Quotes Worth Contemplating for September 8
Short of murder, it would be difficult for someone to show better how much he hated his little brother than by selling him into slavery.
Which was exactly what Joseph’s brothers did to him.
It would also be difficult for a man to show his whole-hearted forgiveness of the betrayal of his older siblings who had, from pure spite, sold him into slavery than by throwing a sumptuous banquet in their honor, loading them with expensive presents, and giving them 1,200 square miles of the most gorgeous real estate in the whole country over which he happened to have been made grand vizier.
Which was exactly what Joseph did to his brothers.
The story of Joseph in the Old Testament is well known and extremely edifying. Edifying because we sense that Joseph was under no obligation to forgive his brothers; he had every natural right to exact justice from them for the all-but-unpardonable abuse to which they subjected him as a child — ripping him away from his family, dooming him to a life of servitude among not only strangers but heathens; lying about his disappearance in order not to have to face the shame of their treachery.
And then one day the tables are turned. We read breathlessly how these perverse men are brought into the presence of the lord of Egypt who recognizes them but is not recognized by them. We, too, tremble with emotion as we watch his prudence keep a tight rein on the emotions that would otherwise overwhelm him. He has already forgiven them, of course, but he must determine if they are able to accept that forgiveness. If they are still the cruel, proud men they were twenty years ago, then all the good things Joseph wishes to lavish on them as tokens of his sincere love will only be to their detriment.
So Joseph tests them (cf. Gen. 44:1–34). He gives them a golden opportunity to rid themselves of Daddy’s new favorite, Benjamin. They decline. They have learned their lesson. They have regretted their treatment of Joseph, and, if they could take it back, they would.
Seeing the barrier of their unnatural hatred reduced to rubble by the long years of living with the guilt of their sin, Joseph does what you would expect any lover of the true God — indeed, any Christian — to do. He pardons them.
Joseph could no longer refrain himself before many that stood by: whereupon he commanded that all should go out, and no stranger be present at their knowing one another. And he lifted up his voice with weeping, which the Egyptians and all the house of Pharao heard. And he said to his brethren: I am Joseph: is my father yet living? His brethren could not answer him, being struck with exceeding great fear. (Gen. 45: 1–3)
Joseph’s brothers were not only shocked — they were terrified. Why? They knew that if ever a man could be expected to let the full weight of his power fall like a tidal wave of wrath upon those who had maltreated him, that man was Joseph, and those miscreants were themselves. But that is not what happened. Instead,
he said mildly to them: Come nearer to me. And when they were come near him, he said: I am Joseph, your brother, whom you sold into Egypt. Be not afraid, and let it not seem to you a hard case that you sold me into these countries: for God sent me before you into Egypt for your preservation…that you may be preserved upon the earth, and may have food to live. Not by your counsel was I sent hither, but by the will of God: who hath made me as it were a father to Pharao, and lord of his whole house, and governor in all the land of Egypt. Make haste, and go ye up to my father, and say to him: Thus saith thy son Joseph: God hath made me lord of the whole land of Egypt: come down to me, linger not. And thou shalt dwell in the land of Gessen: and thou shalt be near me, thou and thy sons, and thy sons’ sons, thy sheep, and thy herds, and all things that thou hast. And there I will feed thee, (for there are yet five years of famine remaining), lest both thou perish, and thy house, and all things that thou hast. Behold, your eyes, and the eyes of my brother Benjamin see that it is my mouth that speaketh to you. You shall tell my father of all my glory, and all things that you have seen in Egypt: make haste and bring him to me.
And falling upon the neck of his brother Benjamin, he embraced him and wept: and Benjamin in like manner wept also on his neck. And Joseph kissed all his brethren, and wept upon every one of them: after which they were emboldened to speak to him. (Gen. 45:4–15)
When it became clear that it was mercy and not justice they were to receive from Joseph, the sons of Jacob marveled. That this man, their brother, their victim, now godlike in his power over them, should find his greatest joy in being equally godlike in his absolution of their guilt was something they struggled to understand.
And well they might.
Mysteries are not meant to be understood. They are meant to be wondered at. Pondered. Appreciated. Delighted in. They are meant to draw us by the odor of their sweetness and enrapture us with the splendor of their darkness; to raise our hearts and expand our minds towards realities not of this world but beyond it.
And Christian forgiveness is undoubtedly such a mystery.
It is, furthermore, a mystery which should draw our gaze throughout the holy season of Easter.
After His Resurrection, Our Lord forgave His Apostles for abandoning Him, even denying ever having known Him. Like Joseph’s brethren, the Apostles were not expecting this. They probably knew — or at least sensed — that in strict justice they should be demoted from their favored positions as intimates of the Messias, for they had not behaved as loyal subjects. Far from it. He would be right to seek out others to sit upon those promised thrones and judge the Twelve Tribes of Israel.
Our Lord, however, did not feel that way.
All had gone according to plan. God’s Plan, of course, not their plan. Had they erred? Yes. Were they sorry? Then He would pardon them.
Are we sorry? Then our merciful Jesus will pardon us, too. Not till seven times only, but till seventy times seven times. Love does such things.
Joseph’s love did. Christ’s love did. Let our love likewise be as generous in its forgiveness as theirs was that we, too, may be children of Our Father Who is in Heaven (cf. Mt. 5:45) — this Easter and always. Alleluia!
