Lenten Homily
Realizing that their father was dead, Joseph’s brothers said, “What if Joseph still bears a grudge against us and pays us back in full for all the wrong that we did to him?” So they approached Joseph, saying, “Your father gave this instruction before he died, ‘Say to Joseph: I beg you, forgive the crime of your brothers and the wrong they did in harming you.’ Now therefore please forgive the crime of the servants of the God of your father.” Joseph wept when they spoke to him. Then his brothers also wept, fell down before him, and said, “We are here as your slaves.” But Joseph said to them, “Do not be afraid! Am I in the place of God? Even though you intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good, in order to preserve a numerous people, as he is doing today. So have no fear; I myself will provide for you and your little ones.” In this way he reassured them, speaking kindly to them. So Joseph remained in Egypt, he and his father’s household; and Joseph lived one hundred ten years. Joseph saw Ephraim’s children of the third generation; the children of Machir son of Manasseh were also born on Joseph’s knees. Then Joseph said to his brothers, “I am about to die; but God will surely come to you, and bring you up out of this land to the land that he swore to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob.” So Joseph made the Israelites swear, saying, “When God comes to you, you shall carry up my bones from here.” And Joseph died, being one hundred ten years old; he was embalmed and placed in a coffin in Egypt (Genesis 50.15-26).
The season of Lent is often interpreted as representing Jesus’ 40 days of temptation in the desert. Indeed, the story of Jesus’ temptation in the desert is the gospel text for the first Sunday of Lent. Jesus endured hunger, suffering, and temptation in the desert in order to induce spiritual clarity. Religious leaders in traditions from Christianity to Buddhism have frequently placed themselves in harsh settings in order to encounter the divine or draw more deeply into the unknown. For some the suffering of the body is supposed to draw one closer to God, to help one realize one’s dependence upon God. From the beginning of church history monks have chosen to flee into the desert as a spiritual discipline. Jesus’ experience in the desert is, then, sometimes understood as a model for Lenten asceticism.
In the Hebrew Bible text for today we have the conclusion of another desert story of suffering and isolation. Remember the young Joseph wandering carelessly through the desert to find his brothers, the same Joseph who had naively flaunted his father’s favoritism of him to his older brothers, too proud of his new wardrobe, the same Joseph who had overconfidence in his own abilities to interpret dreams and visions, the same Joseph who sincerely saw himself called by God in a way that offended his family, the same Joseph whose brothers set a trap for him.
Those brothers placed Joseph in a desert pit too deep to climb out of. There, Joseph sat alone, thirsty, afraid…. “He must be gotten rid of,” his brothers decide. Rashly, they sell him to a band of Ishmaelites. Out of desperation, and fearful of what their father would think, they tear Joseph’s beautiful coat and soak it in blood, leaving the father to conclude, “Joseph is surely dead.”
Though Jesus and Joseph both share desert episodes in their biographies, there is an important difference. Jesus chose isolation in the desert. Joseph did not.
We all know the rest of the story. Joseph eventually makes his way to the top of the food chain in Egypt because of his gifts of insight and leadership; and years later in the midst of famine, his brothers show up there, desperate for food just like everyone else. The tables have turned in this family. Joseph’s story may have ended well for him. But the difference between choosing to go into the desert like Jesus and being forced into the desert by others, like Joseph, remains vast.
It may be difficult today to understand the discipline of Lent as a beneficial experience, when people are enduring periods of unchosen suffering, whether by random chance or the consequences of human action. How do we understand Lent in a world that marks its time by wars? How do we understand Lent in a world that more and more will mark its time by hurricanes and tornadoes and wild fires?
Many today experience a desert not of their own making. A fire blazing through the entire town of Cross Plains, only miles away from where I went to seminary in West Texas…. A wall of water crashing into coasts and smashing villages in the southern hemisphere. A vortex of water swamping the buildings and homes of the Big Easy—a city expert at pre-Lenten traditions. This year, that city, and others on our southern coast, are less capable of keeping Lent by voluntary suffering in a context where depravation is the new norm. What does desert spirituality, what does Lent, mean in a time of Katrinas and Ritas? And what of those in war-torn and impoverished countries?
….But what about Joseph’s brothers? We see in our text today that they have suffered in their own ways. They have lived with the consequences of their actions throughout their lives. Perhaps they have tried to forget. And maybe at times they were successful. But in the end they are plagued with guilt. Even when Joseph graciously accepts them, takes them in, feeds them, moves them from their famine-struck land to a land of plenty, they are still full of fear. Even after having lived with Joseph and his generosity for years, the brothers are terrified when their father dies, as we see in our text this evening. “Perhaps Joseph was just putting on,” his brothers thought, “and now he will surely take revenge.”
These are the fears of those of us who realize we have caused periods of suffering for others. Those of us who have forced people into dark and deep and hot desert pits.
What does Lent mean to those of us who either presently endure a Lent not of our own choosing or, on the other hand, who are complicit (perhaps unknowingly) in creating a desert of suffering and isolation. But my intention is not to induce guilt in anyone, even the privileged. Because even the privileged will endure their own times of personal loss and suffering, whether physical or emotional. This is common to human experience.
Perhaps this year we can spend some time during our Lent to think of those who are already suffering too much to bear. In a Lent like this, we will not be focused on giving things up ourselves. Rather, we will reflect, drawing into mind those who are suffering. We will examine, ridding ourselves of the deception rooted in the fear from the cover-up of mistakes we have made. We will confess, and seek forgiveness. And make things right. We will act, not giving up things, but giving of ourselves.
But even with all this talk of suffering, this Lent for modern times is an opportunity for hope, not fear. We have a tendency towards fear, like Joseph’s brothers, who are caught up in negativity and guilt. Perhaps we, like them, fear that our apologies and penance will be answered with violence and revenge. But the hope in this ancient story is there in the actions of Joseph, who displays kindness, and trust in divine faithfulness. The hope is for reconciliation: with ourselves, with our brothers who have wronged us—or whom we have wronged, with God.
The hope for us is to be called back, like Joseph and his people, to a land of hope and promise in the presence of the holy. And this manifestation of holiness happens here within our community now, in our land, if we have the eyes to see it, the broken and yet courageous hearts to receive it.
In this Lenten season, let us consider not what we choose to endure or give up, but those who endure without choice. And let us find hope in becoming more fully a community in which those who fast without choice, do so not alone, but find us a people willing to enter the desert with them. Amen.
The season of Lent is often interpreted as representing Jesus’ 40 days of temptation in the desert. Indeed, the story of Jesus’ temptation in the desert is the gospel text for the first Sunday of Lent. Jesus endured hunger, suffering, and temptation in the desert in order to induce spiritual clarity. Religious leaders in traditions from Christianity to Buddhism have frequently placed themselves in harsh settings in order to encounter the divine or draw more deeply into the unknown. For some the suffering of the body is supposed to draw one closer to God, to help one realize one’s dependence upon God. From the beginning of church history monks have chosen to flee into the desert as a spiritual discipline. Jesus’ experience in the desert is, then, sometimes understood as a model for Lenten asceticism.
In the Hebrew Bible text for today we have the conclusion of another desert story of suffering and isolation. Remember the young Joseph wandering carelessly through the desert to find his brothers, the same Joseph who had naively flaunted his father’s favoritism of him to his older brothers, too proud of his new wardrobe, the same Joseph who had overconfidence in his own abilities to interpret dreams and visions, the same Joseph who sincerely saw himself called by God in a way that offended his family, the same Joseph whose brothers set a trap for him.
Those brothers placed Joseph in a desert pit too deep to climb out of. There, Joseph sat alone, thirsty, afraid…. “He must be gotten rid of,” his brothers decide. Rashly, they sell him to a band of Ishmaelites. Out of desperation, and fearful of what their father would think, they tear Joseph’s beautiful coat and soak it in blood, leaving the father to conclude, “Joseph is surely dead.”
Though Jesus and Joseph both share desert episodes in their biographies, there is an important difference. Jesus chose isolation in the desert. Joseph did not.
We all know the rest of the story. Joseph eventually makes his way to the top of the food chain in Egypt because of his gifts of insight and leadership; and years later in the midst of famine, his brothers show up there, desperate for food just like everyone else. The tables have turned in this family. Joseph’s story may have ended well for him. But the difference between choosing to go into the desert like Jesus and being forced into the desert by others, like Joseph, remains vast.
It may be difficult today to understand the discipline of Lent as a beneficial experience, when people are enduring periods of unchosen suffering, whether by random chance or the consequences of human action. How do we understand Lent in a world that marks its time by wars? How do we understand Lent in a world that more and more will mark its time by hurricanes and tornadoes and wild fires?
Many today experience a desert not of their own making. A fire blazing through the entire town of Cross Plains, only miles away from where I went to seminary in West Texas…. A wall of water crashing into coasts and smashing villages in the southern hemisphere. A vortex of water swamping the buildings and homes of the Big Easy—a city expert at pre-Lenten traditions. This year, that city, and others on our southern coast, are less capable of keeping Lent by voluntary suffering in a context where depravation is the new norm. What does desert spirituality, what does Lent, mean in a time of Katrinas and Ritas? And what of those in war-torn and impoverished countries?
….But what about Joseph’s brothers? We see in our text today that they have suffered in their own ways. They have lived with the consequences of their actions throughout their lives. Perhaps they have tried to forget. And maybe at times they were successful. But in the end they are plagued with guilt. Even when Joseph graciously accepts them, takes them in, feeds them, moves them from their famine-struck land to a land of plenty, they are still full of fear. Even after having lived with Joseph and his generosity for years, the brothers are terrified when their father dies, as we see in our text this evening. “Perhaps Joseph was just putting on,” his brothers thought, “and now he will surely take revenge.”
These are the fears of those of us who realize we have caused periods of suffering for others. Those of us who have forced people into dark and deep and hot desert pits.
What does Lent mean to those of us who either presently endure a Lent not of our own choosing or, on the other hand, who are complicit (perhaps unknowingly) in creating a desert of suffering and isolation. But my intention is not to induce guilt in anyone, even the privileged. Because even the privileged will endure their own times of personal loss and suffering, whether physical or emotional. This is common to human experience.
Perhaps this year we can spend some time during our Lent to think of those who are already suffering too much to bear. In a Lent like this, we will not be focused on giving things up ourselves. Rather, we will reflect, drawing into mind those who are suffering. We will examine, ridding ourselves of the deception rooted in the fear from the cover-up of mistakes we have made. We will confess, and seek forgiveness. And make things right. We will act, not giving up things, but giving of ourselves.
But even with all this talk of suffering, this Lent for modern times is an opportunity for hope, not fear. We have a tendency towards fear, like Joseph’s brothers, who are caught up in negativity and guilt. Perhaps we, like them, fear that our apologies and penance will be answered with violence and revenge. But the hope in this ancient story is there in the actions of Joseph, who displays kindness, and trust in divine faithfulness. The hope is for reconciliation: with ourselves, with our brothers who have wronged us—or whom we have wronged, with God.
The hope for us is to be called back, like Joseph and his people, to a land of hope and promise in the presence of the holy. And this manifestation of holiness happens here within our community now, in our land, if we have the eyes to see it, the broken and yet courageous hearts to receive it.
In this Lenten season, let us consider not what we choose to endure or give up, but those who endure without choice. And let us find hope in becoming more fully a community in which those who fast without choice, do so not alone, but find us a people willing to enter the desert with them. Amen.
posted by J. Brent Bates | 10:14 PM
1 Comments:
Hi Brent. I've lately been thinking about the fact that the goal, as a Christian, isn't to give up, but to give. Giving involves others, whereas "giving up" just deprives yourself. Both are beneficial, but I think I've concluded giving is better.
In light of that, Amen, brother (in-law.)
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