February 24 Sermon

Genesis 45:3-11, 15

In last Sunday’s message, I mentioned learning about one of the readings by translating it from Hebrew—in a class with a fairly demanding professor. Today I’m going to focus on a different Old Testament passage, the story of which we students also translated from the original language, although in a class with a “kinder, gentler” instructor. It’s the story of Joseph—the boy with the coat of many colors. It’s a story that reminds me of a Charles Dickens’ novel, like Great Expectations or A Tale of Two Cities—truly worthy of a feature-length film, maybe even a miniseries. It has so many of the crucial elements:

• Sex.

• Languishing in prison.

• Reversal of fortune.

• And most importantly of all, redemption.

The main element has to do with family dynamics—specifically sibling rivalry. A common theme in the Book of Genesis, it all begins with Cain and Abel, the story of which ends in tragedy. Fortunately, the break between Isaac and Ishmael—whose father is Abraham—is to some degree eventually mended. Even more so with the two sons of Isaac—the fraternal twins Jacob and Esau. But the relationships among Jacob’s sons is the most complicated and fascinating of them all. Instead of just two brothers, there are a total of twelve—divided among four mothers! Jacob’s wife Leah has the first four of them. Her sister, Rachel, who is his one true love, seems unable to have children. Jealous of Leah, she gives her maidservant over to Jacob—who gives him sons five and six. In her jealousy, Leah does the same. And her maidservant gives Jacob sons seven and eight. Later, Leah gives birth two more sons—numbers nine and ten. Finally, God blesses Rachel, who bears a son, Joseph. She also gives her husband one more male heir, Benjamin, but, unfortunately, she dies in childbirth.

You see how complicated this drama already is? In the very first act, no less! Later, Jacob does a very stupid thing—as men often do. He shows his favoritism toward Joseph by giving him that coat of many colors. Joseph’s not too bright, either (although he may get a pass since he’s still only a boy). He brags to his brothers about his dreams in which they shall one day bow down before him.

Remember the rest of the story?

• They sell him into slavery.

• In Egypt, his master’s wife solicits him for sex, he refuses,

she accuses him of attempted rape, and he ends up in prison.

• But later he interprets a dream for Pharaoh, becomes secretary of agriculture,1

so to speak, and saves the people from suffering seven years of drought

When his brothers come down from Canaan to buy grain, he knows who they are, but they fail to recognize him. He helps them, yet makes life somewhat difficult for them —almost as if it’s payback time. But finally he reveals he is their long-lost brother, they reconcile, and he invites them, their father, and their families to come live in Egypt. A happy ending to a fascinating saga.

In today’s reading, I just wish the two verses before it had been included, because they relate so well the emotion welling up inside of Joseph—just before he tells his brothers who he is:

Then [he] could no longer control himself before [the servants] who stood by him, and he cried out, “…[E]veryone [else, leave] me!” So no one stayed with him when [he] made himself known to his brothers. And he wept so loudly that [not only] the Egyptians [in the adjoining room] heard it, [but all] the household of Pharaoh…

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

In today’s gospel, Jesus tells us to “[l]love [our] enemies, do good to those who hate [us].” He also says, “If [we] love those who love [us], what credit is that to [us]? For even sinners do the same.”2

When we think of those who already love us and we them, don’t we often think of members of our families? The one my mother grew up in was very tight. During the Great Depression, they, like so many others, had a very difficult time of things, but they also always had one another. Throughout their adult lives, they remained very close—my mother’s parents, her five siblings, and later all their in-laws. Every Thanksgiving, Christmas, and sometimes on Easter—my immediate family and all of them, their spouses and my cousins would get together for potluck meals. There also were all the Sunday afternoon visits between two or more families. And yet I know too well it’s not like that for everyone. Sometimes those we think should naturally love one another actually become enemies. The things that divide them?

• Either real or perceived favoritism by a parent.

• The tension of “success” in the life of one—in whatever way that’s defined—but failures in the life of another.

• How about the role that addiction or other major health issues play in the life of a family?

• Here’s a big one: When an inheritance is not equally divided. Or there are fights about who gets which furniture, heirlooms, and so on.

Advice columns in newspapers are chock full of stories about how spouses, siblings, and/or parents argue destructively about various things, sometimes even becoming completely estranged. A big question is: “How do we deal with sensitive situations in a way that everyone can live with?” A second question: “What can we do to become reconciled?” Especially when one party seems to want it more, maybe much more than the other?

It may include any number of things:

• Agreeing to disagree.

• Learning to be less reactive. Using the front part of the brain more than the reptilian part.

• Looking deeply into oneself.

• Practicing patience, empathy, forgiveness, sometimes acceptance.

• And praying. Always, praying.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

In today’s passage from Genesis, we see not once or twice but three times Joseph explaining the hand of God behind everything: “It was not you who sent me here but God”—[in order] to preserve life. From that Hebrew class I remember similar words near the very end of Genesis—again, Joseph speaking to his brothers: “Even though you intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good, in order to preserve a numerous people.”3

When some commit evil against others, God isn’t the one who causes it, who makes it happen, but sometimes does use such acts so that good may come out of them. Certainly, not always or even often, but sometimes.

The story of Joseph and his brothers reminds us that life can be full of twists and turns. We can plan all we want to. And sometimes what we plan comes to be—at least in part if not mostly. The fact that things may turn out much differently than we ever imagined is not necessarily a bad thing, although it certainly can be. As in a saying we’re all well acquainted with: “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.” It’s attributed to the ancient Roman author, Virgil, or to the eleventh century monk, St. Bernard of Clairvaux, or to the eighteenth-century English poet and playwright, Samuel Johnson. Whichever it is, I care much more about another saying that turns it on its head. It comes from someone you’ve probably never heard of before—Stanley Mast, a longtime minister in the Christian Reformed Church and an adjunct instructor at Calvin Seminary in Grand Rapids, Michigan. He said while it’s true that the path to the Devil is littered with good intentions, much more important is this: that “the road to heaven is paved with God’s intention.”4 Joseph said to his brothers: “You meant it for evil, but God meant it for good…” And so again, fortunately for us: “The road to heaven is paved with God’s intention.”

That’s a keeper, isn’t it?