Joseph, Con Artist For God
The 5-Minute Version
Our community just finished reading Genesis, and I just lectured the VB Fellows on how the story of Joseph sheds light on some of the more mysterious aspects of the Jesus’s ministry. So I thought I’d give the 5-minute version here. Enjoy!
The events of Joseph’s life span an impressive fourteen chapters (37-50) at the end of the Book of Genesis, to be rivaled only by the story of Abraham in length. Though the basic elements of the narrative are well-known (e.g. rainbow coat, betrayed by his brothers, interprets dreams, saves Egypt and his family), the actual account of Joseph’s life in Scripture reveals a more mysterious picture…and a deeper well. Through the lens of Christ, these more mysterious elements of Joseph’s story come into new light, and vice versa. Through the lens of Joseph, we can begin to see the ministry of Jesus with new clarity. Jesus, like the sun, is often too bright for us to behold all at once in the Gospel accounts. Yet, by his light, we see everything and everyone else in Scripture more clearly, especially the Old Testament patriarchs. And they, in turn, give us new and better glimpses of him. There isn’t room in this “5-minute version” to go into all the ways this is true of Joseph’s story (and believe me, there are many), but let’s consider just one.
There is a recurring riddle in the Gospel accounts, about which I have written elsewhere: Why isn’t Jesus more forthright with his disciples from the beginning? Why does he let them wallow in confusion for so long? Why not be more clear with his own? Think of his conversation with Peter in Mark 8, paraphrased below. And remember that this comes after eight straight chapters of actively veiling his identity (e.g. After performing signs: “See that you don’t tell anyone…” etc):
Jesus: “Who do you say that I am?”
Peter: “You are the Christ, the son of the living God!”
Jesus: “Don’t tell anyone this. Also…I’m going to be killed.”
Peter: “No, Lord! This shall never happen to you.”
Jesus: “Get behind me Satan. You are a stumbling block to me. You do not have in mind the things of God but the things of men.”
Especially at this crucial moment of revelation, why does Jesus insist on muddying the waters yet again?
Because, in short, new wine requires new wineskins. Revelation alone isn’t enough. Moses could not see the face of God, not because God was unwilling or unable to reveal himself, but because Moses was unable to behold him. Even the perfect seed requires fertile soil to bear fruit. Thus, the disciples must be pruned of their false beliefs and expectations, which, if Jesus spoke more straightforwardly, they might be tempted to pin to him. Nothing is harder to understand than the thing you already understand, wrongly. “Oh, you’re the Messiah!” they might say. “I know exactly what this means.” But no, they don’t, because without abiding—without following and trusting and obeying Jesus’s long-game plan of redemption—their idea of the Messiah will be nothing more than a damnable misunderstanding. They will end up more like Judas than Peter. Jesus will not let old wineskins carry new wine. So he spends most of his ministry not so much pouring out new wine as forming new wineskins, lest the skins explode and the wine be wasted on the ground (Matthew 9:17).
In this sense, Jesus’s ministry resembles that of Joseph perhaps more than any other figure in Scripture. (Interestingly, Jesus’s earthly father is a man named Joseph, and his grandfather, according to Matthew, was named Jacob.) In Genesis 37, we read that Joseph is the favorite son of Jacob, who is almost murdered and then sold into slavery by his envious brothers. Despite trials of many kinds, he faithfully perseveres and eventually becomes a great prince in Egypt. Years later, his brothers unknowingly come begging for food in the midst of a famine. Importantly, they do not recognize him when they come, but he recognizes them. He can see the truth. They cannot. At this point, the text subtly hints that Joseph truly loves his brothers and is already prepared, within himself, to forgive them. But his brothers show no indication of being able to receive the gift he wants to give. Their inability to recognize him is symbolic of their forgetfulness of him and of what they did to him. So, instead of simply revealing himself and forgiving them on the spot, Joseph opts for another, less direct route, which at first glance, looks more like revenge than forgiveness. He not only remains concealed to them, but adds new and deeper layers of concealment. In fact, he initiates a kind of “long-con” against (for?) his brothers, which takes a few chapters to play itself out.
It is painful to read, leading many a modern Christian reader to complain in their hearts, “Joseph, why don’t you just forgive them if you love them so much!” But no. He won’t. Not like that. Joseph understands something we don’t. So he proceeds with his long-con. He frames and accuses his brothers of a crime, forcing one brother to be held captive in Egypt while they go and retrieve the youngest son Benjamin, Jacob’s new favorite, the new “Joseph.” They don’t want to do it, but Joseph forces their hand. Then, when they finally bring Benjamin back (despite their father’s rebuttal), Joseph frames Benjamin of an even higher crime. The brothers are terrified. Deep, dark memories return to their consciousness. They have already had to live with their father’s grief, having lost one favorite son by their own misdeeds. Now it is happening again.
But, at the very last minute, Judah—the one whose idea it was to sell Joseph into slavery in the first place—does something unexpected. He steps up and says to Joseph, “Take me. Let me take my brother’s place, so he can go home to his father.” At this, Joseph finally breaks down and reveals himself. The brothers are initially frightened beholding the “resurrection” of the one they betrayed. But Joseph forgives them, insisting that it was not their misdeeds but God himself who brought him into Egypt. And the family is reconciled.
But why? Why does Joseph put his brothers through all this? Because the brothers needed more than mere revelation (which they could not have received anyway) and more than mere forgiveness (which would have been for a crime they hardly acknowledged). They needed the soil of their hearts to be tilled, so that they would finally be ready when the moment of revelation and forgiveness came.
Joseph, somehow, understood all this. Being the son of Jacob, it was in his blood to be a trickster. His father had tricked his brother Esau so that he could receive the blessing. Now Joseph had tricked his brothers so that they could receive the blessing. He perfected the family trick through love, being at once the image and the redemption of his father.
Jesus, then, is the new and final Joseph. He conceals in order to reveal at the proper time. He tricks us, not ultimately to throw us off, but to lead us finally to the proper reception of the blessing he has always wanted to give but which we could not receive until the trick reached its climactic conclusion. The cross is the climax of the trick. Stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Greeks, the cross is the moment no one was ready for, which no one (but Satan) could have wished for. And yet, somehow, the whole world was sucked into that one place and time—Jews and Gentiles, friends and enemies—to deny him, scoff at him, and nail the nails into his hands and feet. God was murdered, and we were all participants. It was a good trick, the best trick. He led the horse to water, and the horse drank. At the cross, we were forced to face ourselves and him, being simultaneously condemned and redeemed by the Light we would have otherwise eternally fled. Now, thanks to him, we can walk in the light as he is in the light and share in the blessing which he always intended to give but which we could not and would not receive, until he became the curse for us. What we meant for evil, he meant for good (Genesis 50:20). That is how Jesus was Joseph to us.
This is very good, thanks for sharing. I've wondered other times about the meaning of Jesus' analogy of the wineskins, this makes perfect sense.
Another great one Ross! On this theme, I think you would enjoy Marilynne Robinson's recent book 'Reading Genesis'. She spends a good amount of time with the Joseph narrative and brings out elements I had never considered.