Karen Karpow

Danbury United Methodist Church

August 14, 2011

 

Family Grace

 

The story so far:

In a few minutes we will read the climax of the story of Joseph, eleventh of Jacob’s twelve sons.  It’s much too long a story to read the whole thing in church today—Genesis chapters 37 to 50—and I want to set the stage for you before we hear today’s scripture. I highly recommend it to your sabbath afternoon reading, though—the details are perhaps not what you have come to expect from the Bible.

 

Jacob, whose name was changed by God to Israel, did not treat his children equally.  Joseph was his favorite, the first child of his favorite wife, Rachel.  You have probably heard of Joseph’s “coat of many colors,” an extravagant gift from his father.  His brothers were jealous, and Joseph’s behavior didn’t help at all.  He was arrogant, telling the family about dreams he had of all of them bowing down to him.  His brothers responded to his arrogance by selling him, when he was 17 years old, as a slave to a passing caravan of traders on their way to Egypt.  They told their father that his favorite child had died.  Jacob was devastated, and the brothers thought they had solved their very irritating problem.

 

But life continued for Joseph in Egypt.  Through a series of events that would make a really juicy novel—sex, betrayal, false accusations, imprisonment, prophetic dreams—Joseph eventually got the ear of the Pharaoh, the king of Egypt.  He secured his freedom and started a career as a government bureaucrat.  He must have been very good.  By the time we encounter him in chapter 45 today, he is second only to the Pharaoh in rank.  Not bad for a Hebrew slave!

 

The circumstances surrounding his rise to power were dire, though.  He interpreted some dreams that Pharaoh had, and accurately predicted seven years of abundance, followed by seven years of famine.  He put into place a system of production, preservation, and distribution to store food during the good years so that the country could survive.  Today’s reading happens during year two of the seven years of famine.  It’s easy to see why Joseph is so powerful:  all Egypt is dependent on him for food.

 

People all over the region were suffering, even as far away as Canaan, where Jacob still lived with his remaining eleven sons and their families.  Word reached Jacob’s camp that there was grain to be had in Egypt.  Because they were desperate, Jacob sent his ten oldest sons all the way to Egypt to try to buy grain.  He kept his youngest, Benjamin, at home.  He was the only remaining son of his favorite wife, Rachel, and Joseph’s only full brother.  Rachel had died giving birth to him, and Jacob never let him out of his sight. 

 

Imagine the surprise Joseph must feel the day he walks into his office for another busy day of grain distribution—and encounters the family he has not seen in at least 22 years.  Hated and betrayed by his brothers, sold into slavery, imprisoned, and now in a position of great power, suddenly he is face-to-face with these grown men whom he thought never to see again.  Of course, they don’t recognize him.  Why would they?  Nobody in the room thought there would ever be any hope to make right what had gone so terribly wrong nearly a lifetime ago.  But here it is, and Joseph has to decide what to do.

 

Joseph questions them intensely, securing details that assure him that these are, indeed, his brothers.  But he isn’t sure what to do.  He accuses them of being spies, throws them in jail, then sends them home, keeping Simeon as a hostage, and tells them to return with their remaining brother, Benjamin.  He orders their sacks filled with grain, and returns their money to them.  When they discover this, they are terrified that they will be accused of stealing if they return.  But they eat all the grain, and the family will starve if they don’t go back for more.  So they convince Jacob to let them return to Egypt with Benjamin. 

 

Joseph prepares an elaborate feast for them, which worries them even more.  Are they being set up?  He sends them home again with grain, and their money.  It’s very confusing—it seems to me that Joseph just doesn’t know what to do.  Punish them?  Reward them?  Reveal himself?  This time Joseph plants his own special silver cup in the top of Benjamin’s pack.

 

The brothers are still clueless—they don’t know who Joseph is or why his is making all these strange requirements.  But you know how it is with government offices—you do what you have to do to get what you need.  Joseph sends his soldiers after them, hauls them back as thieves, and demands that Benjamin stay on as his slave.  The brothers know that their father would never survive the loss of his second favorite child, and they beg Joseph to let them stay instead.

 

After all the scheming and conniving, after framing his brothers for crimes and desperately trying to get back at them for what they had done to him, Joseph realizes that they will never make any progress—there will be no hope for reconciliation, a future for the family—unless he reveals himself.    (870 words)

 

Reading:  Genesis 45.1-15

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Pray also for me, so that when I speak, a message may be given to me to make known with boldness the mystery of the gospel.  Ephesians 6.1

 

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You might know that I just got back from a visit with my brother and his family in Michigan.  My brother Mark is one of the finest men I know, with a wonderful wife and two adorable and accomplished sons.  And you would not believe how Mark and I fought when we were kids.  He was a year behind me in school, in a really small school system.  I was obnoxiously good, always the teacher’s pet, while Mark distinguished himself by seeing how much he could get away with.  The same was true at home—I was Mom’s big-girl helper, and Mark was never around when there was work to be done.  It must have been no fun at all for him to follow me.  “Why aren’t you more like your sister?”  But he was obnoxious, too—I was doing all the work, and he was playing all the time.  He never got in as much trouble as I thought he should.  And I tell you, there were days when I would have sold him to a traveling caravan of Midianites in a second. 

 

The first night I got there this week, Mark was out back grilling for my welcome party, and I was sitting on the porch swing nearby.  I said, “Hey, remember how we used to fight?”  He remembered, all right.  I said, “What did we fight about?”  Neither of us had any idea.  But I remember that neither of us had ever been willing to let the other one get away with anything.  Our first decade and a half together was non-stop I’m-gonna-tell threats and retribution.

 

And then somehow, we just stopped.  Neither of us can remember how, but we stopped.  Maybe we just got tired of fighting.  Maybe one of us let something go just once, and the other one was so grateful that we stopped pushing the same old buttons.  Maybe it didn’t matter any more.  But something broke the cycle. 

 

That is grace.  And today’s scene from the end of the Joseph story is pure grace.  Joseph, who holds all the power and has every reason to use it against his brothers, decides not to.  The big question is:  Why?  I’m going to lead with the punch line—because he turns his eyes toward God instead. 

 

At the beginning of this passage, Joseph sends all the Egyptians out of the room, leaving him alone with his still-clueless brothers, who are sure they are in big trouble.  Crying inconsolably, Joseph tells his brothers everything—who he is, what happened after they sold him into slavery, how he came to this position of power.  He asks again about his father, and clings to his brother Benjamin.

 

His brothers are stunned.  Stunned, full of fear and shame.  So many years of brokenness and lies.  They don’t know what to do.  How can there be forgiveness and reconciliation after all that hurt and pain?  Good relationships are built on years of commitment, compromise, and respect—which is the exact opposite of what has happened here.

 

This is also true of many relationships in our lives.  I imagine we can all think of relationships that are strained or broken, some that seem irretrievable.  We all know it’s best to build healthy relationships and work respectfully through conflict, but what when we don’t?  What do we do when communication is twisted, trust is broken, and relationships are severed?  What then?  Can there ever be healing?

 

If God can fix this family, I say there’s hope for everyone.  It would have been good, of course, if Jacob had taught his family how to communicate honestly, to discuss their problems and resolve their conflicts.  And it would have been good if Joseph was reprimanded for his selfish behavior and if Jacob had treated all his children the same.  It would have been good if Joseph’s brothers had expressed their anger using words rather than actions, and worked through the pain instead of using violence.  They could have run after the caravan that took Joseph to Egypt.  Or told their father the truth and tried to find Joseph.  It would have been good if Joseph was able to work through his grief and go back home; if, upon seeing his brothers he immediately reconciled with them rather than throwing them in prison and framing them for crimes.  All of these things would have been better choices.  And all of us have had relationships in our own lives in which we could probably have made better choices, too.

 

But there are glimpses of promise wherever God is at work.  God is in the business of creating possibility where there is none.  Even in the bleakest situation, we can hope for healing because we belong to a God who takes the most painful, ripped-up parts of life and, impossibly, stitches them back together. 

 

What breaks the cycle of pain and retribution in this story?  It is grace—and Joseph’s decision to accept it.  He holds all the power and has every reason to use it against his brothers—and decides not to.  How does he do it?  He turns his eyes toward God instead. 

 

A few chapters later (50:20), reflecting on what happens here, Joseph says,

 

Even though you intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good.

 

Joseph sees God at work.  He chooses to break the cycle, and God blesses the situation beyond his wildest dreams.  The family is restored, and they live in peace and prosperity, burying their father together years later, as he desired. 

 

Wherever there are signs of life instead of death, reconciliation instead of estrangement, these signs underscore this ridiculous hope to which we cling.  God makes possibilities out impossibilities, hope out of hopelessness, and peace out of pain.  But we have to accept it.  We have to let go of our desire for retribution, our clenched-teeth insistence that things be fair—as we define “fair,” of course.

 

And so we tell the story of how Joseph and his brothers finally found each other again, how they broke the cycle of misery and guilt, and we remember that our God can bring healing into even the most hurt-filled places of our lives.

 

We long for this kind of healing, don’t we?  Is there anyone in your life that you’re cut off from?  Is there a situation that needs your acceptance of God’s hope and God’ healing?  It is waiting for you—if only you will let God in, accept God’s love, and offer it to another.  Turn your gaze away from the ways in which you have been wronged, and look to God.  I am not suggesting that you let people abuse you.  Let God guide you about what you should speak up about—and what you should let go.  Like Joseph, we may have the chance to break the cycle of hurt and pain, and make way for God’s healing and reconciliation.  Amen. 

(1082 words)

Genesis 45:1-15

Then Joseph could no longer control himself before all those who stood by him, and he cried out, “Send everyone away from me.” So no one stayed with him when Joseph made himself known to his brothers. 2 And he wept so loudly that the Egyptians heard it, and the household of Pharaoh heard it. 3 Joseph said to his brothers, “I am Joseph. Is my father still alive?” But his brothers could not answer him, so dismayed were they at his presence.

4 Then Joseph said to his brothers, “Come closer to me.” And they came closer. He said, “I am your brother, Joseph, whom you sold into Egypt. 5 And now do not be distressed, or angry with yourselves, because you sold me here; for God sent me before you to preserve life. 6 For the famine has been in the land these two years; and there are five more years in which there will be neither plowing nor harvest. 7 God sent me before you to preserve for you a remnant on earth, and to keep alive for you many survivors. 8 So it was not you who sent me here, but God; he has made me a father to Pharaoh, and lord of all his house and ruler over all the land of Egypt. 9 Hurry and go up to my father and say to him, ‘Thus says your son Joseph, God has made me lord of all Egypt; come down to me, do not delay. 10 You shall settle in the land of Goshen, and you shall be near me, you and your children and your children’s children, as well as your flocks, your herds, and all that you have. 11 I will provide for you there—since there are five more years of famine to come—so that you and your household, and all that you have, will not come to poverty.’ 12 And now your eyes and the eyes of my brother Benjamin see that it is my own mouth that speaks to you. 13 You must tell my father how greatly I am honored in Egypt, and all that you have seen. Hurry and bring my father down here.” 14 Then he fell upon his brother Benjamin’s neck and wept, while Benjamin wept upon his neck. 15 And he kissed all his brothers and wept upon them; and after that his brothers talked with him.