BLINDED

Read a great story yesterday. Actually, I’ve read it before, but there was something that struck me differently this week...

A band of brothers has their share of family dysfunction. Fathom that idea. The dysfunction swells to a state where the older brothers detest one of their youngest brothers, as the younger’s youthful pride, natural self-assurance, and father’s favoritism erode any empathetic, brotherly relationships. They detest the young man so much, that at 17, they fake his death and sell him to the nearest bidder. The young man is taken away from his home, sold into slavery.

As the familiar story is told (sometimes rhythmically with a very attractive, eye-popping coat), the brother, Joseph, finds himself in the house of Potiphar, an Egyptian who was one of Pharoah’s officials. Potiphar’s wife was so smitten with Joseph’s well-built and handsome physique that she had him discarded to prison, after he rejected her overt sexual advances. Still Joseph earned much favor in prison by his exemplary behavior, and when he was empowered to interpret the dreams of those in Pharoah’s service, his reputation grew... even though his sentence remained forgotten. Joseph spent 2 more years in prison... again due to his brothers’ initial betrayal and his master’s wife’s deception.

When Joseph later accurately interpreted the God-given dreams of Pharoah himself, an astonished Pharoah placed Joseph in charge of the whole land of Egypt. Here Joseph would confidently and courageously lead the country through a 7 year famine, dispersing both resources and hope to a malnourished people.

10 of the people craving nourishment shared his name. They were his brothers.

In contemporary society, I shudder to think of what we would do were we in a position of power when someone who previously wronged us bowed before us in their time of need. Would we be merciful? Would we choose wisdom? Or would we... for lack of better ways to put it... make them pay?

Through a process of clever and creative discovery, Joseph reveals himself to his family. Quite naturally, they are aghast, thinking, too, that the so-called system of payback is entirely appropriate. But instead, Joseph offers these words: “Come closer to me... Don’t feel badly. Don’t blame yourselves for selling me. God was behind it. God sent me here ahead of you to save lives. There has been a famine in the land now for 2 years; the famine will continue for 5 more years... God sent me on ahead to pave the way and make sure there was a remnant in the land, to save your lives in an amazing act of deliverance!”

How many of us see good (or God) in previous misfortune? How many of us seek the silver lining? How many of us are too blinded by past betrayal that bitterness is the only thing qualifying as leftovers?

Seems as if there is much more to admire in Joseph than a technicolor coat.

AR