Those who grew up in the 1950s and 1960s sometimes talk about the good old days, when they transitioned from wartime and postwar austerity to more affluent times. The sight of the first orange or banana, the taste of real coffee and the magic of television, albeit black and white. Add to that rock and roll, Elvis Presley and The Beatles, weird haircuts and a fashion revolution that troubled parents and shocked grandparents. Many of them feel they had “the best of it”, given the uncertainties facing their children and grandchildren in a restless world.
Uncertainty is in the air in tomorrow’s Old Testament reading, which tells the story of Joseph, a favoured son of Jacob, whose jealous brothers had got rid of by selling him into servitude in Egypt. Now, years later, when they turn up in Egypt looking for help, they discover their brother has become an influential figure in the Egyptian government and is effectively the one in charge. How would that work out?
My old history teacher used to say history is about bread-and-butter issues and that is definitely the case here. Threatened by famine in their traditional homelands, these semi-nomadic Hebrews turn to Egypt for help, another step in that journey started by Abraham generations earlier, a journey steeped in uncertainty, for he set out “not knowing where he was going”. The Hebrews were welcomed in Egypt at first but when their numbers grew the natives felt threatened and responded by enslaving them. Persecution led to a second migration called the Exodus, an event that impacts on world politics to this day.
Immigration, whether caused by famine or persecution, is a contentious issue. The reaction within host countries is varied: sometimes immigrants are welcomed, sometimes resented and sometimes rejected. And always in the background are concerns about culture and identity, an issue raised in tomorrow’s gospel reading.
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In what seems like a shocking encounter Jesus tells a Gentile woman seeking help for her sick child, that his own people, the Jews, have priority. This is shocking because he uses slang by referring to Gentiles as dogs: “He said to her, ‘Let the children [the Jews] be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.”
This is raw, racial prejudice, the world of them and us, a contradiction of everything he stands for. (This may have something to do with the authorship of this gospel, which is very Jewish in character). Jesus is changed, however, by someone who is different to him, a woman at that, which is remarkable given the patriarchal structure of society at that time. The result is a child is made well.
We live in a restless, fractured world and, unlike the tour bus, it doesn’t allow for step-on/step-off passengers. The reality is that we are all in it together and while wealth and privilege may shield us temporarily from some of the immediate uncertainties of life, ultimately we cannot avoid the fact that we are vulnerable and need each other, as was discovered during the Covid crisis when we depended so much on the least valued and least rewarded members of society, many of them immigrants.
In her book The Fire of your Life, Maggie Ross reminds us that the future for all of us is unknown and uncertain. “We’re all journeying into the wilderness of faith, and we are all, though it may remain completely hidden, given one of the greatest gifts God gives of himself: the gift of Abraham … knowing that we are called out of all that is familiar, to bless God for it, to bless the unknown, to bless, finally, even our own death. The future is always unknown, but in these latter days there are no longer even any inklings of what will be asked of us. One thing only is sure: that we will be asked to accept, thank, offer and repent in the midst of constant flux.”