In this morning’s Gospel, we hear Jesus say, “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you.”
The Hebrew scripture this
morning, gives us an example of what Jesus was talking about. Let me give you
the very short version of Joseph’s story:
Joseph was one of the 12 sons of Jacob and Rachel. You may remember that Jacob
was the twin brother of Esau, and they were the sons of Isaac and Rebecca and
the grandsons of Abraham and Sarah. Esau was the first to be born to Rachel, with
Jacob following, holding his heel.
Jacob’s father loved Joseph more than any of the others and gave him a colored
cloak. His brothers were jealous of him and sold him into slavery. He was taken
to Egypt and eventually became steward to Potiphar, one of Pharaoh's officials.
Potiphar's wife tried unsuccessfully to seduce him and after false accusations
were levelled at Joseph he was imprisoned. While he was in jail, he was able to
interpret Pharaoh's dream and, as a reward, he was made governor of Egypt. He
wisely rationed the country's produce in preparation for a time of famine.
During the famine Jacob's sons – Joseph’s brothers – came to Egypt to plead for
supplies. They did not recognize him but after Joseph was satisfied that they
were reformed he identified himself with great joy. Joseph invited his father
and brothers to come and settle in Egypt.
Now, I don’t know about you, but I have certainly had my issues with my siblings. I remember when my sister caught me smoking a cigarette out of my bedroom window. I was blowing the smoke into a wet facecloth because my girlfriends said it was a good way to hide the smell of smoke, but my sister’s bedroom window was one down from mine and she opened her window, shoved her head out and caught me red-handed, mid-drag, right in the act.
HA! She yelled as she practically flew down the stairs to tell my mother. I, of course, was no dummy. My girlfriends had also taught me what to do should I ever get caught. So, I wrapped the cigarette in the wet face cloth, wound my arm up for the pitch, said a quick Hail Mary and threw it in the midst of my father’s garden where it landed safely hidden between the rows of corn stalks and the heads of lettuce. I would sneak out early the next day to hide the evidence.
I can’t even begin to express
my anger at my sister in that moment. I heard my mother say to my sister, “You
mind your own business. Your sister is 16. She has her driver’s license. She
takes you where you need to go. Stop spying on her and don’t be a tattle tale.”
Parental attitudes about smoking were very different back in the day. So, even
though I knew I wasn’t going to get punished, I still hated my sister with a
hatred so hot my face felt on fire. Had she come into my room at that moment, I
probably would be standing before you today, an ex-con, having done time for
doing murder.
Okay, I exaggerate to make a point. My point is that I can’t even begin to imagine what Joseph felt when he saw his brothers. Remember, they didn’t rat on him for using his father’s tobacco shisha or hookah. They beat him up, stole his coat of many colors, threw him into a pit and then sold him into slavery! Big difference, right?
Here’s the thing: Joseph is considered a prefiguration of Jesus, the one who forgives all sin. So, it’s no surprise, really, that the folks who put together the lectionary fit together this story of Joseph and this story from Luke’s gospel about loving your enemies and doing good to those who hate you, and to pray for those who abuse you.
Are we expected to be like
Joseph and Jesus? Well, if you listen to the psalmist and read St. Paul’s
letter to the ancient church in Corinth, that’s pretty much the message, isn’t
it?
The Psalmist tells us: Do not fret yourself because of evildoers; /do not be
jealous of those who do wrong. / For they shall soon wither like the grass, /and
like the green grass fade away.
I don’t know about you, but I want to say, “Define ‘soon’. How ‘soon’ will they wither away?”
You know, I no longer hate my sister. In that moment when I really hated her I couldn’t ever imagine saying that. I’ve grown. I’ve matured. I’ve experienced life. I’ve been hurt and betrayed. I’ve hurt and betrayed others. I’ve come to better understand what’s been called The Golden Rule: “Do to others as you would have them do to you.”
It’s not as easy as it sounds is it. It takes real maturity, real strength of character to treat others as you want to be treated. It’s so much easier to justify our behavior to hurt or malign or treat others with malice than it is to take the time to understand what may be motivating others
It wasn’t until my first high school reunion when in a casual conversation with a friend whose younger sister was in the same class as my sister, I mentioned that I was amazed that so many of the teachers we had were still teaching. My friend said, “Yeah, your poor sister was in the same situation as mine. All they ever heard was, “Oh, you’re Elizabeth’s sister. Let’s see if you can do as well as she did.”
I gasped. I had no idea. I couldn’t imagine how I would have felt if, in every class, every teacher expected me to do as well as my older sister. Suddenly, I understood why she always tried to set me up for failure. Just once, just once, if she could lower my standard, maybe she’d have a chance to shine all on her own, instead of always having to lurk in my shadow.
Maybe it took Joseph spending some time in prison, having been falsely accused, to consider his privileged position among his eleven brothers. Maybe he thought about how it would feel if he were jealous of one of his brothers. How would he respond? Maybe the second worst thing to happen to him – being falsely accused and in prison – helped him understand why the worst thing happen to him. And, that helped him to take an even longer view and made sense out of all of his suffering as part of a mysterious path in life that was just now being revealed to him.
All I know is this – it sure would be nice for us not to think in terms of each other as friends and enemies. Us and them. North and South. Red and Blue. Black and White. To let our differences be what defines us. I catch little glimmers of it now and again, so I know it’s possible.
Strangers still say “bless
you” when you sneeze in line at the drug store. Or sometimes when you’re in the
grocery store and you go to take a potato and a few of them tumble onto the
floor, someone else will suddenly appear and help you pick them up.
And,
sometimes, the lady at the diner will call me honey when she puts down my cup
of tea and I delight to see that she has remembered the lemons I requested –
and I thank her, even though yes, it’s her job. Or, the guy driving the big,
red, Loud pickup truck with equally Loud political stickers stops to give me
the right of way and then smiles and tips his red baseball cap.
In those moments, I’m sure no one is thinking, “Well, I’m following the Golden Rule.” I’m even more positive no one is thinking, “I’m walking the way of Jesus.” And, I’d bet solid money that no one is thinking, “There, I’m loving my enemy.”
But, they are. Or, they just might be. Think of that next time you find yourself arriving at the door of the dentist’s office at the same time as someone else and they say to you, “No, go ahead. You go first.” Or maybe you say to someone, and mean it, “I like your tie.” Or, “Gee, love your hat.” Or, you might even call up a sibling and maybe laugh over a memory – or, clear the air so you can laugh over it.
To practice the Golden Rule in our own actions and to see it in others is to follow the way of Jesus. It takes self-reflection and care, walking for a while in another person’s shoes. But, in it we grow and mature. By it we can help turn enemies into friends. With it – through one simple rule – we can change and transform the world. Because, my friends, the energy of the Golden Rule is the energy of love.
Amen.
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