We are in the time of the prophets. Each one called to carry God’s specific message to a particular people. Each one so distinctive, so responsive, if not always willing at first. Jeremiah cried to God to save him from persecution, Jonah ran, and today we meet Ezekiel. It is likely that he was among Jerusalem’s aristocracy deeply steeped in Israel’s legal tradition and well equipped to argue with his audience of exiles that they have not been cursed by the actions of their ancestors to live without hope. Often the prophets are sent to those who have forgotten that all lives belong to God and God will judge them by their actions. The message we know best is “turn from your wickedness and live.” The Judeans are a people who believe they have no power in themselves to save themselves. It is not that they have forgotten whose they are; they have forgotten that God will judge them on their own merits, not on the sins of their ancestors, that a change of heart is always possible, and most importantly, God does not desire the death of anyone. Repent and return to God.

So my friends, it may not exactly surprise you to hear that I was what you would call a nerd growing up. I loved reading and learning tons of new facts and I couldn’t help but share them with everyone I could. I would even sit with my grandparents’ encyclopedia set and just spend hours going through each hefty volume. (The fact that it was a 1960s edition only got me in trouble a few times.)

Archbishop Desmond Tutu says, “Those who say forgiving is a sign of weakness haven’t tried it.”

Forgiveness is a tricky topic in the church. Much like “sin” or “salvation” or even “kingdom of heaven” (also featured in today’s gospel), the concept of forgiveness requires a bit of unpacking before we can proceed with any possible application for our own lives.

For many of you, the word “forgiveness” brings up impossible standards, such as Joseph forgiving his brothers after they plotted his death, as we heard in our reading from Genesis this morning, or Jesus on the cross speaking the unimaginable “forgive them for they do not know what they are doing.”

For some, the call to forgive feels deeply wrong, because there are people, groups of people, and institutions who have hurt you deeply, betrayed you, or abused you, and the expectation that you would forgive your perpetrator feels like just one more abuse on top of all the others.

Ezekiel 33:7-11 – Psalm 119:33-40 – Romans 13:8-14 – Matthew 18:15-20

Months ago, when this pandemic was in its early stages, a friend of mine posted something on Facebook that hurt me. It was not directly aimed at me; I was not named in the post; and yet the comment cut me to the core. All the telltale signs of emotional injury were there – my heart-rate and breathing sped up, my stomach felt queasy, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I responded in the comments in a way that signaled my pain, but as always, I didn’t feel as if I had communicated my experience in a clear way. To be honest, I have never found social media to be a place to express real emotion in any kind of authentic and effective way. But that is a topic for another sermon or conversation.

Bishop Gayle is one of the members of the faculty who teach our deacons in formation. She comes twice in their three- year cycle to teach the prophets. She loves to share their lives and ministry with us particularly, I think, to remind us that our call as deacons is closely related to the call of the prophet. Like many who are called to ordained ministry, the prophet is never really sure that God is calling him. Like many of us the prophet soon begins to feel overwhelmed by all that God requires. Like many of us the prophet begins to question whether God is really in the work that is to be done and darn it! Why can’t God just tell the people what God wants them to know. Why shouldn’t we run? Why shouldn’t we be angry? Why shouldn’t we quit? God doesn’t need us and, besides, it is too hard.

Our Anglican tradition follows an ancient Christian teaching, that Jesus of Nazareth is God incarnate – the Divine Word become truly human. God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, as we proclaim in the Nicene Creed. Even when we are having trouble believing that this good news is possible – and we all do – we know ourselves part of a great river of the faithful who hold each other up whenever we find ourselves unable to do it on our own. We are met daily with challenges to that faith – skepticism and even scorn from those around us; our own weariness and reasonable doubt; a world full of evil and injustice and disaster. All these things and more make it difficult to trust that God would actually become human, or, if it did actually happen, that it makes any difference at all.