Reflection: The story of Joseph for an Immigrant
I’ve never
preached about Joseph; today will be the first time. But - I have cried out
like Joseph: “Then Joseph could no longer control himself before all those who
stood by him, and he cried out… And he wept so loudly that the Egyptians heard
it, and the household of the Pharaoh heard it.” Yes, I have cried like that, so
loudly that even the Pharaoh could hear. Have you? Joseph’s grief inspires
questions: What exactly is he expressing? What kind of situation or story does
he find himself in? What is happening? Where is God?
I read the
entire Joseph story from the Bible years ago, so I was familiar with it, but,
as I have lost the details, I read it again this week. While reading, I wanted
to understand the emotions Joseph is expressing as he cries out, and think about
what he means when he tells his brothers, “I am your brother Joseph, whom you
sold into Egypt. And now do not be distressed, or angry with yourselves,
because you sold me here; for God sent me before you to
preserve life. ... So it was not you who sent me here, but God.”
When I read
Joseph’s faith statement, “for God sent me before you to preserve life”, I
wanted to explore its meaning, because I could intuitively sense its truth to
my own life story – years ago, I chose to emigrate from my home country, Korea,
to preserve life. It is a special moment when we find ourselves identifying
with biblical characters, exploring the truth and depth of a story that spans
the ages to speak to us personally.
Here’s the
Joseph story in a nutshell, re-narrated by personal interpretation and also
based on a few good commentaries. (i.e. Queer Bible Commentary)
Joseph’s
story begins in the last pages of Genesis. Far from the God-driven beginning,
violence and power now dominate the story. Even God has disappeared as a
character – “We are approaching civilisation as we know it”. Joseph is the
firstborn son of Rachel, who does not conceive until all of Jacob’s wives,
including her sister Leah, have had children of their own. Joseph is both
latter-born and firstborn, the beloved son of Jacob, beloved ‘more than any of
his other children’. Jacob marks out Joseph with a highly embroidered or
ornamented tunic, the coat of many colours. A multi-coloured robe is evocative
of the rainbow. It bears the colours of royalty, and of pride and creation. The
rainbow is also a sign of hope and, following the Flood, a marker of peace
between creator and creation. The rainbow is also a bridge between heaven and
earth --- an extraordinarily beautiful sight in the ancient land.
Joseph is
elevated, beloved and absolutely favoured by Jacob - - and this favouritism and
his own personality of pride and confidence begets hate among his brothers. All
of them, the sons of Leah in particular, hate him. Over time, they decide to
resort to fratricide to salve their wounded self-esteem. The campaign of
harassment, bullying and intimidation waged by Joseph’s brothers becomes clear
and obvious. Ultimately, the brothers plot to kill Joseph. Seizing their chance
when Jacob sends Joseph to them, (one commentary suggests that the brothers pressured
their father into allowing young Joseph to help them), when Joseph approaches,
they throw him into a pit. Rueben talks his brothers out of killing Joseph, and
Judah proposes to sell Joseph to the Ishmaelites and tell Jacob that he has
been killed. Joseph, “the blatantly flamboyant” youth with confidence,
queerness (from the Queer Bible Commentary) and pride, is cast into the pit,
torn away from his people and sent off a captive, despised and rejected, to
Egypt.
Fast
forward: Joseph is sold into the house of Potiphar. As a refugee, he thrives:
Joseph becomes successful in his undertakings for Potiphar and is promoted to
be his personal attendant. At this point, Joseph, “handsome and good looking”,
comes to the attention of Potiphar’s wife, spurns her advances and is sent to
prison by her vengeful accusations. And there, in prison, he displays his
talent for dream interpretation, and this gift eventually brings him to the
attention of the Pharaoh. Summoned by the Pharaoh to interpret the dream of the
seven fat ears of grain being eaten by seven shrivelled ears of grain, Joseph
predicts seven years of abundance to be followed by seven years of famine.
Joseph further suggests that Pharaoh appoint someone to superintend all of
Egypt so as to ensure the resources of the land are managed to survive the
famine. Impressed, Pharaoh appoints Joseph to the task.
Fast forward
again: the famine is not only in Egypt but Canaan as well; Jacob and his sons
decide to migrate to Egypt to seek a way for the family to survive the
devastating long-term famine. When the brothers arrive in Egypt, they are
recognized by Joseph – a Joseph who is in the position to confront his old
pain: the deep hurt and trauma of being rejected, threatened with death and
sold into slavery by his own brothers. This ends the summary of Joseph’s story,
and here, I would like to share two questions with you: How does “hate” start
and grow in our minds and hearts? What is the nature of “hating” someone,
especially hating people in certain groups for who they are? What I see in
today’s story is that hatred is not just a feeling; it grows into actions like
crime, injustice, and even genocide when it becomes systemic. It is not just
that Rueben hated Joseph or Judah hated him or any of the individual eleven
brothers hated him; Joseph became the hated focus, the prey of eleven others
who are supposed to be a family. There were 11 people together that created the
pit of murder, of violence, of erasure. Even the father Jacob was complicit,
failing to see or defuse the older brothers’ rage against his favourite son.
When reading
the story of Joseph, I thought about some news I read recently from Korea.
Migrant workers, which Korea imports as cheap labour, are “used” to sustain the
Korean economy in low-paying, dangerous jobs - the Korean economy and society
definitely need them. However, these individuals, recruited and imported for
gain and purpose, are “hated” and vulnerable to abuse. This news breaks my
heart. It is quite similar to Canada’s past in which Chinese men were recruited
as cheap labour to build railroads and work in factories. They were brought
here, and faced terrible discrimination, immigration quotas, a head tax and, in
1923, new laws that excluded most Chinese from immigrating to Canada. They were
hated. This kind of hatred is not just about the feelings one person has
towards another person; it is more about systemic domination and maintenance of
power. It just needs 11 others who
discriminate and threaten and exclude those who are different from them. The
system needs their labour but scorns their humanity. In this sense, in so many
parts of the world, in Korea and even Canada, (as long as colonialism and
patriarchy exist), women are generally and specifically hated. Queer people are
hated. Indigenous people are hated. I can truly say that I have received hate
and been hated - in that sense of awareness and acknowledgement, I can identify
with the part of the story where “Joseph could no longer control himself before
all those who stood by him, and he cried out. He wept so loudly that the
Egyptians heard it, and the household of the Pharaoh heard it.”
What’s even
more extraordinary and inspiring, then, is that Joseph asks all those who stood
near him to leave, (except for his brothers) and allows himself to wail and
release exploding emotions from his bitter agony and anger and sadness over his
past abuse. He speaks in Hebrew to his brothers and says, “Do not be
distressed, or angry with yourselves, because you sold me here; for God sent me
before you to preserve life. … God sent me before you to preserve for you a
remnant on earth, and to keep alive for you many survivors. So it was not you
who sent me here, but God; … Hurry and go up to my father and say to him, …
“Come down to me, do not delay. You shall settle in the land of Goshen, and you
shall be near me, you and your children and your children’s children, as well
as your flocks, your herds, and all that you have. I will provide for you there - since there are five more years of famine
to come - - so that you and your household, and all that you have, will not
come to poverty.”” … “Then he fell upon his brother Benjamin’s neck and wept,
while Benjamin wept upon his neck. And he kissed all his brothers and wept upon
them; and after that his brothers talked with him.”
For a long
time, I have not been feeling settled in my understanding of my relationship
with my home country (especially my relationship with its systemic patriarchy).
I still feel bitter agony and sadness about what I experienced. I am also
unsettled in my recollections of the mistreatment I have experienced in Canada
(sexism is part of it) and with witnessing many different cases of racial
injustice against minorities and Indigenous peoples in this land. I remember,
one day, I pondered, “Can good eventually come from evil acts?”
Joseph’s
faith statement to his brothers answers this question with truth and wisdom:
The right answer is not that some good comes from evil, by the act of
overcoming it. We see the pattern that throughout the history of Israel, God
works with extraordinary and ordinary people to restore the community from
disaster, famine, flood, immigration, slavery, through the great transition and
liberation: Through crossing the sea, crossing the desert. In God’s history,
God uses and preserves the life of such individuals as Joseph – splendid, bold,
different, free, loved, hated, forgiving and loving. God also uses many women’s
lives (Hagar, Dinah, Tamar, all beacons of inappropriateness) very dramatically
because Israel’s culture at that time was very patriarchal and woman-hating.
These are the characters in Genesis, and they cleverly create and therefore
continue the lineage of life that would eventually reach the birth of Jesus. I
feel comforted and uplifted when I know my immigration is to preserve my own
life and that of the generations who come after me. I am not here because of
the adversity and lack of hope I experienced before leaving Korea; it was God
who sent me and desired me to preserve my life and the life of many
generations. I still have a purpose to fulfill.
Now, you
might wonder how the story of Joseph ends, ending Genesis along with it. By
revealing himself to his brothers, Joseph sets in motion the move of his family
to Egypt, thus enabling them to survive the famine. He really serves as the
protagonist to move his family into a successful immigration and a new life.
Where is God in all of these actions? God’s history is like this: In Genesis
46:2 - - the conclusion of Genesis - , God tells Jacob, “I myself will go down
with you to Egypt”. And God does not appear again until Exodus, when the next
devastating situation calls a hero and prophet, Moses, to bring his people out
from Egypt and return to Canaan. God’s vision for us still writes its song of
freedom even when we are not certain about our own song-writing. God uses you
to preserve life for all - - It is God’s vision for all of us, as it was for
Israel.
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