Genesis 41

The Pharaoh has a dream in which seven healthy cows, following their daily ablutions in the Nile, get gobbled up by seven emaciated cows. In his next dream, seven burnt stalks of grain swallow up seven healthy stalks. I can visualize the first dream easily enough, but just how does a skinny little stalk of grain swallow something else? Does it grow a mouth? How many teeth does it have? Does it have a tongue? Just where on the stalk does this maw appear?

Pharaoh sends for his magicians to interpret his dream, but I can imagine they said something like, "Sorry, we only know how to turn silk handkerchiefs into dollar bills, pass metal rings through ropes, and make coins disappear. Now, pick a card, any card." The cupbearer remembers Joseph, though if he's forgotten him for two whole years, how does he even remember at this point? The cupbearer offers a précis of the previous chapter in case you weren't paying attention; I guess he's lucky that Pharaoh doesn't, on a whim, decide to impale him too for forgetting about Joseph for two years.

God, though Joseph, interprets Pharaoh's dream: Seven years of abundance will precede seven years of famine. In verse 33, Joseph tells Pharaoh to find a "discerning and wise man" to put in charge of Egypt's grain storage operation. You can almost see him winking and nudging, and of course, Pharaoh does appoint Joseph to the position. Pharaoh, apparently not one to take half measures, gives Joseph jewelry and some new duds. Joseph even gets to have a chariot, with people shouting, "Make way!" Just like Prince Ali.

At this point, Joseph's meteoric rise has reached its zenith. (Spoiler: He doesn't become the Pharaoh in the next chapter). He had to endure rejection from his brothers, slavery, false accusations from his master's lascivious wife, imprisonment, and being on the receiving end of a broken promise. Was this all worth it? We get a glimpse of Joseph's mindset in verse 51; he names his son Manasseh, saying, "It is because God has made me forget all my trouble and all my father's household." He links "trouble" with his family here, implying that maybe he wants to forget his family--which makes sense, as his brothers did, after all, originally plan to bump him off. But, as we'll soon see, the famine throughout the region will instigate an unexpected family reunion, which will cause Joseph to evince a tumultuous swirl of emotions.

Genesis 40

The beginning of this chapter features some rather tautological repetition, as if the author thought that the readers were a little dense. Verses 1 and 2 say, "Some time later, the cupbearer and the baker of the king of Egypt offended their master, the king of Egypt. Pharaoh was angry with his two officials, the chief cupbearer and the chief baker…." Later, in verse 5, the author reminds us (just in case you forgot) about "each of the two men--the cupbearer and the baker of the king of Egypt…." I can only surmise that this story in particular was oral in origin. Either that, or the author rather presciently anticipated the short attention spans of the Internet generation.

Joseph the dreamer interprets the dreams of the chief cupbearer and chief baker (of the king of Egypt), noting in verse 8 that dream interpretation comes from God. I don't recall my dreams much anymore, but when I was younger, I remember a vivid one in which a street sweeper (one of the small ones that makes a high-pitched noise) was charging headlong through our backyard. Slightly freaked out, I ran out the front door, and of course, there was the street sweeper, which proceeded to chase me down the street. I suppose I could go to a psychic (i.e., a professional charlatan) to have the dream interpreted, but as it wouldn't be coming from God, the interpretation would be erroneous.

The cupbearer receives good news; he'll be released in three days and restored to his position (as verse 13 says, "Pharaoh will lift up [his] head." The baker, however, gets told that Pharaoh will "impale [his] body on a pole. And the birds will eat away [his] flesh" (verse 19). Bummer. Joseph also makes a clever little pun that I'm sure he couldn't resist; while the cupbearer's head will be lifted up, the baker's head will be lifted off. Did the baker deserve this? We don't know what he did to anger Pharaoh, and even if we did, I certainly wouldn't put it past such a ruler to arbitrarily decide his subjects' fates.

Joseph tells the cupbearer to remember him and get him out of this wretched "dungeon" (verse 15), which, as the NIV notes, was probably an exaggeration as Joseph's prison was fairly swanky as prisons go. However, the cupbearer promptly forgets about Joseph--for two years, as we'll later learn. I'd understand if he forgot for a few days, but two whole years? It boggles the mind.

I hope I don't forget promises I make with others. I don't think I've forgotten anyway--which anyone can say, really, because of course you don't remember what you've forgotten. (Duh.) Worse are the promises described by Cogsworth: those you make but don't intend on keeping. If I know I can't (or won't) keep a promise, I'll waffle around without actually making the promise, using those magical words that Yoda hates: "I'll try." But that's duplicitous as well, since I'm probably not going to actually try. I should try strive to follow James 5:12, saying what I mean instead of attempting to gain favor or make myself look good. Because the person with whom I prevaricate just might be a street sweeper driver who, in his pursuit of vengeance, will do his best to make my dream come true.

Genesis 39

The marvelously monikered Potiphar, an Egyptian official, buys Joseph and quickly promotes him to chief house- and groundskeeper. Joseph achieves this lofty station not through his own efforts, but because God is with him. Joseph's sale into slavery didn't end up so badly after all.

I'm not going to pretend that those who find themselves in a dreadful situation will quickly rise through the ranks. Innumerable people more devout than I would be utterly rapturous if they had any of the blessings I've been given: a fantastic family, a roof over my head, a job, access to clean water and a smorgasbord of victuals, friends who tolerate my idiosyncrasies (or who at least are kind enough not to say anything), and the list goes on. I can harp about my failings and foibles, but overall I've got it pretty good. It's false to say that following God will automatically result in an end to suffering or privation, but those who trust God through thick and thin seem to have inner peace and joy. That's not to say that they waltz through life as blithe and as out of touch with reality as Barney the Purple Dinosaur, or that they have struggles with their faith. However, God is an inexhaustible source of strength and comfort who just happens to want a personal relationship with everyone on the planet.

I've wandered a bit, so let me get back to Joseph and Potiphar. Joseph, who is "well-built and handsome," ends up stirring the loins of Potiphar's curiously unnamed wife. Utterly gaga for this pre-Adonis Adonis, she keeps trying to hit on him to no avail. Many people in Joseph's sandals would probably refuse as well, but how many would do so out of fear of being caught rather than because of their rectitude? In this situation, I would definitely refuse because of the latter, but I admit there are a few situations in which I do the right thing (as Spike Lee would put it) because I fear remonstration if I don't. Queue jumping at Disneyland? Morally reprehensible; I would never entertain the thought. Coming to a complete stop at a stop sign on my bicycle? That's something I do because I fear getting caught, as I learned the hard way.

Potiphar's wife grasps Joseph's cloak as he's trying to skedaddle, so he Joseph wriggles out of it (which creates an image in my mind of Joseph running out in the altogether). She takes the cloak and accuses Joseph of trying to take advantage of her. While Potiphar believes his wife's whopper, he at least throws Joseph into one of the higher class prisons "where the king's prisoners were confined" (verse 20). False accusations are absolutely deplorable, and I count myself lucky not to have been subject to any so far. I can only imagine how indignant Joseph was. Although matters don't always "shake out" in life, we can know that God will appropriately judge those who make false accusations. However, I also have to be careful not to make such accusations myself just to save my skin or, even worse, just to make my life easier. After all, the person I'm accusing is a human being, and just like me, that person has his or her own worries, struggles, and feelings. 

Genesis 38

Chapter 38 features another story fit to teach in a children's Sunday school class, complete with smiting, deceit, and one of the earliest records of the withdrawal method. I feel like there should be a moral to this story, but I admit that I don't quite see it.

Let's start off with the smiting. Judah's first son, Er, gets a holy lightning bolt called down upon him because he was "wicked in the LORD's sight" (verse 7). Why was he wicked? Er…I don't know. I do think it's rather ominous that we don't get any details about Er's actions. Then, Judah tells Er's brother Onan (the Arbarian) to sleep with Er's widow Tamar to "fulfill [his] duty to her" (verse 8). He dutifully obeys…but then proceeds to use the world's most unreliable method of contraception. Fortunately, it happens to work. Unfortunately, God kills him for it.

Why? Did God want Onan to follow through? Was this more about him trying to get the pleasure out of the interaction without fulfilling what his father asked of him? If I had to guess, I'd say Onan's intent brought the lightning bolt upon his sorry head by thinking selfishly. If Tamar's child couldn't be his, he thought, then he wasn't going to help her.

Tamar takes matters into her own hands; in a bit of dramatic irony, she brazenly decides to take up the word's oldest profession and have a son through her father-in-law, Judah. The veil she wore really must have worked wonders, for Judah doesn't have an inkling who she is. Could he really not recognize her voice? Maybe she was a really good actor. Most of the time, I can tell who an actor is even if they use extensive makeup, but a there have been one or two times I've been amazed at how different an actor appeared just by changing his or her voice and facial mien.

Tamar proves herself as admirably shrewd, making fools out of the men around her. Judah rather dopily gives up his seal, cord, and staff in order to sleep with Tamar--he might as well have given her his driver's license. So of course, she uses those to keep herself from being barbecued when Judah accuses her of prostitution. To his credit, Judah realizes his buffoonery, saying, "She is more righteous than I" (verse 26). Well, Tamar shouldn't have used deceit in the first place, but at least she doesn't bring down one of those lightning bolts that have been raining down liberally throughout this chapter. In fact, both Judah and Tamar survive to see their twin boys born.

No one in this chapter is blameless, but God smote some people and not others. I won't venture to say what kinds of sins engender a God-ordained death; Christ's death and resurrection have since changed this whole equation anyway. I know I've been selfish and sometimes mendacious, but I still shouldn't think that, just because I haven't been hit by a cement mixer yet, these qualities are still acceptable. Sure, God forgives me when I ask Him to, but if I'm really living for Him, His power within me should render sinning unattractive. As you'd expect, I still have a ways to go.

Genesis 37

Now it's time for Jacob's son Joseph to get his 14 chapters of fame. (Not quite 15). However, Jacob's arguably pernicious influence still snakes its way into Joseph's account right from the start: Jacob's favoritism of Joseph, manifested through the famed Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat (though the Bible just uses the word "ornate," and even that's an uncertain translation), leads to his other sons to sell Joseph into slavery.

Again, I'm not a parent yet, but I do know that showing favoritism to one of your kids never ends well. The favored kid may adopt an uppity or entitled attitude, while the unfavored kid(s) will feel demoralized and rejected. Although I'm not the most gregarious person, I do enjoy the company of some people more than the company of others--that's just a human trait. And although I don't trumpet to the four corners of the Earth that I like this person more than that person, my actions do reveal whom I prefer to be around. Well, as a parent, you can't really "prefer to be around" one of your kids more than another lest you evince favoritism. Yes, I'm not a parent myself, but (and this is a fact I've revealed only to a select, lucky few) I happen to have extensive experience being raised by parents. My parents did not show favoritism toward me or my siblings, but if they had, I definitely would not have dealt with it well.

Joseph and his brothers did not deal well with their father's favoritism either. Joseph acts like an obnoxious little prig, tactlessly crowing to his brothers about his visions of supremacy over them, causing them to resent him even more. Joseph's brothers soon see an opportunity to get back at the "dreamer," but their revenge goes far beyond giving him a wedgie or noogie. They actually want to kill him. Yes, Joseph was being a bit of an insufferable brat, but that's certainly no grounds for killing someone. (Very few people would be alive today if that were the case.) Reuben (of pastrami fame) tells his younger brothers to stash Joseph in a well; Reuben plans to sneak Joseph back out and return him home. But while Reuben wanders off to perfect his Thousand Island dressing recipe, Judah and the other brothers sell Joseph into slavery. Not good, but still better than outright murdering him.

Because Joseph's brothers thought about their plan before carrying it out, they kept themselves from committing a heinous crime. Sometimes, I'm tempted to do something unwise, but if I prayerfully think about it beforehand, I stave off embarrassment. Occasionally, I get sucked into reading YouTube comments (which serve as the nexus of ignoramuses, so I don't know why I keep reading them); at times, I'm sorely attempted to create an account just so I can bicker with imbeciles who write patently pea-brained comments, such as all Democrats/Republicans suck, women/men aren't talented enough to do such and such, or Hans Zimmer is better than John Williams. So far, I've avoided being drawn into that vortex of vituperative vitriol. But if I go further and bring all my decisions prayerfully before God, I can avoid making foolhardy choices.

Genesis 35-36

Following the rather horrid Dinah Debacle, God (referring to Himself in the third person, for some reason) tells Jacob to leave this nasty place and head for Bethel (the place where, if you remember, Jacob had his little Led Zeppelin vision). Jacob and his clan do have to change their clothes and part with their foreign gods--sorry, Rachel--but that must have been easy enough. However, it must have taken supreme willpower for them to get rid of their precious earrings.

As a result, however, God protects Jacob and his family, conferring on him the covenant promise He had given to Abraham and Isaac. I don't want to get into a "conditional" mindset with God (and right on cue, here come those dreaded memories of geometry proofs again). If I get rid of the distractions of my life, I shouldn't expect God to subsequently shower me with a free house, 29 flunkies, and unlimited In-N-Out burgers. At the same time, I also know that I do need to get rid of the diversions in life that keep me from God. Again, not that He calls us to be ascetics, but I have to be careful so I can keep a healthy balance, putting God first.

Rachel dies giving birth to Benjamin (be careful what you wish for). In her precious, final breath, she actually names him Ben-Oni. But Jacob renames him, following Mahalalel's example (chapter 5) and presciently giving his son a name that the other kids won't make fun of on the playground. It's nice that Jacob cares about his son's well-being, but I can't help thinking that contradicting your dying wife's final declaration is a bit of a d*** move.

In verse 22, the author glosses an event that will prove portentous: Reuben, Jacob's oldest son, sleeps with his father's concubine. And dear old Dad finds out. The Bible rather ominously doesn't elaborate any further, but an elephant never forgets; this little event will come back to bite Reuben in the butt in chapter 49. Oh well; at least he gets a delicious sandwich named after him.

Chapter 36 features yet another scintillating genealogy. This chapter does mention that Esau and Jacob have to part ways because they have too much livestock; I suppose all their goats and sheep are decimating the greenery and leaving aromatic deposits behind. That's as deep as I'll get in this conclusion; if you want something of more substance, you can read the second paragraph again.

Genesis 34

Jacob's decision to loiter around instead of returning to the home God promised him leads to a rather unsavory incident. A malefactor named Shechem rapes Jacob's daughter Dinah, and then has the temerity to ask Jacob and his sons to take her as his wife. What exactly did he think they were going to say? Sadly, it probably was the norm to treat women like objects, so I suspect Shechem expected Jacob and Co. to hand her over. As a prince (his father, Hamor, ruled that area), he was also probably used to getting his own way.

In a rather cruel yet morbidly humorous trick, Jacob's sons say that all of the males in Hamor's tribe must circumcise themselves if they want to intermarry with Jacob's clan. Utterly smitten with Dinah, Shechem agrees without a second thought. We all know the saying "adding insult to injury," but Dinah's brothers, Simeon and Levi, add death to injury by slaughtering all the men in Hamor's city--while "all of them were still in pain" (verse 25). Shechem, at least, probably deserved it.

Dinah is a non-entity in this story; all the guys do the work for her. I'm glad that society has progressed enough that we (for the most part) allow women to speak for themselves and stand on their own, though we still have some ways to go. But you know who else was also a non-entity in this story? You guessed it--Frank Stallone, I mean Jacob. In verse 5, when he hears what's been done to his daughter, he dallies around, waiting until his sons come home. If Dinah were my daughter, I'd be so apoplectic and appalled that I don't know how exactly I'd react, but I certainly wouldn't bide my time waiting for my sons to get home. His sons devise this whole plan while Jacob observes mutely; only after the fact in verse 30 does he scold his sons for making them "obnoxious" to the surrounding tribes. Well, Jacob, why didn't you speak up before your sons decided to butcher a whole city whose men were still clutching their nether regions?

I get that we're not getting every single detail of this story; Jacob indeed might have actually been concerned about his daughter (you know, the person who was actually raped). Perhaps his seeming detachment was a coping mechanism? I hope that I will never have to deal with anything like this, but if I do, I pray that I will react better than Jacob did. At the same time, while I respect that Dinah's brothers didn't sell her out, I also don't think they should have punished the whole city for one man's crime. Maybe they the whole city was wicked (like Sodom), but I certainly can't use that to justify any of my actions. And while the brothers had their vengeance, it seems that Dinah was left neglected when she really could have used some succor. It might be a little conceited for me to think that I'll be in a situation in which I am someone's ONLY source of comfort, support, and encouragement, but who knows? At any rate, that shouldn't stop me from offering those qualities anyway.