Cast your love

I had a dream last night that someone gave me a long blanket coat (is this even a thing?). It had the color of melted butter on toast. Knitted from the softest yarn, it reached all the way to the floor. I had never seen anything like it.

I woke up thinking about Joseph.

For years, I found myself defending him whenever someone called him a spoiled brat. Yes, he told on his brothers. Yes, he rubbed his dreams in their faces. But it was not his fault, right?

I mean, he did not ask for the special robe. He did not ask to be the firstborn son of Jacob's Rachel. He did not ask for all of Jacob's love to be cast on him when his mother died. It was not his fault that his brothers were not trustworthy with the sheep. He did not ask for his dreams.

So why blame Joseph for being bratty when his brothers were the ones who hated him and hated him even more, were jealous of him, and could not speak to him in peace?

He was not at fault.
And yet, he was.

The earliest representation of the crucifixion. Christ, praying. Santa Sabina, Rome, 430 A.D.

Generations later, four other sons of Jacob were granted special favors. Banished from their homes as children, Daniel, Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah stood before the Babylonian king. They were given the privilege to eat the king's food and drink the king's wine. Yet, they refused to defile themselves with food that was unclean to the God of Israel. Instead, they chose only to eat vegetables and drink water.

Though they stood before the king of Babylon, they lived for the King of kings.

I woke up from my dream and it became clear to me that I was like Joseph, and I was nothing like the four companions. I would have worn the special coat, and I would have eaten whatever that delighted my eyes. Knowing myself, vegetables and water would not satisfy.

It did not occur to me that Joseph chose to wear that robe. He chose to wear his fancy coat to meet his brothers in the wilderness when his father asked him to check on them. Of course, the robe was given to Joseph; he was entitled to wear it. But can you imagine how the story would go if he had chosen, for the sake of his brothers, to not wear it? Or better yet, what could have happened if he had given his robe away to his brothers?

Daniel and his friends simply said "No, thank you." They plainly refused the gifts that were offered to them, even if they came from a king who had the power to put them to death (which he later attempted, but that's another story).

So it comes down to this: Am I willing to sacrifice my happiness, my comfort, and my rights for the sake of another?

As a parent, I used the word "share" often when my three boys played with one another and with other children. To a young child, to "share" and "take turns" and "give" mean essentially the same thing — letting go of what you are holding in your possession for the happiness of someone else. What I am really asking my child to do is make a sacrifice. And to sacrifice, I know, is a high and difficult calling. But this is exactly what I want them to learn, because this is love.

So, I have been trying to expand my vocabulary. Instead of "share," I ask my children to sacrifice, and to love.


Soul, cast your love on the King,
whose robe's hem filled the temple.
He became dust for dust's sake,
naked in the virgin's womb,
a small, narrow space for the maker of stars.

Soul, cast your love on the King,
who took off his robe and
hung naked on a tree
for you.