Joseph was a hero. At least near the end of the book of Genesis he was. But that’s a long way from where he started. As a seventeen year old, he was insufferable. He had dreams of grandeur that he could not resist sharing with his ten older brothers.

Joseph’s father Jacob favored his eleventh son and, as parents often do with their younger ones, gave Joseph way more freedom and far less accountability than his elder siblings. It was a recipe for disaster. It played out when Jacob sent Joseph to help his brothers who were pasturing their flocks.

Joseph wandered around taking his time finding his brothers. When he finally arrived they were none too happy to see him. And, to make a long-ish story a bit shorter, the elder brothers plotted to get rid of Joseph by delivering him into the hands off passing traders. And despite a last ditch effort by the oldest brother to foil the plan, Joseph was soon a captive on his way to Egypt.

He landed on his feet when he was bought by a prominent military officer. Smart, resilient, and gifted, Joseph did well. There were some big ups and downs but he prevailed.

At the age of thirty Joseph became a trusted advisor to the Pharaoh. Meanwhile back in Canaan, life had gone on. Jacob had never stopped mourning his son Joseph. But he kept a hand in the family business, and when crops began to fail Jacob sent his sons to buy grain in Egypt.

Joseph heard about the men who came to buy grain. It was his job to know such things. He soon discovered they were his own brothers. Joseph arranged for them to get grain. He eventually revealed his identity, and invited them to come live in Egypt until the famine in Canaan was over.

There is more to the story, but this is where we stop today. Joseph’s dreams not only came true, but also were the means by which God acted to save Israel from natural disaster. So the family of Jacob left the Promised Land of total provision, and travelled into unknown territory.

Like a fractured fairy tale, this is not a perfect story. Particularly when it comes to human behavior. Jacob was not the wisest father out there. Joseph did really need to be taken down a notch. Those older brothers allowed themselves to be provoked by a mere kid.

Does famine play metaphorically in these chapters? Could it be that the real drought is a lack of mutually unmerited forgiving? The thing is, perhaps God’s beloved people had to leave their comfort zone to avoid a different kind of disaster – from dying in their sins.

Really, a lot of unmerited forgiving was in order. But this disrupts our expectation that you should always get what you deserve. And you should seek at least compensation, if not full recompense if you don’t. Anything less than this is a travesty of justice. Even though unmerited forgiveness was always necessary in Israel’s covenant relationship with God, no?

Skipping to the gospel we see that unmerited forgiveness underlies everything Jesus taught. From his challenging lessons on love to his resurrection, his message was anything but getting what you deserve. Indeed, when you are wronged, said Jesus today, respond with grace.

Grace just isn’t natural to us. The way Jesus puts it in the gospel today suggests that not everyone wants to hear what he has to say about grace. But it is something that can be learned by those who decide to pay attention and listen to Jesus.

Unfortunately, the way our gospel text is translated today obscures the message that this is all about grace. It sounds as if it’s about earning credits in your spiritual bank account. If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you … If you do good to others who do good to you, what credit is that to you… If you lend to those from whom you hope to receive, what credit is that to you…

Get enough credits by doing the right things, and you can fly first class to heaven. Did God really send Jesus to say that? No, because Jesus says right here in this gospel, “…love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return.”

The word isn’t credit. It’s grace. Jesus is asking a different question altogether. If you love those who love you, what is grace to you?  If you do good to others who do good to you, what is grace to you? If you lend to those from whom you hope to receive, what is grace to you?

Grace. It isn’t a transaction. It has nothing to do with goodness. It’s strange energy. It’s what drives unmerited forgiveness. It does an end run around sin. Doesn’t obey our rules of favor and disfavor. Grace is a God thing. We don’t own or manage it. We can only embrace it. Or not.

In today’s gospel Jesus discusses how bad things may be re-directed to good ends using the strange energy of grace. It’s not advising anyone to be a doormat or to tolerate abuse of course.

The actions Jesus invokes are only effective when they are voluntary, not compulsory.

Neither should we let Paul’s description of the spiritual body as a higher, more perfect state make us think that our physical bodies cannot do the things Jesus advocated. True, the reign of God is a spiritual inheritance rather than a physical one. But Jesus makes it clear that our ordinary bodies are not an impediment to living God’s reign.

After all, God could make a way for good to happen – repeatedly – through unwise Jacob, arrogant Joseph and his surly siblings, traders on the take, and innumerable other ordinary people. But it takes grace. Unmerited grace from God to us and from us to one another. This is our lesson today. Let go of meritocracy. Embrace the grace.