September 11, 2001. Exactly four years ago today.

It was the worst terrorist attack in American history, and it burned into our brains a series of heartbreaking images that will stay with us forever. The Twin Towers falling. The Pentagon exploding. Flight 93 crashing into the ground. A firefighter carrying away a flag-draped victim. The twisted rubble of Ground Zero.

It wasn’t long before the attacks became known by the shorthand expression “9/11.” Then, when terrorists planted bombs on commuter trains in Madrid, killing 191 and injuring more than 1,500, the attack was dubbed “Spain’s 9/11.” Michael Moore skewered the Bush administration with a documentary called “Fahrenheit 9/11.” And a San Francisco columnist who switched from liberal to conservative in the aftermath of the attack on America called himself a “9/11 Republican.”

So here we are, living in a post-9/11 world. We’ve seen the evil that people can do, and we’ve seen the spirit of sacrifice and service in firefighters, police officers, and ordinary citizens. But the question remains, “Where is God in all this?”

And as we look for an answer to this question, it makes sense to go back to the beginning, to the book of Genesis, and discover how our ancestors responded to attacks that were as unexpected and as evil as the suicide missions of 2001. In particular, let’s look at the story of Joseph, the favorite son of a man named Jacob. Joseph’s own personal 9/11 occurs when his brothers become overwhelmed with jealousy, and conspire to kill him. “Come now,” they say, “let us kill him and throw him into one of the pits” (Genesis 37:20). I believe that the anger of the terrorists who attacked four years ago was fueled, at least in part, by this kind of resentment and jealousy.

Fortunately, one of the brothers intervenes, and convinces his siblings not to murder Joseph. Instead, they strip him and sell him into slavery. Joseph is carted off to Egypt, where he becomes a slave of one of Pharaoh’s officers.

Jumping ahead to the end of Genesis, we find that Joseph has risen to power in Egypt, and has become second-in-command to Pharaoh himself. A famine hits his homeland, and his brothers travel down to Egypt to buy grain, not knowing that Joseph is now the governor of the land. After a series of tests and negotiations, Joseph reveals his identity to his brothers, and they are relieved that he does not slay them for their previous offenses. They fall down before him and say, “We are here as your slaves” (50:18).

They did the crime, so they expect to do the time. It only seems fair.

But Joseph goes in an entirely different direction. “Do not be afraid!” he says to them. “Am I in the place of God? Even though you intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good, in order to preserve a numerous people, as he is doing today. So have no fear; I myself will provide for you and your little ones” (vv. 19-21).

What a jaw-dropping response this is, from a man who had been betrayed by his brothers and sold into slavery. We might expect him to be angry, but he’s not. We would sympathize if he was bitter, but he’s not. We would understand if he felt a need to pursue revenge with all the shock and awe of Egyptian military might … but he doesn’t go this way at all.

Instead, he focuses on reconciliation, not revenge. And that’s a lesson for us all, in our post-9/11 world.

Notice how Joseph begins his statement to his brothers: “Am I in the place of God?” Of course not! Joseph knows that he is not God, despite the fact that he has a position of power in a major superpower of the ancient Near East. He realizes that he is under the judgment and control of the Lord, just as his brothers are. They are all subject to the same divine authority, all accountable to the same God for their words and their deeds.

Unfortunately, we’ve forgotten our proper place in the world, and we often put ourselves in the place of God when we take action as individuals and as a nation. Researchers play God when they perform cloning in the laboratory. Food scientists play God when they develop genetically modified food. Judges and juries play God when they condemn criminals to death. Politicians play God when they use military might to remove a dictator or end a civil war. We play God when we judge and condemn a friend based on a rumor, a half-truth, or a second-hand report.

In all of these activities, there is a real danger that we will forget our proper place in the world. We are not – repeat not -- in the place of God, so we should be extremely cautious about making judgments that belong only to the Lord. Joseph could have crushed his brothers for their cruel and hateful crimes against him – he had the opportunity and the means -- but he decided against it. He knew that God was in control, and that he and his brothers together were standing under the same divine authority.

Only God is in the place of God. No pharaoh, no president, no governor, and no general stands in this place – only God. Only the Lord can be an impartial, just, and eternal judge, one who “will judge the world with righteousness, and the peoples with equity” (Psalm 98:9). This was true for Joseph and his brothers. And it’s true for us, for our friends, and for those who do violence against us.

It’s important to know our place in the universe, and to trust that God will play his proper role as judge and redeemer. But to let God be God does not mean that we, as people, do nothing. Instead, we are challenged to follow Joseph in working for reconciliation instead of revenge.

The approach that Joseph takes is not as ancient and unrealistic as you might first assume it is. During World War II, the Russian philosopher Semyon Frank wrote in his notebook: “In this terrifying war, in the inhuman chaos which reigns in the world, the one who first starts to forgive will in the end be victorious.”

This seemed incredibly idealistic at the time, with bombs falling and millions dying, but in the end his words came true. At the close of the war, some members of the Allied camp wanted to pursue revenge against Germany, but others remembered how the punitive treaty after the First World War had created bitterness, leading to the rise of the Nazi party. So, instead of pursuing revenge, the Allies worked for reconciliation. The coal and steel industries of France and Germany were brought together, and their resources were pooled. A center was established in Switzerland to work for European reconciliation. On top of this, a generosity of spirit was at work here in the United States, and a massive amount of money flowed into Europe through the Marshall Plan. Because the focus was on reconciliation instead of revenge, age-old enemies quickly became friends. (Michael Henderson, “Forgiveness: A Dilemma of Democracy,” The Way, January 2004, www.michaelhenderson.org.uk/articles/way.htm)

The one who first starts to forgive will, in the end, be victorious. It’s as true today as it was after World War II, and in the time of Joseph.

The challenge for us is to know our proper place in the world, and to know the place of God in human history as well. Our place is to be active followers of Jesus, and God’s place is to transform evil into good. Just how God does this is always unpredictable, because God’s ways are not our ways. But I have strong evidence that God is always working to do this – I see it in the story of Joseph, when God takes the evil of the brothers and turns it into good, “in order to preserve a numerous people” (v. 20). And I see it in the story of Jesus on the cross – Christ’s own personal 9/11 -- when God takes the evil of the crucifixion and transforms it into forgiveness and new life.

The Lord’s plans will certainly prevail, despite our tendency to toss people into pits and even crucify the Son of God. We humans may always be dreaming up evil, but God is always dreaming up good – surprising us with the ways that love can conquer hatred, and reconciliation can overpower revenge.

About the best we can do is point people to the Lord, and show some evidence that he is alive and well and at work in the world. We can bind up wounds, as so many people are doing through their support of Hurricane Katrina relief. We can comfort the grieving, as you do so well when a church member loses a loved one – I felt your consolation myself in a powerful way last winter. We can shelter the homeless, as we’ll do this coming December through our Homeless Hypothermia program. And we can work for reconciliation, as Jen Thalman and the Dannemillers did during their year as mission workers in Guatemala.

This is our place: to bind up wounds, comfort the grieving, shelter the homeless, and work for reconciliation. We can do this as individuals, as families, as a community of faith – today’s Festival of Ministries will give you a number of opportunities to join together with other church members to do this important work. If we know our place, then we’ll discover God’s place, and we’ll see the Lord’s hand at work in even the most horrifying of human events.

Our God is with us, working for good. On 9/11, and every day. Amen.