He Ain't Heavy...but could you help me toss him into this well?

Read Genesis 37 and Luke 15:11-32

We do the Bible a great disservice when we read it only as a book about “how to be holy” when, in fact, it is just as much a book about “how to be human.”  The stories in scripture are about real people with real talents and real foibles, filled with examples of love and loss, humility and humiliation, selflessness and selfishness.

These enduring themes are found in many faith traditions over the ages.  Joseph, for example, is an important character in the Jewish, Christian, and Muslim faith narratives, figuring significantly in both Genesis and the Qur’an.  The arc of his story covers themes familiar in family life:  love, favoritism, jealousy, brokenness, deceit and reconciliation.

The account of Joseph and his brothers in Genesis 37 is such an example.  As I’ve read this over the years, I am always struck by young Joseph’s arrogance as he lets his older brothers know of his dream that they will bow down to him, and their response of throwing him into a well.  I may be alone on this one, but I always think to myself at this point in the story, “What a twit! He got what he deserved!”

My mother could have shared many stories about raising a houseful of boys with Leah and Rachel.  I was the youngest of four active boys.  I’m sure Mom would have enjoyed commiserating with another female at home from time to time (aside from the family dog), but she never let on. 

Six people in a tiny house with one bathroom made for close quarters and high-volume antics. I was the youngest by a wide span, and by my brothers’ accounts, probably a bit (a lot?) of a spoiled “mama’s boy.” I didn’t get a “coat of many colors,” but they would surely say that I was indulged in ways they were not throughout my childhood and adolescence.  And, there were probably many times they wanted to toss this chatty, smart aleck, know-it-all kid into a cistern…or worse!

Apparently, I was a nuisance from the start.  I shared a birthday month with my next-older brother, Luke, and my parents brought me home from the hospital the same day as his sixth birthday party.  Buzz-kill!  As the story has been laughingly retold over the years, I stole the show on his special day and he never forgot it!

Ah, brotherly love! 

It was sibling rivalry that got the best of Joseph and his band of brothers, rivalry ripened by ego.  Joseph was his father’s favorite.  He knew it, and he certainly let his brothers know it.  Their first reaction, also stemming from their jealous bruised egos, was to do him in for good.  Only later did they modify their plan to something less “permanent.”

If there ever was a perfect example of Proverbs 16:18 (“Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall”), this was it—literally.

Fast forward.  We know little about Jesus’ siblings.  In fact, there is disagreement as to whether he had them, although it seems unlikely to me that he would have been an only child.  If he did have brothers and sisters, we do not know how they played, shared, or argued.  In our tendency to “sanctify” all the stories of the Bible, we might shy away from the idea that they acted like a typical family with its share of discord, jealousy, and pain.

We do see Jesus’ frustration, though, with the men who became “brothers” during his brief ministry:  the disciples.  They were, at times, argumentative, prideful, and flat-out dimwitted.  Think of the times Jesus shared his teachings through parables, only to have the lessons fall flat on his disciples’ understanding, often because of their own self-interests and perspectives.

The beauty of Jesus’ parables is how they work on so many levels. One of his most powerful teaching moments involved an allegory about siblings.  The Prodigal Son parable (Luke 15:11-32) is not just an example of how the Kingdom of God works—it’s very much a story about being human.  In it, we see how the natural inclination to let the ego take over influences the actions of both brothers, leading to disconnection from themselves individually and from one another.

There are parallel themes in the story of Joseph and the Prodigal Son.  It was ego that led young Joseph to boast of his influence and position in the family, and it was ego (perhaps even the unbridled “id”) that led the younger brother in Jesus’ parable into the world with his unearned inheritance in hand, squandering all he had on an indulgent lifestyle. 

It was bruised ego that allowed anger and jealousy to win the hearts of Joseph’s older siblings, leading them to plot his disappearance.  Similarly, it was a bruised ego that so hardened the older brother to the lost son’s re-acceptance in the family in Jesus’ parable.

I’ve heard people describe ego as an acronym for “edge God out.”  Others, like the contemporary Franciscan teacher and author, Richard Rohr, speak of ego as the “false self” we build and depend upon in the first half of life, before we return to the “true self” made in the image and likeness of God.

There is a beautiful turning point in the parable of the Prodigal Son, when he is at his lowest point of suffering: “When he came to himself…” (Luke 15:17).  I love that description.  No more blinded by his own ego, his false self, the lost son was able to see his way back from humiliation to home.  The story of Joseph and his brothers also resolves in reconciliation when he reveals his true self to them with tears and forgiveness in Genesis 45.

Our egos serve a purpose, to a point, but can also serve to disconnect us from our siblings in the “big family” of humanity. We see it now more than ever, it seems.  The ego strives to be “right.”  The ego strives to “control.”  The ego strives to individuate and separate and distinguish rather than connect.

Chapter 12 of the Qur’an, where the story of Joseph (Yusuf) is told, ends with this verse:  In their histories there is certainly a lesson for men of understanding.  It is not a narrative which could be forged, but a verification of what is before it and a distinct explanation of all things and a guide and a mercy to a people who believe (12:111).

The stories of Joseph, Jesus, and the Prodigal Son are our stories.  Their families are our families, and the greater human family.  The journeys of Joseph, the Prodigal Son, and their siblings are the journeys Jesus always points us to:  away from the ego to the place where each can come to his or her true self.

Is this not the journey we are called upon in this Holy Lent?
Reflection:  Where has your "ego" led to brokenness in a relationship?  Where do you need to reveal your true self to sow seeds of reconciliation?