Grieving With Hope

Scripture: Genesis 49:29-50:14

Video Link: https://youtu.be/___6tWI6qGM

Structure:

• Introduction
• Grief
• Hope
• Conclusion

Introduction:

Good morning everyone.

If you have ever been on a long road trip with children you will have heard the chorus, ‘Are we there yet’. Some journeys seem to take forever. More than a few of you are probably thinking, are we there yet, with this current sermon series on the life of Joseph.

We started back at the beginning of February and now, nearly six months later, we are still going. Fear not. Today’s message is the second to last in this series. This week’s sermon focuses on the death and burial of Joseph’s father, Jacob. It’s about grieving with hope. From Genesis 49, verse 29, we read… 

²⁹ Then he [Jacob] gave them these instructions: “I am about to be gathered to my people. Bury me with my fathers in the cave in the field of Ephron the Hittite, ³⁰ the cave in the field of Machpelah, near Mamre in Canaan, which Abraham bought along with the field as a burial place from Ephron the Hittite. ³¹ There Abraham and his wife Sarah were buried, there Isaac and his wife Rebekah were buried, and there I buried Leah. ³² The field and the cave in it were bought from the Hittites.” ³³ When Jacob had finished giving instructions to his sons, he drew his feet up into the bed, breathed his last and was gathered to his people. Joseph threw himself on his father and wept over him and kissed him. ² Then Joseph directed the physicians in his service to embalm his father, Israel. So the physicians embalmed him, ³ taking a full forty days, for that was the time required for embalming. And the Egyptians mourned for him seventy days. ⁴ When the days of mourning had passed, Joseph said to Pharaoh’s court, “If I have found favour in your eyes, speak to Pharaoh for me. Tell him, ⁵ ‘My father made me swear an oath and said, “I am about to die; bury me in the tomb I dug for myself in the land of Canaan.” Now let me go up and bury my father; then I will return.’” ⁶ Pharaoh said, “Go up and bury your father, as he made you swear to do.” ⁷ So Joseph went up to bury his father. All Pharaoh’s officials accompanied him—the dignitaries of his court and all the dignitaries of Egypt— ⁸ besides all the members of Joseph’s household and his brothers and those belonging to his father’s household. Only their children and their flocks and herds were left in Goshen. ⁹ Chariots and horsemenalso went up with him. It was a very large company. ¹⁰ When they reached the threshing floor of Atad, near the Jordan, they lamented loudly and bitterly; and there Joseph observed a seven-day period of mourning for his father. ¹¹ When the Canaanites who lived there saw the mourning at the threshing floor of Atad, they said, “The Egyptians are holding a solemn ceremony of mourning.” That is why that place near the Jordan is called Abel Mizraim. ¹² So Jacob’s sons did as he had commanded them: ¹³ They carried him to the land of Canaan and buried him in the cave in the field of Machpelah, near Mamre, which Abraham had bought along with the field as a burial place from Ephron the Hittite. ¹⁴ After burying his father, Joseph returned to Egypt, together with his brothers and all the others who had gone with him to bury his father.

May the Spirit of Jesus illuminate God’s word for us.

In this reading we are shown how Joseph and his brothers grieve for their father Jacob and how Jacob binds his sons to hope. Let us begin with Joseph’s grieving process.

Grief:

Grief is the natural response to loss. If you lose someone or something important, then you will experience grief in proportion to the magnitude of your loss. Or, to say it another way, grief is the price we pay for love.

Grief is like a vomiting bug. Except with grief, you are not throwing up the contents of your stomach. You are throwing up the contents of your soul. Your anger and pain, your hurt and sadness. Releasing these feelings is necessary to the healing process, but it’s not pleasant.

Grief comes in waves. You are not in control. Just when you think you are okay, you throw up again, ambushed by tears or rage or both. After a while, you feel empty, tired, exhausted, spent. It takes time to recover your strength. Time before you are ready to risk enjoying life again.

When Jacob dies, Joseph throws himself upon his father and weeps. Joseph knows Jacob’s death is coming and so he skips the initial shock that often accompanies the news of significant loss. There is no stiff upper lip with Joseph. He lets his feelings out in the form of tears.

Tears are a kind of natural anesthetic. They are nature’s pain killer. If you cry for several minutes, from emotional pain, the body releases feel-good chemicals like oxytocin and endorphins.

Sobbing also helps to improve your mood by reducing the temperature of your brain. It calms you. More than this, when other people see you crying, they are likely to give you support or at least not be mean to you.       

After having a good cry, Joseph directs the physicians to embalm his father. Embalming was more of an Egyptian thing than a Hebrew thing.

It was a way of slowing the rate of decay, to preserve the body. From a practical point of view, this was necessary for transporting Jacob’s body to Canaan. 

When we experience significant loss, it can feel quite scary, like we have no control in the situation. To prevent ourselves from being overwhelmed by fear it helps to do something that gives us a feeling of mastery or control. Like mowing the lawns or cleaning the shower or baking a cake.

By directing people to embalm his father’s body, Joseph was able to buy a little more time and regain a quantum of control in the face of death.

Can you remember what you were doing on the 31 August 1997? It was the day Princess Diana died. It seemed like the whole world stopped. Yes, we were sad for Diana’s loss and for her sons, William and Harry. But it was more than that.

Diana’s death touched something in our collective unconscious, so that people everywhere felt they had permission to grieve their own personal losses. It was a time of lament for all the things in this world that are not as they are meant to be.

In verse 3 of Genesis 50, we read how the Egyptians mourn for Jacob for seventy days. That’s ten weeks. Whenever one of the pharaoh’s died, the nation would mourn for 72 days. Jacob gets almost the same honour and respect as a pharaoh.

It seems that Jacob’s death touched something in the collective unconscious of the Egyptian people. Most of them would not have known Jacob personally but they knew Joseph had saved them and without Jacob there would be no Joseph.

Jacob’s passing was not untimely, as Diana’s was. But perhaps, like the passing of Diana, it provided an opportunity for people everywhere to mourn their own losses.   

Grief is a heavy weight to carry. Honouring the people we have lost is an important part of the grieving process. It is necessary to acknowledge the truth that this person matters to me. Their loss is no small thing.

We honour the people we have lost by taking time to plan their memorial service. By speaking good words, true words, in memory of their life. And by not rushing back to a busy schedule too quickly. Giving ourselves time to heal. Slowing down and leaving room to feel our loss and express our grief.   

After the 70 days of national mourning have passed, Joseph gets permission to bury his father in the land of Canaan, as Jacob had requested.

It is difficult to know what to say when someone dies. We want to give words of comfort to those who are grieving, but no words are adequate.

Sometimes all we have to offer is our presence, which is precisely what Pharaoh’s officials give. They take time to accompany Joseph on his journey, so he is not alone. They show up to the funeral.

When Joseph and his brothers finally arrive in Canaan to bury Jacob’s body they lament loudly and bitterly, observing a seven-day period of mourning. This is at least three months after Jacob has died. Grief isn’t something we get over quickly. Grief keeps its own unpredictable schedule. It is a process punctuated by deeply felt emotion. 

Verse 13 of Genesis 50 gives a very specific location for Jacob’s burial plot. This is the second time in today’s reading we are given this geographical reference. It shows that Jacob’s sons were obedient in carrying out Jacob’s dying wishes.

It also provides a marker for future generations. This urupa (cemetery) is sacred ground. A symbol of Israel’s stake in the land.

Hope:

Some things on your dinner plate are not that pleasant to eat on their own. Take broccoli for example. You can eat broccoli by itself, but it tastes better with a bit of grated cheese on top. Likewise, mashed potato is okay on its own, but it really goes better with some gravy.

Grief on its own is like broccoli without cheese or mashed potato without gravy. Grief needs to be topped with hope.

We’ve heard how Joseph handled his grief. Now let’s consider how Jacob bound his sons to hope. 

Hope is like cherry blossoms in spring; reminding us that summer is coming. Or, to say it more plainly, hope is the belief that good things wait for us in the future.

Hope is not blind. Hope is a beautiful thing to behold. Hope sees the blossoms with the eyes of faith. While you can’t eat the blossoms, you know from experience they are a sign of summer fruit to come.

Hope is like a kite; it rises against the wind. Hope cannot fly without some opposition or difficulty. When life is easy, we have no need for hope.

Of course, for the kite to work, you need to hold on to it. Faith is the string that keeps us connected to our hope. When we believe that God has good things in store for us, our heart dances with joy, like a kite on the breeze.   

Hope is like a sail; it moves you forward. But for the sail of hope to work, you must raise it. Just as sailors need to take care of their sails, so too we need to take care of our hope.

Wise faith is the act of raising and trimming your sails to suit the conditions, so the boat doesn’t capsize and the sail doesn’t tear.

Hope is like a harness; it catches your fall. If you are abseiling down a rock face or being winched to safety by a rescue helicopter or gliding to earth with a parachute, the harness holds you and keeps you secure.

Obviously, for the harness to work, you need to stay attached to it.

Faith is wearing your harness. Faith and hope save you.   

As we heard earlier, Jacob instructs his sons to bury his body in the land of Canaan, where his parents and grandparents were buried. Jacob is living in Egypt at this point. A journey by camel to Palestine is no small thing. It would take weeks; it would be tiring and it would involve risk.

So why does Jacob put his sons out like this? Well, Jacob means to bind his sons to God’s promise.

You see, God had promised Jacob he would give the land of Canaan to Jacob’s descendants. In Genesis 48 and 49, Jacob speaks words of blessing and destiny to his sons. These words were intended to bind the next generation and those that follow to God’s promise.

Jacob’s request to be buried in Canaan is another way in which he harnesses his family to God’s promise and the hope that gives.

Death is an ending and it is often sad and emotionally painful for those left behind. What Jacob’s sons need, at this time, is to see the blossoms of hope. They need to know that God has good in store for them. And that good is the land of Canaan.

It’s like Jacob is handing the kite of hope to the next generation and saying, ‘Take this and hold on. Let the joy of what is to come dance in your heart, even as you grieve my passing’.

The people of Israel would live in Egypt for another 400 years before leaving that country in a great exodus. Hope is the sail that would transport them. Jacob wants his descendants to raise the sail of hope and keep it trimmed through the long years that lie ahead.

Some of you may have seen a film called The Way. The movie tells the story of Dr Thomas Avery who goes to France to collect the body of his son, Daniel, who died in the Pyrenees while walking the Camino de Santiago (the Way of St James).

Tom’s initial purpose was to retrieve his son’s body. But once over there he decides to walk the Camino, taking his son’s ashes with him. While on the trail Tom meets other pilgrims all looking for greater meaning in their lives.

Sometimes when we are grieving, we can isolate ourselves (emotionally) from others. We may become more grumpy and irritable than usual. More cold and prickly. This has the effect of driving people away.

It’s a self-protection thing. When we are in pain, we don’t want to let people get too close in case they touch our sore spots or remind us of our loss. What we really need though is some tenderness and love. We need people who will understand and see passed our changing moods. 

Tom starts the journey cold and closed off to his fellow travelers. He is distant and pushes them away. But they seem to understand, and they hang in with him until eventually he opens up. The pilgrimage through Spain becomes a way for Tom to work out his grief. 

A pilgrimage, such as Jacob asked his sons to take, can be a powerful thing. It changes the soul somehow. Grief is like a pilgrimage; it’s the journey of letting go of our hurt, pain and anger and taking hold of hope. The destination is acceptance.

By asking his sons to repatriate his body in Canaan, Jacob is (perhaps) giving his family a way to process their grief and find a common hope, together. Jacob is showing his sons, this is your homeland. This is where you belong. This is the purpose and hope for your descendants.

The word land is the fourth most common noun used in the Old Testament, after God, Yahweh and Israel. Clearly, real estate was important to the people of Israel.

But when we get to the New Testament, the word land hardly gets mentioned. Jesus had more to say about the kingdom of God and eternal life.  

As followers of Jesus, our destination, our hope, is not to own a quarter acre section in the middle east or even in Tawa. Our hope is to fully enter God’s kingdom, the kingdom of heaven.

We are bound to that hope by faith in Jesus. Faith and hope in Jesus are our sail and our harness. This life is our Camino.    

Conclusion:

As I look out at this congregation, I am conscious of the losses many of you have experienced and the grief you carry.

Many of you have outlived husbands or wives. Some of you have lost parents, at a young age, and others have lost children. A number of you have survived divorce or cancer or something else. It seems none of us are untouched by suffering in this life.

In preaching on a passage like this I don’t mean to open old wounds.

We each need to know we are not alone in our grief. Although grief pierces the human heart in different ways, the experience of loss is felt by everyone eventually. Others before you have walked the way of grief and have found hope.  

Jesus is a witness to your grief and pain. He sees what others don’t see. May Jesus (who himself suffered more than we can imagine), may he honour you for the grace and the courage and faithfulness you have shown. And may the joy of resurrection fill your sails and bring you home. Amen.  

Questions for discussion or reflection:

1. What stands out for you in reading this Scripture and/or in listening to the sermon? Why do you think this stood out to you?
2. What losses have you experienced in life? How have these losses affected you?
3. How did Joseph handle his grief? How do you handle your grief?
4. What did the Egyptians do to support Joseph in his grief? What can we do to support other people in their grief?
5. Discuss / reflect on the images of hope offered above. That is, hope is like cherry blossoms in spring, like a kite, like a sail, like a harness. What other images come to mind when you think about hope?
6. Why did Jacob ask his sons to bury his body in Canaan?
7. Israel’s hope was bound up with the land. As Christians, what (or who) is our hope bound to?