A poetic meditation and vignette on this Bible passage, which I composed following my daily devotional reading this morning. The name Christopher literally means “Christ-bearer.”
–slight edits 3.9.18

Genesis 37: A maskil of Christopher


Their Father, “Off to Hebron!”
sent his Joseph there to implement
His will, discover whether jealous
brothers and their flocks fared well.

“Bring word,” his Father spoke,
“for them to tell you whether all
goes good or if the flock be food
for devouring wolves and prowling
lion, seeking out their easy prey.”


Joseph arrives to find the flocks
and brothers gone from Shechem
fields, where they ought be found.
Joseph wandered, wondered what
befell them as he searched them out.

A stranger asked, “What do you
seek and why do you look here?”
“I seek my brothers and our Father’s
lambs,” Joseph says, “Tell me, I pray,
where do they pasture now?”


A son in Joseph’s splendid robe approached!
With one another, brothers plotted first
to kill—then capture, sell him as a slave
and feign his death. Beloved son or not,
they strip, they stain a Father’s gifted robe
with blood.

“We didn’t lie,” they think, “we only asked,
‘Is this his robe? Is this the robe you gave
your favored Joseph?’” Facts are facts, some
misconstrued and viewed in the worst of ways.
It is his robe. This blood is blood. He was not there.


Their Father’s heart is grieved. No conspirators’
attempt succeeds to soothe him. He refuses to be
comforted. He’d sent his dear, beloved son to find
this fate, this death. This loving Father owns His
will. He weeps. His cries resound deep in Sheol.

Eternal tears stream down their Father’s face.
Still brothers fail to displace the one beloved son
from his throne of grace and favor in their Father’s
sorely wounded heart. Betrayal, bondage, blooded
robes—theirs now a consolation dark as it is false:

“At least we let him live.”

So he was made the least of these, my
brothers…yet still favored and beloved.

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