The Meaning in Our Suffering

The Reverend Christopher Hogin

The Meaning in Our Suffering:

Genesis 45: 1-15

The Episcopal Church of the Ascension

August 20, 2017

I’ve read about Joseph and his coat of many colors for years. It was taught to me in Sunday school. I’ve even seen the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical, Joseph and The Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. I don’t know about you, but when I read about Joseph in Genesis, I can’t help but picture Donny Osmond gyrating across the stage singing, Close Every Door.

When you stop and think about it, this story is horrific. Joseph, a young boy, is sent by his father to check on his brothers. His brothers, consumed by hatred and jealousy, conspire to kill him, but don’t because he’s worth more alive and dead. They bind him up, throw him in a pit, and sell him as a slave for 20 shekels. (And you thought your family was dysfunctional.)

Joseph loses everything: his family, his homeland, his freedom, and dignity. All this happens through the betrayal of his own flesh and blood. Only after years of endurance, faith in God, and his ability to capitalize on opportunities, does Joseph rise above his circumstances.  He ascends to the role of Pharaoh’s right hand man—the modern day equivalency of a presidential chief of staff. He becomes a man of power and prestige.

Years later, Joseph’s brothers travel to Egypt to buy grain. They find themselves in the presence of Joseph, but no longer recognize him. At this point Joseph has a choice: he can draw on his hurt and anger over their betrayal and inflict revenge, or he can forgive. Joseph chooses forgiveness. In the passage he makes a speech where he draws out meaning over those years of suffering. He finds a purpose in it, and makes the conscience choice to be grateful. Through gratitude he chooses reconciliation. That’s what Joseph’s story is really about—finding the meaning in suffering and disappointment, and turning evil into good.

Let me share with you the story of another of man, who, like Joseph, was also a slave. He was born into slavery in Hanover County, Virginia in 1844. He was a horse attendant for white lawyers, until he escaped slavery in 1862. He later enrolled in Howard University Law school, and became a lawyer himself. This man was innovative. He started the first African American hospital in Virginia, and then became a member of the Virginia House of Delegates. Despite becoming a slave and receiving all kinds of abuse, he found meaning in his suffering and turned it into good. The state that enslaved him, he repaid by starting a hospital and assuming public office. The name of this African American slave was James A. Fields.

This past week we learned about another man, who, ironically is also named James A. Fields. This James A Fields is a 20-year old white male who identifies with racist organizations. You may have read about him. He drove his Dodge Challenger into a group of people protesting racism in Charlottesville, Virginia, killing a young 32-year old woman named Heather Heyer. 

We know very little about this man. We don’t know his background, or his psychology. What we know is that he possessed anger and rage. Anger and rage don’t just appear out of nowhere. It’s usually tied to some kind of pain, hurt, or betrayal from a past. What we know is that he made a choice: he chose to channel that anger and rage into an act of violence that killed a young woman, and horrified a nation.

In the midst of this tragedy, we also witnessed a miracle. The miracle came from the eulogy of Heather Heyer’s father, Mark Heyer. Mark Heyer suffered the loss of his daughter through violence, and yet, in his eulogy he said the following:

"People need to stop hating, and they need to forgive each other. And I include myself in that, in forgiving the guy that did this. He doesn't know no better. You know, I just think of what the Lord said on the cross. Lord forgive him, they don't know what they're doing."

All of us must reflect on the pain and disappointment we’ve received in life, from our friends, our colleagues, and even our family. How are we coping? Are we perpetuating that anger? You see, evil is like a vine that creeps out of slowly, but over time it spreads, consumes, and then suffocates. In my backyard there’s white stone bench. I failed to trim some vines, and now those vines have spread over and consumed it. That’s what happens to us with evil: if we don’t do something about it, it consumes us.  We can either let that vine grow, or lop it off at the root by making a conscious choice to act differently. We can either look back on our lives, remember all the slights, betrayals, and harm inflicted upon us, and then pass it on to others.

Or, we can find meaning in all that suffering. We can find God in that suffering, and then transform it into a healing balm both for ourselves and the world around us.  It may be a cliché, but it’s true—if you want to save the world, save yourself.  Joseph chose to end the cycle hatred and rage through forgiveness, so did an African American slave named James A Fields. White supremacist James A Fields chose a different path. He allowed that vine of hatred to fester, grow, and overwhelm him.  It eventually killed another human being.

We must ask ourselves, how are we responding to the pain in our lives? Are we aware of what we do? What choices are we making right now? Are those choices dividing or healing? We have a choice. We have a choice. Amen.