Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost

 Video of Service

Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 19A)

September 13, 2026

Text: Gen. 50:15-21; Matt. 18:21-35

            They see him coming a long way off.  That dreamer.  Their little brother.  Daddy’s favorite, with his coat of many colors.  Bow down to him?!  Us?!  That’ll be the day!  Resentment.  Jealousy.  Bitterness.  Seething below the surface.  The pressure builds.  Now’s our chance to teach him a lesson.  Let’s kill him!  Or, for now, just cast him down in this pit while we eat our lunch and decide what to do with him.  Oh, here come some Midianite traders.  Let’s sell him to them.  Better than killing him.  Money for us (he owes us, after all).  Chains, servitude for him.  Let’s just see what becomes of this dreamer.

And that’s when Joseph’s hellish nightmare really begins.  The slave market in Egypt.  Potiphar’s wife and her lewd behavior.  Then, allegations, character assassination, and no chance to plead his case.  Once again, cast down into a pit.  Down and down goes Joseph.  Hard time in prison.  A little hope when he interprets some dreams, but his cellmate is ungrateful.  Pharaoh’s cupbearer, restored, but forgetful.  In captivity, a man has a lot of time to think.  And one could hardly blame Joseph if he dwelt long and hard on all the wrong done to him at the hands of his brothers who were supposed to love him.

But now, their fortunes have entirely changed.  Joseph is exalted.  Second in command of all of Egypt.  Administrator of grain in a time of famine.  The cupbearer eventually had remembered Joseph, when Pharaoh was in need of a little dream interpretation.  And when Joseph delivered, Pharaoh raised him up from the pit.  Up and up goes Joseph.  A veritable resurrection from the dead.  Now, who should come along to buy Egyptian grain, but these very brothers?  The ones who, for all practical purposes, had murdered Joseph!  They don’t recognize him.  But he recognizes them!  And now, they need him.  And they bow down to him (Gen. 42:6).  And… you know the story.  You’re all spies!  Bring your youngest brother!  Then, I’ll believe you!  The trips back and forth.  Simeon held captive.  The “stolen cup.”  Joseph puts the brothers through their paces.  He has a little fun at their expense.  That is descriptive, by the way.  Not prescriptive.  That is to say, you shouldn’t do that.  But then, he can stand it no more.  The big revelation.  I am Joseph!  I am your brother!  Weeping.  Embracing.  Come down to Egypt!  Bring my father, Jacob.  I will provide for you and your little ones.

By the time we get to our Old Testament reading for this day (Gen. 50:15-21), Joseph has changed.  He’s grown.  He’s matured.  He’s had time to reflect.  On his life.  On the things that have happened, good and bad, over the course of a lifetime.  Look what God has done… for me, and for all… by means of the wrongs and the suffering I’ve endured.  Egypt and the nations kept alive through famine.  Israel preserved.  And that means the Promise!  The Seed of the Woman.  The Seed of Abraham.  God’s chosen people from whom would come Messiah!  And He certainly has worked all things well for me, thinks the man who rules all Egypt, second only to Pharaoh himself.  Beloved, that kind of perspective comes only… with age, to be sure… but really, with faith.  Looking back from the perspective of faith, and realizing that God really does work all things for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose (Rom. 8:28).  Even evil things.  That He really is merciful.  That He does not deal with us according to our sins, but pours out His grace and gifts upon us.  Not because we are good, or deserve it.  But because He is good.  And He loves us.  

So, when Joseph’s father died, and the brothers… at first, they didn’t even appear themselves, but sent messengers, asking in their father’s name that Joseph really and truly forgive, and not do evil to them… and then, they themselves, bowing to the ground, begging that Joseph not exact vengeance… Joseph weeps.  Why?  Because Joseph has come to understand the Gospel.  For him, and so, for them.  Oh, my dear brothers… Am I in the place of God?  Who am I to withhold forgiveness and demand retribution from you, when my God has been so unimaginably merciful and good to me?  You meant it for evil, that is true.  There is no denying it.  You put me through hell!  But God meant it for good, to bring it about that all these people have been saved!  And, little does Joseph know… saved, not just from famine, but the whole world, saved from sin and death and hell, because, from the nation of Israel… from Joseph’s iniquitous brother, Judah… would be born our dear Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.  

“Lord, how often will my brother sin against me, and I forgive him?” (Matt. 18:21; ESV).

            How often should God forgive you?

            He doesn’t forgive you only seven times, though that would be generous.  He doesn’t forgive you only seventy times seven, though that is particularly magnanimous.  He just keeps forgiving you.  Even when you’re not all that sorry.  Even when you take His love and forgiveness for granted.  Even when you keep doing the same thing, over and over.  He keeps applying the all-sufficient blood and death of Jesus Christ to you, for your forgiveness.  He just keeps covering you over with His mercy.  You live continually in His mercy.  You live continually in light of the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ for you, and for all.

            And that, then, is the answer to Peter’s question.  How often shall I forgive?  The answer is always, “one more time.”  Because God just keeps forgiving you.  And who are you, then, not to forgive your neighbor?

            Now, we’re not talking about whether there should be civil penalties for crimes committed.  We’re not talking about whether you will continue to struggle with your feelings toward your neighbor in the aftermath of sin committed against you.  And sometimes, in extreme cases (but only in extreme cases), the boundaries in a relationship have to change. I get that.  You know, forgiveness is messy.  You, essentially, have to die to yourself for the sake of your neighbor in order to do it.  That hurts.  It’s an image of the cross.  Jesus, dying for your sin, and the sins of the whole world.

And it takes practice.  We practice forgiveness as Christians.  Sometimes you think you’ve forgiven a person, and next thing you know, you’re obsessing over the thing you thought you’d forgiven, and you have to forgive that person all over again.  You know what you do when that happens?  Take to yourself the petition: “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.”  We’ll do that again in just a few minutes.  That prayer is forgiveness in action.  Every time you pray it, you’re declaring your neighbor forgiven once again.

            That is what forgiveness is.  The declaration that, even as the blood of Jesus covers all your own sins, so it covers your neighbor’s sins.  Yes, even that neighbor, who committed that sin.  It is the Holy Absolution, flowing from God to you, and from you to your neighbor.  AND (don’t forget), that works the other way, too.  Isn’t it just possible that you’ve also sinned against your neighbor? God’s Absolution also flows from your neighbor to you.

            Who, in this assembly, has sinned against you?  Who in your family?  Who out there?  Today, bring that sin with you to the altar, and plop it down in front of Jesus.  It belongs to Him, anyway.  He bought it, with His own blood, to forgive it.  Plop it down, and leave it there.  Don’t pick it up again.  Instead, receive Him.  His body given, His blood shed, for you and for them.  And then, immediately, go and love that person who sinned against you.  You’re free to do just that.  In Christ.  You can!  

            Like Joseph.  Oh, my brothers.  Oh, my dear, fellow Christians.  Am I in the place of God?  Who am I to hold your sin against you, when God does not hold my sin against me.  Let’s be reconciled.  Let’s love one another.  Let’s care for one another.  We can, because our God has freed us to do just that.  And what we often mean for evil, God works for good.  He does all things well.  He turns all things well.  And so, we all live, every one of us, by mercy.  The mercy of God for us in Jesus Christ.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son +, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.