From Conspiracy to Grace and Mercy
From Genesis 37:29-36
A staged crime scene. A cover-up. A conspiracy amongst brothers.
Genesis 37:29-36 is one scene in the long, twisting saga that tells the story of our patriarchs. Specifically, this scene belongs in the story of Jacob and his beloved son Joseph.
Out of Jacob’s 12 sons, Joseph was his favorite—a fact that Joseph seemed to know and relish. Not only did Joseph have the privilege of being the most beloved son born to the most beloved wife, but Joseph was a dreamer of dreams and, more significantly, a sharer of those dreams.
Joseph had a dream that his brothers would one day bow down to him and decided it was wise and fruitful to share this dream—without humility—with those older brothers.
The dream and the arrogance and the privilege was all too much; eventually, the brothers hatched a plot to murder their brother Joseph.
Our text today is the aftermath of their scheming. Long story short, the brothers’ plan evolves from murder to abandonment to selling into slavery.
To cover up their absent brother, they kill a goat, smear its blood on Joseph’s beautiful coat, and then present that coat to Jacob as proof of Joseph’s unfortunate (and entirely blameless) demise in the wilderness.
This scene shows little that is good about human instinct and, instead, so much about desire and jealousy and self-preservation. Yet this scene is one in a long, long line of the way the patriarchs’ families interact with one another.
Remember all of the tricks, deceit, neglect, abandonment, and lies present in the stories of Abraham and his sons Ishmael and Isaac, then Isaac with his sons Jacob and Esau, and then Jacob with his father-in-law Laban. All of that leads to now when Jacob has 2 wives, 2 concubines, and 12 sons amongst them—but only one son is beloved.
Rewind the story a few scenes to the moment when Jacob re-encounters Esau more than a decade after the stolen blessing and inheritance.
Jacob knows that Esau is on the horizon—the two brothers are waiting to confront each, but the last interaction they had with one another was one of utter betrayal.
Jacob is prepared with all sorts of lavish gifts and riches to give to his brother when they finally meet but Esau, upon finally seeing his brother, runs to Jacob, embraces him, and kisses him. The two brothers weep.
Then Esau asks why Jacob has brought so much stuff to give to Esau and Jacob says, “To find favor with you.” But Esau responds, with, “I have enough, my brother; keep what you have for yourself.”
Grace. Mercy.
After generations of tricks, deceit, disproportional privilege and favor, one brother gives us a tiny glimpse of forgiveness.
One brother—now the outsider in this story—chooses to break the cycle of one-upmanship and to simply extend mercy. After more than a decade to ponder on his brother’s actions and the pain it caused him, Esau was working his way to reconciliation rather than rage.
Esau’s act of grace is both inspiring and challenging, but taken in its context of the way his family was set up to manage conflict, it is nearly miraculous.
One might think that this moment of undeserved mercy would re-set Jacob’s orientation towards his own family. One might think that an experience of grace this profound might forever alter the way this father would relate to his own sons.
I wonder what the story of our patriarchs would look like if this moment with Esau had indeed been a conversion moment for Jacob. What sort of leader would Jacob, Joseph, and all those who came after have been if their legacy had been one of God’s provision and magnanimous mercy?
And what about us?
If we call ourselves Christ-followers, we have all experienced an Esau-like grace a million times over. We have all been greeted in the middle of the desert, fully expecting to be met with the rage or disappointment or anger that was due us, and instead been wrapped up in a giant embrace.
This is a moment that could forever alter our relationships and even our legacy.
Our experience of this sort of undeserved grace certainly forever alters us, but it is up to us to still choose how and if we will alter others.
Do we continue systems of relating where survival and self-interest prevail? Or do we find ways to allow radical grace to take the lead?
The patriarchs are proof enough that choosing the latter is not natural or easy. But neither are elaborate schemes to cover-up crimes against humanity.
Rev. Shelley Woodruff, Pastor for Community Engagement, First Baptist Church of Decatur