to know where their suffering is leading, in this story it is only at the end -- fourteen chapters and perhaps as many years later -- that Joseph can point to the work of God through it all.
In any case, the family of Jacob was reconciled through the work of God, and the broken community was restored in order to become part of a larger purpose of God, the exodus from the land of Egypt and the gift of the Promised Land. There all their descendants could wear new shirts that carried the words, "Thanks be to God!"
Romans 14:1-12
Continuing his discussion about the implications of God's justification for the Christian community, Paul moves now into some crucial issues on distinguishing what is essential from what is not. Above all, such issues are placed within the context of hospitality.
Paul begins the section with the admonition to "welcome those who are weak in faith." The welcoming emphasis becomes even more important as we move to verse 3 where the act is that of God. If God has welcomed people, how can any of the Christian community be inhospitable to one another?
The particular issues Paul raises here by way of illustration of his argument are eating and observance of days. Somewhere in his missionary experience -- if not in reports from Rome itself -- Paul had encountered conflicts arising from differences of opinion in regard to what is lawful to eat and what days should be observed as special. The "weak" are those who place prohibitions and requirements on themselves. In regard to eating, they consume only vegetables, as though that diet is more religious than that of a steak lover. In regard to days, the "weak" observe certain days, while the "strong" regard one day to be the same as the next.
Interestingly, the admonition to "welcome" is addressed to the strong in faith. They should not exploit the weakness of others who insist on certain practices but rather extend them hospitality for its own sake. The prohibition Paul places on them is not what they should or should not eat or what days they should or should not observe: it is simply they should not judge one another because the others, the weak, belong to Christ and so "who are you to pass judgment on servants of another?"
Paul's comment that "we do not live to ourselves, and we do not die to ourselves" is his way of teaching that living and dying we are all together, the weak and the strong, "the Lord's." The Christian community is based not on the agreements we establish with one another, not on the common positions on social or even ethical issues, but on the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ which defines us as belonging to him.
The danger with passing judgment on others is that it does not take into account the fact that "we will all stand before the judgment seat of God" (v. 10) and "each of us will be accountable to God" (v. 12). Far better to recognize our oneness in Christ than endanger our participation in eternity by excluding others here and now on the basis of trivialities.
The message is clear: God calls us to be one in community in spite of the differences that will always be present where two or three are gathered, even in his name.
Matthew 18:21-35
One Sunday afternoon I was teaching a class about the Lord's Prayer. When we came to the petition, "Forgive us our sin as we forgive those who sins against us," a woman in the class raised her hand and offered her story. She said that a few years earlier she had been caring for an older woman, and in the course of her work she did something that she really should not have done. She went to the older woman and asked her forgiveness. The older woman listened carefully and then responded, "I'll forgive you this time but not a second time."
At this point in her story my mind sped immediately to Jesus' response to Peter's question about how many times should he forgive a brother or sister in Christ who sins against him. Peter must have thought that seven times was already generous, but Jesus pushed the number to "77 times," a far cry from the woman's "not a second time." For once, however, I kept quiet and allowed the class member to continue her story.
She said that after a few months she again did something for which she was ashamed, and though she felt the need to ask for the older woman's forgiveness, she remembered the earlier response and was afraid to approach her. Several days later, however, she could not live with herself, and so she braved the potential storm by appearing before the woman. "I know you told me months ago that you would not forgive me a second time," she said, "but I must ask for your forgiveness again." She waited painfully for the response. The older woman looked at her and smiled. "What do you mean 'again'?" she asked. "I forgave you for what you did before. That's wiped away, gone forever. We are starting over again. Of course, I forgive you, but I won't a second time."
Perhaps that's what Jesus had in mind when he increased the number to 77 times (or "seventy times seven" in some manuscripts). In either case, who's counting? If forgiveness means wiping away the deed, then we are always back to one.
The parable of the unforgiving servant that follows Jesus' response to Peter really has nothing to do with his question. It does, however, bring together two teachings about forgiveness.
In his commentary on Matthew, Eduard Schweizer estimates the debt of 10,000 talents owed the king by this one slave amounted to fifty million denarii. The value of the amount can be appreciated when one realizes that the normal daily wage for a worker was one denarius, that King Herod's total annual income amounted to 900 talents, and that the taxes imposed on Galilee and Perea together came to 200 talents. The tall-tale feature of the parable makes the point of the incredible debt from which the slave is forgiven over against the paltry hundred denarii owed to him by another (see Schweizer, The Good News according to Matthew, Atlanta: John Knox, 1975, p. 377).
The petition, "Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us," places our receiving forgiveness from God and our forgiving others in the same arena. The two are so closely related, as our parable shows, that they form one reality. Indeed, back in Matthew 6 where Jesus taught the Lord's Prayer, he added, "For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you; but if you do not forgive others, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses" (6:14-
15).
The teaching of Jesus in Matthew 6 and the parable here in Matthew 18 indicate that forgiveness is not something we do for ourselves. It is God's act to us, and it is our act to others. If indeed we could forgive ourselves, we would not need God or one another. But the constant reaching out by God to break down the barriers that separate us from our Creator and the persistent commands by God that we forgive one another indicate how desperately we need God and how committed God is to our life together in community.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By Elizabth Actemeier
Exodus 14:19-31
The exodus from slavery in Egypt and the deliverance of the Israelites from the pursuing troops of Pharaoh Raamses II at the Sea of Reeds (ca. 1280 B.C.) forms the central redemptive act in the Old Testament. That redemption is mentioned in almost every book of the Old Covenant, and still today it is commemorated by Jews all over the world at their Passover feasts.
There is no doubt that the exodus happened, and there is no reputable scholar who seriously questions the event. But because the story of the deliverance at the sea has accrued layers of tradition, we cannot say exactly what happened. In our text, three sources are woven together to describe the event, with some disagreements among them. In the Yahwist source, the Lord drives back the sea with a strong east wind. According to the priestly writers, the sea is divided when Moses stretches forth his hand. In the brief excerpts from the Elohist sources, there are echoes of the Holy War tradition, in which the Lord discomfits the Egyptians and clogs their chariot wheels.
All of the sources and, indeed, the Old Testament as a whole, agree however that the event was solely the work of God and that Israel was the passive recipient of his act of love (cf. vv. 13-14). Israel did nothing to effect her redemption; the Lord did it all.
The New Testament parallel to this text is the story of the cross. As Israel was delivered from slavery at the Sea of Reeds, so we were delivered from our slavery to sin and death by the cross and resurrection of Jesus Christ. In fact, when Jesus talks about his coming crucifixion in Luke 9:31, he terms it his "exodus" (translated in the English as "departure"). It is therefore possible for us to understand more fully the crucifixion of our Lord by delving into the meaning of this deliverance of Israel.
First, it is clear that Israel had done nothing to deserve her redemption (her "buying back") from slavery. She had not yet entered into covenant with her Lord; she had not yet received the commandments. She had worked no piety or obedience. And so too we, when we were redeemed by the cross and resurrection of Christ, had done nothing to deserve it. "While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us" (Romans 5:8).
Second, therefore, Israel understood her redemption to be solely an act of God's love (cf. Deuteronomy 7:7-8). He had seen the affliction of slaves whom he claimed as his people, and he came down in love to deliver them (cf. Exodus 2:24-25; 3:7-8). So too is our redemption by God's act in Christ his gift of pure, loving grace toward us. ("God shows his love for us in that while we were yet sinners Christ died for us.")
Third, the redemption of Israel forms an integral part of God's work toward his goal of bringing blessing on all the families of the earth through the descendants of Abraham (cf. Genesis 12:3). It is not an isolated event, but the crucial act of deliverance of a people whom God is using to fulfill his promise. And so too is our redemption a part of God's movement toward the goal of his kingdom come on earth.
Fourth, it was the exodus deliverance that first made Israel a people. They were a "mixed multitude" (Exodus 12:38) when they came out of Egypt, from many different tribes and backgrounds, and it was their redemption in common that bound them together as a people of the Lord. They had all been redeemed together! That was what they all shared and what made them a unity, and if they forgot their redemption, they became "no people" (cf. Hosea 1:8-
9, 15). In similar fashion, we in the church are a mixed multitude, from various nations and races, backgrounds and situations. But the one fact that holds us together as one people of God is that we have all been redeemed together by the cross of Christ. If we forget that redemption that we share, our unity becomes impossible and we become "no people" of God, no church.
Fifth, God's destruction of the troops of Pharaoh at the Sea of Reeds is clear evidence of God's dealing with sin. As Martin Luther King, Jr., wrote of our text, "Egypt symbolized evil in the form of humiliating oppression, ungodly exploitation, and crushing domination" (Strength to Love, Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1981, p. 73), and God drowned its power. The wages of its sin was death. And so too, the wages of our sin is death, experienced first on our behalf by our Lord on his cross, and still today for those who would think to defy the Lord of all empire, history, and nature.
God in his love redeemed his people. And that is also our story. For in his love in Jesus Christ, God has also redeemed us.
Lutheran Option -- Genesis 50:15-21
At this end of the stories of Joseph, we find his brothers still burdened by their guilt. They are afraid that Joseph will take his vengeance on them and perhaps have them imprisoned or executed. And so they tell one more lie, saying that their father Jacob, before he died, had commanded that the brothers be forgiven their evil actions toward Joseph. Thus do those who commit sin try to save their own skins, through lies, deviousness, self-justifications. "What a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive."
But Joseph's acts are not determined by purely human emotions and schemes. Joseph has a clearer vision of what ultimately matters in this world. Joseph has a vision and understanding of the purposes and plans of God. He knows that the Lord is working out his purpose, in fulfillment of his promise to Abraham (Genesis 12:3), to bring his blessing through Israel on all the families of the earth. And Joseph knows that everything that the brothers have done to him and everything that has happened to him in Egypt have been part of that plan of God's, so that God could keep alive his chosen people during the seven years of famine. Joseph therefore can tell his brothers that though they have done evil toward him, God has used that evil for good. Joseph subordinates all of his own feelings and possible desires for vengeance to God, who is doing and always does only good.
Is it not possible, good Christians, that when we surrender our human desires and hatreds, our turbulent emotions and feelings to the Lord, that God always brings out of our sinful ways his good? We are never perfect Christians, but God is a perfect God. And if we surrender our lives to him, he uses them in his eternal purpose of bringing blessing on this earth.
Certainly the cross of Christ is the supreme example of that. From a purely human standpoint, the cross was terrible -- a torturous exhibition of our human sin putting an innocent man to death. But because Christ surrendered himself to the will of his Father and let all our sins nail him to that tree, the Father used that evil to work his highest good -- our forgiveness and redemption and the Father's eternal love for all the world shown forth.
We talked together for quite some time about that lack of success and pondered the reasons. Our lessons for the day might help us explain why the approach meets with so little success.
Genesis 50:15-21
The verses of our pericope represent the conclusion of the story that made it all the way to Broadway. The narrative about Joseph and his brothers that began in chapter 37 finally reaches its end, but throughout the fourteen chapters fine threads of literary and legendary material are woven into a magnificent fabric.
The story begins with the somewhat understandable jealousy of the brothers against Joseph because of father Jacob's favoritism to this son. Dad's gift of the robe with long sleeves to Joseph certainly riled the siblings, especially because they were all wearing shirts that bore the sad news: "My father went to Shechem and all we got was this lousy T-shirt." On top of that, Joseph was sufficiently undiplomatic enough to share with them his dream that they rightly interpreted as Joseph's rule over them all, even over their parents.
At the first chance far from their father's eyes, the brothers "conspired against him to kill him" (Genesis 37:18), but as the well-known story goes, they sold him instead to a caravan headed for Egypt and went home to Jacob with the sad story that Joseph became the dinner menu for some hungry beast. In Egypt Joseph's misfortunes continued through the seductive advances of Mrs. Potiphar, the subsequent imprisonment, and the forgetfulness of the chief butler of his former cell mate. The rest of the story is history -- or at least historical fiction -- leading to the elevation of Joseph to such a prestigious position in Egypt that he was second only to Pharaoh himself.
Now our pericope describes how after many years and immediately after the death of Jacob the brothers came to Joseph asking for his forgiveness -- on the premise that they were simply revealing deathbed instructions from their father that Joseph should forgive them. While the text does not state explicitly that Joseph forgave them, his words about providing for them and their families indicate he was not about to hold a grudge. That message about the willingness of one who is wronged to forgive the offenders is the reason the pericope is chosen as the Old Testament passage for the day's Gospel from Matthew 18.
However, Joseph's response to their request for forgiveness includes another issue that might be fodder for preaching. He said to them, "Even though you intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good, in order to preserve a numerous people, as he is doing today" (v. 20). The RSV rendered the last portion of the line more literally: "to bring it about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today." The only advantage of the older translation is the sharper contrast between the beginning of the story where the brothers "conspired against him to kill him" and the end of the story where the brothers hear that God managed to work through their evil in order to keep people alive.
The story takes fourteen chapters to illustrate the point of several proverbs. "The plans of the mind belong to mortals, but the answer of the tongue is from the Lord" (Proverbs 16:1). "The human mind plans the way, but the Lord directs the steps" (Proverbs 16:9). "The human mind may devise many plans, but it is the purpose of the Lord that will be established" (Proverbs 19:21).
Whether this and other connections lead to the conclusion that the Joseph story is a historical wisdom tale (as Gerhard von Rad argued as long ago as 1938), the point is clear that God can work good out of the worst of situations, even ones caused by humans. In my work on grief with bereaved individuals and with communities following disasters, the question, "What good can come of this tragedy?" is commonly asked. The Joseph story does indicate the possibility for good out of an evil situation. The story demonstrates that God did not cause the evil. It was the sinfulness of the brothers and of Potiphar's wife that caused the trouble. God took their evil actions and turned them into something good, indeed, good for life. The story also warns against identifying that potential good too soon, for while many bereaved persons want to know where their suffering is leading, in this story it is only at the end -- fourteen chapters and perhaps as many years later -- that Joseph can point to the work of God through it all.
In any case, the family of Jacob was reconciled through the work of God, and the broken community was restored in order to become part of a larger purpose of God, the exodus from the land of Egypt and the gift of the Promised Land. There all their descendants could wear new shirts that carried the words, "Thanks be to God!"
Romans 14:1-12
Continuing his discussion about the implications of God's justification for the Christian community, Paul moves now into some crucial issues on distinguishing what is essential from what is not. Above all, such issues are placed within the context of hospitality.
Paul begins the section with the admonition to "welcome those who are weak in faith." The welcoming emphasis becomes even more important as we move to verse 3 where the act is that of God. If God has welcomed people, how can any of the Christian community be inhospitable to one another?
The particular issues Paul raises here by way of illustration of his argument are eating and observance of days. Somewhere in his missionary experience -- if not in reports from Rome itself -- Paul had encountered conflicts arising from differences of opinion in regard to what is lawful to eat and what days should be observed as special. The "weak" are those who place prohibitions and requirements on themselves. In regard to eating, they consume only vegetables, as though that diet is more religious than that of a steak lover. In regard to days, the "weak" observe certain days, while the "strong" regard one day to be the same as the next.
Interestingly, the admonition to "welcome" is addressed to the strong in faith. They should not exploit the weakness of others who insist on certain practices but rather extend them hospitality for its own sake. The prohibition Paul places on them is not what they should or should not eat or what days they should or should not observe: it is simply they should not judge one another because the others, the weak, belong to Christ and so "who are you to pass judgment on servants of another?"
Paul's comment that "we do not live to ourselves, and we do not die to ourselves" is his way of teaching that living and dying we are all together, the weak and the strong, "the Lord's." The Christian community is based not on the agreements we establish with one another, not on the common positions on social or even ethical issues, but on the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ which defines us as belonging to him.
The danger with passing judgment on others is that it does not take into account the fact that "we will all stand before the judgment seat of God" (v. 10) and "each of us will be accountable to God" (v. 12). Far better to recognize our oneness in Christ than endanger our participation in eternity by excluding others here and now on the basis of trivialities.
The message is clear: God calls us to be one in community in spite of the differences that will always be present where two or three are gathered, even in his name.
Matthew 18:21-35
One Sunday afternoon I was teaching a class about the Lord's Prayer. When we came to the petition, "Forgive us our sin as we forgive those who sins against us," a woman in the class raised her hand and offered her story. She said that a few years earlier she had been caring for an older woman, and in the course of her work she did something that she really should not have done. She went to the older woman and asked her forgiveness. The older woman listened carefully and then responded, "I'll forgive you this time but not a second time."
At this point in her story my mind sped immediately to Jesus' response to Peter's question about how many times should he forgive a brother or sister in Christ who sins against him. Peter must have thought that seven times was already generous, but Jesus pushed the number to "77 times," a far cry from the woman's "not a second time." For once, however, I kept quiet and allowed the class member to continue her story.
She said that after a few months she again did something for which she was ashamed, and though she felt the need to ask for the older woman's forgiveness, she remembered the earlier response and was afraid to approach her. Several days later, however, she could not live with herself, and so she braved the potential storm by appearing before the woman. "I know you told me months ago that you would not forgive me a second time," she said, "but I must ask for your forgiveness again." She waited painfully for the response. The older woman looked at her and smiled. "What do you mean 'again'?" she asked. "I forgave you for what you did before. That's wiped away, gone forever. We are starting over again. Of course, I forgive you, but I won't a second time."
Perhaps that's what Jesus had in mind when he increased the number to 77 times (or "seventy times seven" in some manuscripts). In either case, who's counting? If forgiveness means wiping away the deed, then we are always back to one.
The parable of the unforgiving servant that follows Jesus' response to Peter really has nothing to do with his question. It does, however, bring together two teachings about forgiveness.
In his commentary on Matthew, Eduard Schweizer estimates the debt of 10,000 talents owed the king by this one slave amounted to fifty million denarii. The value of the amount can be appreciated when one realizes that the normal daily wage for a worker was one denarius, that King Herod's total annual income amounted to 900 talents, and that the taxes imposed on Galilee and Perea together came to 200 talents. The tall-tale feature of the parable makes the point of the incredible debt from which the slave is forgiven over against the paltry hundred denarii owed to him by another (see Schweizer, The Good News according to Matthew, Atlanta: John Knox, 1975, p. 377).
The petition, "Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us," places our receiving forgiveness from God and our forgiving others in the same arena. The two are so closely related, as our parable shows, that they form one reality. Indeed, back in Matthew 6 where Jesus taught the Lord's Prayer, he added, "For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you; but if you do not forgive others, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses" (6:14-
15).
The teaching of Jesus in Matthew 6 and the parable here in Matthew 18 indicate that forgiveness is not something we do for ourselves. It is God's act to us, and it is our act to others. If indeed we could forgive ourselves, we would not need God or one another. But the constant reaching out by God to break down the barriers that separate us from our Creator and the persistent commands by God that we forgive one another indicate how desperately we need God and how committed God is to our life together in community.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By Elizabth Actemeier
Exodus 14:19-31
The exodus from slavery in Egypt and the deliverance of the Israelites from the pursuing troops of Pharaoh Raamses II at the Sea of Reeds (ca. 1280 B.C.) forms the central redemptive act in the Old Testament. That redemption is mentioned in almost every book of the Old Covenant, and still today it is commemorated by Jews all over the world at their Passover feasts.
There is no doubt that the exodus happened, and there is no reputable scholar who seriously questions the event. But because the story of the deliverance at the sea has accrued layers of tradition, we cannot say exactly what happened. In our text, three sources are woven together to describe the event, with some disagreements among them. In the Yahwist source, the Lord drives back the sea with a strong east wind. According to the priestly writers, the sea is divided when Moses stretches forth his hand. In the brief excerpts from the Elohist sources, there are echoes of the Holy War tradition, in which the Lord discomfits the Egyptians and clogs their chariot wheels.
All of the sources and, indeed, the Old Testament as a whole, agree however that the event was solely the work of God and that Israel was the passive recipient of his act of love (cf. vv. 13-14). Israel did nothing to effect her redemption; the Lord did it all.
The New Testament parallel to this text is the story of the cross. As Israel was delivered from slavery at the Sea of Reeds, so we were delivered from our slavery to sin and death by the cross and resurrection of Jesus Christ. In fact, when Jesus talks about his coming crucifixion in Luke 9:31, he terms it his "exodus" (translated in the English as "departure"). It is therefore possible for us to understand more fully the crucifixion of our Lord by delving into the meaning of this deliverance of Israel.
First, it is clear that Israel had done nothing to deserve her redemption (her "buying back") from slavery. She had not yet entered into covenant with her Lord; she had not yet received the commandments. She had worked no piety or obedience. And so too we, when we were redeemed by the cross and resurrection of Christ, had done nothing to deserve it. "While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us" (Romans 5:8).
Second, therefore, Israel understood her redemption to be solely an act of God's love (cf. Deuteronomy 7:7-8). He had seen the affliction of slaves whom he claimed as his people, and he came down in love to deliver them (cf. Exodus 2:24-25; 3:7-8). So too is our redemption by God's act in Christ his gift of pure, loving grace toward us. ("God shows his love for us in that while we were yet sinners Christ died for us.")
Third, the redemption of Israel forms an integral part of God's work toward his goal of bringing blessing on all the families of the earth through the descendants of Abraham (cf. Genesis 12:3). It is not an isolated event, but the crucial act of deliverance of a people whom God is using to fulfill his promise. And so too is our redemption a part of God's movement toward the goal of his kingdom come on earth.
Fourth, it was the exodus deliverance that first made Israel a people. They were a "mixed multitude" (Exodus 12:38) when they came out of Egypt, from many different tribes and backgrounds, and it was their redemption in common that bound them together as a people of the Lord. They had all been redeemed together! That was what they all shared and what made them a unity, and if they forgot their redemption, they became "no people" (cf. Hosea 1:8-
9, 15). In similar fashion, we in the church are a mixed multitude, from various nations and races, backgrounds and situations. But the one fact that holds us together as one people of God is that we have all been redeemed together by the cross of Christ. If we forget that redemption that we share, our unity becomes impossible and we become "no people" of God, no church.
Fifth, God's destruction of the troops of Pharaoh at the Sea of Reeds is clear evidence of God's dealing with sin. As Martin Luther King, Jr., wrote of our text, "Egypt symbolized evil in the form of humiliating oppression, ungodly exploitation, and crushing domination" (Strength to Love, Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1981, p. 73), and God drowned its power. The wages of its sin was death. And so too, the wages of our sin is death, experienced first on our behalf by our Lord on his cross, and still today for those who would think to defy the Lord of all empire, history, and nature.
God in his love redeemed his people. And that is also our story. For in his love in Jesus Christ, God has also redeemed us.
Lutheran Option -- Genesis 50:15-21
At this end of the stories of Joseph, we find his brothers still burdened by their guilt. They are afraid that Joseph will take his vengeance on them and perhaps have them imprisoned or executed. And so they tell one more lie, saying that their father Jacob, before he died, had commanded that the brothers be forgiven their evil actions toward Joseph. Thus do those who commit sin try to save their own skins, through lies, deviousness, self-justifications. "What a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive."
But Joseph's acts are not determined by purely human emotions and schemes. Joseph has a clearer vision of what ultimately matters in this world. Joseph has a vision and understanding of the purposes and plans of God. He knows that the Lord is working out his purpose, in fulfillment of his promise to Abraham (Genesis 12:3), to bring his blessing through Israel on all the families of the earth. And Joseph knows that everything that the brothers have done to him and everything that has happened to him in Egypt have been part of that plan of God's, so that God could keep alive his chosen people during the seven years of famine. Joseph therefore can tell his brothers that though they have done evil toward him, God has used that evil for good. Joseph subordinates all of his own feelings and possible desires for vengeance to God, who is doing and always does only good.
Is it not possible, good Christians, that when we surrender our human desires and hatreds, our turbulent emotions and feelings to the Lord, that God always brings out of our sinful ways his good? We are never perfect Christians, but God is a perfect God. And if we surrender our lives to him, he uses them in his eternal purpose of bringing blessing on this earth.
Certainly the cross of Christ is the supreme example of that. From a purely human standpoint, the cross was terrible -- a torturous exhibition of our human sin putting an innocent man to death. But because Christ surrendered himself to the will of his Father and let all our sins nail him to that tree, the Father used that evil to work his highest good -- our forgiveness and redemption and the Father's eternal love for all the world shown forth.
