Friday, July 12, 2013

Another day preaching.

Fr. Steve has me preaching once a week.  Usually I'm doing Thursdays, but this week (due to being in Mosses) I took on Wednesday's readings.  This is generally what the homily iterated:

“Turning away from them, he wept.”

The story of Joseph bears many characteristics of a great story of rivals and of countless actual interactions that are so typical of human life. There is jealousy, there is hatred, there is betrayal. There is a rise in power and prosperity, even to the point of being second only to the ruler of a great empire. There are threats, there is imprisonment, there is fear.

But something is different about this story. Despite the fact that Joseph's brothers were jealous of their father's love for him, despite the fact that they sold him into slavery and told their father he had been slain by a wild animal, despite the fact that Joseph had the power to give them life or death when they unknowingly approached him in Egypt... his reaction is not hatred. He does not seek revenge. Instead we are told the following: “Turning away from them, he wept.”

With the motion of a finger, Joseph could have had his brothers sent away with no food or even put to death. He was one of the most powerful men in the Mediterranean. He could easily have sought revenge, seething with anger and frustration... The anger and frustration he must have felt from being torn away from his beloved father, sold into slavery, brought up in an alien land, wrongfully accused and imprisoned. And yet he cannot even face them. All he can do is turn away and weep.

Literary critic Rene Girard notes that in this action God works through Joseph in a way that both humanizes him and at the same time unmasks the violent tendencies and cycles we so often enter into, when we are filled with jealousy and remorse. Joseph, instead of retaliating, responds with tears of pained love and mercy and joyfully welcomes his lost brothers to Egypt. He cannot bear to see the separation and bitterness furthered. He knows that it must end here.

All this reveals something peculiar about God and how God responds to our sinfulness.
God does not revisit our sins with wrathful indictment.
God does not desire to condemn us when we fall away from the path of righteousness.
And God does not sit there plotting our demise because we have placed something else—whether that be television, the internet, sports, or even at times our loved ones—at the center of our lives while our faith is pushed to the side.
No. God responds to our sinfulness with Christ. Christ who gives himself so fully to us that he would endure betrayal, mockery, and injustice, even unto death before he would ever abandon that love. And still Christ's response is not even primarily about our sinfulness. It is about the communication of who God is to us: one who endures in love even to and beyond death.

Did Joseph's brothers deserve harsh condemnation? By every human standard, yes. That anyone would do such things to another person is horrifying, never mind that it was to their brother. But today we hear that our idea of justice is not always God's, and that it is mercy, that it is Christ, who must take over when our justice falls short.

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I'm really struck by Joseph's response to his brothers and I wonder how this plays into our every day lives, especially here in Dallas County where violence and racism in particular have played such heavy rolls.  How does one respond in mercy to hate crimes?  How does one respond with compassion to murder?  How does one answer the injustices of racism with an enduring love that challenges both the hater and the hated?  And finally how do we, regardless of where we are and in what situations we find ourselves, respond to those who have betrayed us, those who have hated us, those who walk on us, in a way that communicates the undying commitment of Christ to all?

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