In the summer of 1989, I was 18, and was spending my third consecutive summer as a counselor at Camp Mirimichi, a boy scout camp on Huntington Lake in the Sierras. Since I was now 18, it was the first summer I was allowed to drive the boats, which was a big deal since the camp could only be reached by boat.
I remember one evening, the director asked me to take the day’s trash across the lake to the dumpsters. So I loaded up one of the small motorboats, and went on my way.
By the time I started my return trip back to camp, the sun had set, and the stars were coming out. One of the classes I taught at camp was Astronomy, so I had learned to recognize many of the summer constellations: Ursa Major and Minor, Draco, Aquila, Cygnus, Bootes, Cassiopeia, and Pegasus. And, because it was late August, I could even see Andromeda just starting to rise in the east.
But brighter than all those that summer was the planet Mars. Mars was so bright that summer that I could see its red reflection on the lake surface.
As I made my way back to camp across the lake, alone in that boat, everything was so radiant.
With an almost empty boat, my little boat was able to go just fast enough that a very light spray of water splashed upon me, further heightening my senses. Everything looked brighter, smelled stronger, and felt more intense.
And I got emotional. I didn’t know what was happening, but I felt like shouting out loud to the stars, to the heavens, and maybe I did. I didn’t quite understand what I was feeling, but I recognized the moment as sacred.
I told you this story before, over ten years ago. I’m not sure if anyone remembers. The reason I’m sharing it with you again is that I think I have a greater understanding now of what it was, exactly, that I was experiencing.
I now understand that what I was feeling was complete unity, complete oneness, with the universe, and a complete melting away of my individual self as something separate from the world around me. I truly felt like I was a part of the universe, that the stars and planets and the forest and the mountains and I were one, all part of the same creation.
Have you ever felt something like that?
Some people feel it when they are out in their garden. The beauty of the morning, the songs of the birds, the dew that makes everything smell so fresh, the feel of damp soil between one’s fingers, and the cultivation of flowers or vegetables has a way of making us feel less separate, less alone, and more a part of the world.
Others have felt it at a rock concert or sporting event, when their emotion and the emotion of all those around them swell in unison; all of a sudden thousands of strangers become family.
The word ecstasy isn’t a word I use much, but I guess that’s what it is.
I’ve actually experienced this walking on the paths at El Dorado Nature Center here in Long Beach. I’ve had the beautiful sights, sounds, and smells of that special place overwhelm me. When that happens, my steps slow and soften, as I truly feel that I am walking on holy ground.
Every breath becomes a delight. And even the sounds of children running past me along the trails contribute to what I am feeling, as I know they are—in their own way—experiencing the same oneness with nature and with the universe that I myself am experiencing.
And then there is our time of worship here at church. I think here, too, when we gather, when we join our hearts in prayer and our voices in song, and when we partake of the communion elements, we often feel that sense of oneness with the universe. We feel one with other Christians around the world, who also gather in their own places of worship to sing hymns and songs of praise, to pray, and to break bread, all in their own language and manner, but united at the one table of Christ.
In such moments, the Spirit helps us overcome our sense of isolation, our aloneness, and all the individualism that we feel living in the world today. We become one with each other, one with humanity, one with all of creation, and one with God; we become aware that that oneness is what is real and what is true, and that our separateness, our aloneness, is a lie that we have been led to believe.
And, in fact, that’s why we call it religion. As I’ve mentioned before, the word religion comes from Latin re-ligio, and it literally means to reconnect.
Religion, done right, reconnects us to God, to the universe, to one another. Religion reminds us that we are one with each other and one with all that is. Religion helps us become aware that we are an intrinsic part of something that is so much bigger than our individual selves. Religion lets us know that we are not alone.
Is it any wonder, then, that the Bible contains stories of individuals, families, households and nations, overcoming their separateness, and uniting, reconciling, and affirming their oneness?
In today’s story, we have the reunion and reconciliation of Joseph and his brothers. We heard the first part of this story last week: how Joseph’s brothers sold him into slavery. As a result, Joseph was taken in chains to Egypt, and he and his brothers never expected to see each other again.
Well, today’s story takes place thirteen years later. After many trials and hardships, Joseph miraculously found himself second in command in Egypt, Pharaoh’s right-hand man.
This happened because Pharaoh had a dream, and Joseph was the only one who was able to interpret that dream and tell Pharaoh what that dream meant.
Pharaoh’s dream, as it turned out, was a prediction of seven good, bountiful years, followed by seven years of famine.
Grateful to know what his dream meant, Pharaoh promoted Joseph, and put him in charge of preparing Egypt for the famine, storing grain during the seven good years so that there would be plenty to eat during the seven years of famine.
So, when the famine came—thanks to Joseph—Egypt had saved and stored enough grain to make it through the famine without anyone in Egypt going hungry.
But Joseph’s long lost family—his father and his brothers—was also experiencing the famine, and they didn’t have any stored grain to get them through it. Joseph’s father had heard that Egypt did have grain, so he sent Joseph’s brothers to Egypt to see if they could get some grain so that they wouldn’t starve to death in the famine.
They had no idea that this would reunite them with their brother Joseph.
And that’s how it came to be that, so many years later, Joseph and his brothers were reunited and reconciled in an emotional climax to one of the longest stories in the Bible.
Those of you who know your Bible know that Joseph’s father and uncle—Jacob and Esau—had their own dramatic, emotional reconciliation back when Joseph was just a small child.
Joseph’s father, Jacob, had stolen the birthright and blessing from his brother Esau, as you may recall from a few weeks ago. Esau’s anger was so strong that he vowed to kill his brother Jacob; what is it with these families, these siblings trying to kill each other, and ending up estranged? There are a lot of family patterns that get passed down from one generation to another here, aren't there?
Anyway, after years of estrangement, these two brothers—Jacob and Esau—experienced their own emotional reunion and reconciliation.
So Joseph’s reunion with his brothers is the second big reconciliation among siblings in this story, coming just one generation after the emotional reunion between Jacob and Esau.
Estrangement and reconciliation is a big part of these stories in Genesis. Our oneness, our unity, with our siblings, is a major theme here.
I know that the quality of the relationships we have with our own family members varies. Some have wonderful relationships; and some have relationships that are strained or non-existent.
Some have even left their families, or have been forced out, because of the abuse they received, or the animosity, or the unhealthy dynamics present there.
Yet many of those who have separated themselves from their families grieve because of that separation, and that grief can last their whole lives. No matter how necessary that separation may be, there is still a longing to be reunited, because deep down, we know that we are one.
God created us to be in relationship, to be connected to one another.
We are one.
And when we are apart, and when there is animosity, we feel that pain, because we are one.
This is true in our families. This is also true for the family of God.
As Christians, we are one with all other Christians. We are one body. We don’t always act like it, but we are.
I took a class in seminary by Paul Crow, who was the first general secretary of the Consultation on Church Union. From Dr. Crow I learned that we really shouldn’t pray that God might make us one, because we already are one. We’ve just forgotten, or have become unaware of this.
We are one.
We are one with each other. We are one with our families. We are one with our church. We are one with all Christians, no matter what denomination they are part of. We are one with all humanity, for we are all children of God. And we are one with all living things and all of creation, for we were all created out of God’s goodness and love.
No wonder it hurts so much when we are estranged from one another.
No wonder we feel such pain in our isolation. There is so much social isolation. Dr. Vivek Murthy, former US surgeon general, said that addressing social isolation was a priority for him, because of how detrimental social isolation is to health. Health officials have described it as an epidemic. Studies show that social isolation is as harmful to health as smoking 15 cigarettes a day, or being obese.
No wonder we experience such joy when we are reconciled, or when we are reunited with a friend or loved one we haven’t seen in awhile.
Because deep down we know that we are one. We aren’t always aware of that. We can’t always express that. But deep down, in our subconscious, we feel it, and we know it to be true.
On the one hand, it’s a very simple idea. On the other hand, because we live in such an individualistic culture, it’s hard to truly understand.
Sociologists say that modern American culture is the most individualistic culture the world has ever seen. As a result, our social isolation cuts us off from the connections that make us who we are, the connections that help us thrive.
Yet we are blessed. We are blessed, because small congregations like Bixby Knolls Christian Church provide the antidote to the epidemic of social isolation. Here, we overcome our isolation, and make a connection. A small church helps you connect with yourself, with others, and with God.
I don’t know if that happens in a megachurch where several thousand people worship together. It’s quite easy to be anonymous in a megachurch. But in a small congregation, you are seen, you are known, and you are loved.
And if you aren’t here, you are missed.
Because here, we know, deep down, that we are one. We are a family. The relationships aren’t perfect, and sometimes we do annoy each other, but we don’t allow that to come between us, because we’re family. And our love for one another overcomes that which might force us apart.
One of the titles the Bible uses for Jesus is “Son of Man;” or, to translate it more inclusively, “Son of Humanity.”
It is an inclusive, universal title. And it points to how Jesus overcomes barriers that might otherwise keep us apart. All that separates us and divides us is overcome in Christ. In Christ, our oneness is lifted up.
In the genealogies that begin Matthew and Luke’s gospel, Jesus’ ancestry is traced back, either to Abraham, or back to Adam, further emphasizing this point. We truly are one family, with a common ancestor.
And anytime Jesus encountered someone whose theology (whose understanding of God) led them to separate people and make a distinction between who’s “in” and who’s “out,” Jesus corrected them.
Every person is a part of the family. Every person is welcome at the table.
No wonder the Apostle Paul instructed believers to seek reconciliation with one another before coming to Christ’s table.
Because at Christ’s table, we are one. In God’s kingdom, we are one. In the universe God created, all are one.
