Photo credit: Paz Arondo, used with permission via Unsplash
This moment in this morning’s Scripture is the big reveal.[1] Joseph’s no-good brothers have done him wrong – in the very worst possible ways. They didn’t like him – so they decided to kill him and left him for dead in a pit. But when some traders came riding by, they came up with a more profitable idea, and they sold their brother into slavery. Joseph went from that pit, into slavery, and eventually into prison.
But now, years later, Joseph has risen to the top of Pharaoh’s household. He is Pharaoh’s right-hand man: The Number Two Man in the Number One Empire. And Joseph’s brothers – who, all those years ago, left him to die – and then sold him – now, they’ve have come to beg for food in a famine. They have no idea who he is. But here they are... in Joseph’s court... and they are about to find out.
It is the big reveal. The jig is up. The chickens have come home to roost. Time to pay the piper. This is a courtroom scene, and we know what happens now – the wrongdoers are called to account, and they get what they deserve. In a good courtroom scene, that’s how this works – that’s how the world is set right.
But before we get to the big reveal – let’s rewind a bit, and remember how they all got here. Joseph is one of 12 bothers – 12 brothers from several different mothers. Joseph is the favorite son of the favorite wife, and he knows it, and he is insufferable. Joseph is a dreamer. He has these dreams in which he somehow always comes out elevated above his brothers. And he flaunts his privileged place, wearing that coat of many colors that their Dad had made for him.
And one day, the brothers have had enough. They see Joseph coming out into the fields, and they decide to kill him. They attack him and throw him into a dry cistern, in the desert, with no water. They leave him to die. Super nice guys.
But, as the brothers are having lunch, some traders ride by, and the brothers get this better idea – they decide to sell Joseph and make some money. “I mean,” they say, “we can’t really kill him – he’s our own flesh and blood – let’s make some money.” So, they sell Joseph into slavery. They take his coat, put goat’s blood on it, and tell their father that some wild animals have attacked and killed his favorite son. They break their father’s heart.
The traders ride away, with Joseph in chains, and they sell him to one of Pharaoh’s officials – where Joseph excels and rises up, but has some bad luck, and winds up in prison. While he’s in prison, Joseph starts to interpret dreams for his fellow prisoners. He has a gift. One of those fellows – when he’s free – remembers and tells Pharaoh – and Pharaoh pulls Joseph out of prison to interpret some disturbing dreams Pharaoh has been having. The bottom line of those dreams – Joseph tells Pharaoh – is that there will be 7 years of feast (abundant crops), followed by 7 years of famine. Joseph advises Pharaoh to start preparing for famine now. And Pharaoh listens – he puts Joseph in charge of all that – in charge of all Egypt, saying, “Only with regard to the throne will I be greater than you.” That’s how Joseph comes to be the Number Two Man in the Number One Empire. For 7 years of feast, Egypt stores away its grain. And then – just as Joseph said – famine hits... hard.
Meanwhile, back in Canaan, in this famine, Joseph’s brothers and his family are starving – so they convince their father to let them take silver to Pharaoh and try and buy some of that stored-up grain. Eventually Jacob agrees, but insists that one brother – Benjamin – must stay behind. Now, Benjamin is the youngest (he wasn’t involved in that whole killing and selling Joseph into slavery thing). Joseph and Benjamin have the same mother – and now he’s Jacob’s favorite.
So the 10 brothers go to Egypt – and beg for food – from Pharaoh’s top official – whom they don’t know to be their brother Joseph – whom they tried to kill – whom they sold into slavery. What a mess.
Now, at first, Joseph tries to test them. So he insists that one of them remain in prison, while the others go and fetch Benjamin. He sends them back to their father – with bags of grain (and with their silver), with the task of bringing Benjamin. But their father says, “No.” Until they run out of the grain, and then they persuade Jacob to let them take Benjamin – one of the brothers offers his own family as surety, should they not bring back Benjamin.
And off they go back to Egypt. Joseph receives them – meets Benjamin – Joseph is so overcome that he leaves the room – and weeps and wails – and then washes his face and comes back in. He tests the brothers one more time – sending them back, this time, to fetch their father – with more bags of grain – but this time, Joseph has his servants put a silver cup in Benjamin’s sack. And Benjamin is then accused of stealing it. And Joseph tells his brothers – all of you can go – except Benjamin – the alleged thief – Benjamin must stay here.
And his brothers wail, “Noooo!” We can’t go back to our father without Benjamin – it will kill him – we can’t break our father’s heart again. And one of the brothers offers to stay in Benjamin’s place – offers his life for Benjamin’s. And that’s where this morning’s scripture picks up.
After all that – after trying to kill Joseph – after selling Joseph into slavery – after all the miles this family has traveled since then – Here the brothers stand – before Joseph – about to find out who he is.[2]
Joseph commands all his attendants, “Leave me.” It’s just Joseph and his brothers, who’ve got to be trembling. And Joseph breaks out into uncontrollable weeping – so loudly that his weeping and wailing are heard throughout Pharaoh’s house. This man – who holds their lives in his hand – is coming unhinged.
Now, this is a courtroom scene, so we know that what comes next is (1) a charge, (2) a response, and (3) testimony.[3]
When he is worn out from weeping, Joseph draws a deep breath, and says only this: “I am Joseph.” That’s the charge. That’s all he needs to say. Those three words (two words in Hebrew) bring their whole life into the room, and there it is, laid bare – they all know: Joseph’s brothers tried to kill him. They left him in a pit in the desert to die an excruciating death. But then they saw a business opportunity and sold him into slavery. The brothers are there ostensibly charged with stealing a silver cup – but then Pharaoh’s highest official says, “I am Joseph.” And their whole life is before them. They know what they’ve done.
That’s the charge. And their response is terrified, stunned silence. I mean, what really is there to say? And in that silence, just in case the brothers missed it, Joseph says it again, adding just a bit more,
“I am Joseph. Your brother. Whom you sold into Egypt.”
That’s it: (1) Charge. (2) Response. (3) And testimony.
We know what comes next. After the charge is made, and the issues joined, there has to be (4) a verdict. Here, the evidence is not in dispute. Their murderous, enslaving ways must now be checked. This is where they get what they deserve.
Look what Joseph does. Joseph calls them brother. He invokes and names their familial relationship. I am your brother, and you all are mine.
Joseph weeps – all over the story – again and again. Remember, Joseph had to leave the room when he met Benjamin, he was so overcome. In this moment, when it’s just Joseph and his brothers, he weeps so loudly it shakes the palace. Now, we could try to put words to what’s emotionally going on with Joseph – what he’s feeling. But let’s just say this: Whatever the complexity of emotion he may be experiencing, something is breaking open in Joseph. All that life that he has lived up till now – all that they have lived – it can’t be contained – it’s too big for a body to hold. Joseph weeps and wails.
And in the utter quiet that follows that, Joseph says to his brothers, “Draw near.” Now, they might think he’s drawing them near to do them some harm. That would be a reasonable fear. Joseph is the one with all the power here, and revenge is within his grasp. But Joseph says, “Draw near.. See for yourself. I am your brother Joseph.” Joseph draws them near so that they can see, each other. I am your brother Joseph.
Joseph says to them, “Fear not.” Don’t fear what you have done, because here is what God has been doing." Throughout this story, they and we have been focused on what the brothers have done. Attempted murder. Human trafficking. Sibling rivalry run amok. But while they’ve been doing all that, Joseph says, While you were doing all that, God brought me ahead of you into this moment – so that in the midst of famine a people would not starve – so that in our world of scarcity there would be abundance.
Joseph tells them they can let go of their fear and their regret. By now, it’s clear he’s not going to kill them. Instead, he pours out abundance on them. I will provide for you here. Go and fetch our father and bring him here – and this family – we will live together again. And they embrace.
The verdict here... is mercy – abundant, unconstrained, overflowing, mercy. As that little bit of Shakespeare goes, “The quality of mercy is not strained. It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath.” Instead of exacting his vengeance, Joseph pulls his brothers into an embrace, and they weep together the gentle rain of mercy.
The quality of mercy is “mightiest in the mightiest.” Joseph is the one here with all the power – the power over life and death. Where years ago his brothers chose death for him – now, Joseph chooses life for them all.
“The quality of mercy is twice blest. It blesseth the one that gives and the one that receives.” This mercy – it is a very attribute of God. And “earthly power doth show itself most like God, when mercy seasons justice.” The verdict here is mercy.
Now, whatever happened to that saying, “You get what you deserve?" Isn’t that the way the world works? There are some who would say that the good news of “mercy” is that we don’t ultimately get what we deserve. Have you ever heard that? Well that may move us halfway toward the truth.
But I don’t think that’s what this story is saying. I think this story is saying even more. The problem with that saying – "mercy means we don’t ultimately get what we deserve" – is that it assumes that what we deserve is punishment. It assumes that we are always being assessed, evaluated by what we have done. Inevitably, we’ve done wrong. We deserve punishment. And then mercy comes along.
Joseph is doing something radically different from that – something so much bigger even than that. With his mercy, Joseph is recalibrating entirely our understanding of what it is that we deserve. Joseph’s brothers stand before him – with all that they have done – they all know – they all see. But somehow Joseph doesn’t respond to them not according to their transgression. Joseph looks out on his brothers who have done him wrong, and what he sees are people who are starving in a famine and who will die if he does not act. He looks out at his brothers and what he sees is their humanity.
If our starting place is our shared humanity, here’s what we deserve:
Love. Life. Dignity. Food. Water. Access to healthcare. The freedom to live without constant fear of imminent violence. All the things we need to live and to thrive.
Providing all that, Joseph says, that’s what God has been doing all along. That’s what God is all about. In this moment, face to face with his brothers, that’s what Joseph sees and does. The verdict is mercy – and that mercy and their shared humanity become the operating reality of their lives.[4]
That mercy brings with it not only hope for a new beginning, but also an indictment of all the systems that treat us – any of us – as less than fully human.
Can you imagine what could happen if we brought that into the most strife-torn places of our world and our lives – and made mercy and our shared humanity the operating reality of our lives?
In Gaza – what would it mean to begin with the proposition that this is what the people of Gaza deserve:
Love. Life. Dignity. Food. Water. Access to healthcare. The freedom to live without constant fear of imminent violence. All the things humankind needs to live and to thrive.
That is what the people of Gaza deserve – and the communities attacked on October 7 – and the families longing for the release of hostages. As governments and para-governments rage, this is what the human family caught up in the midst of our striving deserves:
Love. Life. Dignity. Food. Water. Access to healthcare. The freedom to live without constant fear of imminent violence. All the things humankind needs to live and to thrive.
What if we started there – how might our policy and practice change?
Big and small. What would it look life if we brought that into the nooks and crannies of our lives – the cramped spaces where we are tied up in discord, disagreement, and grudges? What if we started every interaction with every person seeing them, seeing each other, fully human?
We’ve been saying that these courtroom scenes bring real life into focus. This one asks that we give the kaleidoscope a turn and watch a new and beautiful reality click into place – what God has been up to all along – and even so, for us a new beginning – mercy and our shared humanity now the operating reality of our lives.
In this courtroom scene, maybe that is the big reveal.
© 2024 Scott Clark
[1] For general background on this text and the whole of the Jospeh narrative, see Terence E. Fretheim, “The Book of Genesis,” New Interpreters’ Bible Commentary, vol. I (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1994); Wil Gafney, Commentary on Working Preacher at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-20/commentary-on-genesis-451-15-2 ; Roger Nam, Commentary on Working Preacher at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-20/commentary-on-genesis-451-15
[2] The reading of this Scripture that follows endeavors to tend to the Hebrew text with certain narrative techniques in mind, as summarized in Robert Alter’s The Art of Biblical Narrative (New York, NY: Basic Books, 2011) , specifically the recurrence of key words and actions (e.g., Joseph’s weeping), narrative repetition (e.g., Joseph’s repeated revelation to his brothers), and the narrative sense of what is known/not known and by whom, and the suspense that creates.
[3] This series on courtroom scenes in Scripture is considering these texts with the working theory that this type of story/scene has five elements: (1) A charge is brought, a claim, a case. (2) A response is made. (3) Witnesses testify. (4) A verdict is given. (5) That verdict then becomes the operative reality for the lives of the parties (and beyond). We are looking at each text with an eye as to how these elements in each Scripture are distinct or different. For more in the first of the series, see https://www.togetherweserve.org/post/what-is-truth-john-18-28-40-8th-sunday-after-pentecost
[4] Cf. Fretheim, p. 644 (“What God did provides the decisive reality within this larger concatenation of events that has led to life and well-being.”).
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