Lectionary Commentaries for September 13, 2026
Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost

At the outset of Matthew 18:21–35, Peter asks Jesus about the parameters of forgiveness: “Lord, if my brother or sister sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?” (verse 21). Jesus responds, “Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times” (verse 22).

Jesus’s rationale for this response may originate in his reading of Genesis 4:23–24, in which Lamech declares, “I have killed a man for wounding me, a young man for striking me. If Cain is avenged sevenfold, truly Lamech seventy-sevenfold.” In Genesis, Lamech recalls the fratricide of Cain and his concern that he would be killed for murdering his brother Abel. Lamech emphasizes the gravity of his actions by multiplying the sevenfold vengeance against Cain to 77 times that amount. Jesus recalls the same numerical framework to emphasize forgiveness rather than vengeance.

Jesus continues with a parable—commonly known as the Parable of Unforgiving Servant—in which the kingdom of heaven is compared to a king who “wished to settle accounts with his slaves” (Matthew 18:23). When the first slave—who owes the enormous sum of 10,000 talents (worth around 20 years of his wages)—is unable to pay his debts to the monarch and pleads for grace, the king releases the slave and forgives the debt (verses 24–26). Yet the same debtor refuses to forgive a fellow slave for the comparatively insignificant amount of 100 denarii (roughly 100 days of payment for slave labor), and throws the man in prison despite his similar plea for patience with repayment.

When the king’s slaves notify him of this episode, he confronts the original debtor and says, “I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. Should you not have had mercy on your fellow slave, as I had mercy on you?” (Matthew 18:32-33). In anger, the king hands the man over to “torturers” (Greek: basanistēs) until he can pay down all of his debt (verse 34). Jesus explains the parable by telling his disciples, “So my heavenly Father will also do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart” (verse 35).

This parable expands upon a saying that Jesus provides in the Our Father prayer, in which he petitions God to “forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors” (Matthew 6:12). Jesus’s rhetoric reflects a financial metaphor that became common in Second Temple Judaism: Sins were understood as debts that the sinner accumulated before God.¹

An awareness of this metaphorical presupposition helps Gospel readers understand the imagery of the above parable. When the king forgives the first slave’s immense debts, the illustration alludes to God forgiving human beings of their colossal sin-debt. By contrast, the forgiven slave refuses to pardon the lesser sins committed against him.

This scenario exemplifies a foundational Jewish hermeneutical rule known as kal vahomer, or a logical deduction from “the lesser to the greater” (also known as an a fortiori argument). Jesus’s parable asks us: If God is willing to forgive the countless sin-debts of humanity, how much more should we humans forgive the lesser amount of sin that we encounter in our personal experience? Thus, Jesus concludes that his disciples should be willing to forgive their neighbors if they expect God to forgive them.

This expectation exists in Jewish literature that predates Matthew’s Gospel. For instance, the Second Temple sage Jesus ben Sira states:

The vengeful will face the Lord’s vengeance, for he keeps a strict account of their sins. Forgive your neighbor the wrong he has done, and then your sins will be pardoned when you pray. Does anyone harbor anger against another and expect healing from the Lord? If people have no mercy toward those like themselves, can they then seek pardon for their own sins? (Sirach 28:1–4).

Ben Sira’s words summarize the logic of Jesus’s parable: Since God keeps an “account” of human sins—notice the financial language—humans should be open to offering forgiveness if they hope for God to overlook their own debts.

At the same time, Matthew clarifies that divine forgiveness is not wholly dependent on humanity’s proclivity for interpersonal pardon. The first chapter of the Gospel declares that Jesus himself “will save his people from their sins” (Matthew 1:21). At the Last Supper, Christ says that his own “blood” will be “poured out” for the “forgiveness of sins” (26:28). According to Matthew, Jesus will “give his life as a ransom for many” on the cross (20:28), namely a ransom payment to God for his people’s sin-debt.²

In the Parable of the Unforgiving Servant, Jesus makes the first slave’s debt the immense amount of 20 talents, which would be nearly impossible for a single person to pay down. Yet Matthew portrays Jesus’s life as a super-abundant offering for the collective debt of his people Israel (see Matthew 2:6).³ On the basis of Jesus’s payment on his people’s behalf, Matthew expects grateful Christ-followers to offer vast amounts of forgiveness to those who would transgress against them.

Notes

1. See Gary A. Anderson, Sin: A History (Yale University Press, 2009), 27–42.
2. See Nathan Eubank, Wages of Cross-Bearing and Debt of Sin: The Economy of Heaven in Matthew’s Gospel (De Gruyter, 2013).
3. See Nicholas J. Schaser, A Ransom for Israel: Jesus and Jewish Salvation in Matthew (SBL Press, 2025).

Genesis concludes with a scene of reconciliation and forgiveness between long-estranged brothers. 

Strangers in a strange land

The last major section of the book of Genesis contains the charming tale of Joseph in Egypt, a coherent and excellent example of Hebrew narrative style often called “the Joseph novella” (chapters 37, 39–50). The story contains many details authentic to its Egyptian setting, including geographical names, titles, and practices (for example, 41:45; 50:2–3). The novella plays upon ancient Egypt’s reputation for glory, power, and exotic wonder in telling the story of a successful Jew in the court of a foreign king (like Esther and Daniel). 

Joseph’s brothers have traveled to Egypt because there is a famine in the land of Canaan (42:1–3), a land of rain-based farming. Egypt is “the gift of the Nile,” as Herodotus describes it, since its fields are watered not by rain but from the Nile River, which begins its journey northward through the barren Sahara from southern rains in Ethiopia and Uganda. Jacob’s family thus finds food and, later, refuge from famine in their African sojourn under God’s guiding care. 

The theme of sojourners, exiles, and immigrants runs steadily through the book of Genesis. Adam and Eve are exiled from Eden; Abraham and Sarah emigrate from Mesopotamia to Canaan (and then to Egypt and back); and Jacob spends 20 years at his uncle Laban’s homeland in northern Syria before ending his days in Egypt.

In Genesis 50, Jacob’s extended family are living as guests of the Pharaoh in the land of Egypt, where they are initially tolerated as a foreign and detested population of shepherds (46:31–34). Joseph’s great power and authority provide their protection as a vulnerable immigrant community in the fields of Goshen, at least until there arises a Pharaoh who “knew not Joseph” (Exodus 1:8, King James Version). 

Rivalry and reconciliation

The theme of fraternal or sibling rivalry begins with Cain and Abel in Genesis 4 and permeates the rest of the biblical book. There is an especially complicated history of deception, grievance, and trauma in Jacob’s particular family history. Jacob himself steals his brother Esau’s birthright (Genesis 25) and blessing (Genesis 27) through deception and is subsequently deceived and manipulated by his uncle Laban in multiple ways (Genesis 29–31). 

This pattern of deception and trickery continues in the early sections of the Joseph novella. Joseph is literally sold into slavery by his jealous brothers, who resent the fact that he is their father’s favorite (37:4–8). Joseph’s youthful dream of his brothers bowing down to him in homage (37:5–9) only exacerbates their hatred of the dreamer in their midst. They convince their father that Joseph has been killed by a wild beast to cover their crime of human trafficking.

When Jacob’s 10 sons first arrive in Egypt decades later to purchase grain (Genesis 42), they do not recognize their brother in his Egyptian costume and royal finery. They bow low to him, as his youthful dream had predicted. Joseph then engages in his own complicated deceptions, intimidations, and “testing”—including hostage-taking and imprisonment (Genesis 42-44)—before eventually revealing himself to his estranged brothers. He then offers his generous provisioning of their entire family (Genesis 45–47) in the land of Goshen. Jacob is reunited with his lost son, and all is well until his dying days.

Hidden agendas?

Once Jacob has died, the brothers fear the hidden wrath of their powerful younger brother: “What if Joseph still bears a grudge against us and pays us back in full for all the wrong that we did to him?” (50:15). As many previous commentators have noted, their worry that Joseph might seek vengeance upon them now that their father is dead is quite realistic. Compare a young Esau’s explicit plan to murder his brother Jacob only after their father Isaac has died (27:41).

In this story, Joseph had suffered through 13 years in slavery and imprisonment: He was 17 when his brothers sold him into slavery (37:2) and 30 when Pharaoh released him from prison and gave him authority over all the land of Egypt (41:46). He has suffered grievously from their earlier lies and crime. Even now, the brothers may be fabricating the story that it was Jacob who was asking Joseph to truly forgive his brothers (50:16)! The brothers’ remorse appears to be authentic, however, as they describe themselves as “slaves” in submission to both God and Joseph (50:18).

The point of our passage seems to be that Joseph truly has forgiven his brothers. The Hebrew verb nasah, “to forgive,” denotes a lifting away of guilt or iniquity. Joseph rises above his personal grievance (“Am I in the place of God?”) to accept the larger scope of God’s plan to save a multitude of people.

Other examples of brotherly reconciliation in Genesis include Ishmael and Isaac reuniting to lay their father Abraham to rest (25:8–19) and Esau graciously welcoming Jacob back home (33:4–15).

Providence

A clear import of our lectionary passage is the theological concept of divine providence: “Even though you intended to do me harm, God intended it for good, in order to preserve a numerous people, as he is doing today” (50:20). When Joseph first reveals himself to his brothers in 45:5, he similarly identifies their earlier sin and explains: “And now do not be distressed or angry with yourselves because you sold me here, because God sent me before you to preserve life.” 

God gave Joseph the individual gift of dream interpretation, but the intent was eventually to save the entire family, as well as the people of Egypt, from death. Working behind the scenes in this novella, God had taken Joseph from the pit to the prison to the palace for the greater good.

The story of Joseph offers a glimpse into a doctrine of providence that depicts God’s purposeful sovereignty in creating, upholding, and caring for human life. This doctrine may be comforting to many, but preachers and proclaimers should always treat the doctrine with special care. While a reliance on providence offers comfort and hope that God is in control, however stormy the situation seems, it can also wound when misapplied to people experiencing great suffering or grief (as Job’s friends teach us by negative example).

Forgiveness

The end of the Joseph novella pairs well with other biblical and lectionary passages such as Romans 14:1–12 and Matthew 18:21–35, which teach the need to forgive others for their sins against us, as Joseph models. Psalm 103 also shows how we should pray for forgiveness from God (mercy) and be thankful that God does not repay us according to our own sins (grace). Leviticus 19:18 also admonishes the people of God, “You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against any of your people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself.” 

The story of God’s deliverance of the Hebrew people from Pharaoh’s army at the Red Sea is arguably the foundational narrative of the Bible. In the account that stretches from Exodus 1 to Exodus 15, we hear testimony about the identity of this God, God’s relationship to God’s people Israel, and the character of this God as a powerful savior who delivers God’s people from oppression. This is a God who hears the cries of the Hebrew slaves and does something about it. This is a God who, through acts of wonder and might, demonstrates superiority to the tyrant Pharaoh and the would-be gods of Egypt. This is the God whom Jesus will worship as a faithful Jew, and this is the God whom Christians testify is “of one being” with Jesus and the Holy Spirit.

It is important for Christian congregations to be reminded of the oneness of God across Old and New Testaments, because too often people of faith hold to the old fallacy that the so-called “God of the Old Testament” is different than the “God of the New Testament,” when in fact both sections of the Bible testify to the same God. For some readers the idea that “Israel saw the Egyptians dead on the seashore” (Exodus 14:30b) seems incongruent with the nonviolence of Jesus, so the work-around for this cognitive dissonance becomes either a bifurcation of Scripture into two barely related halves, or a similarly harmful idea of the “evolution” of ideas about God from one testament to the next. 

But the God who raised Jesus from the dead is the same God who drowned Pharaoh’s army in the ocean. So how might preachers proclaiming Exodus 14 help their audiences embrace this connection?

1. Remind them that Scripture is testimony. The writers of the Bible had points to make beyond simply preserving old traditions. They were crafting stories to meet certain moments—to provide their testimony about who this God is and why their audiences needed to know these things about this God. Scripture collects many different testimonies dating from diverse eras of ancient Israelite history and reflecting multiple viewpoints. 

So, while the story of God’s destruction of Pharaoh’s army is a core narrative of the Old Testament, it exists alongside other tales that emphasize God’s mercy, even toward the enemies of God’s people (for example, the book of Jonah). As readers who witness these diverse testimonies, we see glimpses of the character of God in each, but no single text captures the totality of that character. Said differently, the testimony of the exodus story is—like any biblical passage taken in isolation—reliable, yet incomplete.

2. Proclaim that God is accessed through the particular, not the general. Whether story, poem, or law, each text of the Bible is rooted in the life of a particular people at a specific time and place. In the same way, no single reader represents the totality of human experience. Rather, we as individuals and communities read Scripture from our own bodies, in our own cultural locations, and at our own moment in history. Just as no single author’s story captures the fullness of God, no single reader’s interpretation of that story can grasp it, either. 

The challenge of interpretation is, with the help of the Holy Spirit, to find ways those biblical particularities might intersect with the details of our own lives. For example, for some 21st-century Christians it could be important to consider whether their own power and status in the world are reflected in the experience of the Egyptians in the story, more than in that of the Israelites. Or readers might consider the way Pharaoh’s speech, strategy, and actions compare and contrast with the imperial leaders of Jesus’s era and with other tyrannical leaders through history. Acknowledging the contextual differences between the biblical stories and our own social location can be as important as mapping similarities. 

3. Emphasize that God’s love may be universal, but it is not neutral. God is never a neutral observer in any biblical account; God always takes sides. In the exodus story, God chooses to liberate the Israelites from Egyptian bondage. God has no patience for Pharaoh’s delusions of godly grandeur, nor for his vicious grasping at power and glory. Similarly, Jesus’s death on the cross is no affirmation of the Roman Empire, but rather an indictment of its cruelty. Jesus’s resurrection may not overthrow the Roman Empire, but it certainly exposes its ultimate impotence and the farce of its claims to absolute dominance. 

Throughout Scripture, from Exodus to the Gospels and everything between and beyond, God sides with life over death and humility over power. 

4. Show them that Scripture, in all its diversity, affirms God’s activity in the world. The nature and purposes of God’s activity in the world are perpetual mysteries to us. The big questions about the justice of God and the persistence of suffering are not (at least from where I sit) answerable in this life. But the deliverance of the Israelites and the resurrection of Jesus share a testimony that God was, is, and will continue to be an active force in the world. 

This point is emphasized in the last two verses of this week’s reading: “Thus the LORD saved Israel that day from the Egyptians; and Israel saw the Egyptians dead on the seashore. Israel saw the great work that the LORD did against the Egyptians. So the people feared the LORD and believed in the LORD and his servant Moses” (Exodus 14:30–31). 

By observing God’s victory at the Sea, people come to know God. By observing Jesus’s life, death, and resurrection, people come to know God. We may see only “in a mirror, dimly” (1 Corinthians 13:12, New King James Version), but through the witness of the entirety of Scripture, we, too, learn to observe God’s activity in the world.

Psalm 103, a masterful and well-loved composition, is classified as an Individual Hymn of Thanksgiving, a psalm in which a single voice praises God for God’s goodness to or on behalf of that individual, usually for deliverance from some trying situation.¹

Hermann Gunkel, one of the great fathers of psalm studies, describes hymns of thanksgiving in this way: “A person is saved out of great distress, and now with grateful heart he [sic] brings a thank offering to Yahweh; it was customary that at a certain point in the sacred ceremony he would offer a song in which he expresses his thanks.”

An Individual Hymn of Thanksgiving generally contains the following elements: (1) an Introduction, in which the psalmist declares the intention of giving thanks and praising God; (2) a Narrative, in which the psalmist tells what has happened that has prompted the words of praise; and (3) a Conclusion, in which the psalmist praises God for all that God has done on the psalmist’s behalf.

Verses 1 and 2 of Psalm 103 constitute the Introduction to the Individual Hymn of Thanksgiving. Here the psalm singer repeats the phrase “Bless the LORD, O my soul,” calling others to witness what God has done. The words “Bless the LORD” are repeated six times in the psalm, at its opening and closing (verses 1, 2, and 20, 21, 22), thus forming an “envelope” structure for the psalm’s Narrative in verses 3–19. The words of verses 20–22 act as the Conclusion to the Individual Hymn of Thanksgiving.

The words of verses 3–19 detail the reasons why the psalm singer can call on others to “bless the LORD.” Verses 3–7 state that God “forgives,” “heals,” “redeems,” “crowns,” “satisfies,” “works justice,” and “makes known his ways.”

In verse 8, the psalm singer states, “The LORD is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.” These words, which occur many times in the Psalter and the prophetic books, are the self-descriptive words of God to Moses. In the book of Exodus, we read that God has summoned Moses up to Mount Sinai to receive the words of the Torah—the “law” (Exodus 24:15). When Moses was gone for some time, the people at the foot of the mountain became restless, and they said to Aaron, “Come, make gods for us, who shall go before us; as for this Moses, the man who brought us up from Egypt, we do not know what has become of him” (Exodus 32:1).

And so Aaron fashioned an image that the people worshipped. God saw what was going on, and Moses came down from Mount Sinai and smashed the tablets on which God had written the Torah (Exodus 32). Then Moses cut two new tablets, ascended Mount Sinai, and waited for God. God passed by him and proclaimed: “The LORD, the LORD, merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness” (Exodus 34:6).

The singer of Psalm 103 calls on others to “bless the LORD” because the words of Exodus 34:6, found numerous times in the book of Psalms and in the Prophets, are an integral part of the psalmist’s understanding of the nature of Yahweh God.

In verses 9–10 and 12, the psalm singer celebrates God’s mercy and graciousness toward our sins, iniquities, and transgressions, the same words used in Exodus 34:7 (“forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin”). God will not “accuse” or “keep his anger” and will not “deal with us nor repay us” according to our “sins” or “iniquities,” and God will “remove” our “transgressions.” The word translated in verse 10 as “sin” is from the root word hata’, which literally means “to miss the mark.”

Sin may be likened to knowing what is expected of one, aiming for a particular outcome, but falling short. The word translated in verse 10 as “iniquity” is from the root word ‘avon, a sense of guilt by the party who has “fallen short.” Thus, verse 10 states that God will not deal with us according to our sins or according to the measure of the guilt we feel over our sins. “Transgression” in verse 12 is from the root pasha’ and generally indicates an offense against the instructions (the Torah) of the Lord.

The singer of Psalm 103 celebrates God’s steadfast love to us regardless of how we might have wronged the community or betrayed God, if, according to verses 11, 13, and 17, we “fear” the Lord. “Fear” comes from the Hebrew root yara’, and “fear” is a perfectly good translation of the word. But in today’s culture, the idea of fear is usually connected with the basic human instincts to run, defend, or retaliate. The Hebrew word, though, encompasses a larger meaning of “awe, reverent respect, or honor.” It appears in the Old Testament as a synonym for “love” (Deuteronomy 10:12); “cling to” (Deuteronomy 10:20); and “serve” (Deuteronomy 6:13; Joshua 24:14). At its root, the word denotes obedience to the divine will.

Verse 13 celebrates another characteristic of God: compassion. The word translated here as “compassion” comes from the same root word as the word translated “merciful” in verse 8. The root is raham and, in its noun form, means “womb.” God’s mercy and compassion for his children is likened to the love a mother feels for her yet-to-be-born child. What a marvelous image of our God, embracing us, caring for us, and nurturing us. Why does God care for and nurture us? Verse 14 opens with the word “because,” providing the answer to the question. God knows how we were made, that we are dust. After all, God created us and understands our fragile human nature.

The Narrative continues in verses 15–19, leading the singer into the closing words of Psalm 103, in which the angels (verse 20), the hosts (verse 21), and all of God’s works (verse 22) are called upon to “bless the LORD.” The psalm ends with the same words with which it opens: “Bless the LORD, O my soul.”

Notes

1. Commentary previously published on this website for September 14, 2014.

Don’t sweat the small stuff, and all of it is small stuff. At least, that is how the phrase goes. I really appreciate Paul’s transition in Romans 14:1–12. After making an urgent appeal to love at the end of chapter 13, Paul moves to words of “welcome” at chapter 14. For Paul, welcome must be freely given and cannot come with conditions.

Conditional welcome is what the Roman church was extending to the returning Jewish Jesus-followers. Also, if we are truthful, conditional welcome is what many of us extend today. You are welcome if you wear the proper clothes. You are welcome if you know the proper language. You are welcome if you eat the right foods and drink the correct drinks. You are welcome if you assimilate in the proper way culturally. How many of us only extend conditional welcome to others because we “sweat the small stuff”?

Paul’s letter to the church at Rome reminds us that community behaviors drove quarrels. In the Roman church, the quarrels were between the perceived “strong” and “weak.” Scholars believe that the “weak” in Romans 14 consumed vegetables only, while the “strong” ate meat and vegetables. Additionally, the “weak” were particular about holy days, while the “strong” observed the Sabbath and paid little attention to other holy days. However, as we move to verse 13 and beyond, Paul admonishes the “strong” to bear some responsibility for the “weak.” I envision this responsibility as similar to his admonition to the Galatians to “bear one another’s burdens” in Galatians 6:2.

Instead of thinking about Romans as a theological treatise, we have to read it for what it actually is: a letter that has political and ethnoracial implications for a community that is trying to knit itself together through welcome (even as Paul asks for money on his way to Spain!). Particularly, scholars identify the “weak” as Jewish Jesus-followers and the “strong” as gentile or “ethnic” Jesus-followers. I will define those terms more extensively momentarily. At this time, what I want to iterate is that welcome is extremely difficult when people within an ecclesial setting perceive that their way of living is better than dddddddor supersedes another group’s way of living. With that said, let me move to the context of the Roman Empire.

In the context of imperial Rome, the Roman church understood the lived experience of existing under an empire where religion and politics are inseparable. Further, the Roman church also understood the lived experience of existing under an empire that constantly relocated large groups of people in its mass migration efforts. Since the emperor served as “princeps” (meaning he was first in everything: military, senate, and imperial worship), he forcibly migrated people at his will. Thus, Romans can no longer be relegated to “a confessional/ecclesiastical ghetto of doctrinal interest.”¹ Attention to its context is important for proper interpretation.

When Jesus was born, Rome was the city of Augustus, but when Paul died it was the city of Nero,² meaning that by the time Paul travels and ministers in Jesus’s name, the political climate is even more volatile. According to second-century sources, Claudius, the emperor who ruled over Rome from 41–54 CE, expelled (some?) Jews from Rome because of disturbances over someone named “Chrestus.” Chrestus was a common Greek name, but some scholars argue that the name meant Christ.³ The general consensus was that Aquila and Priscilla were a part of that group who were expelled from Rome. They knew Paul (see 1 Corinthians 16:19), and he sends them greetings (see Romans 16:3–4).

Scholars conjecture that when Claudius expelled Jewish followers of Christ from Rome, members of other “conquered nations” (traditionally translated as “gentiles”⁴) made up the majority of the Roman church, which did not contain any Jewish people. Scholars identify these members as the “strong.” After Claudius died, his Edict that removed the Jewish people lapsed and they began to return. Priscilla and Aquila would have been among the returnees. Once Jewish Jesus-followers returned to the Roman churches, there was ethnoracial friction between the Jewish Jesus-followers (the “weak”) and the Jesus-followers of the “conquered nations.”

Not only is Paul’s letter his way of introducing himself (as he has never met this church, nor did he found it), but it also serves as his way of giving them advice on how to knit themselves together, especially in Romans 14. Paul is admonishing them to welcome each other in love.

What are ways that contemporary ecclesial communities who experience diversity can begin to knit themselves together in love? What are ways that contemporary ecclesial communities who experience division can begin to welcome one another in love? Paul argues for welcome in the name and view of love. In today’s contemporary conversations, arguments against diversity and welcome include arguments for meritocracy and color-blindness. These arguments then mean that Black churches must subsume themselves under capable White churches since they are heretical.⁵ I believe that Romans 14 argues against such an ideal.

Paul’s view of love allows diversity of thought and worship within the ecclesial community. Paul’s view of love is not color-blind but recognizes that there is ethnoracial diversity within the Romans church that must be welcomed.

If only we could learn such a lesson today as we seek to welcome people from various cultural and ethnoracial backgrounds into our churches. If only we could learn such a lesson today as we welcome people from various cultural and ethnoracial backgrounds into our nation! Instead of attempting to rid ourselves of people we consider “other” (politically, sexually, racially, ethnically, differently abled, et cetera), perhaps a better way of engaging one another would be to welcome one another’s lives, stories, conversations, and experiences so we can become knit together as one body in Christ. Thinking through Romans with an ethnoracial lens from the beginning of the letter to the end provides this important interpretation. Instead of sweating the small stuff, what steps can we do to welcome people into our communities?

Notes

1. This quote comes from one of my professors at Chicago Theological Seminary. Theodore W. Jennings (may he rest in eternal power) helped me think about Paul in political and philosophical ways. See Theodore W. Jennings, Reading Derrida/Thinking Paul: On Justice (Stanford University Press, 2006), 1, 157.
2. John Dominic Crossan and Jonathan L. Reed, In Search of Paul: How Jesus’ Apostle Opposed Rome’s Empire with God’s Kingdom (HarperOne, 2004), Kindle Edition.
3. While other scholars have challenged this reconstruction with valid argument (Dio Cassius explicitly contradicts Suetonius; not all Jews were expelled since demographic evidence shows that 20,000–60,000 Jews lived in Rome; and Suetonius correctly names “Christians” in Nero 16.2), I am still of the camp that believes there was some occurrence that had Jewish people leave. Empire possesses that power.
4. I consider “gentiles” a misnomer but do not have the space to discuss fully why it is a misnomer. I suggest looking at the work of Davina Lopez, Apostle to the Conquered: Reimagining Paul’s Mission, Paul in Critical Contexts (Fortress, 2009).
5. Pastor Joel Webbon argues that 90–95% of Black churches are heretical and should submit to White pastors. While racist Pastor Joel Webbon should not be the standard of White Christian pastors, his views are becoming more mainstream in Christian conversations. See https://www.youtube.com/shorts/UPBfyJM6wSY.