Grace in the Face of Betrayal. Genesis 45:1-15. 08/18/2024.
Grace in the Face of Betrayal
Genesis 45:1-15
Rev. Dr. Rhonda Blevins
August 18, 2024
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. And he wept so loudly that the Egyptians heard it, and the household of Pharaoh heard it. 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. 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.
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Ever heard of sibling rivalry?
I must have been five or six years old, which means my older brother was about 10 or 11. My father had built me a sandbox in the backyard. I remember it was a warm, sunny day—perfect for playing in the sandbox, so that is exactly what I was doing. Happily playing alone, making sandcastles and mudpies—whatever it is kids do when playing in a sandbox.
My older brother was outside as well, but he wasn’t playing in the sandbox with me. Rather, he was trying out his new BB gun.
So, there I was, minding my own happy business, when all of a sudden I felt a pain in my back that I had never experienced before or since. My brother had shot me in the back with his BB gun! Naturally I ran inside to my mother, screaming and crying and accusing my brother of attempted homicide. My brother convinced my mother that he hadn’t targeted me, but that the BB must have ricocheted off a nearby tree. Yeah, right.
Only within the last few years did he finally confess, as he wore a sheepish grin, that indeed he had targeted me, adding that it surprised even him what a good shot he was!
Sibling rivalry.
Other than trying to murder me with a BB gun, he was a pretty good brother growing up. Oh, we had our moments like most siblings, but we were little sibling angels compared to Joseph and his brothers in the book of Genesis.
Before we get into today’s reading, let’s recall the backstory.
When Joseph is born, he immediately becomes his father’s favorite. His father does not hide his favoritism, giving Joseph a beautiful coat of many colors. Joseph’s ten older brothers resent the fact that Daddy loves Joseph more than them, and they become jealous. You may remember that Joseph is a dreamer—Joseph has two dreams in which his brothers and even his parents are bowing down before him. This snot-nosed, 17-year-old kid doesn’t have enough sense to keep those dreams to himself. And so, at the first opportunity, when Joseph and his brothers are away from home, Joseph’s brothers devise a plan to kill their little brother. One of the brothers (Reuben) convinces the others not to kill Joseph, but to merely throw Joseph in a pit. Reuben plans to rescue him later. But when Reuben steps away, the remaining brothers sell Joseph into slavery for twenty pieces of silver.
The brothers lead their father to believe that Joseph has been killed by wild animals. As for Joseph, he ends up as a slave in Egypt.
Can you imagine? Yes, my brother shot me in the back with a BB gun (I’m working on forgiving him for that J) but he never sold me into slavery! Can you imagine how hurt and angry Joseph felt towards his brothers for their heinous act of hatred, their egregious act of betrayal?
Let’s pause here and think about Joseph as an archetype for us all. Though human trafficking is very real to this day, probably not too many of us here today have been sold into slavery by our siblings. But likely all of us have experienced betrayal at some level:
Maybe a trusted friend betrayed your confidence or shared your personal information
Perhaps you poured your life into a job only to be terminated or laid off
Maybe you’ve been a victim of infidelity from a spouse or partner
Maybe someone you trusted lied to you or deceived you
Maybe you’ve been abandoned, someone you counted on didn’t show up when you needed them most
Who among us hasn’t been betrayed?
As we begin our series about grace, the question I want to ponder today is this: how might we extend grace in the face of betrayal?
Back to Joseph.
Sold into slavery by his brothers. Enduring life as a slave in Egypt, and everything that comes with being a slave. Now, Joseph is handsome. He catches the eye of Potiphar’s wife, but Joseph rejects her advances. Because of this rejection, Potiphar’s wife wrongfully accuses Joseph of impropriety. Joseph ends up in prison, where he’s placed in charge of all other prisoners, and where he gains a reputation for his profound skill in dream interpretation. So, when Pharaoh needs a dream interpreter, they call on Joseph. Pharaoh is so impressed by Joseph that he places him as second in command, in charge of everything. Joseph becomes the most powerful man in Egypt, save for Pharoah.
Back home with Joseph’s family, a severe drought threatens their very existence. Daddy sends Joseph’s older brothers to Egypt to buy grain. Guess who they find themselves standing before, humbly begging to buy grain? Joseph! The snot-nosed kid they threw in a pit and sold into slavery years before. Now, Joseph’s appearance has changed since that they saw little brother carted off in chains. Maybe it was simply aging, or maybe it was decades of living as a slave. But Joseph’s big brothers don’t recognize Joseph.
Now, put yourself in Joseph’s shoes. The brothers who sold you into slavery stand before you in desperate need. And the tables have turned. Now you have the power. It’s a monarchy, so you can do whatever you want to them. You can kill them, if you want. You can imprison them, if you want. You can have them tortured, if you want. You can put them in a sandbox and shoot them with BB guns, if you want. Here’s an idea: you can enslave them. An “eye for an eye,” right? Or . . . you can show mercy. You can extend grace.
What would you do?
Think about that as we consider what Joseph did. Joseph tests them. He trolls them. Maybe he does this to see if they’ve changed at all. Maybe he does this as an internal battle rages within Joseph, whether to help his brothers or harm them.
First, Joseph accuses his brothers of being spies and tests them by demanding they bring their youngest brother, Benjamin, to Egypt to prove their honesty. He keeps Simeon in custody while the others return home with grain.
On their way home, they discover that the money they paid for the grain has been mysteriously returned to their sacks, increasing their fear.
The famine continues, and the brothers must return to Egypt for more food. Reluctantly, Daddy Jacob allows them to take Benjamin. They also take gifts and double the money to return what was in their sacks.
When they arrive, Joseph invites them to a meal at his house. He is overcome with emotion upon seeing Benjamin but hides his identity. The brothers are puzzled but relieved when they are treated kindly, and Simeon is released.
Joseph orders that his brothers’ sacks be filled with grain and secretly places his silver cup in Benjamin’s sack. After they leave, Joseph sends his steward to catch them and accuse them of theft.
The brothers are brought back to Joseph’s house, where they plead their innocence. When the cup is found in Benjamin’s sack, they are distraught. Judah steps forward and offers himself as a slave in Benjamin’s place, explaining how losing Benjamin would devastate their father, Jacob.
That’s when Joseph loses it. He begins to weep. He reveals his identity and explains how he rose to power within Egypt and tells his brothers not to feel too bad about selling him into slavery—that it was all a part of God’s plan to save the family from extinction as the drought in Canaan would bring certain calamity. He begs his brothers to return with their father and settle in Egypt, promising the best of everything the land has to offer.
Wow! What an example of outlandish grace.
I’ve often heard grace defined as “unmerited favor.” Certainly, the favor Joseph extends to his brothers is unmerited. In an “eye for an eye” world, the grace Joseph extends to his brothers must seem extraordinary, other-worldly, outlandish. Yet, this outlandish grace is exactly what Joseph’s brothers receive.
When we think about our own lives, we must remember that we, too, are recipients of outlandish grace from our Creator. Think about the many ways that each of us finds ourselves on the receiving end of the outlandish G-R-A-C-E of God:
Gift of salvation, freely given, not earned
Repeated forgiveness, when we miss the mark
Abundant blessings, beyond what we deserve
Constant love, steadfast and eternal
Eternal hope, that our future is in God’s loving hands
It’s outlandish that God loves us so fully, so unconditionally. It’s absolutely ridiculous how much God loves us. Even when we can’t feel it. Even when we can’t find a way to love ourselves. Even when we don’t deserve it. God’s ridiculous love manifests as God’s outlandish grace. Love always manifests as grace.
Brennan Manning tells a story in The Ragamuffin Gospel:
Fiorello LaGuardia . . . was mayor of New York City during the worst days of the Great Depression and all of WWII, was called by adoring New Yorkers “the Little Flower” because he was only five foot four and always wore a carnation in his lapel. He was a colorful character who used to ride the New York City fire trucks, raid speakeasies with the police department, take entire orphanages to baseball games, and whenever the New York newspapers were on strike, he would go on the radio and read the Sunday funnies to the kids. One bitterly cold night in January of 1935, the mayor turned up at a night court that served the poorest ward of the city. LaGuardia dismissed the judge for the evening and took over the bench himself.
Within a few minutes, a tattered old woman was brought before him, charged with stealing a loaf of bread. She told LaGuardia that her daughter’s husband had deserted her, her daughter was sick, and her two grandchildren were starving. But the shopkeeper, from whom the bread was stolen, refused to drop the charges. “It’s a real bad neighborhood, your Honor.” the man told the mayor. “She’s got to be punished to teach other people around here a lesson.” LaGuardia sighed. He turned to the woman and said “I've got to punish you. The law makes no exceptions—ten dollars or ten days in jail.” But even as he pronounced the sentence, the mayor was already reaching into his pocket. He extracted a bill and tossed it into his famous sombrero saying: “Here is the ten dollar fine which I now remit; and furthermore I am going to fine everyone in this courtroom fifty cents for living in a town where a person has to steal bread so that her grandchildren can eat. Mr. Baliff, collect the fines and give them to the defendant.” So the following day the New York City newspapers reported that $47.50 was turned over to a bewildered old lady who had stolen a loaf of bread to feed her starving grandchildren, fifty cents of that amount being contributed by the red-faced grocery store owner, while some seventy petty criminals, people with traffic violations, and New York City policemen, each of whom had just paid fifty cents for the privilege of doing so, gave the mayor a standing ovation.[1]
Where do you find yourself in this story today?
Are you the grandmother, in need of grace?
Are you the mayor, offering not just grace, but ridiculous, outlandish grace?
May each of us aspire to be like Mayor LaGuardia, extending outlandish grace to the marginalized, the oppressed, the victims of a cruel world. And perhaps the more difficult challenge: may each of us aspire to be like Joseph, extending outlandish grace to those who have hurt us in deep, personal ways.
And the most challenging of all: may each of us extend outlandish grace even to ourselves. God knows we DON’T deserve it.
[1] Brennan Manning, The Ragamuffin Gospel, Multnomah, 1990, pp 91-2.