Genesis 45:3-11,
15
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.' … 15 And he kissed all his
brothers and wept upon them; and after that his brothers talked with him.
In
Genesis 45:3-11, 15, a segment of a chapter in which Joseph reveals himself to
his brothers. The chapter is a composite of J and E. We have the final
narrative sequence in the story of Israel's founders as the story of Joseph
concludes.
3 Joseph said to his brothers, “I am Joseph. Is my father still alive?” The question is abrupt and the
juxtaposition somewhat jarring, although Jacob was the subject of Judah's
extended speech immediately preceding Joseph's revelation (44:18-34). It is out
of consideration for Jacob's feelings, after all, that Judah offered himself in
pledge for his youngest half-brother. Judah's speech would be meaningless, of
course, if Jacob were no longer alive, so Joseph's question has the ring of a
secondary insertion. His brothers' stupefaction marks the initial moment of
full disclosure and recognition by both parties. It also echoes, poetically,
Joseph's silence during his brothers' mistreatment of him years earlier (37:23-28).
However, his brothers could not answer
him, so dismayed were they at his presence. 4 Then Joseph said to
his brothers, “Come closer to me.” This reflects not only the emotional
shading of the narrative, but also the court etiquette already evidenced in
43:32, which prescribed distance between foreign commoners and a high official
of the Egyptian royal house. Egyptian distrust of foreigners in general
(officials used the common Egyptian word for "vile" in texts of all
periods to characterize foreigners)[1]
and distaste for Asiatic nomads in particular (including Hebrews), who
regularly waged raiding incursions into the towns of the Nile delta area, is
documented throughout Egyptian sources.[2]
The meteoric rise of a Hebrew slave against such a sociopolitical background
reinforces the theological point of the narrative: it is divine and not human
agency at work. They came closer. He
said, “I am your brother, Joseph, whom you sold into Egypt. 5 Further do not be distressed, or angry with
yourselves, because you sold me here; for God sent me before you. The
theological point of the Joseph story is ready to become explicit. He can make
this statement in light of the totality of the story. Except for the relatively
little eschatological material found in its later strata, the bulk of the
Hebrew Bible has a concern, theologically, with the past, particularly the magnalia
Dei, the mighty works of God in human (and especially Israelite) history. Such
an emphasis meets the human need for truth. If we want to know truth, we will
need to acknowledge the presence of the mighty works of God. Of course, the
presence of prescriptions for human behavior is obvious for anyone paying
attention to the Old Testament. With this emphasis, both testaments seek to
address the natural human desire to be and do good. Yet, the ethical monotheism
of both testaments rests on a foundation of God's self-disclosure in historical
events of both a sweeping and, as here, an intimate scale. Thus, God, through
the sin of his brothers, has sent Joseph
to preserve life. The theme of preserving life runs prominently but not
straightforwardly throughout the story of Jacob’s family. Even the account of
Judah and Tamar in Genesis 38 — which many scholars regard as an intrusion into
an otherwise coherent narrative sequence — turns on Tamar’s determination to
preserve life through a male descendant, even if that means sleeping with her
negligent father-in-law. In the Joseph story, worldwide famine threatens the
theme of preserving life, becoming the occasion for Joseph’s rise to greatness,
on the one hand, and his reunion with his family, on the other. The narrative
expresses the concern to preserve life several times: 41:36; 42:2, 18, 20; 43:8.
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. This idea is a theme important throughout
Genesis, as in the flood, Abraham's calling, Lot, and Joseph. God has taken the brother's hate and turned
it into good. The providence of God
operates in ways mysterious to us. Yet,
some scholars find the "remnant" God has preserved through Joseph for
his brothers, while clear in the narrative, is contextually unexpected. The
concept of a remnant (righteous or otherwise) is common enough in later,
especially prophetic literature (e.g., throughout the book of Isaiah), but this
is the only occurrence of the word in the Pentateuch. Even more noteworthy is
the fact that the author pairs the word with "survivors," as it is in
Isaiah 10:20, 15:9, 37:32. This striking
coincidence between this purportedly early material (the bulk of the Joseph
story comes from the 10th-9th century B.C.) and late prophetic idiom has led
some scholars to conclude that the verse is an insertion in an earlier novella.[3]
It first achieves prominence in Israelite thought with the rise of classical
prophecy, where the Hebrew word becomes a technical term (e.g., Isaiah 37:4,
32; Micah 2:12; 4:6, 5:7; 7:18; Jeremiah 23:3; 31:7; etc.). This is the first
and only occurrence of the term in Genesis, although the idea is found, of
course, in the story of Noah (Genesis 6:10). Like the idea of a hidden divine
providence, the idea of a remnant requires a degree of historical consciousness
not characteristic of earliest Israelite thought. Thus, God sent Joseph to
preserve a remnant and to keep alive for
you many survivors. 8 Therefore, it was not you who sent me here, but God. The
idea of providence expressed in the story is not prominent in early Israelite
religion. This view is a rather abstract view of divine activity in human
affairs. It suggests that what appears to be the human case is, in fact, not
the case, but is, rather, a working out of a much grander hidden divine plan.
However, such a view is more at home in the later stages of Israelite religion,
when Israelite thought had been influenced by the wisdom tradition that
flourished throughout the ancient Near East. Many scholars, in fact, consider
the final form of the Joseph story to show extensive evidence of wisdom
thought, and most scholars reckon the influence of the wisdom tradition to be a
later rather than an earlier development in Israelite religion. God has made me a father to Pharaoh and lord of
all his house and ruler over all the land of Egypt. See the words of
Psalm-writers who pray that God will spoil the plans of those who plot against
them. See Proverbs 16:1-9 and 19:21 ("The human mind [or heart or will in
Hebrew] may devise many plans, but it is the purpose of the LORD that will be
established"). Both 16:9 and 19:21 use the Hebrew root hashab for
"plans," as does Genesis 50:20's "intended," where Joseph
says to his brothers, who had sold him into slavery: "Even though you
intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good...." 9
Hurry and go up to my father and say to him. We have the style of an
official letter in verses 9-11. ‘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, which was
between modern Port Said and Sues. There
is a note in an Egyptian source that in 1220 BC Pharaoh allowed Edomite
Bedouins to settle there. Further, 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.’ … 15 Further, he kissed all his brothers and wept upon
them; and after that, his brothers talked with him. [Instead of exacting
revenge against his brothers, Joseph uses his power and influence to provide
his family a secure future during the coming years of famine in the region of
Goshen, an area in the northeast part of the Nile delta suitable especially for
small animal grazing (vv. 9-15). Having been happily reunited with his
brothers, Joseph’s is reunited with his aged father (46:28-30) rounding out the
denouement of his captivating story. More importantly for the biblical story,
the author has set the stage for the next moment of historical significance for
Israel, the period of the sojourn in Egypt. Although particular details of the
biblical account of Israel's centuries-long existence in Egypt are impossible
to confirm historically, the widespread presence of peoples of Semitic origin
in Egypt from about 2200-1550 B.C. is documented abundantly in both the
literary and archaeological record of Egypt from the period, and cautions
against an excessively skeptical stance toward the biblical narrative.[4]]
Joseph's
revelation of himself to his brothers brings to its fullness, with emotional
power, psychological insight and theological acumen, a tale of folly,
favoritism, jealousy, deceit, cowardice, malevolence and injustice.
First, we can read this story as a story of estrangement and
reconciliation, as forgiveness overcoming our tendency toward holding grudges
and resentment, and as love overcoming anger. Although the
story of Joseph and his brothers concludes in chapters 46-50 with considerably
less drama and tension than characterized its bulk, distrust and the fear of
reprisal for old wrongs overshadow Jacob's family until the closing words of
its story (50:15-21). The biblical writer does not avoid the hard truth that
for humans, at least, the past is never completely gone. When Narvaez, the
Spanish patriot, lay dying, his father-confessor asked him whether he had
forgiven all his enemies. Narvaez looked astonished and said, “Father, I have
no enemies, I have shot them all.” Why do we forgive? Because we don’t
want to turn into creatures of bitterness locked up in the past, and we don’t
want to be given over to a hatred that lets those who have hurt us continue to
dominate our lives.[5]
Joseph has now learned, through a series of tests, that his brothers, once
murderers, have changed to people of honor and compassion. Joseph has used this
time in Egypt to become a person of character. When he sees his brothers, he
has every right to move against them. Instead, he invites them to come close,
thereby extending to them the opportunity to reconcile with him. He forgives
them. He even sees the hand of God at work in it all. Yet, the story of Joseph is less a
"how to" manage anger and more an example of the life-giving results
of mercy. This is not to say that those who have been mistreated must instantly
run out to offer undeserved leniency to their tormentors. Instead, the story
encourages us to place ourselves in the hands of God, the fountain of
forgiveness and the source of new life. The most life-giving response to
bullies and abusers may be to give them a wide berth and deny them any further
destructive influence over our lives. What Joseph models is the refusal to
allow those evildoers any power over his life. Instead of permitting the
resulting anger to destroy him, thus compounding the damage already done to
him, he refuses to allow anger to take over his life and define his actions. He
will not lose control of his emotions, but more importantly, he retains control
over his life. Anger and fear are not directing his actions. He is able to
choose how to respond to his brothers. He puts anger behind him and offers them
new life.
Before certain thoughts one stands in bewilderment,
especially at the sight of human sin, and one asks oneself, "Should I take
it by force or by humble love?"
Always determine:
"I shall take it by humble love." If thus you determine once and for
all, you will be able to subdue the whole world. Loving humility is a terrible
force, the most terrible of all, the like of which there is none.[6]
A childhood accident caused poet Elizabeth Barrett to
lead a life of semi-invalidism before she married Robert Browning in 1846.
There is more to the story. In her youth, a tyrannical father watched over
Elizabeth. When she and Robert were married, they held their wedding in secret
because of her father’s disapproval. After the wedding, the Brownings sailed
for Italy, where they lived for the rest of their lives. Nevertheless, even
though her parents had disowned her, Elizabeth never gave up on the relationship.
Almost weekly, she wrote them letters. Not once did they reply. After 10 years,
she received a large box in the mail. Inside, Elizabeth found all of her
letters. According to one story, her parents had not opened even one! I have
not read these letters yet, but according to some, they are among the most
beautiful in classical English literature. Had her parents only read a few of
them, they might have restored their relationship with Elizabeth.
In one
of Aristophanes’ comedies, The Acharnians,
an aged farmer staggers onto the stage. He is weeping. Enemy soldiers have
invaded his land, terrorized his family, and killed both of his oxen. His
family is pitifully hungry. However, when someone asks him what he wants,
instead of asking for something to eat or something to drink, he says, “What I
want more than anything else is for a drop of peace to be poured into my eyes.”
The
story of Joseph, if we let it, will touch us at profound levels. We long for
reconciliation, but we often do not want to travel the path it will take to get
us there, such as developing character, extending an invitation to the
offender, forgiveness, seeing the fingerprints of God in it all, and seeking
the good of others. Too often, we want to hold on to the bitterness and anger,
exacting what we think is justice in the relationship. Reflecting on the story
of Joseph can help us overcome this desire.
Let us
reflect a moment upon the scars we receive in life. Physical scars can be
minor. We can easily hide some scars. The same is true with psychological,
emotional, and spiritual scars. We can see their presence in the story of
Joseph. Imagine the depth of scarring in the brothers that would lead them to
plot the death of Joseph. Imagine the many days that Joseph suffered as a slave
at the hands of his brothers. We can imagine the thought process of Joseph
through those years. Yet, at some point, he begins to heal. In the moment when
he finally reveals himself to his brothers and has a plan for his family to
return, the healing of the scars seems clear. God can create a life in which
God transforms our wound into something good, and God propels us toward new and
abundant life. Of course, the question is how this can happen. In his classic
book The Wounded Healer, Henri Nouwen reflects on what it means to
minister in a hurting and alienated society. How do we minister in a world gone
so wrong? He recommends prayer, not as a
"decoration of life," but as the breath of human existence. A
Christian community is a healing community, says Nouwen, not because wounds are
cured and pains are alleviated, but because wounds and pains become openings or
occasions for a new vision.
I
believe the story of Easter would be incomplete without those scars on the
hands, the feet, and the side of Jesus. When human beings fantasize, we dream
of pearly straight teeth, wrinkle-free skin, and sexy ideal shapes. We dream of
an unnatural state: the perfect body. However, for Jesus, confinement in a
skeleton and human skin WAS the unnatural state. The scars are, to him, an
emblem of life on our planet, a permanent reminder of those days of confinement
and suffering. I take hope in Jesus' scars. From the perspective of heaven,
they represent the most horrible event that has ever happened in the history of
the universe - the crucifixion - Easter turned into a memory. Because of
Easter, I can hope that the tears we shed, the blows we receive, the emotional
pain, the heartache over lost friends and loved ones, all these will become
memories, like Jesus' scars. Scars never completely go away, but neither do
they hurt any longer. We will have re-created bodies, a re-created heaven and
earth. We will have a new start, an Easter start.[7]
The
greatest transformer of scars is, of course, the Divine Physician, Jesus the
Christ. It is by his wounds that we receive healing, and by his sacrificial
death that we experience everlasting life. He does not remove our wounds, but
builds a spiritual scaffold over them - one that shows us that healing is
always a possibility, even when it comes in surprising ways. Our scars need not
be embarrassing.
Second,
beyond the reconciliation and forgiveness in this family, we also find a lesson
in the way the providence of God actually works in human life. What unfolds in
the episode is the theological truth of divine providence: neither external
circumstances nor twisted human wills can finally thwart the purposes of a
loving God who acts in human history. The hand of God has directed all the
confusion of human guilt toward a gracious goal. The author has written so much about the
action of people. It is surprising that
Joseph now says the real actor has been God.
The meteoric rise of a Hebrew slave against such a sociopolitical
background reinforces the theological point of the narrative: it is divine and
not human agency at work. This theological point becomes explicit: "for
God sent me before you to preserve life." The theological theme that
Joseph's observation identifies reflects upon the total story. The idea of providence
expressed in the story — “So it was not you who sent me here, but God” (v. 8).
Human life is often so messy. We might like everything in
our lives to be far more clear and distinct, the next step in our lives to be
obvious, and the way forward that we should travel marked clearly. We might
prefer human life lived on level, smooth places. However, it does not take long
in life to know that the terrain of human life is rocky, hilly, and difficult.
There are many twists and turns in life. Other people act upon us, sometimes
graciously and sometimes not. We act upon the lives of others, sometimes with
grace and kindness, and sometimes not.
In
the midst of the confusion of human life, we may wonder where God has been. Of
course, it takes a mature faith, meditation, and openness, to see the ways of
God in the midst of it all. We can often look back on paths that, at the time,
we thought of as painful and difficult. Yet, God has used those paths to bring
us to a gracious, healing end. The end human beings seek is often
self-centered, self-destructive, evil, and hateful. Yet, the end God seeks is
reconciliation and peace. God seeks the preservation of life. God is so
sovereign that even mixed human motives God can work through to bring people
reconciliation. Of course, the fact that reconciliation does not always happen
on this earth means that some healing of relationships is a promise that will
not occur except in eternity.
Joseph’s
revelation is a fitting climax to the series of family stories that form the
bulk of the beginning of the Bible. It brings together many of the themes that
link the disparate materials in Genesis. Among the themes are the nature of
human society and its relation to the natural world, the complexities of family
dynamics, the struggle for group identity and survival, the competing demands
of insiders and outsiders, the interplay of loyalty, betrayal, selfishness and
altruism, and perhaps most important of all, the nature of divine intention and
God’s interaction with the world.
We might
even say, "Man proposes, but God disposes"[8]
sums up Genesis 45:1-15 and 50:14-21. We might recall many Psalms that pray
that God will spoil the plans of those who plot against them. Proverbs 16:1-9
and 19-21 say that the human mind or heart devises plans, but the purpose of
God will find victory. It suggests that what appears to be the human case is,
in fact, not the case, but is, rather, a working out of a much grander hidden
divine plan. However, such a view is more at home in the later stages of Israelite
religion, when Israelite thought had been influenced by the wisdom tradition
that flourished throughout the ancient Near East. Many scholars, in fact,
consider the final form of the Joseph story to show extensive evidence of
wisdom thought, and most scholars reckon the influence of the wisdom tradition
to be a later rather than an earlier development in Israelite religion.
All of this might lead us to reflect upon the
serendipity of grace. The late M. Scott Peck, author of The Road Less Traveled, touches on this kind of experience in his
writings. Though he had not been a church person, he gradually became aware of
the activity of God and eventually became a Christian. In his book, he told
that some of his patients had survived serious emotional traumas much better
than the circumstances warranted, and Peck came to think of a force of goodness
in the world. He eventually identified this force using the word “serendipity,”
which the dictionary defines as “the gift of finding valuable or agreeable things
not sought for.” He also realized that the word “grace” fit that definition,
too. So in the book, he wrote about this force, using both words. Several years
later, Peck was on a flight to Minneapolis. He wanted to use the flying time to
do some writing, so when a man took the seat next to him, Peck stayed buried in
his work and the man beside him opened a novel. Thus, they flew side by side to
Buffalo without speaking where they had an hour-long layover that they also
passed without speaking to each other. After reboarding and flying silently
side by side for another 45 minutes or so, the man looked up from his novel and
said, “I hate to bother you, but you don’t happen, by any chance, to know the
meaning of the word ‘serendipity,’ do you?” Peck answered that as far as he
knew, he was the only person who had written a substantial portion of a book on
the subject, and that it was perhaps serendipity that at the precise moment the
man wanted to know the meaning of the word, he happened to be sitting next to an
authority on the subject. This, of course, led to further conversation, and
Peck explained that his book was a kind of integration of psychology and
religion. The man said, “Well, I don’t know about religion anymore,” and went
on to tell Peck that he was thinking of leaving the church. In response, Peck
told him that questioning sometimes helps individuals move from the
hand-me-down religion of childhood to a mature, personal one. When the two
landed in Minneapolis, the man said, “I don’t have the foggiest idea what all
of this means, but maybe I don’t have to leave the church after all.” Much of
life with God is indeed discovery of the ways in which God is active behind the
scenes in ways we could hardly imagine.
Third,
we see an emphasis on preserving life in verse 5. We see this notion obviously
in the story of the flood. Less obviously, we see this theme in Genesis 38 and
the story of the determination of Tamar to preserve life through a male
descendant. Joseph preserved the lives of Egyptians and the life of his family.
The theme of preserving life runs prominently but not straightforwardly
throughout the story of Jacob’s family. In the Joseph story, the threat to
preserving life by the worldwide famine is the occasion for Joseph’s rise to
greatness, on the one hand, and his reunion with his family, on the other. The
narrative expresses concerns several times to preserve life. In 41:36, the food
in reserve supply will preserve life. In 42:2, 18, the hope is that the food in
Egypt will preserve the family of Jacob. In 42:20, we find the promise that if
the brothers bring Benjamin they will live. In 43:8, Judah wants Jacob to send
Benjamin with him so that they will not die.
Fourth,
another theme in this story is that of the remnant and survivors in verse 7.
The theme is an important one in Genesis. We see it in the story of the flood,
in the call of Abraham, in the story of Lot, and in the story of Joseph. God
has taken the brother's hate and turned it into good. The providence of God operates in ways mysterious
to us. Yet, some scholars find the
"remnant" God has preserved through Joseph for his brothers, while
clear in the narrative, is contextually unexpected. The concept of a remnant
(righteous or otherwise) is common enough in later, especially prophetic
literature (e.g., throughout the book of Isaiah), but this is the only
occurrence of the word in the Pentateuch. Even more noteworthy is the fact that
the writer pairs the word with "survivors," as it is in Isaiah 10:20,
which come from the period of Josiah (640-609), 15:9 (Isaiah), and 37:32 (from
598-587 BC). This striking coincidence
between this purportedly early material (the bulk of the Joseph story comes
from the 10th-9th century B.C.) and late prophetic idiom has led some scholars
to conclude that the verse is an insertion in an earlier novella.[9]
The idea of a remnant first achieves prominence in Israelite thought with the
rise of classical prophecy, where the Hebrew word becomes a technical term.
Isaiah 37:4 urges prayer for the few who are left. Isaiah 37:32 shows the
determination of Yahweh to preserve a remnant from Jerusalem. In Micah 2:12 the
Lord will gather the few left in Israel. We find a similar them in Micah 4:6
and 5:7. In Micah 7:18, even the remnant can rebel. In Jeremiah 23:3, the Lord
will gather the remnant. In Jeremiah 31:7, we find a prayer for the Lord to
save the remnant. Yet, this is the first and only occurrence of the term in
Genesis, although the idea is found, of course, in the story of Noah (Genesis
6:10). Like the idea of a hidden divine providence, the idea of a remnant
requires a degree of historical consciousness not characteristic of earliest
Israelite thought.
The
story of Joseph is powerful and dramatic. Instead of exacting revenge, Joseph
uses his power and influence to provide his family a secure future in the land
of Goshen in the northeast part of the Nile delta, a land especially suited for
small animal grazing. Joseph has reunited with his beloved father. In its
canonical context, however, it reminds us of the magdalia dei, the mighty of works of God. The sojourn in Egypt will
not end well. From literary and archaeological records of Egypt, we know that
peoples of Semitic origin were in Egypt from 2200 to 1550 BC. We see the
transition of the biblical story from its focus on the patriarchal founders of
Israel to the story of a people who will experience oppression and stand in
need of deliverance.
[1] See Donald B. Redford, Egypt,
Canaan, and Israel in Ancient Times [Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University
Press, 1992], 100)
[2] (See, for example, the "Tale
of Sinuhe," in Ancient Near Eastern Texts Relating to the Old Testament,
ed. James B. Pritchard, 3rd ed., [Princeton, N. J.: Princeton University Press,
1974], 18-22).
[3] (See Roland E. Murphy in The New
Jerome Biblical Commentary, ed. Raymond E. Brown, Joseph A. Fitzmyer, Roland E.
Murphy [Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1990], 40).
[4] (For a detailed review of the
evidence and scholarship, concluding in favor of the essential historical
reliability of the biblical material, see James K. Hoffmeier, Israel in Egypt
[New York: Oxford University Press, 1996], especially pp. 52-76.)
[5]
—Samuel Wells, Learning to Dream Again: Rediscovering the Heart of God
(Eerdmans, 2013), 114.
[6] --Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov
(Penguin, 2003).
[7] -Philip Yancey,
The Jesus I Never Knew (Grand Rapids:
Zondervan, 1995).
[8]
(Thomas à Kempis, in The Imitation of
Christ)
[9]
(See Roland E. Murphy in The New Jerome Biblical Commentary, ed. Raymond E.
Brown, Joseph A. Fitzmyer, Roland E. Murphy [Englewood Cliffs, N.J.:
Prentice-Hall, 1990], 40).
good observations liked the emphasis on saving lives- Lynn Eastman
ReplyDelete