God speaks and calls: sermon prep for August 21 (by Ray Webster)

First reading: Exodus 3:1-15

God speaks to Moses from the Burning Bush

After killing an Egyptian who was mistreating a Hebrew slave, Moses fled into the wilderness. He became a shepherd with the tribe of Jethro, and married Jethro’s daughter.

Today we have the great story of God calling Moses from the bush that “was blazing, yet it was not consumed.”

God called to him out of the bush, "Moses, Moses!" And he said, "Here I am." Then he said, "Come no closer! Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground." He said further, "I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob."
So the direct link is established between the God who revealed God’s self to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, and the God who was now revealing himself to Moses.
God was taking the initiative to act, to free the people from slavery in Egypt and bring them into the Promised Land.
God told that when the people were free, Moses was to bring them back to this mountain.

I believe God speaks to us today

I believe God does speak to us. We may well not hear the audible voice of God! We most probably will not.
One of the ways I believe God speaks to us, is by means of the stories and words of Scripture. God the Holy Spirit dwelling within us, will give light and understanding to speak to us by means of images and words of the Bible.
God also may speak to us by means of the worship of the church – by means of music and art and architecture.
God also may speak to us in the situations of daily life, which touch our conscience and call us to do something – or to refrain from doing something.
The Quaker tradition reminds us that God speaks in the silence. The Holy Spirit may use times of silence to speak in the silence within us.

What is God’s Name?

Then we come to this great and mysterious passage about the Name of God.
But Moses said to God, "If I come to the Israelites and say to them, 'The God of your ancestors has sent me to you,' and they ask me, 'What is his name?' what shall I say to them?" God said to Moses, "I AM Who I AM." He said further, "Thus you shall say to the Israelites, 'I AM has sent me to you.'"
You can see the echo of these words, when Jesus in John’s Gospel refers to himself seven times in the great “I am” statements – perhaps the most famous and well loved, “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.”
And then God speaks to Moses in verse 15:
God also said to Moses, "Thus you shall say to the Israelites, 'The LORD, the God of your ancestors, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, has sent me to you': This is my name forever, and this my title for all generations."

Saying the LORD instead of God’s Name

It is a tradition in English Christian translations of the Bible -- following Jewish practice – to write the word LORD where in the original Hebrew there appeared the Name of God. The original is four consonants – no one is quite sure how to pronounce them. Among other things, it has been the custom in Judaism for centuries not to speak them!
In the French Jerusalem Bible, the great modern French translation of the Bible, the word is given Yahweh. I confess that much as I love that version, which I think on the whole is a very great work of art, I have a deep uneasiness about breaking the ancient tradition of not trying to speak that name.
For one thing, I grew up in a heavily Jewish community. Classmates would not only not try to say that ancient name, they would write the English word God as G-d!
For another quite different reason, as a Christian I speak the Names of God as Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Jesus and Trinity. Breaking the ancient silence to speak the Names open up to us -- revealed -- in Jesus Christ.

God has sent Moses on a great mission

The hidden God of Israel has revealed God’s very self, to send Moses on a great mission – to stand before Pharaoh and speak God’s word of freedom.

Gospel: Matthew 16:21-28

The turning point in the story

We come today in our summer-long reading through of Matthew’s Gospel to a great dramatic turning point in the story. Jesus tells his disciples that he intends to go down to Jerusalem, where he will almost certainly be arrested and killed. Not only does he intend to go – he must go.

Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and undergo great suffering at the hands of the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised.

Must

.. must …I do not believe that it was in any way God’s will that God’s innocent Child Jesus suffer. I believe what was (and is) the will of the Father was that Jesus face what was coming in self-giving love, and not run away.
I believe that is what you and I who follow Jesus also must do.
In the tension of moment, Simon Peter took (Jesus) aside and began to rebuke him, saying, "God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you." But he turned and said to Peter, "Get behind me, Satan!”
Well, that was the tension speaking. I do not believe Jesus thought Peter was Satan. But Peter was tempting him to run away.

Jesus calls his disciples – including you and me

Then Jesus called his disciples and calls you and me, his disciples today, to follow him on his way of self-giving love.
Then Jesus told his disciples, "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.”

(Raymond Webster)
________________________________________________________________________
The Bible texts of the Old Testament, Epistle and Gospel lessons are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the USA, and used by permission.

What's in a name? (August 21 sermon by Deacon Larry Green)

What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name

would smell as sweet.”

– William Shakespeare, 1564-1616, British poet and playwright.

We have heard some great stories thus far this summer and I now give you

Exodus.

Since we have started using the Revised Common Lectionary, one of the interesting

benefits would hear snippets of one story this week, and then snippets of another

story next week. 

But  we get to hear larger chunks from some of the great stories of the Old

Testament.

 “

Back when we were using the old lectionary, which is located at the back of our

Prayer Book,  The new lectionary allows us to follow a story, week by week, pretty

much through its entirety. 

And One of the faithful bible study participants  has made this point before. But this

continuity allows us to notice some things we might have missed otherwise. 

For example, it’s surprising how many people we meet in those stories who one day

come to a crossroads in their life, they make what is often a significant and difficult

 Choice and as a result they are given a new name. Now, I’m not talking about a

superficial change of names, like what I went through when I decided that I

preferred to be called Larry Anthony Green rather than Larry Anthony Cornelius

Green. Because the kids called me AC Spark plug or sparky.

 That a meaningless change because, as Butch Coolidge, a character in the movie

Pulp Fiction, correctly observes, that because we are Americans, our names don’t

mean squat.

 But in the Old Testament, it was a different matter altogether; very often a

person’s really name meant something, and it could signify something about their

relationship with God. 

For example, in one of those stories we encounter a man named Abram (“exalted father”)

who becomes Abraham (“father of a multitude”), when he decides that he can trust

that God will make him the ancestor of a great nation, even though he and his wife

are old and childless. 

And then there was Jacob (“holder of the heel” or “supplanter”), who tricked his

aging and blind father into giving him the blessing that rightfully belonged to his

older twin brother Esau (“hairy”). One evening, Jacob wrestles all night long with a mysterious

stranger who turns out to be God’s himself. And for his stubbornness, and courage,

Jacob is rewarded with a new name, Israel (“strives with God”), and a permanent

limp.

Many years later, the descendants of Abraham and Jacob have settled in Egypt,

when one of Jacob’s sons, Joseph (“he will add”) was a high official in Pharaoh’s court.

 And for a period of time – maybe several hundred years – the descendants of

Joseph flourish in Egypt; 

I mean, they do well for themselves. But, as our first reading from Exodus

 describes, “a new [Pharaoh] arose over Egypt, who did not know Joseph,” who

doesn’t remember how Joseph saved the country from famine. And this new

Pharaoh is appalled at how large the Hebrew population has become, and

is afraid of the power their numbers represent. And so he contrives to control them

with forced labor and harsh taskmasters, and reduce their numbers by ordering the

Hebrew midwives to kill all of the newborn male children. 

But two of the midwives, Shiphrah (“beautiful”) and Puah (we don’t know what her

name means; she must have been an American), have other ideas, and contrive

their own plan to allow the male babies to live. And the mother of one of these little

baby boys, puts her son into a basket and launches him, like a little tiny Ark, upon

the Nile River. Some time later, a daughter of the Pharaoh retrieves the baby, and

realizes that it is one of the Hebrew children. And because it seems to be in the nature of children to disobey their parents, she arranges for a Hebrew wet-nurse to take care of the baby boy until it is weaned, when she takes the boy into her own household, and names him Moses (“drawn up” or “drawn out

of the water” or “deliver”). And it turns out to be a pretty good name for the boy,

because he grows up to deliver the Hebrew people from their slavery in Egypt, and

lead them, through and beyond the waters of the Red Sea, to a new land that will

be their own.

Later still – and we hear about this in today’s gospel reading – Jesus gives one of

his disciples, Simon (“he has heard”), a new nickname: Peter (“stone” or “rock”).

 

One priest I know described him as the original Rocky, or Rocky I. But Simon isn’t

given this new name because he is rock-like in the ordinary sense – except that he

sank like a rock when he tried to walk on water – but rather because he shares

some of the characteristics of his famous, but equally flawed, forebears, Abraham

and Jacob and Moses: that is, Simon has an unflagging trust in God. 

And he has an imagination. After all, he was the only one of the Disciples who even

tried to walk on water. And, as we heard in today’s gospel reading, he’s the one

who knows the answer to Jesus’ question “Who do you say that I am?” And Simon’s

response is: “You’re not John (“God is gracious”) the Baptist, or Elijah (“my God is

Yahweh”), or Jeremiah (“God has uplifted”). 

You’re not the forerunner of the one who is to come. You are the one who is to

come. You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” BINGO! And as a prize for

answering what may be the most important theological question of his life, Simon

gets ... a nickname! 

It may be worth noting, as I have done before, that “Messiah” and “Son of the

living God” don’t mean exactly the same for Peter as they do for us. And they

probably didn’t mean the same thing for Simon as it did for Jesus. But Simon was

close enough! – the horseshoe may not have encircled the state, it was close

enough to count. And this prompts Jesus to declare: “On this rock I will build my church!” But it’s not, mind you, on the “rock” of Peter’s flawed personality or faith, but on the rock of his recognition of the Messiah.

Because this is, after all,the irreducible minimum of the Christian faith – this is

what makes us the people of God – that we recognize who is ruler of our lives, and

know that his name is Jesus (“God is salvation”). 

But what does it mean that we understand who Jesus is? It must be important,

because, as Jesus declares, “the gates of Hades will not prevail against” those who

possess that understanding. It means, I think, that death – of body, mind and spirit

– and the fear of death, no longer has any power over the people of God. And this

is the  message we are given to proclaim: that death has been conquered by life. That was the message given by God to Abraham, and by Moses to the Pharaoh, and by Jesus to everyone he encountered.

And this is the message we are to proclaim. And we, as the people of God, are

entrusted with the keys – which I take to mean the message, the proclamation, the good news – that can free people from the sting and fear of death. 

But do we use those keys? It took Simon Peter quite a while before he knew what it

all meant. But, because he had a good imagination – and faith needs imagination to

be complete – one afternoon he had a dream. And in that dream, a veritable

 banquet was spread before him; a banquet of foods forbidden by the Jewish

dietary laws. And in his dream, God commanded that Simon Peter should eat. And

when he awoke from that puzzling dream, Simon Peter was given an opportunity to

choose whether a certain Gentile family should be welcomed into the young

Christian church, or kept out. (Up until that point, only Jews were being encouraged

to join the church.) And, luckily for us, he used those keys to open the door to the

church, rather than lock it. And so, these are our ancestors in the faith: Abraham,

who was the aging, and sometimes incredulous, patriarch of many nations; Jacob,

who cheated his family and wrestled with God; Moses, who was condemned to

death but drawn out of the water; and Peter, who never met a Messiah he didn’t

eventually deny knowing. They are God’s “rocks” of faith and imagination:

And what do they ask of us today? What message do they want us to hear?

Probably, it’s something like this: “You who come after us, are like us. You are not

perfect; you may even have been cruel or deceitful or cowardly. But God has

chosen you to convey his blessings, and he frees you from the slavery to fear and

uncertainty. No longer do you need to make bricks for Pharaoh – or whatever his

name may be for us today – because you know that there is more to

life than making more money than your neighbor. And no longer do you need to

obey Pharaoh, when he orders you to harm someone, or to cook the books, or tell

lies about the pension fund to his employees. And you especially don’t have to stay

in Pharaoh’s country club, if it excludes any of God’s beloved children. And know

this: there is only one king for you: the Messiah, the Son of the Living God. And

once you recognize him, you will find that you too have the keys –

the power – to open the gate for others; to draw them out of whatever it is that

keeps them from the freedom and life God wants all of us to have.”

Well, because we are all God’s people now, we can have a new name. And it’s up to

us to decide what that name will be. And what that name will mean. And what that

names says about us, and our character. We have a new name. And we have faith.

And we have imagination. We are the “rocks” of God’s kingdom, and into our hands

God has placed the keys to his kingdom. What remains for us is to go out into the

world, and act like God’s rocks, and use those keys well – for “whatever [we] bind

on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever [we] loose on earth will be loosed

in heaven.”

This sermon was preached by the Rev. Larry Green on August 21, 2011 at St. Chrysostom's Episcopal Church in Chicago, IL.  

Coming attraction: "What's in a name?"

This upcoming Sunday, Deacon Larry Green will preach at all services.  Here's a sneak peek:

What’s in a name? "That which we call a rose by any other name

would smell as sweet.”

– William Shakespeare, 1564-1616, British poet and playwright. 

We have heard some great stories thus far this summer and I now give you Exodus.

Since we have started using the Revised Common Lectionary, one of the interesting

benefits would hear snippets of one story this week, and then snippets of another

story next week.  But  we get to hear larger chunks from some of the great stories of the Old

Testament.   (By Larry Green) 

More than Survivors (August 14 sermon)

(The readings for the day were from Genesis 45, where Joseph reveals his identity to his brothers; Romans 11 where Paul affirms God's mercy, and Matthew 15, where a Gentile woman teaches us about the kingdom of God.)

Many of you know Audrey, who's part of our staff team in the church.  Well, she and I just discovered that we both love a television series called "I Survived."  Each episode shows how real, everyday people found themselves in terrifying, near-death scenarios and came out on the other side.  Audrey and I went back and forth for a while this week about the girl who was attacked by a shark and the waitress who escaped an armed robbery (all the while Ray is standing by politely nodding) and we both agreed that the reason we like the show has nothing to do with the terrifying, near-death scenarios, but with the way the people tell their stories.

See, on "I Survived," the survivors are the ones who narrate events.  Three people take turns telling what happened to them from beginning to end, then reflect on why they think they made it out of their situation.  And while you're sitting there with your jaw on the floor, wondering what in the world you would do if your boat capsized in the middle of the ocean, or you were kidnapped by armed rebels and held for ransom, here is this person who it really happened to, sitting up straight, clean and dressed and not falling apart, recounting their trials honestly, in full emotional detail, and attempting to make some meaning of why they survived and what has happened since.  I'm absolutely sucked in to these stories, and I'm more than absolutely fascinated by what I take to be these individuals' unbelievable, unimaginable, sheer human resilience. 

Now we're all resilient.  You couldn’t get out of bed every day if you weren't.  Resilience describes how a person deals with change, challenge, disappointment, trauma, upset - how she or he is able to recover or return from a sentinel event.  I've heard resiliency described as "bounce-back," but the peppiness of that term doesn't honor the range of things that draw on our reservoirs of resilience.  Everyday disappointments and ailments require resilience, but when we think about people who are truly resilient, we imagine children who suffer trauma and loss and continue to hope and love - or who are bullied, but continue to try and to study and to dream.  We imagine people who are diagnosed with diseases and face treatments that are painful and mysterious and that reorganize one's whole life and identity.  For the rest of my life, when I hear the word "resilient," I will think of families I knew as a hospital chaplain who sped into the ER at three-AM, sat in a cubicle clutching a cup of coffee, and walked away a few hours later, bereft of a person who was alive when they woke up that morning.  They were actually able to physically stand, say good-bye to us, and to go home.  You can add any number of things to the list - but we all have an idea, we have all lived the kind of resilience that is possible at the extremes of human experience. 

In fact, we've got an example of it right in front of us this morning: Joseph shows greater resilience than any other person we've met in Genesis this summer.  Everything starts out okay for the poor guy - better than okay!  He's Jacob's favorite son … but dad doesn't do a great job of hiding it.  To make matters worse, Joseph is a bit oblivious.  He dreams his whole family will bow down to him one day, and instead of writing this interesting little item down in his papyrus diary, he opens up his mouth and lets everybody in on the secret.  His older, stronger, even less appropriate brothers first throw him in a pit, then get enterprising and decide to sell him as a slave.  Later on, when they're feeling remorseful, they remember that he pleaded in anguish to be set free and return home with them. 

But Joseph is resilient!  He takes in the reality of what's happened to him, he adjusts, and he moves forward.  He does so well and is so resourceful and responsible that he rises to a place of prominence in his master's household and gains admiration and esteem.  Yet with all that positive attention comes the wrong kind of attention.  Joseph's accused of a crime he didn't commit and ends up in the Egyptian slave prison we heard about last week.  From low to high to lower.

While he's in prison, though, Joseph repeats the pattern of resilience and recalibration that served him so well as a slave, and again rises to a place of responsibility and respect.  He interprets the dream of Pharaoh's cupbearer, and when that man goes back to the palace, he recommends Joseph to the ruler.  Pharaoh himself is so pleased with Joseph that he appoints him "steward" of all of Egypt, responsible for every human being, every rock, every stalk of grain that Pharaoh oversees.  The scene where Pharaoh restores Joseph, when he gives him back the dignity that people have been trying to rob him of his whole life, is beautiful - it's like Cinderella sliding her foot into a glass slipper: Pharaoh covers Joseph in fine garments, heaps gold chains around his neck, and puts him in the chariot of his second-in-command.  He makes everybody take a knee in front of Joseph.  Resilient Joseph is, literally, rehabilitated.

But to what end?  Joseph has withstood hardship that rivals anything we can imagine: betrayal, abandonment, forced labor, libel, imprisonment.  And now it looks like he's gotten back more than he ever had. But in truth, there's still something out there, a daily stressor siphoning resources out of Joseph's resilience reservoir, demanding that he respond, adapt, assimilate every hour of his life.  Think about this: Joseph was put in the chariot of Pharaoh's second-in-command.  So what happened to the other guy?  Where's the chariot's former occupant?  Joseph met the cupbearer in slave prison, where that man was chucked at the whim of an all-powerful, capricious ruler.  Joseph's security depends on the will of a person who could change his mind in an instant, and Joseph's life up until this point hasn't shown him that bosses - or brothers - can be trusted.  Now Joseph has to be resilient because he has to withstand living in constant fear.  He has to be able to function - and function well - knowing that the rug can be pulled out from under him at any moment. 

This is where resilience needs a boost.  Resilience is the power of survival, and survival is basic.  Before anything can get better for you, you've got to get through it.  You have to survive.  The theological importance of resilience can't be underestimated: it's part of creation, it's part of sustenance - of ongoing life; it's part of persistence and endurance, and it's a gift.  But we're created, sustained, we persist and endure because we are made for redemption.  That is our end.  Resilience is how we survive, but redemption is how we thrive, and we are meant to thrive. 

Thriving is hard, though, because in our lives we learn all the same lessons that Joseph does.  We learn that people can hurt us.  We learn that people who were here today can be gone tomorrow.  We learn that nature and commerce and our own bodies can turn on us in a second.  And if we look to things that are shifting - to things that are subject to change, like Pharaoh's mind - we learn to live like we're always looking over our shoulders; like we are always waiting for the other shoe to drop.  Be it others' approval, be it outward signs of success, be it the permanence of the structures and institutions around us, if we place all of our trust in those things, it will take every bit of our resilience just to  pray that they will still be there tomorrow. 

What makes the difference then?  How do you make the leap of faith from resilience to redemption, from surviving to thriving?  How do you go from living life cautiously, with your nails dug in - especially if you've been hurt - to living life redemptively, with your hands wide open - especially if you've been hurt?

I get a glimpse of that difference when I see young children hope and love as though they can’t help it in the face of disappointment.  Or when I would see or hear from those families in the hospital about how their lives were unfolding in the wake of grief.  I glimpse the difference in  people here who share stories of divorce or illness, or challenges with family and employment and trust gone awry.  In these instances the difference is in meaning-making.  It's in being able to perceive how God may be moving and creating not only in resilience but in the aftermath of everything that requires us to be resilient.  And meaning-making is more than a matter of interpretation - it's part of how God puts something new into the world.  The people who talk about the terrifying things that have happened to them on the television show "I Survived" all have something to say about this, from having a very vague notion that they’re alive because there is something left for them to do, to having new relationships, new insights, a new sense of purpose or mission or new ability to help others that wasn't there before.  In the face of challenges, they have been resilient but their eyes have been open to all of the points of light piercing the darkness and pulling life together again in bright new constellations.  By the grace of God they have perceived a new story being told and have wandered into it by faith, with trust. 

And when this happens, something changes.  When we ask God for the strength to see new possibilities where doors were closed, to form new relationships where others were broken, to cultivate different abilities when limitations set in, we change, the world changes, and that is redemptive.  When a person asks God to make meaning where there was once chaos, that is the difference between hanging on - survival alone - and between a world reborn - thriving.  That is us partnering with God to turn the stuff of our lives into the stuff of miracles.  That is God's healing, renewing work alive today as it was in the beginning. 

Which is why we don't have to totally despair about Joseph.  Because however fearful he may be, however hampered by past hurt and present limitation, he has started this process of meaning-making.   There’s a famine in the land, and today Joseph’s brothers have come to Egypt for food.  They have no idea that the man in front of them is the boy that they discarded, and Joseph has a choice.  He can survive, and have nothing to do with them.  He can even be generous and send them away with food, but never reveal who he is.  Nobody would judge him for that.  Instead, he perceives an opportunity.  He probes them to find out if they’re sorry, to find out how they are caring for his father and other brother, and in the end, Joseph cannot help but choose reconciliation and create a space of redemption in the world around him that never existed before.  When he reveals himself, his brothers try to apologize to him, but he shoots for the sky, way beyond their single, fateful misdeed to its ultimate outcome: a relationship of affection that never existed between him and them, a supply of food for a hungry nation, lives preserved and renewed out of events that could have been just "hardships." Later on, he explains it like this: "even though you intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good."

The difference between resiliency alone and redemption born of resiliency is a matter of trust and freedom and openness.  It’s a matter of praying the one prayer that this woman utters in our Gospel today, “Lord, help me,” and believing that God is flooding you and me and all the earth with redemptive possibility even when we can’t see it.  It’s resurrection in the fullest sense of the word: coming back to life each day, and breaking life open with the astounding possibility of each day.  And it happens because the same God who gives us the strength to survive gives us the power to thrive. 

 

Sermon preached by the Reverend Danielle Thompson at St. Chrysostom's Episcopal Church in Chicago, IL on Sunday, August 14, 2011.

Joseph's many RE's (sermon prep for August 14)

For this Sunday's lesson, read Genesis 45:1-15 at http://bible.oremus.org 

Or we could call it, "RE-garding Joseph."  This time around with the story of Jacob's youngest son, I was struck by the number of "RE" words that characterize it.  Take a look:

RE-venge: As we heard last week, Joseph's brothers were less than affectionate.  After years of Jacob playing favorites (remember the multi-colored coat?), Joseph did some vision-casting that had them and their father bowing down to him.  Their solution: throw the boy in a pit and sell him to an Egypt-bound caravan, of course. 

RE-covery & RE-play:  So Joseph ends up as an indentured laborer in Egypt.  But he does well.  Everywhere he goes, blessing follows; everything he touches, God turns to gold.  Potiphar, a powerful man, notices this and puts him in charge of his household.  When Potiphar's wife tries and fails to seduce him, she accuses Joseph of the same, and he ends up back in the pit - this time, prison.   

RE-storation & RE-habilitation:  Joseph again rises to a position of responsibility and esteem in prison.  He interprets the dreams of one of Pharaoh's servants who recommends Joseph's services to the ruler when he is released.  Pharaoh brings Joseph to him, heeds his interpretation and advice, and raises him to a position of great importance and influence.  The scene where Joseph is vested with the symbols of his new office has us recalling the coat of many colors with which his father clothed him in childhood.

RE-versal: Joseph's brothers travel to Egypt to buy food for their famine-stricken family.  They visit the Pharaoh's right-hand guy, having no idea that he's the boy they sold into slavery.  One noticeable part of the story here is Joseph's weeping.  Four times he breaks down crying in his exchanges with his brothers.  First, when he overhears them expressing remorse; second, when he meets the young brother he never knew, Benjamin ...

RE-veal: Third, when RE-veals his identity to his brothers in this week's reading and ...

RE-conciliation: Fourth, when they ask his forgiveness.  And after that, the story goes, "his brothers talked with him."

The RE-word that is the backdrop for all of these is RE-demption.  When he is RE-united with his brothers, Joseph's own meaning-making becomes most heart-breaking part of the story.  "No!"  he pleads with the men who betrayed him, tears blurring his vision, "You didn't do this!  You may have had destruction in your hearts, but God's intention, God's vision is so strong, it obliterated your darkness and brought all of us into the light ... and we didn't even know it was happening."  Everybody - not just the boy - got dragged out of the pit in this situation.  Joseph was RE-scued, but all was redeemed.   

(by the way, "Re" or "Ra" was an Egyptian god - I didn't think about that until just now!)

(Danielle Thompson)

The Faithfulness of Joseph (August 7 sermon by Ray Webster)

The readings for this Sunday were form Genesis 37, Romans 10, and Matthew 14.

BEGINNING THE STORY OF JOSEPH

Today at eight o’clock we celebrate the Baptism of Hank MacMahon. Hank has been a regular attender at the eight since his birth this year, and is very much a part of the eight o’clock worshipping community.

May Hank always know a welcome

By his Baptism, may Hank always know a welcome at the Lord’s Table.

We have the gift of many small children in this parish.

May Hank – may each one, may each person of any age -- always know that he is a part of the community God gathers around the Table of Jesus.

Growing up in that community, may Hank learn about God’s love for him in Jesus Christ – the boundless radiant light of God’s love given to him completely, nothing held back. And that nothing can separate Hank from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord. Nothing. Baptism is a great sign of the gift of union with Christ which nothing can break. Sometimes we lose sight of it, sometimes it seems there is only the darkness and fog – but the gift is always there of God’s presence with us and love for us in Christ.

Baptism is the great sign the gift of God’s presence and love has been given. This Feast of Bread and Wine is the great sign the gift is given to you and me and Hank and anyone here and now, on the way.

May Hank grow up knowing the Scriptures, knowing the stories of the Bible – that ancient collection of very different books, which I believe God makes use of to speak to us in contemporary ways. “The word is very near you” – Two of the basic principles of the English Reformation were (and remain) that the Bible be given into the hands of God’s people and written in the language understood by the people.

A story of betrayal and loss

On this joyous day of Hank’s Baptism it is something of a jolt that our first Bible story (Genesis 37:1-4, 12-28) is a story of betrayal and loss. But these are our family stories – the stories of the descendants of Abraham and Sarah, who, in the context of Genesis, were the first people to believe in God. Sometimes our family stories are not happy and sometimes mistakes are made. And the Word of God to us through these stories is a the word of redemption and forgiveness and resurrection. Today story is about a very great mistake, an evil act of jealousy and betrayal.

Joseph’s older brothers were jealous of him. He was the youngest son of Jacob, who was getting old. He was the son of Jacob’s beloved wife Rachel (the older brothers were the sons of other mothers). Jacob loved this youngest child and let his favoritism show. They sold him into slavery. They sold him to a passing caravan, who in turn sold him as a slave down in Egypt. And they cooked up a story for their father about how he was killed by an animal. And Joseph was gone.

This truly terrible story set in motion a whole series of events that would change the history of this family, and of world history, of our history as believers and Christians.

For the story tells how the Jewish people ended up living in Egypt. And then were enslaved.

And then God acted in history to save the people from slavery. God brought the people into freedom, and led them through the wilderness and finally into the Promised Land.

This was the formative story of Judaism, remembered at Passover.

We Christians remember it too, and remember how God acted in history in Jesus Christ to save all people, and to bring us into the Promised Land of life with God in him, here on our earthly pilgrimage, and at our end into the Promised Land of heaven.

And it began with today’s truly terrible story of a pack of jealous brothers letting their jealousy get the better of them, and selling the boy – aged seventeen we are told – into slavery.

And then in slavery, Joseph ended up in a slave jail. I pretend no expertise on Egyptian slavery, but I strongly suspect there is nowhere to go much lower than an ancient Egyptian slave jail.

The story took a surprise turn

Genesis tells us Joseph was thirty when the story took a surprise turn. Joseph spent from seventeen to thirty as a slave in Egypt. That was his education. I suspect it taught him a lot about survival.

The surprise was that another slave who had been in jail with Joseph, was a servant of Pharaoh and when Pharaoh told about being troubled with dreams, of having a bad time in the night, the slave suggested talking to Joseph. Who told Pharaoh plainly that what Pharaoh saw coming, and perhaps could not face, was famine.

And Pharaoh put Joseph in charge of getting the country ready for famine – setting aside enough food.

The New York Times printed on its front page last Tuesday a picture of a child starving in the famine of Somalia.

The Biblical ethic calls us – God calls us as disciples of Jesus -- to show compassion and mercy and try to help and feed the hungry.

The Biblical ethic – from the opening of this first book of Genesis – is that God made that starving child, God makes every human life, and every one ultimately belongs to God, and the human community, the church, the people of Israel, along with all people of good will have a responsibility to help. To do what is right and just.

Back home, Joseph’s father and brothers heard about Egypt having food and the brothers went down to ask for help.

And found themselves before Joseph. Joseph’s education between seventeen and thirty as a slave in Egypt and in a slave jail would have ensured that the person before them would have looked 100% Egyptian. “Assimilated” might not be the right word – “worked over” might fit the facts better. If you walk into the Egyptian exhibits at the Oriental Institute at the University of Chicago, there is a very tall statue of King Tutenkamen, the Pharaoh. When Joseph’s brothers came into the hall before their long lost brother, this is more or less what they would have seen before them.

Joseph eventually helped them – a story for another day -- and they brought the whole family down into Egypt. After the years went by, and Joseph had died and there was a new Pharaoh who had no memory of Joseph’s contribution enslaved the Jewish people.

And God sent Moses to stand before this new Pharaoh, and say “Let my people go.”

Words which would echo in American history. And remind us of a lawyer with a practice in Springfield, Illinois who would speak for freedom and against slavery, and lead our country through a terrible war between brothers into ending slavery.

We read this story at Easter

We read the story of the Exodus, of how God acted in our human history to bring God’s people into freedom, at Easter, at the great Vigil. It is a formative story of our faith and looks to the great story, the story for every day of baptism, the story of for every Sunday (for Sundays are always a feast of the resurrection), the Easter story – that story that God acted in human history by sending Jesus Christ to bring every one – no one left out – back to God, into life with God.

God calls us to trust in the presence of God with us, and the love of God for us – for you, me, each one. And to trust that at our end God will bring us home to life, held in the love we see in Christ.

(This sermon was preached by the Rev. Raymond Webster, Rector, in St. Chrysostom’s Church, Chicago, Illinois, on Sunday, August 7, 2011, the Eighth Sunday after Pentecost.)

The Gospel text is from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the USA, and used by permission.