"Reality...what a concept."

Genesis 45: 1-15
New Ark United Church of Christ, Newark, DE
August 17, 2014

            One of my all-time favorite comedy albums is Robin Williams’ 1979 recording entitled “Reality…what a concept”. It was a live show at the Copacabana in New York, right at the height of his success on the “Mork and Mindy” television series. Many times during the performance, Robin would improvise with sheer genius, using disparate cultural themes like Shakespeare and disco, even inviting the audience into his creative, quirky thought-process, like a tiny bug in his brain, and getting laughs all the while.

            At one point he asked the audience to supply the seeds of inspiration for an improvisation, and the crowd began to chant “Mork, Mork, Mork!” Robin let loose a colorful invective. The crowd continued. Finally, Robin had to explain that he did these club shows so that he could do something else besides his “Mork from Ork” character, which was beginning to wear thin for him.


           Yet it was that very television show that brought together my mother and brother and I after my parents had divorced. For a brief half hour, once a week, we would sit together, laugh ourselves silly, and allow ourselves to let go of some the anxiety and tension between us.


            It was his tremendous heart as well as his manic craziness that somehow managed to set us free from our worries for a while. Robin once said that we’re all given a little spark of madness and that we mustn’t lose it. One of the miracles of his comedy and his acting, in spite of his inward pain, was that our little spark and his recognized each other, revealing us as kindred spirits, and in that vulnerable moment we knew we weren’t alone.


Let your little light shine, shine, shine
Let your little light shine, O my Lord
There might be someone down in the valley
Tryin’ to get home
Let your little light shine, shine, shine
Let your little light shine, O my Lord
There might be someone down in the valley
Tryin’ to get home 

            

          When we left off with Joseph last week, he was far from home and very much alone. His brothers sold him to traders who carted him off to Egypt, his father thinking he was dead. To make sense of the lectionary reading, the rest of the story needs to be told. Joseph’s life then begins to sound like a Russian fairytale. He endures his captivity yet he also prospers in small ways. He is put in charge of his master’s house but is thrown in prison when his master’s wife accuses him of hitting on her. Yet he also gains favor with the chief jailer because God is with Joseph. Instead of having dreams of his own, Joseph interprets the dreams of others, the chief cupbearer to the Pharaoh and his baker. When the cupbearer’s dream turns out to be favorable for him, Joseph asks him to remember this kindness by mentioning him to the Pharaoh so that he might be released from prison. But the cupbearer, in his good fortune, forgets Joseph.


        Two years later, when the Pharaoh is disturbed by dreams which none of his yes men can interpret, the cupbearer finally remembers the promise asked of him by Joseph. Hearing that this young Hebrew has talent and vision, Pharaoh sends for Joseph to decipher these strange dreams of seven thin cows swallowing up seven fat cows, of seven blighted ears of grain eating up seven plump ears of grain. Joseph points not to his own insight but to God, that it is God who is speaking through Pharaoh’s dreams.


        Joseph informs Pharaoh there will be seven good years of plenty followed by seven years of famine, and that all this is God’s doing, as a way of saving Pharaoh’s people and his empire. Joseph advises Pharaoh to store up the surplus grain in these next seven years so that there will be a supply during the years of famine. Pharaoh admires Joseph’s wisdom and chutzpah and puts him in charge of his household, making him overseer of the whole of Egypt, save for Pharaoh on the throne. In Cinderella fashion, Joseph rises from being a slave and a prisoner in a foreign land to one with great authority and power. Forgotten are his hardships and his father’s house, now that he is successful in the land of his misfortunes.


        When the years of famine come, Joseph then sells the grain not only to Egyptians but to peoples from many countries, because the famine is so severe. Jacob and his family are also suffering in Canaan, so Jacob sends ten of his sons to Egypt to buy grain, keeping the youngest, Benjamin, at home because he is afraid something will happen to him.


        When the brothers come to buy grain, Joseph recognizes them but they do not recognize Joseph; all they see is an Egyptian governor. Joseph remembers his dreams about his brothers and treats them harshly, accusing them of being spies and throws them in prison. The brothers say that they are only twelve brothers trying to save their family, one still at home and another gone. Joseph orders one of them to bring back the youngest brother; until they do, the rest of the brothers must stay in the prison. They say to each other, “Now we are paying for what we did to Joseph.”


         To make a really long story a wee bit shorter, Joseph sends them all away with bags of grain, except Simeon who remains in the dungeon, while the rest are to go home to get their brother. The brothers return with Benjamin, even though Jacob is terrified that he may never see him again. When Joseph sees Benjamin, he can hardly contain himself, asking about their father to see if he is alive, leaving the room to shed his tears. After a few more scenes of family drama, Joseph finally can take it no more. He comes clean and reveals himself to his brothers, unable to control his weeping any longer, streaks of dark black kohl running down his face.


        All of these power struggles, rivalry, and uncertainty make this family into one hot mess, yet even in the midst of this turbulence, God’s presence and care are revealed and that God’s purpose is to save rather than to condemn.


 
It might be me or it might be you
Might be my brother or my sister too
There might be someone down in the valley
Tryin’ to get home
It might be near or it might be far
By morning sun or the evening star
There might be someone down in the valley
Tryin’ to get home

        It’s not easy revealing oneself, being vulnerable, allowing others to see one’s true self, especially when someone’s feeling like a hot mess or even more so, the pain and isolation of depression and other mental illnesses. We expect so much of ourselves and each other; often the world around us doesn’t appear to be a safe place. None of us want to be found lacking or to disappoint others.



       At one point in his improv routine on that Copacabana stage, Robin Williams invited the audience to come into his mind when a comedian “eats the big one” as he put it. We hear different voices, the ego, the critic, the rational mind, and the subconscious (which sounds like a beast gnashing its teeth). The ego, reduced from oversized to pitiful, cries “Help me!” while the subconscious has the last word, demanding of the audience, “What do you want from me anyway?!” And though the crowd laughs loud and long, we wonder if we have seen some truth about Robin’s inner reality and our frail, flawed humanity.



       Joseph carried himself beyond reproach for so long that when he was confronted with his brothers, the oldest ones middle-aged men now, the boy who was abandoned could not hold himself back. His leadership persona crumbled before them, and he wept so loudly his cries could be heard beyond the walls of the room. Because his heart was tender and not hard, Joseph and his brothers were mended, and the family reunited. Because he understood himself to be working for God’s purpose of salvation and liberation, Joseph was able to reveal himself, be vulnerable, allow his true self to be seen.



       Author Marianne Williamson wrote, “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”



       Robin did not play small; neither did Joseph. Each of them knew in their own way what it means to live with pain and the toll it can take on a human life. And the church is called to be the safe place, the people where we can reveal who we really are, our pain, our deepest fears, AND our brightest light so that others may find hope among us. God is working out that very purpose of salvation and liberation through us and our life together. That we are powerful beyond measure is a reality we have not fully grasped. What are we willing to do for the next Robin Williams who might walk through our doors? Maybe he’s already here.



 
Let your little light shine, shine, shine
Let your little light shine, O my Lord
There might be someone down in the valley
Tryin’ to get home
Let your little light shine, shine, shine
Let your little light shine, O my Lord
There might be someone down in the valley
Tryin’ to get home