The Word you've been waiting for (Christmas Eve 2011)

[The Gospel of John, chapter 1, verses 1-14, precede the homily.]

I don’t know about you, but we seem spend our day deluged by words.  Checking my Facebook account alone keeps me awash in words, some wise, some less so.  You can learn just about anything via a quick Google search.  Then let’s not forget the conversations around home, work, and even the text messaging on our cellphones.  Finally, just to feel a little old school, there’s still that old fashioned experience of getting a letter in the mail.  (Yes, that’s right: an actual letter from somebody other than a credit card company that can’t wait to share that you are “pre-approved!”). 

At the end of the day, you’ve been around more words than you think, as the words add up from the breakfast time perusal of the newspaper, that report that must be read by noon, the dozen emails that rolled in while you were trying to respond others, the status updates that pop up on FB, and then, last but not least, a chapter or two from the novel you’re reading just before going to sleep.  

We get through the day with words swirling around us, dancing across the computer screen and swirling around our ears (provided you can get your ear buds to actually fit in your ears!).  Awash in words, we start filtering out the ones that don’t seem that important.  Often, we err by ignoring more words than we should, ironically becoming inattentive to the words around us, tuning out most of everything in the name of a rare moment of silence.  We even hope we got through a day without hearing words that trouble us (and hopefully avoided saying words that trouble others).   Words are plentiful, yet as the old saying goes, talk can be cheap….

In the midst of our world, the gospel of John yearns to be heard, telling his story of Jesus, the Word of God.  Bringing John’s gospel out at Christmas time can be a hard sell, as he does not tell a story of Jesus being born with the “Christmas Pageant” of shepherds, kings, and angelic choirs floating above the manger.  You read John’s gospel, and you think now here’s a guy who marches to the beat of a different drummer.  (And not the one who goes “ra-rumpa-rum-pum”.)

John’s gospel opens with these words set up in the lofty clouds above.  It’s not a straightforward story of Jesus being born.  Instead, we get this philosophical take on Jesus as “the Word of God”, pre-existing before Creation itself, divinity taking on humanity and not just as if slipping into an acting role.  Here, we are told Jesus became one of us, part of the limitations and the frailty, willfully accepting life as it is, including pain, suffering and even death.   

When the Word becomes flesh, our English translations falter in saying that the Word “dwelled among us”.  The Greek drives the point home much closer:  “the Word became flesh and pitched its tent among us”.  In other words, the Word digs in his heels in and lives in the midst of life as we know it.  This is a Word that is right in the middle of the conversations we have with what it means to be human.  John 1 pushes the envelope of the image we have of God as divinity aloof, off up in the clouds. 

The faith of Christianity welcomes the hard questions we wrestle with: questions of life, death, and the meaning behind it.  Life causes us to ask all manner of questions that make us weep or laugh.  Some questions we keep close to the vest, confiding with only our closest of friends.  And, quite frankly, we harbor a few questions that keep us up at night, wrestling with them late into the wee hours of the night. 

Christianity claims that such questions find their dialogue partner in the form of Jesus, the Word made flesh.  The gospel affirms that Jesus is to be found in the midst of those who harbor doubt within, those who grieve, those who hurt, those who are marginalized, and those who feel forgotten.  Jesus is with us, each step of the way, because he walked our way through birth, life, and death already.  The Word became flesh and lived with the same wonders and woes that we know firsthand.  

May the Word be heard and known in your life.  AMEN.

I pledge allegiance to....?

     On the Emmy-winning comedy 30 Rock, writer and actor Tina Fey leads a cast of quirky actors in that time honored of settings: the workplace comedy.  

            Among the actors is Alec Baldwin who plays a corporate executive whose allegiance to the Republican party is beyond question.  In one episode, his character Jack Donaghy is trying to plan a GOP fund-raiser and he asks an office underling Kenneth how he plans to vote in the next election.

            Kenneth is a dear, sweet innocent from somewhere in the Deep South. He moved to New York City to fulfill his life’s dream of being an NBC page, in other words, a person who gives tours, does hours of menial work and errands, and is somewhat unappreciated by most everybody around the office.  (Again, Kenneth feels like he is living his dream and takes this all in with a goofy smile and stars in his eyes.  The viewer wonders if Kenneth hit his head when he fell off the turnip truck….)

            Kenneth considers his boss’ question, and very politely responds that he does not vote Republican or Democrat.  “That would be choosing,” Kenneth drawls, “and ‘choosing’ is a sin.”  (Again, Kenneth seems to live in his own little world, religion included.)  Kenneth claims that when he votes, “I write in the Lord’s name.”

            This story of “rendering unto Caeasar and rendering unto God” prompts American Christians to read the story through the lens of our own history of the separation of church and state.  A great speech with this reading of the text in mind was given by Dr. James M. Dunn, a long-time advocate for church/state separation and emeritus director of the Baptist Joint Committee on Religious Liberty.   With a sly wink, he recast the spectacle of the Pharisees and the Herodians coming up to Jesus together as unlikely a sight as “Jesse Jackson and Jesse Helms, skipping down the lane, holding hands.”  (And now that analogy’s a bit dated, so imagine the same scene, with Bernie Sanders and John McCain.)

            Two groups of rival ideologies being seen together, working together, and speaking with the same question in mind drives this text.  It is high comedy to see these two groups joined together, opposing forces drawn together.  They go through the respectful gestures and the polite, ingratiating words of high praise about Jesus and his teachings.  (Again, huh? All this praise, from these guys?) 

            You know something’s not quite right. 

            What is played as innocence is really guile at its worst.  In the gospels, the Pharisees are portrayed differently, sometimes appearing to be marginally friendly to Jesus and in other narratives, quite hostile.  The Herodians are a group you don’t hear much about, as they do not figure much in the gospel narratives.  The group was political in nature, closely aligned with the court of Herod.  Both have religious and political views far more tied into the establishment of King and Temple alike.  And like anyone vested in the royal court or the religious powerbase, you kept Rome happy.  After all, when Rome’s might is felt all around you (centurions and soldiers with swords alike), you keep to the party line.

            Jesus looks at the two groups before him, seeing through their pretense and names them as hypocrites.

            The word “hypocrite” is tossed around in our everyday language as one who says one thing, yet believes or lives another way altogether.   The phrase comes from the Greek theatre for an actor taking on a role, pretending or “play acting”.  Here, Jesus sees their sincerity as insincere, their praise-laden words not worth much.  They are acting a part that does not reflect reality.  It’s a play and a bad one at that!

The question posed by the Pharisees and Herodians is meant to ensnare Jesus, not only in public but also in politics.  Asking if it is lawful to pay taxes to the emperor was their attempt to lure Jesus down a road with nothing good waiting for him. If he answered “no”, Jesus could be turned in for seditious talk.  If he answered “yes”, Jesus would lose the crowd’s interest, as nobody really wanted to pay taxes to the Emperor and who listens to a collaborator, really? 

Anybody in Jesus’ day knew the score.  “Tax revolts” happened in the years before and after Jesus’ lifetime, as a few populist firebrands would whip up the people’s irritation and resentment and lead some sort of protest against Rome.  Looking at the headlines, “Occupy Wall Street” is a fairly tame modern comparison, as such a movement today pales in consideration to these revolts with stories of serious violence and bloodshed.  When you turn on Rome, this Empire strikes back.

Jesus is at his most artful when under criticism.  He asks for the coin used for the Roman tax, so they produce a denarius. On one hand, there’s nothing that unique about the coin.  It’s familiar from day-to-day life, the coin used to conduct business as a person living under Empire.  The denarius represented the average earning for one day’s wages.

The coin is issued by Rome, and indeed bears the marks of the Empire’s status.  On this coin, you find the head of the Emperor/Caesar and inscribed with claims to the Caesar’s divinity and Rome’s position that it brings “pax” or “peace” to its peoples.  As Bill Herzog points out, when a populace has been conquered by Rome, the denarius is soon to follow. (Jesus, Justice and the Reign of God, p. 228) 

To hold such a coin was to accept its value given by Rome, and in turn, to accept the values of Rome.  If the Pharisees believed so ardently and the Herodians supported the dynasty of Herod, why did they accept so blithely the Roman Empire whose core beliefs centered on the sole divinity of the Caesar and the absolute power of Rome? 

The coin they used as a lure for Jesus is indeed Caesar’s property, as Jesus points out.  If you are to owe something to Caesar, pay what is due, yet do not confuse Caesar’s taxation and demands on your life with those made by God.  Jesus calls the bluff of these groups claiming that their use of the Emperor’s might and demands furthered the Empire’s claim over the religious and political establishment.  Despite crown and title, Herod was a puppet.  Despite claims to religious authority, the Pharisees had gotten quite comfortable building their powerbase with little interest in upsetting Rome’s arrogant claims over Israel. 

Now you might be wondering what this text has to do with a service filled with the celebration of baptism and the welcoming of a new member to the congregation.   Is there a connection or are we hearing a gospel text that is out of place for a day when we run up our water bill for holy purposes?

Upon discovering the gospel text suggested for today, I pondered this story and thought it made great sense to be heard on a day when we baptize.  The ritual of baptism has followed after a time of exploration, as I have met with Christopher to talk about faith and as he has engaged in his own conversations at home with parents and grandparents and as he has read books on basic Christian beliefs and the particular history of those peculiar people called Baptists. 

What better word for this day of celebrating one’s profession of faith in Christ as Lord than this gospel story of people living in the midst of the world, called to claim (without apology or reticence) Jesus as the Son of God, the Messiah, the Savior of the world.  Baptists further this by emphasizing this boldness by insisting on saying that Jesus is our personal Lord and Savior, a phrase that we may have let just become part of the theological woodwork but is outright subversive if we let these words ring true in our hearts.

On this day, we remember why following Jesus is not for the faint of heart.  We are claiming a kingdom/reign/Empire of heaven rising above any claim laid upon us by the political, economic or social forces that would prefer our unquestioning allegiance, whether in our political assent to the ways of kings and Presidents, the corporations who enjoy our dollars yet not any hint of something that might threaten profit margin, or the constant demands of work, school or even “steeple” that might say leave the claims of Christian beliefs aside as they are not good for the “bottom line”, the deadline or the aims of short-sighted movements or ideologies.

Christians can be certainly political or apolitical.  Christians can hold a variety of convictions about the issues and controversies of the day.  Christians can differ with one another even under the same church roof.

Nonetheless, as we carry around our own denarius (marked with words of an civic religiosity), as politicians and others vie for your attention and allegiance, there is a reminder that this ritual, which may appear to outsiders as a curiously public way to take a bath, is really about a person’s desire to open their hearts and give their life to the teachings of Jesus, who never wanted to be part of “the powers that be” yet his followers claim as the Son of God, Lord and Savior of the world.

As Christopher met with me recently, we came to the sanctuary and talked about the way a baptism would be conducted (i.e. bring towels, hope the water temperature’s “just right”, and “don’t worry, I’ll bring you back up!”).  Christopher shared that he looked forward to this day as a time that felt right to him, a chance to become part of something “greater”. Indeed, you have become part of something far greater than any ruler’s empire, any claim made to power and authority.  This day, you have become a baptized believer in Christ. 

May you live each day in the truth, grace, justice, mercy and love of the gospel. 

May you speak truthfully in a world not necessarily interested in a truth not of its own devising. 

May you bear God’s love and forgiveness as a peaceable witness to the nonviolent Kingdom/Reign/Empire of heaven.

May you remember this day as an end of one way and the beginning of another way that no earthly power could guide you down.

May the peace of Christ be with you.  AMEN.

A Hope-Shaped Community ("Speaking of Religion" column, Bennington Banner, September 10, 2011)

A hope-shaped community   by Jerrod Hugenot

As the flood waters rose, hope may have seemed in short supply. After we took it all in and took a deep breath (and indeed, it was needed!), we began to see how hope was rising up in our communities in the form of the many working together to tend the needs of our community. Hope has been abundant in the outpouring of persons and groups willing to get involved even though they’ve never been involved in something like this before.

For example, the Crazy Russian Girls Bakery turned into “mission control” for local persons to get involved with bringing in donations, giving generously financially, volunteering time and services, and networking people with various needs to these resources. Such good hope-filled partnerships have created a great community resource ongoing as long as there is need for flood assistance.

The Interfaith Council and the Greater Bennington Interfaith Community Services Inc. established a flood resources center at the Bakery and a dedicated phone line: 802-379-5998.

Financial donations can be made via Paypal (see www.benningtonfreeclinic. org) or GBICS, Attn: Food & Fuel Fund Flood Relief, 107 Adams Street, Bennington, VT 05201. You can keep up-to-date by joining the “Crazy Russian Girls Wholesale Bakery” group on Facebook. At the church office these last few days, I fielded some great phone calls. A local realty company called: “Hey, can you call Sue Andrews at The Kitchen Cupboard? We think we have an entire dump truck of food coming from Cambridge, Vermont.” Or the phone conversation with a local family: “Pastor, do you think my little girl can set up a lemonade stand to help out?” Or a person calling and just saying, “I want to help. Tell me where I’m needed.”

Such creative, neighborly work got me musing on a sacred story familiar to many Christians. In the gospels, one of the popular stories recalled often regards the feeding of the multitudes. The texts have little variances between the four gospel storytellers, but the stories follow the basic plot: Jesus sees the crowds are hungry. The disciples insist they cannot do anything about it. (“Send them home to eat!” they say.) Jesus asks for what food is on hand. It isn’t much: just a few loaves of bread and some fish. And he blesses it, and after the food has been passed around, everybody’s had their fill, and the disciples go around and collect basket loads of leftovers.

In our own way, we’ve seen a bit of the miraculous this week. Even in a recession, even with our own worries about how this storm on top of everything else will affect “me and my stuff,” so many people in our community have been part of a story of generosity that seems right at home in the pages of the gospel. Just as Jesus decides to feed the many in need, we found ourselves doing just as the Greek text of this story claims. When it describes Jesus getting ready to feed the multitudes, the New Testament Greek text has a word translated in English as “compassion.” Really the Greek word is better rendered: “being moved deeply within.” In other words, compassion is not just a nice thought to help out. It’s our gut saying when faced with many needs: “I must help others out! I can do nothing other.”

From time to time, GBICS director Sue Andrews and I talk about her work on behalf of the interfaith community support work in Bennington. Sue shares stories of the challenges of our neighbors, the difficulties of families struggling to get along in life. The stories are often heartbreaking to hear, and certainly, hearing them informs my gut feeling about what priorities should be in pastoral ministry.

Sue has a great outlook about the possibility of what this community can do during times of adversity or otherwise. As she speaks of Bennington’s generosity, she speaks of the volunteers who staff the Bennington Free Clinic or the Kitchen Cupboard and the donors who make these programs plus the Food & Fuel Fund possible. Sue remarks quite often, “It is all about loaves and fishes.”

Isn’t it?

The Rev. Jerrod H. Hugenot serves as coordinating minister of First Baptist, Bennington. Correspond: fbpastor@sover.net.To contact Sue Andrews of GBICS, call 802-379-0149.

Upon 'this' rock....?!? (Matthew 16:13-20)

Upon this rock….?

                  Back in university, the 40 member student choir had the opportunity to travel and sing around the United States.  Before you got on the plane or more likely, the trusty old tour bus, to perform in churches and other venues around the nation, the choir had to prepare a program of music.  One year the choir program included a very brief piece of music.  Composed by 20^th-century French composer Maurice Durufle, the text is taken from the Latin translation of Matthew 16, the words of Jesus to Peter:  “Tu Es Petrus….” The choir director noted that the piece was optimally performed when done so in under a minute.

                  Many of us thought it would be an easy piece to learn.  After all, it took less than a minute to perform.  As life tends to work out, the piece was anything but easy.  The piece works as a veritable mass of sound, a capella voices singing Durufle’s arrangement of this gospel text. Instead, we stumbled over the Latin words and got lost in the music. Every time the director tried to bring us up to tempo, we slowed down.  One time, as we finished the piece, it became quite obvious that the altos were still catching up. What took less than a minute began to drag down.   Listening this past week to choral recordings and performances of Tu Es Petrus posted on YouTube, I reveled in how the piece was supposed to sound (including a choir from Prague that just nailed it in under 45 seconds….) and wondered why such a brief piece held such frustrating memories.

                  The text “You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church” appears to be such a simple little text, yet when you consider the history of the Church (pick a tradition, any tradition--Catholic, Protestant, or Orthodox), even the most ardent of believer will admit the Church has lived through times of challenge and sometimes not been the better for it all.   This text alone has been part of the historic division of the Christian tradition, read by some to claim Peter was given unique authority.  The Catholic tradition traces in part its claim to papal authority citing this text, claiming the Bishop of Rome, aka “the Pope”, as the successor of this humble fisherman turned apostle.  Some interpreters beg to differ, claiming this text lifts up Peter no more than any other disciple who evidences great faith with no special privilege presumed.

                  Ironically, the text as given by the gospel of Matthew celebrates what it means to be a follower of Jesus has become a text of sometimes bitter contention among the faithful.  A word of authority and unity for some becomes to others a text of dispute and disunity.  What appears to be a straightforward matter becomes convoluted by those trying to read and live out the text. 

Over the centuries, Christians have fought more about “who” can follow Jesus than just sticking to the script and following Jesus.  You need not go back to the Reformation era when the Protestant traditions emerged or five hundred years before that when the Orthodox and the Catholic traditions parted ways.  Just take a look at the headlines of any newspaper and you’ll find the great divides between Christian fundamentalists and progressives often capture the headline far more than a word about believers gone good!  More often than not, the teachings of Jesus get eclipsed by the search for dogma and orthodoxy, being right and ensuring what is deemed right is well regulated. 

What takes the gospel just about a minute to communicate becomes centuries of convolutions and rifts, schisms and battles.  Some have suggested the Church was the worst thing to happen to the teachings of Jesus, becoming an institution rather than keeping it simple.  You look around and think, “Really? Upon this (you mean ‘this’….) rock?  Oh dear….”

More usual, the gospel is far clever than the stories the Church sometimes hopes that are told about itself.  Instead of splitting hairs over theological matters, Jesus offers a way of discipleship that asks us to open up to the possibilities of what the Kingdom/Reign of Heaven is all about.  Read the gospel as told by Matthew and discover a discipleship that considers the Sermon on the Mount a way of life or the parables of Jesus far more subversive than many a Sunday morning sermon is able to recount.  Jesus is near parabolic in his affirmation of Simon, the one he calls “Rock”.   This disciple may be saying words of glowing faith and affirmation right now, but read on as Jesus has to rebuke Simon just a few verses later for good cause.  Simon Peter is a disciple not meant for fine marble statuary.  He’s just as rough around the edges, hewn from the same world we live in.  Here, he gleams as if polished fine stone.  In a few verses, he’s back to meandering around.  “Upon this rock” works well on some days.  Other times, Simon Peter’s just as much a blockhead as the rest of us.

Jesus has high hopes (and indeed a good deal of trust) that his followers will follow after he has left the scene.  The church has been “on its own” now for two millennia, sometimes “stumbling in the light” (cf. Robert Kysar, Chalice Press, 1999).  While he is calling a mere mortal capable of being a mighty foundation, Jesus is calling his gathered disciples, women and men just like you and me, this curious word translated as “church” in English.  He calls the gathered the “ekklesia”.

The word was already common in the Roman world, with the term used commonly for a gathering of people who are called to keep the standards of the community, primarily those of governance and order.  Rather than keeping the Roman status quo, Jesus is calling out his followers to live the way of the gospel.  He has hope that his teachings will shape a different type of people, ones not caught up in the ways of the world.  

This particular story in Matthew is quite seditious to overhear, if you are a faithful citizen of Rome.  Jesus and Peter have this conversation in Caesarea Phillipi, a city that embodies everything valued by Rome.  Built and rebuilt by successive rulers, it is a showcase for the Roman Empire in the backwater climes of Galilee.  Named for one of the Emperors, or Caesars, the town is the last place that a good citizen of Rome would declare Jesus “the son of the living God”, as the Roman rulers themselves lay claim to the title.  Here, the story of discipleship is also a story of living against the grain of the powers that be.  Simon “the Rock” is claiming Jesus as the only true Ruler of all.

Thus, the gospels are better understood as stories of faith that will wind up getting you in trouble.  A people who are Jesus’ ekklesia are those who keep a witness to the Kingdom/Reign of Heaven, which as you read the gospel story is not about being that comfortable or cozy with how Empires treat “the least of these, my brothers and sisters”.  You may not look like a “rock” or a foundation to the world, which prefers a different sort of resolute hardness of its heroes.  Instead, those who are vulnerable, frail, less than letter perfect are the ones through whom God works in the world. 

A generation ago, the German theologian Jurgen Moltmann wisely observed the church needs help “to find its bearings”.  Though his observations were given in the mid-1970s, Moltmann’s thought continues to bear fruit.  He claims that when one believes you are living in times when most everything around us seems insecure, when “political, economic, ethical and religious systems are more vulnerable than people thought”, Christians need to look carefully at our roots.  The Church “will take its bearings more empathetically than before from Jesus, his history, his presence and his future.” (cf. The Church in the Power of the Spirit, 1975,, ET 1977, xiii-xiv) 

Followers of Jesus have a story called “gospel” and a vision to live into called “ekklesia”, so that as debt ceiling debates and market tumbles bedevil, social fabric seems to shrink or rip apart, the marginalized get caught in the partisan crossfire of 2012 aspirations, when we feel less secure with each passing year despite living in one of the more geo-politically stable parts of the world, when weekly attendance seems slim at best and “not what it used to be” at worst, there is a story of the type of disciple Jesus wants, and with Simon Peter as an example, with all his own issues and quirks, brashness and timidity, there’s  chance you too shall be part of that bedrock of good discipleship that upholds the Church.

And so, Anna, Tu es petrus…..

and Robert, tu es petrus….

and Sandy, tu es petrus…..

                                    and Greg, tu es petrus, and ……

                  AMEN.

The Technicolor Family

               Before we begin this morning’s sermon, let’s get to know each other a little better.  I’d like all persons who are comfortable doing so to please stand.  Thank you.  Now, if you are an only child, would you please sit down again?  Thank you.  Now, if you are a child with just one other sibling, please sit down.  Now, if you had three and three only, two plus you, please sit down.  (The list goes until everybody’s seated, with a word of “oh my!” if somebody’s still standing when I get to “ten kids in your family, including yourself”).

               And now I have another question, so everybody up on your feet, as able!  The question is this:  please remain standing if you have never once had an argument, hurt feelings, estrangement, or a cross word with a sibling.  (Everybody sits back down, except of course for the “only child” folks.)

               It’s easy to note the basic facts (i.e. I come from a family with X number of sibilings and some configuration of parents).  It’s quite another to speak about what it’s like to be in a family.  We’d like to think we grew up with the Waltons. Secretly, we wonder if we grew up with the Simpsons.  (And even more secretly, we wonder if some of our family experiences mean we were raised among wolves….).  Stories about families are carried around by each of us, yet quietly we hope it’s not time for “confession”.

               I stir the pot a bit this morning to get us thinking about “families” not to open old wounds but to provide a gateway into one of the great family stories of the Bible.  No, this is not necessarily the story in a “family Bible” prepared for parents to read “bible stories” at bedtime.  We may tell the story of an amazing colorful “dream coat”, but the serious student of Genesis will realize that the story of Joseph is far more about his “Technicolor family”.  Technicolor is an old film term, hailing from the day when it was a big deal to show a film made with vibrant colors rather than the dull tones of black and white. 

The full story of Joseph may begin with colorful garments, but soon the coat of many colors is in tatters, as Joseph’s older brothers collude to deceive their father Jacob that Joseph is no more.  The story winds up years later in Egypt as Joseph has rose up, despite the odds, to a place of privilege in Egypt.  The same brothers arrive, on orders from their father to find help when a famine has overcome their homeland. And guess who’s sitting on all the food reserves?

Reading Joseph’s story, you realize that you can’t make this stuff up.  The tendrils of family fueled jealousy, animosity, and reconciliation only after a long period of time sounds too much like family trees we know all too well.  We may not have been thrown in a pit and sold off to an uncertain fate in a far-away country, but we’ve likely heard it suggested by a sibling at one point or another. (My personal favorite was telling my little sister to go play in traffic.  After a moment, she came back into the living room and said, “Mother said we don’t have traffic ‘cause we live on a dirt road.  And Mom would like to see you right away.”)

The Joseph narrative serves as the final section of Genesis’ cycle of stories, where each section of Genesis builds upon the same cautionary tales about humanity and God’s ongoing woes trying to keep this part of Creation from doing itself in.  The story of Joseph, the favored young son, turns upon his elder brothers behaving less like Abel and more like Cain.  Also, the elder brothers reflect the heritage of their father Jacob, who was no stranger to deceit against sibling and parent alike.  The generations may separate Joseph and his family by many a begat and a begot, but the stories repeat the oldest story in Genesis of the great-great-great-great grandparents Adam and Eve.  We may have God’s pronouncement of our “goodness” along with the rest of Creation, but we spend more time than we care to admit being like these families in Genesis.

In turn, Genesis reminds us that we are not the sum of our families.  (Can I hear an AMEN?  When I made a similar observation in a previous congregation where a high percentage of the congregants were indeed family, the AMEN was thunderous.)  Genesis speaks to God’s investment in humanity, working through the men and women populating the burgeoning human race to live a way closer to God’s primal intent for creating us in the first place.  The people God chooses may not be the textbook case study for righteousness, yet by God’s grace, the story of humanity is shaped by something other than our own plotting.  (And again, you can be thunderous on the AMEN.)

What we see in the Joseph story is a young boy of great promise being given a dream.  It could be what the brothers believe it to be: a loss of their power and status and yet again too much favor being placed on their little brother Joseph.  Instead, this dream is a hint of what is to come.  The brothers try their best to derail the dream by passing Joseph off as dead and Joseph receiving a one-way ticket to servitude in Egypt.  Nonetheless, this dream comes back full circle as the brothers find themselves before Joseph, though they do not recognize him all these years later. 
               In Joseph, we see a man who has struggled through much adversity, yet he has earned a place in the Egyptian power structure, no mean feat for a kid from a distant land.  He may toy with his brothers a bit, enjoying their ignorance of his true identity and keeping them groveling.  (The little sisters and brothers in the audience may suggest that there’s never enough groveling when an older sibling’s over a barrel.)  Despite the adversity, Joseph is fulfilling the dream from long ago.

The two stories of Joseph’s dream and the Technicolor family reunion serve as bookends of a greater narrative at work.  God is in the midst of this family drama, which may be an odd idea to think about when you know your own family drama and wonder where God might be in the midst of times that make the world seem chaotic and disorderly at best.   What we have in Joseph’s story is a celebration of God’s presence, even in the midst of difficult times, including those arising from “family stuff”.    Despite the complications arising from human arrogance, hubris, and other bad behaviors, you see the dream sent by God has not been derailed. God does not abandon us, even if our “next of kin” have.

               The story speaks to the hope of a dream God has for our lives that “life” may complicate to the point we can only see traces or “hints” of that grand dream’s possibility (here, Bruggemann’s Genesis commentary is influential).  The story of Joseph is considerably more demure about God’s presence in life when compared to the stories of his father Jacob and Grandpa Abraham and Grandma Sarah.  The other narratives revolve around stories of God’s “hands-on” approach (cf. Jacob’s wrestling match).  Some may live their lives with a profound sense of direction, while others may find God’s intent only when looking back and seeing the weave of one’s life, even if you thought at the time that your life was nothing but loose ends.

               Joseph’s story brings Genesis to a close, a cycle of stories about humanity veering off the path.  Families love and live, fight and cry.  Reading these stories of murder and mayhem, challenge and adversity in this first book of the Bible makes one wonder how the human race made it to the end of Genesis, let alone the present day.  In Genesis, we see the worst of humanity and the same old/same old of life playing out, with brief glimpses of Creation as it is meant to be.

               These days, religions tend to be blamed for what goes wrong with the world.  In some cases, religious beliefs, practices, and worldviews can indeed contribute to what ails humanity and belittles efforts to weave together a common good.  Yet I believe faith, ritual, sacred text, and the gathered community who take up these religious values and practices are part of the way beyond the world just trudging on through pain, suffering, and conflict.  The story of Joseph is given to us, along with all the others among the prophets and matriarchs, priests and rulers, cautionary tales sobering us to “there’s nothing new under the sun” when it comes to the human race, no matter how sophisticated and advanced we deem ourselves to have become. 

               As we prepare to gather at the Table, I offer us a hymn written by Scottish writer John Bell, whose hymns often resound with a word about the world and its injustice and the world God summons us to inhabit through keeping the faith.  For this day, as we have engaged the stories of families too colorful for their own good, as we contemplate our own stories of life when we have been the dreamer and when we have been those who would do our best to derail it, the hymn invites us to take “the sorry things we have done” and lay them down at the reconciling and merciful Table of the Lord. 

               Let us sing!