Psalm 22:29–32: This benedictory conclusion of the psalm picks up the theme of worship in the preceding verses, observing that whether or not the nations know him, God nevertheless rules over all civilization: “For the Lord’s is the kingship—/ and He rules over the nations.” (29) Our poet even extends this worship down below the earth: “Yes, to Him will bow down/ all the netherworld’s sleepers.” (30a) This verse seems to be a puzzling exception to the general rule in the Psalms that the dead, being dead, cannot worship God. Yet, here is exactly that. The dead are also worshipers: “Before him will kneel/ all who go down to the dust/ whose life is undone.” (30b)
Returning back up to earth, the poet looks far into the future as he expresses confidence that “My seed will serve Him./ It will be told to the master for generations to come.” (31a) As we have observed many times, for the Jews, it is a person’s progeny that ensures he or she will be remembered.
Here at the very conclusion of this psalm that began on such a desperate note that God had forsaken him, our psalmist ends looking far into the future, confident that generations to come will know that God is always at their side and will worship him as “They will proclaim His bounty to a people aborning,/ for [all] he has done.” (31b, 32)
The trajectory of this psalm reflects a path of spiritual discovery from feeling abandoned by God and desperate up to the heights of assurance that God will not only be with the psalmist himself, but also for all the generations yet to come. It is a brilliant encapsulation of life as a walk of growing faith in who God is—and more importantly, that God is with us.
Genesis 41:17–57: Today’s reading opens with the Pharaoh describing his dream to Joseph, who has just announced to Pharaoh and his court, “It is not I; God will give Pharaoh a favorable answer.” (16) The first dream is seven fat cows being consumed by “seven other cows came up after them, poor, very ugly, and thin.” (19) Pharaoh’s second dream involves the same fat/ thin theme, only this time “seven ears of grain, full and good, growing on one stalk,” are consumed by “seven ears, withered, thin, and blighted by the east wind.” (23).
Joseph explains that “the dreams are one, and the same” and it is “God [who] has revealed to Pharaoh what he is about to do.” (25). The prisoner then explains that the dream means seven years of plenty are to be followed by seven years of famine. Again, invoking God, Joseph explains the fact that “the doubling of Pharaoh’s dream means that the thing is fixed by God, and God will shortly bring it about.” (32).
While Joseph’s seemingly effortless interpretation is impressive what is even more impressive is that Joseph suggests to Pharaoh precisely what he should do about the upcoming 14 years: “therefore let Pharaoh select a man who is discerning and wise, and set him over the land of Egypt. Let Pharaoh proceed to appoint overseers over the land, and take one-fifth of the produce of the land of Egypt during the seven plenteous years.” (33, 34) and that this overseer should supervise the storage of that food so that it “shall be a reserve for the land against the seven years of famine that are to befall the land of Egypt.” (36)
After looking around his court, the Pharaoh asks, “Can we find anyone else like this—one in whom is the spirit of God?” (38) Of course the answer is standing right in front of him. He appoints Joseph as the man in charge of the program and at the age of thirty, Joseph ascends to enormous power as Pharaoh’s second-in-command, enjoying all the perks, including a wife, that come with his high office.
Joseph’s food program is wildly successful and he “stored up grain in such abundance—like the sand of the sea—that he stopped measuring it; it was beyond measure.” (49) In the meantime, he has two sons, Manasseh and Ephraim. In the names of his sons we read Joseph’s autobiography. Manasseh means “God has made me forget all my hardship and all my father’s house.” (51). In short, Joseph has begun a new life; the old one is no more. Ephraim means “For God has made me fruitful in the land of my misfortunes.” (52), which is certainly the case.
So, does Joseph have relevance for us beyond being a great story? I think that Joseph’s journey against his will from an old life to a startlingly better life represents our own Christian walk when we abandon everything, including our egos, to God and let God take us where we will. Throughout his entire story, Joseph constantly trusts God and is always clear that anything he is able to do comes from God. He has turned everything completely over to God, never forgetting that it is God who gets all the credit for what has happened. Joseph has never said, ‘Hey, I’m pretty good,’ nor has he ever indicated that he is master of his fate. Would that we do the same.
Matthew 14:15–24: We see the managerial expertise of the disciples when they come to Jesus after a long day of preaching and suggest that he “send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves.” (15). I know if I were in the same place, I would say exactly the same thing. After all, it’s important logistics. But Jesus is always thinking beyond logistics and sees a whole other dimension when he replies, “They need not go away; you give them something to eat.” (16).
Logisticians that they are, they’ve already taken a picnic inventory of the crowd and know that only two fish and fve loaves of bread are available. Their logic is irrefutable: there’s just not enough to go around. Of course, Jesus ignores their sage and realistic advice and asks them to bring the meager loaves and fishes to him. We know what ensures to the tune of 12 baskets of leftovers.
The usual interpretation of this miracle story is that God always provides beyond our fondest hopes. But I think another way of looking at it is the rational expectations and logic of the disciples as over against Jesus’ irrational actions. We humans—especially we engineers—look at life as a logic chain: A leads to B leads to C. Hungry crowd–>low food inventory–>send the people off to find their own food. But Jesus is so annoyingly irrational. He constantly wants to do the illogical thing. And because he’s not boxed in by logic great things happen.
The lesson here for me is that faith is not always about rationality. Jesus not only thought outside the box; he acted outside the box. He took risks and the rewards were far greater than any rational act could have ever produced. My prayer is for me to be willing to take bigger and, yes, irrational risks in the name of Jesus. Who knows what great things might result?
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