Grace and peace to you from our Loving Creator, and from our Savior, Jesus, who is our Christ. Amen.
As many of the itinerant preachers of the early centuries did, I bring you greetings from the places where I’ve been, so greetings both from the family of Christ at Emmanuel Lutheran in Prescott Valley, which had its first in-person worship in six months last Sunday, and from the future leaders of the church gathered virtually through the Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago, where I am a first-year full-time seminarian, at long last!
Justice is heavy on my mind this week: Justice in the grand jury outcome in the Breonna Taylor case, justice for our planet and our children’s children who will live here, and then justice in our Biblical account today: for the family of Jacob, Joseph and his brothers, and their children.
Let’s begin with Joseph’s brothers. In the preceding chapters, Joseph’s brothers come to Egypt to buy food for their family, as they are deep into a famine. They reconnect with Joseph, who was enslaved because of their actions, imprisoned, then rose to greatness in service to the Pharoah. He insists the family move to Egypt, where he can provide for them in the coming years of the continuing famine.
A grateful Jacob reconnects with his favorite son, and all seems well, until Jacob dies. Then, his brothers realize, there is no reason for Joseph to continue to treat them well. This, they assume, is where Joseph will enact justice for what they did to him decades earlier. And they know they deserve whatever he does.
He has the power; he could have them killed.
He can have them thrown into prison.
He can refuse to give them more food, and they will starve.
Or he can order them into slavery, as he was sold into slavery as a youth.
So, terrified, they concoct a story (How’s that for going right back to creating stories to cover for their misdeeds?) They told Joseph that Jacob, on his deathbed, asked that he forgive them. Then they offer themselves as slaves – not the best outcome, but better than imprisonment, starving or dying. And they wait for whatever justice Joseph gives.
Joseph didn’t command death, slavery, starvation or even imprisonment. Joseph forgave them and wiped away a lifetime of lingering pain. Joseph had the power to choose anything as justice, and Joseph chose … LOVE.
And the tears fell. And the hugging. And probably another banquet of food. Joseph was freed from the burden of hate – he had his family for life. The brothers were finally freed from the burden of fear, that Joseph would enact revenge. That’s what forgiveness does. It frees us.
Crowds of people gathered in Louisville, Kentucky, and many other places this week, as a grand jury was set to release its indictment in the case of Breonna Taylor, the young EMT who was killed in her home by a police officer, during a no-knock warrant served at the wrong address. JUSTICE FOR BREONNA, some of the signs read. Wednesday night, after no officer was charged in her murder, and one detective was charged for wanton endangerment for firing into the neighboring apartment, crowds in Louisville and elsewhere became violent. NO JUSTICE, NO PEACE, they chanted. Two Louisville officers were shot, but are expected to survive. The shooter was apprehended.
Where’s the justice for Breonna Taylor?
Thursday, I spent three hours on Zoom, meeting with 180 other national interfaith leaders and church members who are concerned about climate change. We have a decade, give or take, before there is no turning back from the damage excess carbon emissions are wreaking on this planet.
I think about my son, Michael, who was only 7 when we left Spirit of Joy – He just turned 30. I think about the sons he’s raising now: Logan is 9 and Nathan is 7. What kind of world will we give to them?
Where is the justice for Michael, for Logan and Nathan, the justice for all the children of the world?
I wish justice for Breonna and other black lives lost came as easily as forgiveness happened with Joseph and his brothers. I wish we could say we’re sorry for the harm we’ve caused this planet and make it all better. But justice isn’t nearly that easy. Our world is broken. Our relationships with each other and this planet are broken.
Here in God’s family, we have a name for that brokenness – Sin. In some cases, sin is easily wiped away by the vastness of God’s grace.
And sometimes sin can be wiped away but repairing the damage of that brokenness takes all of the energy we can muster. We need to repent – literally turn ourselves from the actions we’ve been taking, and go in the other direction.
This week has been a kick in my stomach as I realize that I can’t ignore this and think someone else will do the work of racial and climate justice.
I am terrified to look inside myself and decide how I need to change to do my part to rid the world of systemic racism. What is it that each of us needs to hear, to learn, to turn around in order to move forward toward justice for our black and brown neighbors?
It takes courage to admit we’ve taken and taken and taken without any obvious consequences, and we’ve abused this planet to the end of its ability to sustain life. We can’t wait. We’re out of time. We have to turn around.
I will say it again. Justice for God’s family, justice for God’s creation has NO easy answers. But every one of us has a part to play in creating a more just world, and we need to get started, now.
Amen.
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