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. And now do not be distressed, or angry with yourselves, because you sold me here; for God sent me before you to preserve life. 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. God sent me before you to preserve for you a remnant on earth, and to keep alive for you many survivors. 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. 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. 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. 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.’ And now your eyes and the eyes of my brother Benjamin see that it is my own mouth that speaks to you. 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.” Then he fell upon his brother Benjamin’s neck and wept, while Benjamin wept upon his neck. And he kissed all his brothers and wept upon them; and after that his brothers talked with him.
----Genesis 45:1-15 (NRSV)
Grace and peace to you through our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
Good morning to you. It is good to be back. I am grateful for the days off I’ve had, which have given me a chance to reflect, renew and refresh. I’m also grateful to be back.
Because I missed a Sunday, we have a bit of catching up to do in our stories of Abraham and his descendants--these legends we’ve been working our way through during this entire summer.
If you recall, last week’s Genesis story was that of Joseph being sold into slavery by his brothers. You remember it, don’t you? How Jacob, Joseph’s father, showed favoritism to Joseph, his youngest son. (Have we heard this somewhere before?) And how Jacob gave Joseph a robe of many colors, making his brothers incredibly jealous. So jealous, in fact, that when they were out tending sheep, they stripped him of his technicolor dreamcoat and threw him into an empty cistern or well. And then sold him to a caravan of Ishmaelites traveling with their wares to Egypt. Then, to make matters even worse, they took dipped Joseph’s cloak in ram’s blood and returned home to tell Joseph that his youngest son was dead.
Do you see and hear, once again, the generations and generations of brokenness? So you see and hear, once again, the hatred and anger that simply seems to be carried from generation to generation?
As our story opens today, we find Joseph in a high position of power in Egypt. In fact, he is the administrator over all of Egypt. It has been a winding road to this point, one filled with false accusations and betrayal, with incarceration, and with dream interpretation. In fact, it was Joseph’s ability to interpret Pharoah’s dreams of feast and famine that led to his appointment to such a powerful position, notwithstanding his complete lack of experience.
Under Joseph’s administration, Egypt has grown dramatically in size, as surrounding nations have looked to it for sustenance during a 7-year famine.
As the famine has gripped the entire region, Jacob has told his sons to go from Canaan to Egypt to buy grain. They appear before Joseph, who recognizes them. However, the sons--Joseph’s brothers--don’t recognize Joseph. And Joseph doesn’t reveal who he is. Instead, he uses his power over his brothers. He first demands that they go home and return with their youngest brother, Benjamin. He, then, imprisons his brother Simeon until they do.
When the food finally runs out in Canaan, they decide to return with Benjamin. Joseph invites them to dinner. There, they share a meal with Joseph. And they still don’t recognize him.
What happens next is either a test or a second act of revenge by Joseph. Joseph instructs his servant to slip a silver cup in Benjamin’s sack. He then confronts his brothers about the alleged theft and threatens to arrest Benjamin. Joseph’s brothers beg him not to do this. And Judah volunteers to trade places with Benjamin.
It is here where today’s story begins. Joseph. So overwhelmed with emotion. Unable to conceal his identity any longer. Joseph sends all of his attendants away. Only his brothers remain.
Joseph then reveals who he is to them--that he is their youngest brother, the one they sold into slavery those many years ago. He also shares with them, though, how God has used this evil act to save the lives of many, many people.
Our story today ends with these words: “He (Joseph) kissed all of his brothers and wept, embracing them. After that, his brothers were finally able to talk to him.”
Reconciliation. After all that has happened between Joseph and his brothers, after the original evil act, after the acts of revenge--after everything, the relationship between Joseph and his brothers is restored. They are reconciled.
As I hear this story once again--this story of evil and hate and of forgiveness and reconciliation, I’m reminded of something written by Brene Brown. Brene is a researcher and professor of sociology at the University of Houston who has researched, written and spoken extensively on the topic of shame and vulnerability.
She has also spoken frequently about the three P’s - Privilege, Perspective, and Power.
First, privilege. There is no word today that makes people more angry today than this word. Privilege. Especially, white privilege. “I worked for everything I have,” we say. “I had no privilege!”
According to Ms. Brown, if this is our understanding of privilege, then we fail to understand what it is. Privilege is something, some right we have that is unearned. It’s about unearned access or authority. We all have some kind of privilege, some kind of unearned right. What is your privilege?
One example of my privilege, as a Christian here in Kentucky or in the entire U.S., is that I can wear a symbol of my religion (say, a cross) and not fear being called a murderer or a terrorist. Privilege.
Or, another example. As a white woman, a mother, I have never had to have a conversation with my son about how to handle getting pulled over by the police. Both of these are examples of my privilege.
I have unearned rights, or access and authority. Privilege has nothing to do with how hard I’ve worked. To fail to acknowledge our own privilege--especially the unearned rights we enjoy by virtue of being white. To fail to acknowledge this fails to acknowledge the pain of others who don’t experience our level of privilege.
The second “P” is perspective. We all see the world through a lens. Whether it is as a result of our age, our gender, our race, our ability, we all view the world with a certain perspective. Add in the perspective of insight, personal history, family stories--we see the world in a particular way. And the more white, the more middle class we are, the more likely is our belief that it is our view of the world that is the only true view, the only right way.
So, we are told we should have empathy with others who don’t have the same perspective. To put down our own lens and to view the world through their lens.
Unfortunately, this is impossible. It is impossible to set aside our own worldview.
How, then, do we take the perspective of others? First, we believe people’s stories and experiences as they are told to us. Period. So, when we hear from our African-American brothers and sisters that they are stopped by the police regularly without cause, we believe them.
Secondly, we acknowledge that how someone else views the world through their lens is just as true and real as how we view the world through ours. It’s not okay to say, “Oh, that’s a terrible story. But that’s now how I see it.” We can have an opinion. But we can’t dismiss what other people share with us as truth.
Then, there is the third “P.” That of power. We hate this word, power, don’t we, especially here in the church. There are many definitions for it, but, perhaps the best is that one given by Martin Luther King, Jr. He said that “Power is the ability to effect change.”
To be without power, to have no ability to effect change, to be completely powerless is the most dangerous state we can ever experience. It leads to isolation. To violence. To shame. To self-harm. Think about history. When has violence occurred most throughout our world? It has happened when people felt powerless.
Somehow we have come to the belief in our country power is finite. That if I share some of it with someone else, I will lose some of my own. That is not power. That is “power over.”
“Power over” is finite. It is also ineffective. When we lead, when we parent, when we act from a position of “power over”, we, by definition, disempower people who have great ideas, great experiences, and great stories to bring to the table and to our broader shared experience. Brené Brown writes, what we are witnessing in our world today is the last resistance, the last stand of “power over.”
Joseph had all three P’s. He was in a position of privilege, having unearned access through his appointment by the pharaoh. He had a perspective that was shaped by his own world view and experience, particularly that of having been sold into slavery by his brothers. He also had power--particularly, “power over.” The power to imprison his brothers, to exact that final revenge upon them for all of the hurt and pain they had caused.
This past week has been so difficult, hasn’t it. As we have watched what has gone on in Charlottesville, as we have watched the hate and bigotry of racism and fascism and naziism raise it’s ugly head in our country, as we continue to witness the growing divide in our country, I don’t know about you, but for me it is so incredibly painful. And hurtful. And sinful.
Yes, sinful. The actions of white supremacists, of bigots, of racists, of neo-Nazis is sinful. Yet, it is not only they who have sinned. We have sinned. We have all sinned. We are all guilty. All of us. And, particularly, the church is guilty.
In his writings during the time of the second World War and the time of Adolph Hitler, Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote that the church was guilty. That the church had not professed openly and clearly enough its message of the one God. That the church had not confessed its timidity, its deviations, its dangerous concessions. That it had disavowed its duties as sentinel and comforter. That it was mute when it should have cried out, as the blood of the innocent cried out to heaven. That the church did not find the right words in the right way at the right time. That it did not resist to the death the falling away from faith. That it was guilty of the godlessness of the masses.
So, we, as individuals and as the church, are called to confess. To confess of the privilege we have used to harm people as a result of our race. To confess of the perspective we have claimed as the only true perspective. To confess of the way we have “powered over” people instead of “powering with” people. To confess of our guilt without a single glance at all of the others who are guilty. And to call everyone--all people in our nation into a community of confession.
We must begin with ourselves. With the church. We, who have been grabbed by the power of Christ’s grace--we must acknowledge, confess, and take upon ourselves not only our personal sins, but also the falling of the world.
Then, we must begin to change. If we are tired of the story of white supremacy (and that is what it is as much as we hate that word!), then we must begin to call it what it is. Every one of us. To say the words. To call it out. And then, to think about what we can do differently. To believe other people’s stories and to begin to work around our privilege, to work around our own perspective, and to work around power to build a world together, a world that lives into God’s declaration that all that God created is good. Every bit of it.
To choose not to do it because it is uncomfortable or because we can’t do it perfectly is not okay. Because that is the definition of privilege. Privilege allows us to simply walk away from the hard work simply because we are not affected by it the minute we wake up.
It must begin here and now. With each and every one of us in the church. As Bonhoeffer wrote, “The church is where Jesus makes his form real in the midst of the world. Therefore, only the church can be the place of personal and corporate rebirth and renewal.”
Joseph eventually reached a place of reconciliation with his brothers. What began as a curse became a blessing on the nations. The same can happen in the church and in the broader world. Out of usurped power can come justice. Out of rebellion order. And out of bloodshed peace.
And this--justice, order, and peace--is what the kingdom of God looks like. And what God desires for all of humanity and all of creation.
May God so grant it!
Amen.
Preached August 20, 2017, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost
Readings: Genesis 45:1-15, Psalm 133, Romans 11:1-2a, 29-32; Matthew 15:10-28.
With attributions to Dr. Brené Brown and Dietrich Bonhoeffer.
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