Preacher: Pastor Liz Miller
Date: March 31th, 2019
Text: Genesis 50:15-21
I know there is a cultural myth that religion and science don’t go together or are somehow oppositional to each other. This isn’t true at Edgewood – we have many scientists who also happen to be people of faith in our church community – and I wish it wasn’t true in any church. This should be expanded on in a different sermon on a different day, perhaps a lay sermon by one of our resident physicists or biologists or entomologists, but I believe science points us toward God. The more I study and learn about the intricate rules of the universe, the more I am led to awe and wonder at our Creator and the more I am convinced that what we consider random or coincidental is perfectly woven together.
This is especially true when I think about patterns in nature. I love that nature is built upon different patterns – fractals, spirals, symmetries, waves, cracks, stripes – everything we observe around us is microscopic patterns that repeat themselves in various shapes and sizes, expanding and contracting before our eyes. It’s incredible to think about. I love that even when we assume something is unconnected, we just have to pull out a microscope and break it down farther, allowing us to see the the patterns weaving in and out, making complex what once seemed simple.
Rings on a tree stump, the veins of a leaf, tides rolling in and out of the oceans, the wings of a butterfly, the stripes on a chameleon, even corn on the cob! All of them are composed of mathematical patterns, building off themselves until we see a pattern building off itself and expanding to create a composite object and a larger part of creation.
Humans are not exempt from the patterns in nature. We carry them with us from the cell level of our bodies to our natural behaviors, creating a bridge between the physical sciences and social sciences. How many times have you said to yourself, “Why do I always do that?!” How much of our lives do we spend breaking down patterns of behavior that we learned in childhood and served us at one time but perhaps we have finally outgrown? This is as true for humans as individuals as it is in relationships.
When we talk about our love of traditions or ritual, we are claiming our yearning for patterns and repetition – seeking those patterns for familiarity and comfort. And so two young friends might develop a secret handshake they exchange each time they meet. Two older friends might always reunite at a favorite restaurant – going back year after year and remembering to sit in the same booth. People in long-term relationships will tell you that you really only have one or two fights as a couple, you just act them out in different ways – big and small – the same patterns returning and remerging – throughout the course of the relationship.
And so it is true that this proclivity toward patterns and repetition finds its way into our families – tracing behaviors and habits through the generations. We claim these when we proclaim with pride, “I’m a third generation teacher!” or “Everyone on my mom’s side of the family is a redhead!” Patterns find their ways into the more challenging aspects of our families. When I was young my mom used to talk to my brother and me about how alcoholism has affected our family and how we needed to be aware that we might be prone to abuse alcohol because of our genetics.
If you’ve never created a genogram, I would invite you to look into it. A genogram is a family tree where in addition to the generations of relationships, you map out the hereditary patterns and psychological events that have occurred in the family, allowing you to have a more complex understanding of your family of origin or the family you were adopted into. We pass things down to our children and grandchildren whether or not we want to – creating patterns that embed themselves in the lives of our family for generations to come.
This is not a new phenomenon – it can be traced throughout history in famous families and infamous legends. We can trace these same effects of patterns as far back as the Biblical families, all the way from the beginning. Joseph and his brothers, whose fights were so epic it was transformed into a Broadway musical, came from a long line of fighting brothers. Their father Jacob stole his brother Esau’s birthright blessing from him through lying and deception, causing Jacob and Esau to be estranged. Before that, Jacob’s father Isaac was pitted against his half-brother Ishmael by his mother over who was the true first born son of their shared father Abraham, causing Isaac and Ishmael to be estranged from one another for most of their lives until Abraham’s death. When it came to patterns of jealousy, deception, and familial cruelty, you can see where Joseph and his brothers inherited it.
I think this generational link is important for us to know because it was not just a fight between Joseph and his brothers. They were acting out the fights of their father and uncle, grandfather and great uncle, great grandfather and great great uncles. These feuds were in their blood. The stories that had been passed on at the dinner table about “Uncle Esau who you’ve never met” or “Grandpa Isaac who was wary of his brother” would have inadvertently taught these twelve brothers lessons about what to expect in their own relationships and how to treat one another. They knew that even if their father said to treat each other with kindness and respect and be proud when one achieved something before the others, they were allowed to actually brew resentment and jealousy and acts out their anger by harming one another. They heard stories of the men they looked up to doing the same, and so they lived into the same patterns.
This pattern of intergenerational discord and trauma is why I believe that the story of Joseph and his brothers is one of the most powerful stories of forgiveness in the Bible. They were not just sorting themselves out and learning how to trust each other again, they were reimagining hereditary patterns of behavior and moving into a new way of being family to one another. There is a quote that I’ve heard before but cannot find the attribution that says something like, “It’s up to you to change ‘generational narratives.’ When they tell you this runs in your family, you tell them, ‘This is where it runs out.’”
Joseph and his brothers illustrate how incredibly difficult it is to change old patterns of behavior and to grow into new ones. They did it once when they reconciled the first time, learning to live together again and care for their father together. But over time it became apparent that this newfound trust was tenuous – their early proclamations of “I forgive you and I love you” began to once again sound hollow. When their father died, things felt unsettled again. Their father was the patriarch and leader of their family and without loyalty to him as their shared goal, the brothers did not trust that old resentments and anger would not surface again. History had taught them that betrayal was inevitable.
And so they return to familiar patterns and the brothers lie to Joseph, telling him that their dad had asked them to pass on a message to Joseph, manipulating his loyalty to Jacob so that he would continue to forgive his brothers and not punish them again. It’s unclear to me why Joseph weeps. It could have been because he missed his father. It could have been because he was hurt that his brothers would feel like they had to lie to him to retain peace amongst their ranks. It could have also been that Joseph wept because he understood how difficult it was to live into the forgiveness he had once proclaimed – that it was something they all had to recommit to over and over again lest those old patterns of vengeance return.
I am sure that Joseph’s response to his brother’s lie shocked them as much as it assured them. Joseph grounds their reconciliation not just in their own relationship, but in their shared relationship with God – helping them understand that God intends for their family to be a source of good, not suffering – that God will be the glue that binds them to each other. Joseph further strengthens his assurances to his brother by telling them that he will not just care for his brothers, but he will care for his brother’s children as well, solidifying this commitment to enacting new patterns of behavior down to future generations. And they did so. Each of the twelve brothers becomes a tribe of Israel, working together and growing their people for generations to come, transforming brotherly betrayal into brotherly love.
I take courage in this story of Joseph and his brothers. Forgiveness is hard in the best of times. It can feel downright impossible when we have inherited patterns of behavior of estrangement, abuse, and betrayal. It can feel downright impossible when we have learned from our families that some things are unforgivable or that hatred is inevitable or that there is no better alternative to be in relationship with other people.
Joseph is our reminder that forgiveness is truly a practice and that when we choose to practice it, we are choosing a new way of being that is going against generations of toxic behaviors. It feels difficult because it is not often role-modeled for us, and because it is certainly easier to cut ourselves off or continue to hurt one another than to take the risk of being vulnerable enough to trust someone whom we have hurt or who has hurt us in the past.
Joseph’s brothers are our reminder that trusting the forgiveness someone has offered us is as difficult as the forgiving, and that it also takes time and practice to build that trust. When we have hurt someone we care about, the shame that fills us can cause us to stay away from that person, not believing we deserve their forgiveness, and if it is offered, questioning why they would do so or distrusting their motivations.
Forgiveness takes work on all sides and is challenging every step of the way, but as we see from Joseph and his brothers, it can be done. It must be done if we are going to free ourselves from the shackles of trauma and violence and vengeance that we have inherited in our families, in our communities, and in our world. Denice Frohman, a spoken word artist, says, “Your wound is probably not your fault, but your healing is your responsibility.” Like Joseph and his brothers, whether we are in need of forgiveness or have someone we are longing to forgive, may we all have the courage to take a step closer toward healing in our lifetime.