"Sweet Land of Liberty, Of Thee I Sing"

I learned a parody of “My Country, Tis of Thee” from my fellow grade schoolers during World War Two.  It started this way:

“My country’s up a tree,
My home is Germany.
My name is Fritz.”

A teenager in our little rural school suggested a name for a patriotic club the high school kids were organizing: “Anti-Slant-Eye,” a slap at Japan, another nation the United States was battling.  Their teacher-advisor led them to find another name.

By definition, there’s always an enemy nation in a war.  So the best way to show loyalty to your own country is to put another country down.  Or so it seems.
The sad irony is that, after a decade or two, the country we learned to hate in one war becomes an ally in the next.
George Orwell, Robert Southey, and Mark Twain come to mind as writers who have addressed the futility of war:

Orwell's novel, 1984,  pictures how Big Brother manipulates loyalties among the people in Oceania.  At the proverbial drop of a hat, Winston Smith and his fellow citizens turn against Eurasia and support Eastasia.  Later, they turn against Eastasia and support Eurasia.


In Southey’s 1798 poem, “The Battle of Blenheim,” Wilhelmine and Peterkin listen as their grandfather Kaspar extols the great victory in that battle.  France and Bavaria lost to the allied forces of England, Austria, and the United Provinces in 1704. After the children find skulls in their garden, they ask for an explanation:

  "It was the English," Kaspar cried,

     "Who put the French to rout;

  But what they fought each other for,

     I could not well make out;

  But everybody said," quoth he,

     "That 'twas a famous victory.”

Learning of the war in which “many thousand bodies here/Lay rotting in the sun," Wilhelmine calls it “a very wicked thing.” But Kaspar corrects her.  Then the poem ends with this exchange between the lad and his grandfather:

"But what good came of it at last?"

     Quoth little Peterkin.

  "Why that I cannot tell," said he,

     "But 'twas a famous victory."

Twain’s “The War Prayer” pictures an anonymous war:  

"The country was up in arms, the war was on, in every breast burned the holy fire of patriotism; the drums were beating, the bands playing, the toy pistols popping, the bunched firecrackers hissing and spluttering .  .  ."

On Sunday morning, in a full church, the preacher offered a prayer ---

"that an ever-merciful and benignant Father of us all would watch over our noble young soldiers, and aid, comfort, and encourage them in their patriotic work; bless them, shield them in the day of battle and the hour of peril, bear them in His mighty hand, make them strong and confident, invincible in the bloody onset; help them to crush the foe, grant to them and to their flag and country imperishable honor and glory --"

A stranger went to the pulpit, motioned the minister to step aside, and prayed the underside of what had just been prayed:

"O Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go forth to battle -- be Thou near them! With them -- in spirit -- we also go forth from the sweet peace of our beloved firesides to smite the foe. O Lord our God, help us to tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with little children to wander unfriended the wastes of their desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of the sun flames of summer and the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit, worn with travail, imploring Thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it -- for our sakes who adore Thee, Lord, blast their hopes, blight their lives, protract their bitter pilgrimage, make heavy their steps, water their way with their tears, stain the white snow with the blood of their wounded feet! We ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who is the Source of Love, and Who is the ever-faithful refuge and friend of all that are sore beset and seek His aid with humble and contrite hearts. Amen.”

Happy Fourth of July.

Old Eustace and a Baptist Meeting

Eustace came to mind as Pansy and I attended the 2013 General Assembly of the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship (CBF) in Greensboro, North Carolina.

A few years ago, our church notified us that Eustace was our “family minister,” under a plan in which deacons and other designated lay members are supposed to keep track of crises or special events in the lives of assigned families.

Eustace (which, of course, was not his real name) came up to me at church soon after we received the notice and said, in effect, “You being a minister, you won’t have any problems.  So I won’t bother you and your wife.”  Eustace was a man of his word.  Thereafter, when he saw us across the sanctuary, he would wave at us and give a big grin.  I could picture him taking out his notebook and putting a check by our names: “I’ve done my duty by the Webbs.”

The idea that ministers and their wives have no spiritual needs flashed through my mind at the CBF meeting as continual inspiration flowed like an IV, filling the veins of my spirit and healing wounds of my heart.  

Music touches the depths of my spirit.  So I hungrily absorbed the sounds of a mellow saxophone with “Jesus Loves Me,” a song adults need to hear along with children.  A full orchestra’s “It Is Well with My Soul” reminded me to check my spiritual vital signs to see if all really is well.  A kilted bagpiper’s traditional “Amazing Grace” made me once more claim the “grace that is greater than all my sin.”  The piper played first as he marched steadily down the center aisle of the huge auditorium and then as he accompanied a massed youthful choir.  The instrumental pieces were so familiar that I “sang in the Spirit” as they were played.

I joined in hearty congregational singing of the sort I scarcely remember hearing since long-ago seminary chapel when robust voices were raised to the glory of the One to whom we were seeking to dedicate our lives in church careers.

Newly commissioned chaplains, church starters, and counselors stood on the stage, some giving testimony in larger than life video amplification.  Their fresh commitment to serve “the least of the least” of Christ’s brethren and sisters caused me to ask myself, “How am I fulfilling the dedication I made to the Lord sixtysome years ago?  How am I letting God use me?  What more could I do?  How can my wife and I best use some of our financial resources to strengthen their work and the broader ministry of CBF?”

After the commissioning, the new CBF ministers moved to locations around the auditorium, and we were invited to form small clusters around each minister.  The inner circle right around each new worker put their hands on his or her shoulders.  Those of us on the outer rings put our hands on the shoulders of those in front of us.  By extension, then, all of us in a cluster were physically and spiritually connected as a prayer of dedication was offered.

Wendell Griffen, a tall salt-and-pepper-haired African-American bi-vocational pastor from Little Rock, began his Thursday night capstone message with a line from Dan Aykroyd and John Belushi’s movie, The Blues Brothers.  In the movie which I have not seen but now want to see, one of these unsavory, foul-mouthed characters declares, "I'm on a mission from God."  Griffen offered a disclaimer for the language and behavior of the Brothers, but he used that declaration as his launchpad for challenging us CBFers to be on a mission from God.

Bill Leonard, church history professor at Wake Forest Divinity School, challenged us Baptists to put a clearer, affirming focus on baptism, the rite which gave us our name.  It’s been a while since I baptized anyone, but Leonard’s breakout session made me realize I had made little effort to help children or adults understand the testimonial significance of what they were undertaking or to remind viewers in the congregation of their own symbolic burial to sin and resurrection to a new kind of life.

Another foundational concern for Baptists throughout our four-century history came into focus in the session led by Brent Walker and his fellow staffers of the Baptist Joint Committee for Religious Liberty.  Our look at current thorny issues of church-state separation made me wonder what more I can do in our church and in other contexts to protect this vital principle which led to the very formation of our denomination.  Our Baptist forbears promulgated this among our nation’s founding fathers and influenced the inclusion of this principle in the first sixteen words of the First Amendment: “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion or prohibiting the free exercise thereof.”

Brett Younger appropriately had us laughing -- often self-consciously -- in a workshop on use of humor in the pulpit.  The professor of homiletics (“preaching,” in everyday language)  from Mercer’s McAfee School of Theology, made me start to reassess my whole approach to preaching, not just the question of how or whether to try to make the congregation laugh.  Younger’s bottom line: make sermons interesting, not necessarily make them funny.  I thought of a note a guest preacher found on the pulpit: “What are you trying to do to these people?”

A tiny Texan named Suzii Paynter stood seven feet tall in her closing challenge as the new coordinator of the national CBF.   She laid out her vision and challenge which I hope and pray will mark a truly new day for CBF.  We're still young as an organization and have a good foundation, but if she gets to the various state CBFs and other local meetings, she can go a long way toward energizing our statistically small body.  Her challenge includes new church starts, outreach to diverse populations, and inclusion of more women as ministers.

We had several other uplifting experiences on the CBF trip that were not part of the programmed events:

En route to Greensboro, we stopped over in nearby High Point, North Carolina, to visit one of my former journalism students and his family. Nathan did the layout and design for my two Christmas books.   He and his wife Christy have three handsome, healthy boys: ages 10, 8, and 5.  They also have a dear little girl, age 4, who suffers from spinal muscular atrophy (SMA), which Nathan and I both have likened to a childhood version of Lou Gehrig’s Disease  (ALS).  Our heartache at seeing her continual deterioration is mitigated by seeing the loving care her parents and brothers give.  Nathan and Christy are determined to help her have a good life for whatever time that life may last.

We were delighted to see the maturity and Christian commitment of a Greensboro couple whose lives had intersected with ours when they were much younger.  Gayle and Richard were grade schoolers in my first church after seminary.  A few years later, just after we married, Pansy taught Gayle in ninth grade English.  Gayle is now a retired teacher herself, and Richard is a semi-retired business-related professional.  We enjoyed fellowship with them in the evening worship hours and over dinner in a little Greek restaurant they frequent.  

A strong initial appeal for going to the CBF meeting was the prospect of fellowship with representatives from the seminary at my college alma mater, Hardin-Simmons University (HSU).  My appreciation for how HSU professors and staff helped me grow up is so strong that I wrote a book, Hardin-Simmons, Hail to Thee.  That title, by the way, is the first five words of our HSU anthem.   I was able to spend time at the seminary booth in the exhibit hall, and Pansy and I were guests of the seminary at the Baptist Joint Committee luncheon.  All this led to reflections on opportunities Hardin-Simmons provided for overcoming some of my youthful flaws during four eventful years on campus.
I also enjoyed many mini-reunions in hallway conversations with fellow ministers, some of whom I hadn’t seen in decades.  I’m trying to keep those contacts alive through the blessing of the Internet and e-mail. 

The CBF assembly closed with a Communion service.  This was no passive event.  We had to get up from our chairs and go to servers who were stationed throughout the auditorium.  The very act of getting up and moving caused me to think even more seriously than usual about my sin and Jesus's sacrificial death to forgive and remove those sins which is depicted in this rite.

So, old Eustace was more than a little off base.  And I didn’t try to explain to him that we ministers have spiritual weaknesses and that we face temptations day by day and often fall to them, much the same as he and other lay people do.  

The entire CBF trip -- en route and in the hallway, in addition to the structured sessions --   provided occasion for introspection and retrospection, for spiritual renewal.

Years ago, I heard about an old cowboy who spent weeks or months out on the range, virtually alone with his cattle.  About his only sustained contact with other live humans was at the annual camp meeting where he absorbed all he could of the gospel messages.  Then, he fed on that inspiration for months to come as he went back to his cows.  I pray that I can feed for months to come on the inspiration of those brief days in Greensboro.

If you're a Baptist . . . or if you're not

If you're a Baptist, you might be interested in knowing more about your Baptist background.  

If you're not a Baptist, you should be interested in how Baptists were pioneers in the struggle for religious freedom and church-state separation.

You may not know what brought Baptists into existence in the first place.  We are just over four hundred years old, beginning 1608 or 1609.  Two men in England and Holland are considered the first Baptists: John Smyth (or Smith) and Thomas Helwys.   They resisted the required Church of England because it was required.  People were punished -- fined, jailed, or worse -- if they refused to be Anglicans.  To be born British was to be born Anglican.  The name Baptist was a criticism of their insistence on baptism by choice.

Smyth and Helwys with some forty dissenters fled England for Holland and found problems of religious freedom there as well and later returned to England. Their two main concerns were (1) baptism and church membership for people old enough to decide for themselves and (2) church-state separation.  The two issues were intertwined. People did not have a choice because the king’s religion was the religion of the nation.  Helwys died in prison as a dissenter under King James I.  

A kindred spirit was Roger Williams, who took courageous stands, first in England and later in the Massachusetts Bay Colony. He started the first Baptist church on this continent in Providence, Rhode Island, after he fled Massachusetts under threat of his life.  

Neither Williams nor Smyth remained Baptist for long.  They were “Seekers,” always seeking new free expression of faith. But they laid a foundation for religious freedom.

Here are some excerpts from Williams’s “A Plea for Religious Liberty,” showing his determination for freedom of religion and freedom from religion.  I am including the statements which seem most pertinent (http://www.constitution.org/bcp/religlib.htm).  His “Sixthly” is especially significant:

First, that the blood of so many hundred thousand souls of Protestants and Papists, spilt in the wars of present and former ages, for their respective consciences, is not required nor accepted by Jesus Christ the Prince of Peace. .  .  .

Fifthly, all civil states with their officers of justice in their respective constitutions and administrations are proved essentially civil, and therefore not judges, governors, or defenders of the spiritual or Christian state and worship.

Sixthly, it is the will and command of God that (since the coming of his Son the Lord Jesus) a permission of the most paganish, Jewish, Turkish, or antichristian consciences and worships, be granted to all men in all nations and countries; and they are only to be fought against with that sword which is only (in soul matters) able to conquer, to wit, the sword of God's Spirit, the Word of God. .  .  .

Eighthly, God requireth not a uniformity of religion to be enacted and enforced in any civil state; which enforced uniformity (sooner or later) is the greatest occasion of civil war, ravishing of conscience, persecution of Christ Jesus in his servants, and of the hypocrisy and destruction of millions of souls. .  .  .

Tenthly, an enforced uniformity of religion throughout a nation or civil state, confounds the civil and religious, denies the principles of Christianity and civility, and that Jesus Christ is come in the flesh.

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I recently bought two books which gave me more depth perspective regarding Williams and also the impact Baptists had in getting the First Amendment passed:

Nicholas P. Miller, The Religious Roots of the First Amendment, Dissenting Protestants and the Separation of Church and State,  Oxford University Press, 2012.

John M. Barry, Roger Williams and The Creation of the American Soul, Church, State, and the Birth of Liberty, Viking Press, 2012.

Barry gives great details of Williams’s struggle against established religion, first in England and then in the American colonies.

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Sad to say, the dominant Baptist group in the U. S., the Southern Baptist Convention, my framework for roughly the first fifty years of my life, has done a one-hundred-eighty degree turn.  SBC leaders were the main instigators in establishing the group now known as American United for Separation of Church and State. But now they frequently abuse the whole separation concept.

I no longer consider myself Southern Baptist.  I identify with the newer Cooperative Baptist Fellowship (CBF).  It’s too small to call a splinter group.  It’s more like a sliver group.

Tucking in the shirttail

Easter is a season, not simply one day, in liturgical churches.  So let me, a Low-Church Baptist, tell you about one of my most memorable experiences in an Easter Sunday service.

Pansy and I were in London's Westminster Abbey, sitting in the section known as Poets Corner.  On the row just ahead of us was a middle-aged couple in their Sunday Best.  With the couple were three young fellows of older high school or younger college age, all in neat casual wear.

As we stood and sat several times during the Anglican service, one of these youths caught my eye:  His shirttail was out of his slacks, extending below his windbreaker jacket.

In the Anglican tradition, people go forward if they wish to receive Communion, and ushers that morning signaled each row of worshipers when it was their turn.  When people on the row ahead of us stood, this young man began quickly tucking in his shirttail.

I wondered why.

Did he dress in a hurry in leaving the hotel and simply not bother about tidying up until he got to church?

Did he enjoy the tails-out look but fear the man and woman he was with would disapprove if they noticed?

Was this a conditioned reflex in response to years of etiquette training?

Or was he conscious of a holy dimension as he was about to kneel for a moment to receive bread and wine?

This ritual, by whatever name -- Communion, Eucharist, Lord's Supper, Sacrament, Memorial Supper, The Table -- is the most solemn activity among Christian churches around the world.  It points to the death of Jesus, His self-giving which connects us to God through faith.

In John's Gospel, chapter 6, Jesus calls Himself the bread of life which came down out of heaven and says those who eat His body and drink His blood have eternal life.  That may sound "too Catholic" for us Low-Church Protestants.  But there it is, in Red Letters in some Bibles, as the very words of Jesus.

If we are offended by such language, we aren't the first.  The Gospel writer says, "After this many of his disciples drew back and no longer went about with him."  Not even His intimate group of disciples understood what Jesus meant.

Roman Catholics say the bread and wine become the actual body and blood of Jesus.  Lutherans say Jesus is present in some mysterious way but not with the literalness of Catholics. And we Low-Church Baptists loudly insist, "It's just symbolic."  One of my fellow Baptists said, "We squeeze every once of spiritual significance from the observance."

But what did Jesus mean by saying in John 6:53, "Very truly I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you"?

What about this?  We are to identify so fully with His life, death, and resurrection that we absorb the reality of His person into us.

If the young man in Westminster Abbey had absorbed such thoughts of Jesus into himself, no wonder he tucked in his shirttail as he readied himself to receive the bread and wine and in some sense encounter the crucified and risen Christ.

A Baptist looks at Lint -- er -- Lent

It sounds like a joke.  And it may be funny.  But it’s no joke.

The way most Baptists in my generation grew up, if someone said something about Lent, we glanced to see if there was fuzz on our coats.  If the person tried to explain about the pre-Easter observance, our mental ears would shut down and our eyes would glaze over.  That’s Catholic stuff.  I don’t need that.

A pious Baptist woman who wore jewelry would never wear a pendant cross to church.  Likewise, her husband wouldn’t think of putting a cross pin in the slot on his lapel -- even though they heartily sang, “I will cling to the old rugged cross and exchange it some day for a crown.”  

Take a look at the spires on Baptist church buildings.  You’re more likely to see a weather vane than a cross.

It was all part of shared disregard and disrespect between Baptists and Catholics.  We looked down on them, and they looked down on us. Each denomination considered “those other people” to be poor damned sinners.

Lent. Crosses. Ash Wednesday. Advent. We rejected it all because “they” did it. As for Lent, If you could give up something for forty days, why couldn’t you just stop completely?

A slight thaw between Protestants and Catholics began in 1962 when Pope John XXIII convened what became known as Vatican II or the Second Vatican Council.  Because he died the next year, this pope did not live to see much of what he envisioned.  But two conspicuous changes are attributed to his papacy.

To Protestants, the most obvious change was in conducting the Mass in the language of the people of a given nation rather than requiring that it be in Latin.  There was also a more generous attitude toward Protestants, a willingness for dialogue between the groups.  When this spirit became apparent, “our side” responded in kind.  Both “sides” started seeing each other in a different light.

Successors to John XXIII have not been as open toward other Christians.  Some have taken deliberate steps to squelch the spirit he advocated.  But once the window was opened, fresh air has continued to blow, despite official efforts to retrench.

We have begun to see merits in many things Catholics have practiced for hundreds of years, including some aspects of Lent.  

Uninformed Baptists often commit the faux pas of confidentially calling attention to a dirty smudge on a friend’s forehead, only to have friend explain he or she has been to Ash Wednesday service to begin observing Lent.

I confess I have not entered full tilt into Lent.  I acknowledge my need for periodic solemn review of my commitment to Christ, perhaps not unlike the traditional revival meeting churches of my youth conducted twice a year.

In my stereotype, Lent is still mainly as a time for giving up something, although some fresh Lenten breezes include positive actions to combat the negative emphasis.

My one Ash Wednesday experience was quite positive. A few years ago, my wife Pansy and I were in downtown Savannah, Georgia, at noon on a Wednesday.  We saw people going into a Lutheran church, and an usher at the outside door invited us in.  We went in and entered heartily into the service.  We went forward to receive communion, we also received the ashes -- which some evangelical extremists might consider the Mark of the Beast.  When the pastor touched my forehead and declared, “Ashes to ashes, dust thou art and to dust thou shalt return,” it spoke to me of my own mortality in a way I still remember.

Christians can learn much from Christians across denominational lines.

A Conceited Young Man

I remember an older teenage boy named Rick.  His dad and I were close friends as we worked together for Georgia Baptists.  Rick was handsome and well-mannered.  Mr. Personality.  You probably couldn’t dislike him, even if you tried.   On one occasion, I saw Rick in a crowd of other young people. He turned on his personality, almost like a politician working the crowd.  Later, I complimented him for being so friendly and outgoing with the other young people.  Rick flashed a big grin and said, “This time tomorrow, I won’t remember any of these guys and gals.  But they’ll remember me!”
This young man had a lot going for him.  He had been raised by loving, caring parents.  I never shared that incident with his father.  But I realized, despite the way his dad and mother had raised him, this was a self-centered fellow. That was about forty years ago, so I can’t tell you what sort of man Rick became, but I like to believe he grew out of looking at the world through selfish eyes. 
Rick came to mind when I was planning this message because we’re going to focus on a conceited young man in Genesis.  His name is Joseph, and his story begins in the opening verses of the thirty-seventh chapter and continues through fourteen chapters, all the way to the end of the book.  Joseph is so significant that he gets approximately the same amount of space as Abraham, the father of the Jewish people.  Abraham was Joseph’s great-grandfather, Isaac his grandfather, and Jacob his father.  Joseph’s story is longer than the combined space given to Father Jacob and Grandfather Isaac.  
We will leave most of his adult years to some other time.  Today, we’ll focus largely on his years as a spoiled youngster, his father’s pet as the next-youngest of twelve brothers.
We need a bit of background about the parentage of those twelve brothers in order to understand more of how these older brothers relate to Joseph.   Or fail to relate to him.  Jacob is the father of them all.  But four different women are the mothers.  And it’s not a matter of a woman dying and then the widower marrying another woman.  No.  This is in a period when men thought it was OK to have several wives, all at the same time.
It goes back before Jacob got married.  After he gets in trouble with his twin brother and tricks the parents, Jacob flees to the region where his mother’s people live.  There, Jacob goes to work for his Uncle Laban as he promptly falls in love with Laban’s daughter Rachel.  If she is his uncle’s daughter, then she is Jacob’s first cousin. And that was not prohibited in those years. 
Laban seems to agree to this marriage, but then he tricks Jacob into marrying Leah, Rachel’s older sister.  Laban wants the older daughter to get married first.  Well, Rachel is Jacob’s true love.  But he has to agree to work additional years to claim Rachel as his wife in addition to Leah.
In this atmosphere of multiple wives, it’s not unheard of for a man to have intimate relations not only with his wives but with the slave women who serve the wives.  Jacob is eager to have a son by Rachel, whom he really loves.  But, despite their attempts, Rachel does not become pregnant.  Jacob becomes angry with Rachel when she is unable to give him a child.  In anger, he turns to Leah, who, you remember, was his second-choice wife.  
Then, surprise! surprise!  Leah gets pregnant and gives Jacob his first son, Reuben;  then a second son, Simeon; then third, Levi; and a fourth, Judah.  So Jacob is now the father of four, but none of the four is Rachel’s.  
She is envious of her sister.  So, in her desperation, she tells Jacob to take her slave woman, Bilhah.  If Bilhah gets pregnant, Rachel will claim that baby as her own.  Bilhah does have -- not one son but -- two, Dan and Naphtali.  
Leah isn’t going to sit idly by while Rachel claims two sons by the slave woman.  So Leah gives Jacob her maid servant, Zilpah, in hopes that Zilpah can have babies and, thus, keep Leah ahead of Rachel.  So Leah’s slave woman has two sons by Jacob: Gad and Asher.
So, by now, Papa Jacob has eight sons.  But none from Favorite Wife Rachel.   Indeed, while poor Rachel is jealous of her sister and the two slave women, Leah gets pregnant two more times, with Issachar and Zebulun.  
Now, the totals stand: Leah six sons, the two slave women two each, for a grand total of ten.  And Rachel still has none.  Jacob also has a daughter, but girls don’t matter.
With all this jealousy and infighting among the four women who have borne Jacob’s children, we can realize the tensions and politicking among the mothers and, in turn, among the sons of each woman.  It would be clear to the ten older brothers that their father is not happy with any of them as he keeps trying and hoping Rachel will give him a son.
At long last, Rachel does have a son, Jacob’s eleventh.  That son is Joseph.  Rachel will have one other son, Benjamin.  But she dies as she gives birth to this twelfth son of Jacob.
All this, then, is background for today’s passage in Genesis, chapter 37:
[2] This is the history of the family of Jacob.  Joseph, being seventeen years old, was shepherding the flock with his brothers; he was a lad with the sons of Bilhah and Zilpah, his father's wives; and Joseph brought an ill report of them to their father.  [3] Now Israel loved Joseph more than any other of his children, because he was the son of his old age; and he made him a long robe with sleeves.
[4] But when his brothers saw that their father loved him more than all his brothers, they hated him, and could not speak peaceably to him.  [5]  Now Joseph had a dream, and when he told it to his brothers they only hated him the more.  [6] He said to them, "Hear this dream which I have dreamed:   [7] behold, we were binding sheaves in the field, and lo, my sheaf arose and stood upright; and behold, your sheaves gathered round it, and bowed down to my sheaf."  [8] His brothers said to him, "Are you indeed to reign over us? Or are you indeed to have dominion over us?" So they hated him yet more for his dreams and for his words. 
[9] Then he dreamed another dream, and told it to his brothers, and said, "Behold, I have dreamed another dream; and behold, the sun, the moon, and eleven stars were bowing down to me."   [10] But when he told it to his father and to his brothers, his father rebuked him, and said to him, "What is this dream that you have dreamed? Shall I and your mother and your brothers indeed come to bow ourselves to the ground before you?"  [11] And his brothers were jealous of him, but his father kept the saying in mind.

THREE HATE FACTORS
We cannot justify the brothers’ hate for Joseph, but there are three factors which can help us understand their feelings:
First, Joseph is a tattletale:  He feels it his duty to report to their father whatever the older brothers do.  In verse 2, he brought an ill report to Father Jacob (who is also called Israel).  This verse also contains a reminder of the tangled family structure which made for strife.  Joseph was a lad with the sons of Bilhah and Zilpah, his father’s wives.  We saw a few moments ago, they would be Dan and Naphtali and Gad and Asher.
In a moment, we’ll see Jacob sends the boy out regularly to report on the older sons.  Joseph is aware  -- all twelve of the brothers are well aware -- that he has a place of privilege, which we will notice shortly.  These four older brothers -- the sons of the slave women -- don’t like the little snip.  So, whatever they do or say, large or insignificant, Joseph readily turns it into a major incident, and that sends him trotting home to daddy.
By age 17, he should have grown past this tattletale stage.  But, Joseph probably had developed this tattling posture to something near a professional level, as a way to attract his father’s attention.
A second reason for the brothers’ resentment:  Joseph is his father’s open favorite.   
Jacob has made no secret of his special love for this son of his special wife. A clear, physical sign of this favoritism is the clothing Joseph wears.  Those of us who grew up reading the King James Version always heard Joseph’s garment called a coat of many colors.  Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice even produced a Broadway show called Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.  But a better translation of the Hebrew words is a coat with long sleeves.
This long-sleeved garment is “Sunday-best” so to speak  -- not for manual labor.  So the very sight of this stuck-on-himself teenager strutting around in his best suit -- instead of work clothes -- is enough to set these brothers off.  
We do well to remind ourselves of the disaster we are courting when we play favorites among our children or grandchildren.  We can’t always be equal in treatment of our children.  One may get honored treatment at one time and another get the spotlight another time.  But long term, our love should show impartially to each child.  Jacob failed in this regard.
A third reason for brotherly resentment: Joseph is quick to sing his own praise. 
In a later chapter, we’re told, Joseph is handsome and good-looking.  Here, we see he’s aware of his positive qualities and  not bashful about pointing these out to others.  
A modern writer boasted that he was good at talking with people and winning their confidence.  But he admitted, after he gains a person’s attention in  a conversation, he stops listening, much like the teenager I mentioned in beginning.  This writer seems very self-centered, like teenage Joseph.
In Bible times, people placed great emphasis on the meaning of dreams. And Joseph’s inclination to toot his own horn shows up as he tells his family about his dreams which put him in a very favorable light in comparison with his parents and his brothers.   In later years, his ability to interpret dreams will play a positive role in Joseph his life and the lives of his brothers and their father.
But his early report of dreams is the straw that breaks the camel’s back with his half-brothers.  Joseph has two dreams whose meanings are rather obvious.  In the first dream,  the family is harvesting grain, each person tying stalks of grain into bundles or sheaves.  Joseph’s sheaf stands upright, and the sheaves of the other family members bow before his sheaf.
In the second dream, the sun, moon, and eleven stars bow down before Joseph.  Father Jacob rebukes his young favored son for suggesting that the family will all bow down before him.  The brothers are very upset over this arrogance.  However, Father Jacob files this story away in his mind for further study, even though he chides his wonder child for telling such a story.

IMMEDIATE CONSEQUENCES
There’s probably very little love between Leah’s sons and the sons of the slave women, but all three groups of brothers unite when it comes to their hostile feelings toward Daddy’s Pet.  These men grew up in an environment of jealousy and strife as all their mothers competed for first place in Jacob’s good graces.  This naturally breeds distrust among the various groups of brothers.
By the time Joseph reveals his dreams of superiority, most of the brothers are looking for the right opportunity to get rid of him, even killing him, if it comes to that.
Perhaps Jacob has regularly sent Joseph to find the older sons and bring back word about their work.  Jacob is getting old, so it’s not easy for him to supervise his wide ranging possessions.  So at some point after Joseph’s dreams, Jacob once more sends him out to look for his brothers.  The brothers probably have been gone a long time, and it probably takes days for him to track them down.
Verses 18 and following tell what happens as Joseph finds the brothers working:
They saw him afar off, and before he came near to them they conspired against him to kill him. 
But two of Leah’s son intervene to try to save the boy’s life: first Reuben, then Judah.
[22] And Reuben said to them, "Shed no blood; cast him into this pit here in the wilderness, but lay no hand upon him" -- that he might rescue him out of their hand, to restore him to his father.  [23] So when Joseph came to his brothers, they stripped him of his robe, the long robe with sleeves that he wore;  [24] and they took him and cast him into a pit. The pit was empty, there was no water in it.
We see the callousness of the brothers.  They throw Joseph into the pit, then sit down to eat, with consciences clear.  While they are eating, they see a merchant caravan heading for Egypt with spices.  At this point, Judah makes his effort to save Joseph’s life.  At his suggestion, the brothers agree to sell Joseph to the traders and let them take him to Egypt as a slave.  Reuben is away from the group when they make this decision, so when he returns, he goes to the pit and discovers Joseph is missing.  He fears the worst, but then he learns the brothers have an alternative to actual death:  They have kept the long-sleeved robe, so they kill a goat and smear its blood onto the robe to show their father and tell him Joseph is dead.  This has the desired effect: Father Jacob sinks into deep grief, refusing to be consoled.
These are the short-term consequences of Jacob’s partiality and the hard-heartedness of the brothers.  But there also are long-term consequences.

LONG-TERM CONSEQUENCES
The brothers are finished with Joseph.  Or so they think.  But God has only begun with this seemingly impractical dreamer.  
During that long journey to Egypt with the traders, Joseph probably has some bad dreams -- along with many regrets for his loose tongue and prissy ways which almost cost his life and did cost his freedom.  As a person who looked for deeper meaning of dreams, he most likely did a lot of reevaluating of those dreams of power and his family having to kneel down before him.
When they get to Egypt, the traders sell the tattletale youth to Potiphar, a high-ranking official in Pharaoh’s court.  We don’t know all that has happened in his young life, but he wins Potiphar’s confidence and is given responsibility over the household.
We don’t have all the details of Joseph’s life.  But years must have passed.  Obviously, Potiphar, as a man of authority, would not have turned over the operation of his household to a teenage boy.  As Joseph was growing up, he learned how to get on the good side of his father.  No doubt, he used those same skills to gain a hearing with Potiphar who owned him as a slave.  As he matures, he learns from both the positives and negatives in his earlier years.
Painful experiences can either hurt us or help us.  They can make us bitter, or they can make us better.  Joseph came to see himself in a new light.  His brothers intended to harm him, but we will see, Joseph turned their harm into good.  He recalled how God had dealt with his father Jacob, his grandfather Isaac, and his great grandfather Abraham.  After a time, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob became the God of Joseph. He grew to understand that God can work in mysterious ways His wonders to perform.
Joseph is described earlier as handsome and good-looking.  Potiphar’s wife is taken with Joseph and tries to seduce him.  When he refuses her advances, she tells her husband that Joseph tried to seduce her.  Potiphar can hardly take Joseph’s side against his wife. So he puts Joseph in prison, but he puts Joseph in charge of the other prisoners. 
While in prison, Joseph does more interpreting of dreams---eventually interpreting pharaoh’s troubled dream of a famine coming to Egypt.  Pharaoh hears Joseph’s interpretations and puts Joseph in charge of preparation by storing ahead for the famine.
Again, years pass. In the widespread famine, Joseph’s brothers travel to Egypt seeking food.  They come to Pharaoh’s court and unknowingly encounter their brother as the administrator for the crisis.  He is at least eight or ten years older, and they think he probably is dead.
Joseph has the chance to revenge himself against his brothers, but he has matured.  He assures them of food for surviving the famine and makes himself known to them.  Now, as a man of faith, he tells them: 
God sent me before you to preserve for you a remnant on earth, and to keep alive for you many survivors.  So it was not you who sent me here, but God .  .  .
So Joseph’s story is one of growth in self-awareness, growth in dependence on God, growth in skills to help others, and growth in love and forgiveness toward those who intended harm.
In his youthful years, Joseph reminds me of a four-year-old named Teresa.  Her parents were close friends of ours.  Often she was the only child in the room when several couples got together.  One night we were talking about things we were interested in and not paying a whole lot of attention to Teresa.  After a while, she interrupted and said, “Why don’t you say something important.  Say something to ME!”
Joseph’s self-centeredness got him in trouble with those who had to put up with his attitude.  But in time, he saw himself in a new light, and God was able to use him in surprising ways to benefit those who had wronged him.

A Fellow Named Melvin Jones

I’m a member of the Lions Club civic organization.  Our Lions International motto is “We Serve,”  but sometimes it seems about all our local club does is meet, eat, hear a speaker, and sell brooms.
That’s judgmental and unfair to our club and to Lions generally.  Selling brooms IS our club’s major fundraiser, and the Lions’ share (pun intended) goes to sight preservation.
A secondary money maker for our club is Candy Day.  For both these funding efforts, we get permission to stand at the exit of big-name national chains and peddle our wares.
If people know anything at all about Lions clubs, they probably know we provide eye exams, glasses, and even eye surgery.
On Candy Day, we give rolls of candy mints to people who make donations.  Time and again over the years, people refuse the candy as they drop loose change, dollar bills, or larger money into our buckets.  They tell me, “Grandma got her glasses from the Lions” or “Y’all paid for my daddy’s eye test.”
When Phil Marett, one of our club members, was elected Lions district governor, he asked me to be his chaplain for cabinet meetings. I gave prayers and brief devotional thoughts.  This, in turn, led to opportunities to bring major inspirational messages at state conventions.
These honors put me in touch with men and women across the state, and significant friendships developed which have enriched my life.  
I never aspired to larger office beyond membership in our local club, but I was approached about possibly running for district governor in my own right. I discouraged this nomination.  Turns out, I didn’t qualify anyway.  A candidate for district service must have come up through the ranks of leadership in zone and regional Lions work, which I had not done.  
Still, I was flattered to know a fellow Lion pictured me in that role.
Money pitched into our buckets from broom sales and donations for candy is mingled with funds from other clubs for major projects in our state and around the world.
South Carolina Lions have contributed millions of dollars, providing state of the art equipment for medical research at the Storm Eye Institute, part of the Medical University of South Carolina.   A huge Lions Club emblem is emblazoned on the exterior wall of Storm Eye in downtown Charleston in acknowledgment of these donations. 
Internationally, children and adults in many countries are saved from blindness through Lions projects.

Additionally, Lions provide relief in natural disasters.  One example: When Superstorm Sandy ravaged the East Coast last year, Lions Clubs International Foundation immediately provided more than two hundred thousand dollars for those whose lives were impacted.  

Many local clubs also rallied, sending money and members to assist in areas hit by the storm.  

Teenage Lions, known as Leos, got involved.  More than sixty Yorktown, New York, Leo Club members and friends traveled nearly seventy miles to Staten Island. They helped clean up an apartment complex that had been flooded by Sandy. Many residents lost everything and were left without a place to stay. The Leos helped empty out apartments and discard water-soaked household items. They also brought hot coffee, hot chocolate and hot soup for those who went for days without power in their homes after Sandy passed through.
If this reads like a lengthy promo for Lions, I guess it is.  But it’s more.  
In the pattern of all service groups, Lions International has a system for recognizing members nominated by their clubs for work they have done.
Lions have an award known as the Melvin Jones Fellowship, named for the Chicago businessman who founded the Lions organization in 1917.
In order for a Lion to be named a Melvin Jones Fellow, the club must contribute one thousand dollars to the international foundation for charitable work.  So it’s quite an honor for a Lion to realize the club has expressed its confidence in such a tangible way.
Often, Melvin Jones awards are given at state conventions.  During the years I spoke regularly at state meetings, it wasn’t unusual for my wife Pansy to go with me.  But this one year, she seemed especially interested in going.  I didn’t think a whole lot about that until my name was called on awards night.  I went forward and became a Melvin Jones Fellow, receiving my certificate from the incoming international president, Mahendra Amarasuriya of Sri Lanka, our featured speaker that year.
You can’t put a price on volunteer service, but I’m not sure my contribution to Lions work is worth a thousand dollars.  Still, I’m honored that my club made me a Melvin Jones Fellow.
A man or woman can also attain higher recognition as a Progressive Melvin Jones Fellow.  But that one comes with a bit of irony.  This usually is not further recognition by the club for distinguished service.  Instead, a Lion becomes Progressive when he or she directly contributes a thousand dollars to the international foundation.  This can be done incrementally over several years.
I make occasional direct contributions to Lions Clubs International Foundation, but I am not ambitious to attain higher recognition in this way.  I think of the admonition in the Sermon on the Mount: when you give to the needy, don’t let your left hand know what your right hand is doing.

On the other hand, right or left, these financial contributions in the name of the Lions founder go toward sight saving, disaster relief, youth work, and other worldwide Lions benevolent service.  

So, with or without public recognition, Melvin Jones money from clubs and from individual Lions does what we might call “a world of good.”