Joseph part two

The trouble with belonging to the revgalblogpals group (which is just what it sounds like - a group for ordained women from all traditions over the world) is that I read their thoughtful, learned, beautifully crafted sermons and I feel hopelessly inadequate! As I said to my Spiritual Director a few weeks ago, I want to be a Priest of 15 years experience... right now.

God, grant me patience :)

Sermon 17-8-14

Joseph 2

Everyone likes a happy ending, right? And it seems as if that is what we are given today. Joseph’s brothers have repented, Joseph is restored to his father, Egypt is saved from the famine and all is well with the world.

The trouble is, when we skip to the happy ending we miss all of the messiness in the middle. And it is in this messiness that the true nature of humanity and God becomes clear.

We saw in last week’s reading that Genesis 37 presents no virtues for Joseph that should win our admiration or our sympathy for his character. He is a tattle-tale and a braggart, and he is clearly the favourite of his father Jacob. We may not describe him as a bad guy, but he doesn’t quite come across as a good guy, either. We initially root for him because he is the one the camera lens -- i.e., the narrative’s point of view -- follows. The camera follows him because of who he is: the favourite son of Jacob, i.e., Israel, and Israel has been chosen by God. In the Joseph story, everybody plays favorites, even (dare I say it) God.

As we read through the Joseph cycle, Joseph’s character becomes more complex. We discover in Genesis 39 that Joseph is handsome and successful, rising to the position of overseer over his fellow slaves. We hear Joseph’s piety shine through when he refuses Potiphar’s wife’s advances and, as a consequence, is imprisoned on false charges of sexual assault.

In chapters 40 and 41 we learn that Joseph is skilled in dream interpretation, and, upon interpreting Pharaoh’s dream, he advises Pharaoh to store up 20% of the harvest in seven years of abundance to feed the land in seven years of famine. He becomes Pharaoh’s second-in-command: “Thus Joseph gained authority over the land of Egypt” (Genesis 41:45).

In chapter 42, Joseph’s family life and his work life collide. Facing starvation in Canaan, Jacob sends his sons to Egypt to buy some of the grain hoarded there. It should not surprise us that Joseph can recognize his brothers even though they do not recognize him; his ability to interpret dreams has already demonstrated his perspicacity.

Here is his big chance. We know now that Joseph seems to have a ‘hotline’ to God, and he is, after all, the hero of this tale. As his brothers come to him in  the deepest of need, begging him for food to save his own family, surely he will seize the chance for forgiveness and show God’s love and mercy to his wayward family?

Well, no. 

Instead of reconciliation, Joseph meets his brothers with manipulation. He pretends not to know them, accuses them of spying, throws them all in jail for three days, and demands that after they take their grain home, they return to Egypt with Benjamin, their youngest brother. He even has Simeon bound and held in Egypt to guarantee their return. He sneaks the money they paid for the grain back into their sacks, surely a gesture of generosity but understood by the brothers, terrified of the powerful governor and racked with guilt, as a sure indication that stealing will be added to their spying charges.

Citing the loss of both Joseph and Simeon, Jacob refuses to allow Benjamin to return with the brothers to Egypt (playing favourites again!) until the family is out of food again and left with no other choice. The emotional roller coaster continues for the brothers in chapters 43 and 44, when Joseph feasts with his family, including the newly favorite son Benjamin.

Rather than reveal his identity now, Joseph has his own silver cup slipped into Benjamin’s sack, setting him up for a charge of stealing. Judah, who, at Genesis 37:26 lobbied for selling Joseph rather than killing him, steps in to plead for Benjamin’s release for the sake of their father Jacob, whose “life is bound up in the boy’s life” . It is at this point, with Jacob’s life on the line, that Joseph makes himself known to his brothers.

It seems clear that Joseph had always intended to assist his family in their time of need, so why the manipulation? It is clear in the text that Joseph knows exactly what he is doing at all times, turning away to hide his tears, so why did he continue to punish his brothers and his father in such a way? What does this story have to tell us of the nature of God?

Or is this the wrong question? Should we instead be asking what this tells us of the nature of those through whom God works?

Joseph was far from a perfect person. He was no saint. He was in many ways the complete opposite of the powerless, humble and hungry people Jesus says will inherit the kingdom of God. And yet, within his brokenness, and through the tatters of his family (unrepentant favouritist Israel included), God works so save God’s people.  The situation is still not perfect – despite his status Joseph is still a slave and seems to have no heart for others who are not so lucky as him – but somehow, God is able to start to make things right.

Joseph assures his brothers that his imprisonment and enslavement where not through their actions, but through the power of God. I disagree. As I said last week, there is no room in God’s kingdom for ‘the end justifies the means’ or cruelty disguised as necessity. Our thoughts, words and actions are our own – that is part of the great gift of freedom God has given us. And we can use this freedom to hurt or to heal – often both. The good news is that God fills our cracks and uses our brokenness – even when we can’t see it at the time.

The concept of ‘brokenness’ is not one we would normal associate with Jesus. Neither is that of change - the mere thought of a God who is capable of change can seem to some unspeakably unsettling. But today, in the Canaanite woman’s intense experience with Jesus, we see evidence of both of these states.

Jesus doesn’t want to hear this woman, shouting in the streets the way only prostitutes of the time were allowed to do… but he stops. He doesn’t want to listen, but he does. Perhaps this is evidence of the divine – that when confronted with evidence of his own short sightedness, he does not dismiss but embraces and celebrates the person who brings them to him. Jesus was human. Jesus had the potential to close the boundaries of God’s love – but chose instead to engage with one counted lower than the dogs – a foreigner, a woman – and in this engagement experienced a new way of seeing himself and his ministry. It is interesting to note that Joseph’s brothers came from the land of Canaan as well – is there significance in this as a place of isolation from God and God’s mission? The land of Canaan in the time of Jacob and Joseph was reliant of Joseph’s stewardship so as not to starve, now the Canaanite woman is reliant on Jesus for the life of her daughter. God’s kingdom is widened, in and through the work of God’s servants.

Perhaps as we journey through the weeks to come, as we hear and learn more of the persecution and fear so many of God’s children are living and dying with, we can remember how far and wide the boundaries of God’s kingdom really go. Joseph was so very human, unable to forgive his family without retaliation. Jesus, too, human yet divine, able to hear a woman’s cry for her daughter and to embrace new knowledge of his mission beyond the Jewish people.

May we too be able to stop, hear and love.

I know, I know, it's been a while. <blush>

But I need somewhere to record my sermons, so I'll just have to get back into it!

This week I spoke about the Joseph cycle in Genesis and the wonderful story of the Cannanite woman in Matthew. This followed on from the beginning of the Joseph story last week, so I may as well post both. Observe.

Sermon 10-8-14

Joseph part one

No one I know comes from a perfect family. And while no family I know is exactly like Joseph’s, which is probably just as well seeing as we tend to frown on polygamy these days, every family is weakened by the things that weakened Joseph’s: generational dysfunction, parents working out their unresolved issues in the lives of their children, and by love unevenly—even unfairly—apportioned.

In Genesis 37 we are introduced to Joseph as the favourite son of his father Jacob (or Israel). This is in no minor issue because Joseph is the son of Rachel, his father’s favourite wife. Thus the story opens with a theme that is already familiar to us – family division and dissention. It is not long before tension arises between Joseph and his brothers. He gives an ill report of them to their father. His father in turn is said to love him more than the others and favours him with a special coat (one with long sleeves, not multi-coloured as tradition has it). This leads to hatred between the siblings. There are of course similarities with earlier stories in Genesis, especially the divisions between Isaac and Ishmael, Jacob and Esau (Genesis 25 and 27), all of which are traced back to parental favouritism. The brothers are further enraged when Joseph has dreams in which the whole family bows down to him. So the stage is set for the dramatic events to follow.

When Joseph speaks about his dreams to his family, they are threatened by his words. Certainly Joseph was not exactly thoughtful in his presentation – to me it sounds as if he is deliberately rubbing his brother’s faces in his ultimate power. Perhaps this is how he has been taught to relate through his father. Perhaps their reaction, of anger and fear, is only to be expected under the circumstances of their family and upbringing.

Regardless of why it happens, when these sons of Israel are given the opportunity to rid the world of these dreams, they seize the opportunity, saying “, ‘Here comes this dreamer. Come now, let us kill him and throw him into one of the pits; then we shall say that a wild animal has devoured him, and we shall see what will become of his dreams.’”

Let us see what will become of his dreams.

I think we all have dreams. We all have an idea, a plan, a vision of what our lives are going to be like. It is a sad state when our dreams disappear. Sometimes they do. Because we know there is evil, and there is disaster, and things happen that shouldn’t. This has been true since the fall. And at those times it is so hard to find God at work, so hard to find our dreams in the ruins of our lives and our hopes.

This evil seems far too easy to find. We are living in a country which is turning away people who have come to us in need – men, women and children whose only crime is to have a dream of a better life. We hear every day of the hundreds of innocent lives taken every day on the gaza strip – of bombs blowing away places of safety, of families ripped apart forever. As a society, where do we see God? How can we possibly reconcile the pain and destruction of the world with a loving, creative father, with a God who is tormented by our anguish and hurt by our cries?

This is where the easy answers fail. This is where we find out in whom our faith really lies. Because if we give in too easily to our desire for a neat and ordered world, then we see God as either cruel or indifferent. Cruel enough to punish God’s people with bombs and fire and destruction, or indifferent enough to stand aside and watch as we destroy ourselves.

There is another way. It is not as safe as a God who has predestined everything, a puppet master pulling our strings. It doesn’t allow us to rest assured in the knowledge that if there IS a God, he doesn’t care enough about his creation to intercede.

We worship a God who works good in and through the evil of the world.

We may ask why God allowed Joseph’s brothers to plan to have him killed? Why did he allow a family situation that was so clearly dysfunctional?  Why does God does not stop the bombs in their tracks – stop the cancer from taking the one we love – stop brother’s and sister’s from turning against each other with violence and hate. That is not the way God directs events. He does not prevent people from going astray or making their mistakes. This is true, whether we are speaking of misreading a road map, or trying to murder your brother. God does not interfere with your decisions. He will not make you smarter or more virtuous than you are. That is entirely your own business, and you have to take the responsibility for your actions.

But here is the gospel, the good news found in the Joseph cycle: the dream of God prevails over the plans of human beings. Maybe not always in the forms God intended at first, and there may be long and trying times before it comes about, and it may come about in ways that we never expect, but the dream of God, God’s desire for the world and God’s people is still being achieved.  God is still at work in the lives of God’s people in order that the world might be restored.  We might unexpectedly find ourselves in Egypt along the way, but that’s all right.  God can work with that.

This is in no way to allow us to be relieved of responsibility for our own behaviour and decision. It is not enough to act in selfish and inhumane ways with the excuse of “the end justifies the means’, no matter what our political leaders may say. There is no room in God’s world for cruelty disguised as necessity. 

When we are in the pit, when we have been betrayed and left for dead by those who should love us the most, we can rest assured that throughout it all, God’s dream for us can not and will not be contained. 

We can continue to dream.

My daughter, myself

My daughter is not me.

I know, that seems like a really obvious statement. Of course she's not me! I'm hardly one of those 'helicopter parents', that hover over their children's every move. Nor am I a 'stage parent' vicariously living through my child in an attempt to increase my value through their actions and achievements.

But as my 6 year old daughter is becoming more and more independent and secure in her own identity, she is beginning to assert her own ideas and ideals over and above my own. And so, I have had to come to the conclusion...

My daughter is not me.

I have been proactive in raising my children in as much of a gender neutral, sex positive way as I could. Both of my children are comfortable in 'boys' and 'girls' clothing and feel able to explore 'boy' and 'girl' activities. My daughter knows she is a girl, that she will become a woman, but I have tried my utmost to ensure that this doesn't influence her to restrict her behaviours or expectations of herself. As we frequently say, the only thing woman can do that men can't do is carry a baby in their uterus, and unless something is operated by a penis it's not just for boys. We notice and speak about unreal messages in the media and de-construct the way it tries to influence us. My daughter is getting to be a pretty savvy consumer!

So why does it bother me so much that she still loves to play princesses? That for a while her favourite colour was pink? That wearing a pretty dress with sparkles makes her face light up the way plain shorts and a top don't? That she loves her long blonde hair and wants to grow it so she can be a mermaid?

When I realised how much these things bothered me, I had to look deep inside to see why. Sure, I was a 'tomboy' who hated dresses and used to wish I was a boy, but did I really want her to do the same? If I really am trying not to put gender restrictions on my children, why does it distress me when my daughter embraces the 'girly'? As it so often does, it goes right back to my own childhood (thank you Dr Freud).

As I have said, I have never been one for the 'girly', either the label or the accoutrements. Growing up, my deepest desire was to be 'one of the gang'. I hated dresses and was never too fussed on dolls. I remember aged about 10 lying in the bath having bitter recriminations with God about why I had been made a girl when boys had so much more fun.

And there I think we have it. Growing up in the 1980's and 1990's, gender stereotypes were strongly enforced. Girls couldn't be superheroes, they couldn't be warriors or firefighters or chairmen of banks... or if they could, it wasn't visible to my 10 year old eyes. I wanted to feel strong and powerful too, but as I saw it this was only an option for the men. The girls I knew didn't roughhouse or wrestle – they had tea parties. They didn't play basketball or football or even handball – they danced. Or played netball. Girl sports.

They didn't do subjects like Manuel Arts or Physics or Maths C. They did Biology and Hospitality. They didn't play games at lunch time or run around with their friends – they sat. And talked to each other. About boys and clothes and stuff that I have never really cared about. Stuff that I never embraced.

Now, at 32, I am finally happy to be a woman. I love my body, the way it carried and fed my beautiful children. I love that I can be powerful and brave and strong – without having to fashion myself a penis. I can see that God really did know what She was doing when She created me – just as I am.

So I look at my sparkly princess fairy fighter superhero yellow belt daughter, and I am so pleased that she can embrace all of those parts of herself. She allows herself to be a girl because she sees no restrictions because of it. She challenges the expectations put on her by society and by me just by being authentically who she is – more than my daughter, but a child growing into a woman all on her own.

And I thank God for her every single day.

Indoctrination and Imaginings

This week I had my usual RE lessons with my Grade seven classes at the local primary school. Yes, I am one of those scary people who insidiously work our way into the secular school and try and indoctrinate the children with our fundamentalist theology - or I spend half an hour a week talking to them about God and how to live in God's creation. You know, the usual.

For the last few weeks we have been talking about the ten commandments, and this week we were speaking about those that teach us about how we live with other people - specifically the one normally translated as "You shall not commit adultery". For my teaching I use an excellent version by Ben Van Arragon, which says "We will respect our bodies and the bodies of other people."

We will respect our bodies. Fine. We spoke about eating mainly healthy food, doing plenty of fun exercise and not poisoning it with drugs, alcohol or smoking. The kids were totally with me here! Plenty of suggestions, they knew the drill. We spoke a bit about how God made us and thinks that we are perfect just the way we are, about the pressures to look a certain way and about how damaging that could be. This was a little more challenging for them, as we spoke briefly about Photoshop and social media distorting our ideas of what is 'normal'.

But then came the killer.

How do we respect the bodies of other people? We all know that's it's mean to beat people up, to push them or hurt them... but then we started to speak about progressive consent. I didn't use those words, not at first. We spoke about how sometimes I touch their shoulder as I walked past. I asked if, because they didn't seem to mind me touching their shoulders, that meant I could give them a hug. Well, they thought that was HILARIOUS! Of course I couldn't go round hugging them! Well, I said, what if they were ok with a hug - did that mean I could kiss them? Over the noise of 25 grade sevens pretending to puke I started to talk about the concept of progressive consent - that for every action I wanted to take I needed to get their clear and loud consent, and that this applied to every relationship in their lives. We spoke about 'no' or 'stop' being a clear message that meant we had to stop what we were doing immediately, even if the person seemed to be enjoying it. We talked a little about how if they were ok with a hug yesterday that didn't mean I could hug them today, and about how if they were happy to hug their friends that didn't mean they had to hug me.

When they settled down, I could see the cogs turning in their little heads. It was clear that no one had ever explained this to them so clearly before. These kids are about to go to high school. Their hormones are running wild and for some their first sexual experiences have already started. Unfortunately my time was then up, so I couldn't follow up on this the way I wanted to. But on Tuesday, 50 kids started to learn about what it means to respect their bodies - and those of other people.

Tell me again how I am damaging these kids?

ETA These lessons became even more important to me after I spent some times on the phone with a young woman who had been sexually assaulted by her boyfriend in front of another 'friend'... and who, having broken up with said boyfriend, is being harassed by other 'friends' to take him back because "he's really sorry, and he didn't mean it". When this is seen to be ok, we are doing something wrong.

The Consecration of Alison Taylor

On April 6^th 2013, I had the great honour and privilege of serving as deacon at the consecration to Bishop in the Anglican Communion of Alison Taylor. Not only was it my first time serving in this capacity at the 'mothership' (aka Cathedral), but it was also the first time a woman has been consecrated to this position in Brisbane, the 4^th in Australia and only the 34^th worldwide. This experience has touched me deeply, pulling me into the potential of the future as well as pushing me back into my own past.

I was never a particularly 'girly girl'. Growing up in the 80's,, my mum would sew me the most beautiful skirts, delicate tops, flouncy dresses. And we would have screaming, tearful arguments about why I should wear them to my friends party rather than the jeans and t shirt I had planned. I was an early female member of my local cub scout group, forcing my father to become a scout leader for three years so I could go on camps as the only girl. I remember lying in the bath at around 10 years old bitterly wondering why God had made me a girl when boys seemed to be able to run faster, climb higher, punch harder. Don't get me wrong, I was never confused as to my gender identity for a minute, but really, boys seemed to get the better deal.

Then puberty hit, and as an early bloomer I became very attractive to the boys. This changed things!I still preferred pants to skirts and would rather DO something than WATCH it, but there seemed to be some compensations for being a girl that I hadn't come across till now. And I showed some ability in science, maths and literature that helped me to see I could 'compete' with the boys on a more even footing – suddenly being a girl didn't seem so bad.

I grew up surrounded by strong women – my mother, my grandmothers and my God-mother have always been huge influences in my life. So in 1992, at 11 years old, it was a given that I would go (in a dress!) and see my beloved godmother be ordained as an Anglican priest.

To be honest I don't have many memories of this time. I remember a crowded cathedral. I remember lots of people in long white dresses, men and women, looking very formal and a bit nervous. I remember the sound of a huge organ filling all available space. And I remember a crowd of dirty, hairy old men striding down the cathedral in the middle of the ceremony, yelling and pointing at the ordinands waiting to fulfil their calling as priests in the Anglican Church. I don't remember much about what happened next, but my god-mother and her colleagues were duly ordained and took their place in the ordained ministry of the Anglican church.

Maybe I was sheltered, maybe naïve, maybe I was just a typical self centred pre teen, but I never understood the fuss over whether or not women could be priests. My parents were both teachers, so surely (in my mind) men and women could do the same job without any differentiation? I had no understanding of the exclusive 'maleship' of God or of Christ – indeed, if God and through God Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit were as integral to my being as my very breath, how could they be male? It was a no brainer – to restrict the gender of priests was to restrict God, and that can only be wrong. Until I left school however it was really a moot point – I knew female priests existed, I even knew some, but this issue was not particularly relevant to me.

Until I felt the call. It began when I was finishing grade 12, set on going to university to study music, sure that this was my path. But there was always that small voice, pushed to the side with exasperation - “what about being a priest?”.

Later, as a finished my Bachelor of Music degree, the voice got more insistent. I started talking about the idea of priests in general with those around me, testing out the thought in my brain, on my tongue. Performing in a Church one day with a group of friends, I tentatively ventured the idea that I may be back one day in a different calling. My friend collapsed in laughter - “You're a woman! Women can't be priests!”. I didn't ask why not.

My journey continued as I started studying theology, applied for discernment (which begins the process leading to ordination), was knocked back, kept studying, had a baby, applied and got into the formation program, got cancer, kept studying, had another baby, kept studying and finally was ordained as a Deacon in the Anglican Church last year.

Did being a woman hold me back? Does it still? Truthfully, I don't know. Sometimes, it was probably an advantage. Certainly as a mother with a young family I have an automatic bond with other parents. Probably some people feel more comfortable talking to me exactly BECAUSE I don't look or act like a 'typical' minister. But the kind of people I work with, minister to and are surrounded by are not the kind of people who have a problem with my ministry as an ordained woman anyway, so I wouldn't know. I know that some of the kids I teach Christian Religious Education to have never been exposed to an ordained woman before, but certainly it doesn't seem to bother them. I know that there will be times that I am not going to be the most appropriate minister for a particular circumstance, and some of that will probably be down to my gender. If someone is so uncomfortable with my position and gender that it becomes a barrier between them and God, and there is not enough time to show them how God is at work in and through me, then I hope I will be graceful in my acceptance of this. If by God's will I am ordained as a priest it breaks my heart that my ordination will not be recognised in some parts of the Anglican Church, even here in Australia. But my hope is that as women become more visible members of the body of Christ, as we minister to God's people with our special gifts as women and priests in God's Church, we can start to break through these barriers and see the Christ in all of us.

So this, this is why it was such an incredible, Spirit-full occasion to be a part of the service that tied Bishop Alison to us with bonds that can't be broken. Because in affirming her vocation we affirm that God is not limited by human boundaries or understandings, that Christ is not found exclusively in those with male genitalia, that the Spirit fills us in ways that are beyond any of our limited human understanding. And my children now have the opportunity to grow up knowing that nothing can separate them from God. Nothing.