Sermon Transcript: September 22, 2024
We continue with our series on “The God Who Loves Us Into Loving,” and with our next reading in the narrative lectionary, which is but a small part of the much larger narrative of Joseph in the book of Genesis. Joseph’s narrative takes up about a quarter of the book of Genesis, and Genesis is a pretty long book. So much so that some have called it its own novella.
Just a word, or two words, to help us understand and locate this reading. The first is that Joseph’s father, Jacob, has been renamed Israel. Some of you might remember that after his encounter with a figure in the night and wrestling, he is given the name Israel, as one who wrestles with God. But the text is not consistent in calling him Israel. Although he is referred to as Israel at the beginning of the text, it then reverts back to calling him Jacob. And this happens throughout the book of Genesis.
The other thing is something that ancient hearers certainly would have picked up on readily, but you and I might miss. That is the way the entire narrative in Genesis, and particularly the story of Joseph, bucks the trend of how things are normally done. Let me just ask you a question: In the ancient world, how did inheritance work? Through the oldest son.
But in Genesis, we get the story of Abraham. His oldest son is Ishmael, by Hagar, but it is Isaac who becomes the inheritor. Likewise, for Esau and Jacob, who are born as twins. Even though Esau is the older one, by just a few minutes, Jacob, with the help of his mother, outwits his brother and steals the blessing from his father. So far in Genesis, we see a theme of the youngest son being the one who inherits, not the oldest.
As we enter this story, the listener might already be on the edge of their seat, wondering how this is going to play out with so many siblings—12 in total, the sons of Israel, or Jacob. I will be reading from Genesis 37 and 50.
Genesis 37: 3-8, 17-22, 26-34 & 50: 15-21
Now, Israel, that is Jacob, loved Joseph more than any of his other children because he was the son of his old age, and he made him an ornamented robe. But when his brothers saw that their father loved him more than all his brothers, they hated him and could not speak peaceably to him.
Once, Joseph had a dream. When he told it to his brothers, they hated him even more. He said to them, “Listen to this dream that I dreamed. There were binding sheaves in the field. Suddenly, my sheaf rose and stood upright, and your sheaves gathered around it and bowed down to my sheaf.” His brothers said to him, “Are you indeed to reign over us? Are you indeed to have dominion over us?” So they hated him even more because of his dreams and his words.
Joseph came to Shechem, and a man found him wandering in the fields. The man asked, “What are you seeking?” Joseph said, “I’m seeking my brothers.” The man said, “They’ve gone away, for I heard them say, ‘Let us go to Dothan.'” So Joseph went after his brothers and found them in Dothan. They saw him from a distance, and before he came near to them, they conspired to kill him. They said to one another, “Here comes this dreamer. Come now, let us kill him and throw him into one of the pits. Then we shall say a wild animal has devoured him, and we shall see what becomes of his dreams.”
But when Reuben heard it, he delivered him out of their hands, saying, “Let us not take his life.” Reuben said to them, “Shed no blood. Throw him into this pit here in the wilderness, but lay no hand on him”—that he might rescue him out of their hand and restore him to his father.
Then Judah said to his brothers, “What profit is it if we kill our brother and conceal his blood? Come, let us sell him to the Ishmaelites and not lay our hands on him, for he is our brother, our own flesh.” And his brothers agreed. When some Midianite traders passed by, they drew Joseph up out of the pit, lifted him, and sold him to the Ishmaelites for 20 pieces of silver. The Midianites took Joseph to Egypt.
Now, when Reuben returned to the pit and saw that Joseph was not in the pit, he tore his clothes. He returned to his brothers and said, “The boy is gone, and I—where can I turn?” Then they took Joseph’s robe, slaughtered a goat, and dipped the robe in blood. They had the ornamented robe taken to their father, and they said, “This we have found. See now whether it is your son’s robe or not.” He recognized it and said, “It is my son’s robe. A wild animal must have devoured him. Joseph has surely been torn to pieces.” And Jacob tore his garments, put sackcloth on his loins, and mourned for his son many days.
After some time had passed, realizing their father was dead, Joseph’s brothers said, “What if Joseph still bears a grudge against us and pays us back in full for all the wrong we did to him?” So they approached Joseph, saying, “Your father gave this instruction before he died: ‘Say to Joseph, I beg you, forgive the crime of your brothers and the wrong they did in harming you.’ Now, therefore, please forgive the crime of the servants of the God of your father.” Joseph wept when they spoke to him. Then his brothers also wept, fell down before him, and said, “We are here as your slaves.”
But Joseph said to them, “Do not be afraid. 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.” In this way, he reassured them, speaking kindly to them.
For the word of God in scripture, for the word of God among us, for the word of God within us. Thanks be to God.
Well, it happened just before his speaking engagement. A stranger approached him, holding out his cell phone, clearly frustrated, saying, “Here, talk to my daughter. She has lost her faith.” Father Boyle says, “Who doesn’t love it when a total stranger hands you their cell phone and says that?”
It turns out the woman on the phone had a terrible thing happen to her a long time ago, and she blamed God. “I didn’t lose faith,” the woman said. “I knew exactly where it was. I just didn’t want it anymore.”
Last week, we talked about moving on from the wrong images and ideas of God that weigh us down. “It’s no different from our voices changing in puberty or our hair turning gray,” quips Father Boyle. “We are supposed to lose our faith. It’s like a snake shedding its skin. We’re meant to break through to something more expansive.”
In many ways, the story of Joseph and his brothers is about just such a breakthrough—shedding the skin of tribalism and tradition to see how God might be at work outside the boundaries we try to set for God. In today’s story, Joseph is favored among Jacob’s sons. Technically, Joseph is not the youngest—he is 11 of 12—but the youngest, Benjamin, hasn’t been born yet in this part of the narrative. So at this time, Joseph is the youngest.
The narrator doesn’t leave any room for doubt. We are told right off the bat that Jacob loves Joseph more than his other sons. Not that he doesn’t love his other sons or treat them poorly, just that he loves Joseph more. He has a soft spot for him and isn’t afraid to show it. He even gives him a special coat—an ornamented coat or a coat of many colors. One translation says “a coat of long sleeves.” I’m not sure why that’s a good thing, but that’s what it says.
Joseph, for his part, isn’t shy about his special status. He has a dream, which in itself is one thing, but then he has the audacity to tell his brothers about this dream, in which they are all bowing down to him. Of course, this ignites a series of events in which the brothers assault Joseph, abandon him, sell him into slavery, fake his death, and tell their father that his favorite child is no more.
In the meantime, Joseph’s unbelievably good fortune continues. Though sold into slavery and taken to Egypt, his dreams come into play again, and he finds favor with Pharaoh, ending up in Pharaoh’s court. Meanwhile, back in their homeland, Joseph’s brothers are suffering from a famine. So, with the tables turned, the brothers crawl back to Joseph. And did you notice how they said, “Oh, by the way, our father’s dying words were that you should forgive us”? Nice try, guys.
But the most amazing thing happens: Joseph welcomes them and their families. I love how the text says, “and their little ones.” So tender, isn’t it? He gladly shares his food and his home, saying, “Even though you intended harm, God intended it for good.” This is the first mention of God in the narrative, by the way. We have no real evidence that Joseph’s interpretation of events is necessarily true, but it doesn’t really matter. What matters is that Joseph believes it, and Joseph acts on it.
In Tolstoy’s The Brothers Karamazov, a young woman has lost her faith and seeks the counsel of a monk. The monk doesn’t speak to her of God. He tells her to go home and practice loving others. He assures her that this way is tried and true. Father Boyle points out that “Buddha didn’t teach Buddhism, and neither did Jesus teach Christianity. His point is that it’s not about religion, but a way of living and seeing.”
Churches in second-century Rome fed 20,000 of the city’s poor. This is how they saw themselves—leading with their hearts, loving through their service. A Greek philosopher described Christians to Emperor Hadrian this way: “They love one another. They never fail to help the widows. They save orphans from those who would hurt them. If they have something, they give it freely to those who have nothing. And if they see a stranger, they take him home and are as happy as though he were a real brother or sister.”
Now, I know what some of you are thinking: “Nice try, Mark. You almost had us believing that this story about 10 older brothers assaulting a younger brother and leaving him for dead is about loving one another.” You’re right. It’s true. This is not a story about brotherly love—quite the opposite. This is almost certainly a story about how awful and cruel we can be to one another, especially in the name of God or tradition. It is a story about tribalism. And all we need to do is watch the news or look out the window to see that tribalism isn’t something that just happened in the ancient world. It is alive and well here and now.
But if this is a story about our cruelty and tribalism, it is also a story about choice. Because at the end of the story, Joseph has a decision to make. And maybe we have a choice in the matter, too. People do not always treat us with respect and dignity. We can choose to respond in kind. When fortune turns our way, we can choose to celebrate that our opponent or enemies are getting their comeuppance, their just desserts. We can dig in our heels and insist that the world bend to our will and our sense of right and wrong.
Or we can choose to lose our faith—our faith in the belief that might makes right. We can lose our faith in the belief that everyone gets what they deserve. We can lose our faith in the notion that in order to treat others with kindness, they must first treat us with kindness.
Like the early church, we can lead with our hearts and love with our service. We can upset the status quo by caring for those who are lost and left out, by feeding the hungry, and by welcoming—not vilifying—the stranger and the immigrant. You see, friends, we can shed all that is unhelpful and hurtful about religion. We can break through to a way of living and seeing each other with kindness and compassion. We can break through to a God who never has second thoughts about loving any one of us, no matter how cruel we can be. Never. We can break through to the God who loves us into loving—the God who, yes, even rescues us from our own traps and schemes. The God who saves us, even from ourselves.
Amen.
