St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Wesley Chapel, FL
Preacher: The Rev. Adrienne R. Hymes
Seventh Sunday After the Epiphany/Year C
Genesis 45:3-11, 15; 1 Corinthians 15:35-38, 42-50; Luke 6:27-38
February 23, 2025
50 years after importing slaves to the United States was made illegal, a ship named, the Clotilda, brought 110 enslaved African people to the shores of the Mobile River delta in Alabama. Because the ship’s arrival with human cargo was illegal, the ship was emptied and burned in 1860. The sunken remains of the ship, including the slave hold, were discovered in 2018. The National Geographic documentary, entitled, “Clotilda: Last American Slave Ship,” features the descendants of two slaves, Kujo Lewis and Gracie, who left written accounts of their experiences from life in their African villages, to being captured, to being on the boat and eventually being split up. When the documentary was made in 2019, it had only been 160 years since that last American slave ship arrived. This is not ancient history; it is our shared American history.
The descendants of those slavery survivors, work to reclaim the history of what their ancestors built—a thriving community of commerce called Africa Town—so that their ancestors’ stories of survival, fortitude, perseverance and new life may be witnessed today. One historian said, “[The Clotilda] is the story of horror, and it becomes hope.”1
In our Genesis passage, we witness a reunion scene between Joseph, vice-regent to the Pharoah king of Egypt, and his estranged brothers. If you are not familiar with the story, Joseph was 17 years old when his jealous brothers turned on their father’s favorite son. While the brothers told their father that Joseph had been killed by a wild animal, they had actually sold him into slavery for a profit. The brothers realized that Joseph was more valuable to them alive than dead.
The brothers’ evil actions to get rid of Joseph, and his gift of dream interpretation, optimally positioned Joseph to be raised up by the Pharaoh from slave to his powerful position at the age of 30. Joseph’s story was a story of horror that became hope. And, unbeknownst to his family, Joseph’s life would be used as an instrument of God’s mercy to ensure their own survival.
“I am your brother, Joseph, whom you sold into Egypt,” said Joseph. Rightfully so, Joseph’s brothers were fearful because Joseph now had the power and privilege to ensure justice for the evil done to him by their hands. By identifying himself, not as a ruler with the power to punish, but as their brother, with the power to forgive, Joseph took on the vulnerable role of making space for accountability, healing, forgiveness and eventually reconciliation.
Joseph’s brothers’ intentions were to diminish his life, but Joseph interpreted for his family how God used their actions for good, by sending him ahead of his family in order to preserve life—and not only his family’s life, but the Egyptian lives in the land in which he had gained authority. Joseph did this by gathering up, and storing, grain in great abundance in Egypt, to shield against the mass starvation of the population ahead of the impending seven-year famine (Gen 41: 48-49).
Imagine how powerful it was for Joseph to help relieve the shame and guilt weighing on the hearts of his brothers by shifting their self-centered, human perspective of sin, outwardly, towards the divine agency of God, “God sent me before you to preserve life…God sent me before you to keep alive for you many survivors…So it was not you who sent me here, but God” (vv. 5, 7).
As it turns out, Joseph really was more valuable to his brothers alive than dead. What makes Joseph’s witness so powerful is that in spite of his brothers’ worst intentions, God’s divine activity, albeit hidden, was always at work, moving through their human sinfulness, while simultaneously moving on Joseph’s behalf, in order to move forward God’s plan for human salvation. “…It was not you who sent me here, but God” (v. 7), said Joseph. Joseph’s words resonate with the story of the Clotilda, that story of horror, which became, and is still becoming, hope.”2
The story of the Clotilda is merely one snapshot of the innumerable narratives of horror that have been woven into the blood-stained fabric of our nation—narratives which persist towards hope. These narratives can neither be told, nor heard in truth, without naming the sins of 400 years of chattel slavery on this soil and the residue of the insidious sin of racism that plagues this nation, infecting and affecting, us all today.
It would be a gross oversight for me to omit that my, our, beloved Episcopal Church has historically been a complicit character in that unfolding story of horror. And, the Episcopal Church, for many years, has consistently led the charge in social justice issues, naming her sins and actively choosing repentance and reconciliation3, so that all of God’s people may faithfully participate in our shared story transforming horror into hope.
If we, as one, nation, “under God,” are to truly reflect the nature of God, we must courageously come together to tell our shared horror stories—in truth and in love—without shame and without guilt—starting within our own faith communities—in order to make safe space for mutual understanding and healing beyond the four walls of the church. Only then may we hope to weep together, show mercy toward each other, and realize that we are so much more valuable to each other as fully-alive beings—with wholeness in minds, bodies and souls, than we are forgotten and left for dead, by our siblings in our brokenness.
In our gospel passage in Luke today, when Jesus said, “…Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful” (Lk 6:36), he implied that God’s children are to reflect the merciful nature of God and to be instruments of God’s mercy in the world. The true nature of the invisible God has been revealed to us through his fully-human and fully-divine son, Jesus, who lived amongst humankind. And, the true nature of Jesus, is made known to this broken world through his earthly body, the Church, bearer of the life-saving Gospel message.
As the body of Christ, it is the Church’s responsibility, to be a consistent reflection of the nature of God, respecting the dignity of every human being and nurturing souls to the full stature of Christ. May we, like Joseph, when others choose violence, choose mercy when we are wronged. May we choose to be brave and vulnerable in order to show up in this world as unobstructed reflections of God’s love, capable of building bridges that restore relationship with God, with others and within ourselves. And may we testify to all who are burdened by the guilt, shame and burden of sin (never forgetting to look in the mirror) that by the life-giving, life-saving gospel of our Savior, Jesus Christ, persistent hope is always on the horizon.
Amen.
1Clotilda Quote Emily Gonzalez: Documentary of the Clotilda premieres tonight – YouTube, accessed on February 22, 2025.
2Clotilda Quote Emily Gonzalez: Documentary of the Clotilda premieres tonight – YouTube, accessed on February 22, 2025.
3Episcopalians Gather to Apologize for Slavery – The Episcopal Church, accessed on February 22, 2025.
