When was the last time you were really angry with someone?

What happened? Did you get revenge on them? Did you reconcile with them? Do you still hold that anger?

There is something about anger that we as humans revel in. A favorite theologian, Fredrick Buechner says: “Of the Seven Deadly Sins, anger is possibly the most fun. To lick your wounds, to smack your lips over grievances long past, to roll over your tongue the prospect of bitter confrontations still to come, to savor to the last toothsome morsel both the pain you are given and the pain you are giving back -- in many ways it is a feast fit for a king. The chief drawback is that what you are wolfing down is yourself. The skeleton at the feast is you.” We love this feast of ourselves.

And we often have justification for our anger. We have been wronged in some way and we deserve to be angry! Joseph is no exception here.

Joseph is such a very human character. From the first he has his faults. All of his vanity and pride at the beginning of his story and when confronted with his brothers he has his terrible anger. When his brothers arrived in Egypt, they reported to Joseph’s office to learn how they might obtain food and Joseph recognized them in the line. It seems too good to be true. It was a perfect chance for revenge on these men who wanted to kill him and sold him to slavers.

We understand, don’t we? What is more natural, more human than vengeance? These men, his own brothers, threatened to kill him and then sold him into slavery. Because of their actions, he was later imprisoned. They didn’t care a bit about what became of him. Who wouldn’t be furious? Who wouldn’t want to punish them?

The desire for revenge is embedded deep in the human spirit. At best, it’s a survival mechanism. At worst, vengeance becomes slaughter. All of us share the desire to strike back, to punish those who hurt us, to get even and settle scores. We learn revenge in families, practice it on playgrounds, perfect it in social settings from bars to churches, and practice revenge in business, politics, religion, courtrooms, and relationships.

The desire for revenge is so powerful that human legal systems are necessary to regulate it. At the least, the system attempts to exact punishment in proportion to the crime. Most of the human desire for vengeance is out of proportion. We nourish revenge in daydreams. I can remember hurts inflicted years ago, and the memories can stir up old dreams of getting even. Yet, few of us have the opportunity presented to Joseph: his tormentors handed to him on a platter.

When he recognized his brothers, his anger ruled at first. He harshly accused them of being spies from Canaan. And when they protested, Joseph taunted them, accusing them more fiercely. It didn’t matter what they claimed; he threw them all in jail anyway.

He let them stew in there while he plotted his revenge. He sent all of them home with grain but kept one of his brothers in prison. He told them to come back with their only other brother, the son of Joseph’s mother. Then, and only then, would he set the imprisoned brother free. Then he had his servants put the money his brothers had paid for the grain inside their sacks of grain.

Of course the brothers discovered the money in their sacks and were terrified. They didn’t dare go back to Egypt. It didn’t matter if their brother was in prison. Who knew what that devious minister of food and famine might do next? Besides, Jacob simply refused to let the little brother go. He’d lost one son of his beloved wife and declared he could not continue to live if he lost the other.

But the food ran out, and the famine continued. With no other hope, Jacob and sons decided to risk their lives and go back. They took money, gifts and little brother, Benjamin. They left behind their aged father in anguish, certain he’d never see them again.

Trembling, they arrived at Joseph’s office. Now Joseph had them. Ah, sweet revenge. But not until a bit more torment. Joseph invited his brothers to dinner. When he saw little brother, Benjamin, he was overcome and had to leave the room. But he wasn’t finished with his older brothers yet. He told them he forgave them for stealing their money back and hiding it in their grain. And he sold them more grain and sent them on their way – but not before putting their money in the grain sacks and hiding his silver chalice in one of Benjamin’s sacks. When they’d been gone for a few hours, Joseph sent his servant after to accuse them of stealing his chalice and to warn them that whoever stole it would become his slave. The chalice was discovered in Benjamin’s sack just as Joseph planned.

The servant hauled them back to Joseph. The oldest brother, Judah, begged for mercy and offered to exchange himself for Benjamin’s life. Their father could not survive the grief, he said. This was Joseph’s long awaited moment of revenge. They were his to enslave, execute or and/or torture.

But Joseph doesn’t do that. Instead he reveals himself. “I am Joseph.”

And his brothers, instead of rejoicing that their brother is alive and well, are dismayed! They believe at long last that their sin has caught up with them. After: years of trying to hide what they have done, years of lying to their father, years of guilt hanging over their heads, now, at long last, they cower before the one they wronged. Remember, Joseph has spoken harshly to them. They are guilty. The one they wronged has the right and the power to wreak revenge. They know they deserve death. They can only acquiesce.

So they are silent. They offer no excuses. No defense. They quietly fear the judgment that they deserve.

And yet Joseph said, "I am your brother, Joseph, whom you sold into Egypt. And now do not be distressed or angry with yourselves because you sold me here” Do not be distressed or angry with yourselves.

Stop there. Put yourself in Joseph’ shoes: Wouldn’t you want your brothers to be at least a little angry with themselves? Wouldn’t you want them to feel some distress?

But deep inside Joseph another urge was stirring. His love for Benjamin and their father rose up to challenge his passion for revenge. That moment is astounding. Joseph lets go of his anger – lets go of his need for revenge. He goes beyond that and doesn’t even seek justice. After all – because of them he was a slave for years. Because of them he was imprisoned. It would be perfectly just for him to require the same of them.

But instead he forgives them. And what’s more, by telling them not to be distressed, he asks them to forgive themselves.

There is no accounting for those acts of forgiving mercy except to say that Joseph learned another behavior from God. Rather than take his pattern of behavior from those who victimized him, he patterned his behavior after God. He discovered that the norms and values of the kingdom of God are more powerful than the norms and values of ordinary human behavior. Grace is greater than sin. Love is more powerful than hate. The mercy of forgiveness overpowers the need for vengeance. And, he stopped the cycle of vengeance.

Vengeance spirals upward until someone decides it must stop, and that requires forgiveness. Vengeance seldom “works.” Its cost in human suffering and death can be incalculable. The only benefit seems to be that we feel better. Joseph learned something more powerful. He was finally rid of the burden that corroded his soul, shrunk his heart, and likely controlled his life.

Jesus said, “Love your enemies.” That means doing good to those who hate us, blessing those who curse us, and praying for those who abuse us. What does this mean?

Chuck Swindoll has a story about truly loving your enemies. He reports that a seminary student in Chicago faced a forgiveness test. Although the student preferred to work in some kind of ministry, the only job he could find was driving a bus on Chicago's south side. One day a gang of tough teens got on board and refused to pay the fare. After a few days of this, the seminarian spotted a policeman on the corner, stopped the bus, and reported them. The officer made them pay, but then he got off.

When the bus rounded a corner, the gang robbed the seminarian and beat him severely. He pressed charges and the gang was rounded up. They were found guilty. But as soon as the jail sentence was given, the young Christian saw their spiritual need and felt pity for them. So he asked the judge if he could serve their sentences for them. The gang members and the judge were dumbfounded. "It's because I forgive you," he explained. His request was denied, but he visited the young men in jail and led several of them to faith in Christ. That is truly loving your enemies.

How many of us here today could do the same?

How many of us harbor anger for much smaller slights? Joseph forgave the men who sold him into slavery. This seminary student forgave the men who took advantage of him and severely beat him.

When you hear of people forgiving all of that, can you forgive the one who hurt your feelings?

Sometimes we can’t. We fail at loving our enemies all the time. I know I do. It seems like one of those impossible tasks God sets before us. So what do we do if we just aren’t strong enough to forgive?

We ask for God’s help. One of my daily prayers is “I know I’m supposed to love this person God, but right now I’m having real trouble with it. Help me to forgive them. And could you please love them for me while I can’t?”

No, we aren’t perfect. We have trouble giving up our anger. Joseph did. But in the end he forgave them. With God’s help he forgave the horrible sins done to him.

Christ calls us to love our enemies. And with Christ’s help, we can. But only if we are willing to step back from the feast of our anger. Only if we are willing to try to forgive. So, my challenge for you today is to let go of that old grudge you bear. Forgive someone who doesn’t necessarily deserve forgiving. Try to love those who hate you. Do as Joseph did and follow God’s way over your own anger.

It won’t be easy, but with Christ, you can. Amen.