“Am I in the Place of God?”

Genesis 50:15-21

First Presbyterian Church of Jamestown , New York

The Reverend Thomas A. Sweet, Pastor

September 14, 2008

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I was given a book of poems this week entitled Secrets of Chautauqua by Martin Willow.  I am embarrassed to say that I do not know Martin Willow though the book’s cover informs that he lives year round on Chautauqua Lake .  But he is on my radar now.  His poems, his lyrical hymns to Chautauqua – the lake, the Institution, the county – are beautiful.  

Though it has nothing to do, really, with today’s sermon, I want to read one of them to you because, of course, it has everything to do with today’s sermon and our lives in this paradise of a place in which we live.  

Speaking of paradise, one of my brothers sent a birthday greeting to me this week in which he said, “By the way, would you do me a favor?  Quit talking about what a paradise that area is.  Steve (my brother’s daughter’s boyfriend who just moved to the southern tier to take his first job out of college) is beginning to say the same thing and Allie (my brother’s daughter and Steve’s girlfriend) saw a whole new Jamestown when she visited you a few weeks ago.  With my luck, my whole family will end up there just about the time I want to retire to Arizona .”  And Emily made me one of her wonderful, homemade birthday cards that read, “I hope your birthday is a paradise.”  So paradiso, paradise, seems to be a synchronistic theme with me this week and all of the references to it have to do with here and now and this life, and not some ethereal hereafter, and that seems to me to be the appropriate domain and balance of religion if it is to hold any meaning for our lives and world.  Whatever paradise comes after this life is up to God but we are given the joy and job of forming and shaping this present one.  

Well, this talk about paradise is a digression from my earlier digression about poems that have nothing, yet everything, to do with the sermon.  So, from Secrets of Chautauqua, here is a poem called  

Labor  Day  

                                                Labor Day

                                                The turning point of summer

                                                The day vacationers go home

                                                To Cleveland , Pittsburgh

                                                And other cities east

 

                                                Bemus Pops, summer’s last fling

                                                Does not disappoint again this year

                                                Heads full up in music

                                                Bellies full of wine

                                                Boats gather as tables of strangers and friends

                                                Sharing hor d’oeuvres, cocktails, and fireworks

                                                And then they are gone                                               

 

Year-round inhabitants have the lake to themselves

                                                A hideaway from workday stress

                                                Trees explode, an autumnal parade

                                                Greens and golds, red purple dance

                                                Boats are nowhere to be found.

 

                                                Soon docks will be taken in

                                                Shutters hammered shut, flagpoles disrobed

                                                The Yacht Club will hibernate once again

 

                                                Fish come bigger this time of year

                                                As muskies emerge from the depths

                                                Lingering atop drop-offs to pick off strays

                                                Fattening themselves with fuel to warm

                                                The leanness of winter

 

                                                Low-flying geese in V-formation journey south

                                                Through thrusting winds that skirt wave crests

                                                As if on skis of their own

                                                Racing Chautauqua to its farthest bank

 

                                                Dark clouds approach filled with cold rain

                                                Heralding the sleet of late October

 

                                                When the sun shines it is all mine as it tosses

                                                Sunlight like champagne to the wind

                                                Goblets of gold and platinum onto Chautauqua

                                                Igniting the horizon like a flash fire

                                                Burning the evening sky

                                                Then slipping unseen into trees that fence the night

                                                Extinguished by the black sea above

 

                                                In early October after Labor Day is spent

                                                Chautauqua retreats to its own place of rest

                                                Natural, pure, honest

                                                And though it poses with a face of slate

                                                It resolves to withstand the fall and harsh winter

                                                Returning in Spring with magic and unexpected life (1)

 

On the surface, the poem has little to do with the story of Joseph, the end of which we read today in our scripture, except that place, as it was for Joseph with so much of his life centered in the topography and politics of Egypt, place is a defining feature of our lives and the poem depicts our place.  Here is where the particularities of love and grace and hope and sin and mercy and sorrow and joy get worked out in us and our lives.  If we are not mindful of the geographical and social landscapes around us, we are not likely to appreciate the emotional and psychological landscapes within us.  Understanding our interior terrain is important for, as Karen Armstrong, a Chautauqua favorite, writes:

 

From the first, Genesis teaches us that a blessed life is possible for

                                    all creatures; we all can find our correct element and thrive therein.

                                    But the inescapable message of Genesis is that blessing and enlighten-

                                    ment are not achieved by acquiring facts and believing doctrines…

                                    Instead, knowledge means self-knowledge and an understanding                                                                 of the mystery of our own being.  We also have to recognize the

                                    sacred mystery of (all others with whom we share this life).

 

 

Place also can refer to the positions we occupy in our lives.  It was in this sense that Joseph, in response to his brothers’ prior treachery against him and their fear of him because he had advanced to a high and powerful position in Pharaoh’s court, said, “Do not be afraid!  Am I in the place of God?”  

In other words, Joseph was telling his brothers that we, all of us, share a common humanity.  No doubt that is why Jesus, in teaching about prayer, taught us to say, “Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.”  Joseph knew that some of his brothers’ earlier enmity toward him had at least some basis in his own actions.  So it is to Joseph’s credit that, when he had the power to lord it over his brothers, he was restrained, perhaps even contrite, and surely compassionate.  “Do not be afraid!  Am I in the place of God?...Have no fear; I myself will provide for you and your little ones.”  “In this way,” the writer of Genesis adds, “Joseph reassured the brothers, speaking kindly to them.”  

How important it is for us to realize that none of us can stand in the place of God.  All of us experience difficulty in remaining physically, morally, and spiritually intact through a lifetime.  None of our lives are comprised solely of straight lines from start to finish but contain also many crooked ones.  Life is difficult.  Most of us get bloodied soon or late, damaged in some way, and do damage.  The genius of the Genesis stories, and the Joseph story is no exception, is that even their protagonists and heroes have foibles, flaws, and failures.  All share the glorious, dubious, noble lot of human being.  Of being human.  We are not expected to fill in for God.  It is for us to become as truly and fully human as possible and, in so doing, then it is that our lives will take on the glow and glory of divinity.  

“Am I in the place of God?”  We do well to remember that question and ask it of ourselves from time to time.  The Old Testament prophet Micah says to God’s people, “God has told you what is good.  What does God require of you?”  In other words, what is the human task?  What is the place of the human being in the economy of God’s realm?  What is our place in it all?  

Micah’s answer is that our place, our work, our joy is “to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with God” wherever we are.  It is not our place to seek revenge or to get even against those who do wrong to us.  That is as true on the international stage as it is in our dealings in our own families and neighborhoods.  The sentence in the Bible that makes me sure of that is when St. Paul writes to the Galatians, “Do not be deceived.  God is not mocked…”  We “live and move and have our being in God” and so we are now and eternally secure even if we are not always safe.  Everything that happens to us, with us, among us, or even because of us happens within the reality we call God and, as we heard Joseph say to his misguided brothers, “Even though you intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good…”      Martin Luther King said it this way: “The moral arc of the universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”  

It is not our place to arrange and re-arrange the verities of the world.  It is not our place to figure out all of the mysteries of God and life because, mostly, they cannot be figured anyway.  Herb Gardener, in his play entitled A Thousand Clowns, says,  

                                    This is the shape of life.  There is always so much more to any event

                                    than we humans can see on the surface.  Do not ever assume you

                                    know everything about anything.  Every day is a little car filled

                                    with a thousand clowns.  Learn to be humble and a friend of mystery

                                    and who knows how you will be surprised.

 

Finally Joseph, because he knew he was not to be in the place of God, learned humility, became a friend of mystery, and came to savor kindness and thus his brothers were grandly and wonderfully surprised by his grace, and relationships that had been torn asunder were reconciled and healed.  

Perhaps Joseph, if he were here today, would say, “Go and do likewise.”  In his absence, I shall, speaking first of all, as always, to myself.  

Amen.  

(1) Willow , Martin, Secrets of Chautauqua, 2007.

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