"The Messiness of Families, Today and in the Bible" by Song-Mi Suzie Park

For many months now I have ended every phone call with my elderly parents with a reminder to refrain from going out of the house. I don’t know if they listen to me, but I suspect they do so only partly. Having not seen them over the year, I don’t really know what they are doing. Hence, the phone call ends with lots of mixed emotions: anger, frustration, fear, sadness, and also, to some degree, understanding and resignation. I understand it is difficult to isolate. For some, like “essential workers” from Amazon warehouses to hospitals, it has been impossible to do so. And many people are forced to make complicated evaluations about risks and rewards where livelihoods, solvency, and last chances to see loved ones hang in the balance.

As experts have frequently discussed, in increasing isolation and stress, the impact of this pandemic upon those most vulnerable, such as the elderly, children, or single adults, is particularly cruel. Covid-19 turns wonderful parts of a full life— contact and connection—into poisons, transforming the very things people need to survive these difficult times into things that can potentially harm or even kill. Miscalculations are deadly, and their consequences may inflict devastating wounds.

We have all heard stories about families who went to a small gathering after quarantining for months only to infect themselves and those with whom they live; in some tragic cases family members have died.1 We also know of people who have been forced to leave their house so that they can earn a living, only to become infected themselves. Many people have lost businesses or livelihoods and face the stress of bankruptcy and fears over eviction or affording health care—and we know that these risks and losses have fallen disproportionately upon people of color and the poor.

Needless to say, these past months have been a difficult time for families. The pandemic has raised challenging yet unanswerable questions about what it means to be in a family, both narrowly and widely construed. What kind of appropriate behavior should we demand and expect from our family members? What do we owe each other communally so that everyone can stay safe, so that undue risk is not borne by the most vulnerable? How should we feel and what do we do when family members behave in ways with which we are uncomfortable? How do we balance the need for safety with the need to be with each another?

Not just the pandemic, but the contentious political situation in the United States has weighed on family ties, at times leading to further distancing of family members. In contrast to those who are willing to risk their life to see and be near their family and friends, we have also heard recent accounts of people who have unexpectedly ended relationships or cut off contact with family members. Political disagreements, especially as it concerns issues of race, came to the fore this past year with the protests surrounding the killings of Black Americans by police and by an extremely divisive presidential election. Our need and desire for connection with our families has thus been countered by our need to distance ourselves from those family members with whom we have divergent opinions, especially on sensitive topics. Indeed, it has been pointed out that because of the lack of shared and trusted news sources, we often cannot even agree on facts or feel that we share the same reality with our own family members.

These disagreements undoubtedly led to fissures in the family and even breakups. In the lead up and aftermath to the 2020 presidential election, stories about the ending of familial relationship and friendships due to political divergences were rampant. A story in The Atlantic discussed how one such family, the Sayers, decided to refrain from taking down their Black Lives Matter sign when more conservative members of their family visited. The Sayers stated that political disagreements have led to a “cold-war” situation within their larger family where communication has stalled and relationships have frayed.2 Indeed, bespeaking the impact of politics on intrafamilial relationships, a recent story on National Public Radio notes that political polarizations have intensified so starkly of late that almost “80% of Americans now have ‘just a few’ or no friends at all across the aisle.’”3

I’ve been thinking a lot about families, having recently co-written a book examining the stories about families in the Hebrew Bible and the ways in which these stories overlap with, reflect, and at points guide us toward a better understanding of families today.4 Of course, while writing this book, I had no idea how relevant this topic would become, nor can I offer any easy solutions to the many problems that families are currently facing. Rather, as a Biblicist, my impulse is to turn to the stories in the Hebrew Bible as a means by which to examine and better understand the current situation.

Take for example the story of Joseph and his brothers (Genesis 37–50). Joseph is the talented but (at least initially) tactless son of the Israelite patriarch, Jacob. His mother, Rachel, dies while giving birth to Joseph’s younger brother, and it is her premature death that likely plays a part in the favoritism that his father shows him. This blatant favoritism, tangibly demonstrated when Jacob gives Joseph a coat, is further exacerbated by Joseph’s own uncouthness. When we first meet this figure, he is depicted as unwisely blurting out to his family two dreams he’s had that foretell his future greatness. So intolerable is Joseph that his brothers get rid of him by selling him as a slave. As a result, Joseph ends up in Egypt, where, after a series of disappointments and successes, he becomes a vizier.

This story demonstrates the enormous and sometimes tragic ramifications that small mistakes can have on the family. Joseph’s father, Jacob, because of his favoritism of Joseph, exacerbates the fractures in his family and ends up losing his favorite son for most of his life. Eventually the entire family is reunited, and Joseph ends up forgiving his brothers for their bad behavior. The story is usually remembered as evincing a clear theological message, stated at the end of the story by Joseph, who has become not only more powerful but also wise: “Even though you intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good, in order to preserve a numerous people, as he is doing today” (Gen 50:20).

This story is beloved by many for this putatively hopeful and satisfying theological message. I would love to say this message is an always-applicable answer to the problems that families are facing right now. But here we have to be careful. This text reflects but does not necessarily parallel real life. Insofar as there is a distinction between this text and our lives, it is dangerous to cover up the difficulties of present realities with an overly positive theological message from these stories, even if they stem from the Bible. Not only does it fail to take into account the current challenges that families face, but it sets unrealistic expectations. Unlike in the story, many people have lost family members during the pandemic—sometimes because of a tiny mistake like a seemingly safe get-together. And unlike with Joseph, these lost family members will not be returned to their families in this life. In short, unlike the biblical story, we do not know whether there is a positive pedagogical or theological motive behind all the harm and suffering that we are enduring. Though we may want to find a positive divine purpose behind the difficulties that we are going through, we might be unable able to, and there might not be one. Sometimes bad things happen to people for no good, justifiable, or just reason.

The story of Joseph, like other stories in the biblical text, does not offer a theology or message that we can and should simply plunk into the modern context as a kind of panacea to our problems. Indeed, even the theological message for which the story of Joseph is best remembered—“God intended it for good”—is actually more complicated when we look at the story as a whole. According to the larger literary context, Joseph tells his brothers about the divine purpose of his suffering precisely because his brothers, after their father’s death, are fearful that Joseph might hold a grudge and exact revenge for their earlier crime (Gen 50:15). Terrified that Joseph has only refrained from punishing them for the sake of their father, the brothers, shortly after their father dies, tell Joseph a conspicuous lie. The brothers tell him that before his death, their father had told the brothers to tell Joseph to forgive them for their earlier misdeed (Gen. 50:17). It is at this point that Joseph, saddened by his brothers’ distrust (and likely their lack of honesty and emotional development), tells them that he is no longer angry and will not avenge himself for their earlier mistreatment because a larger, positive divine plan ultimately came to fruition because of their unbrotherly act (Gen 50:19-20).

It is in the larger, more complicated context of this theological statement that we can discern the subtle messages of this rich tale. This story shows that, as in the biblical text, families still are incredibly complex and that perfect actions are impossible. Indeed, perfect reconciliation with some family members might never happen. There might be some forgiveness and some attempt at healing. However, ambivalent feelings, distrust, and scars may linger. As the behavior of Joseph’s brothers illustrate, some family members may never improve or develop emotionally, and the family, as a result, may remain fractured.

Additionally, and especially pertinent in this time of the pandemic, the story of Joseph shows the lingering impact that the death of one family member can have on the entire familial unit. Joseph’s supposed death affects the whole family. His brothers never seem to recover from their guilt, and his father seems to have become rather paranoid about the possibility of losing another child. The death of Joseph’s father also has consequences for the family, revealing the familial relationships that remain unhealed. Indeed, though Joseph is never said to have punished his brothers after their father’s death, they might have lived in fear of his retaliation for the rest of their lives. Perhaps the death of their father prevented the family from a full reconciliation, leaving all the brothers in a state of abeyance.

Most importantly, in a time of pandemic fears, political fracturing, isolation, distress, and distancing, these stories offer us, the reader, alternate ways to deisolate and come together. First, these stories, by telling of the complicated and fractured familial relationships among biblical characters, gently remind us that our problems are not unique. We are not the only ones who are confused and filled with mixed emotions about those whom we call family. Second, by compelling readers to mimic and live out different realities and other lives, these stories help us to become more empathetic and more attuned to the thoughts, suffering, and feelings of others. These narratives offer the reader a kind of needed liminal space where we can inhabit an alternate reality, encounter various personalities, go through different challenges, and learn to overcome them and endure. They help us to experience a variant kind of connection. And in so doing, they help us feel a little less alone during this time of isolation and physical separation from our families and loved ones. v (notes on following page)

1. Dana Branham, “‘Please don’t be like my family,” The Dallas Morning News, November 23, 2020. https://www.dallasnews.com/news/2020/11/23/please-dont-be-like-my-family-arlington-familywarns-others-not-to-gather-after-15-relatives-got-covid-19/

2. Kiley Bense, “How Politics in Trump’s America Divides Families,” The Atlantic, November 26, 2018. https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2018/11/how-politics-in-trumps-america-divides-families/576301/

3. Tovia Smith, “‘Dude, I’m Done’: When Politics Tears Families and Friendships Apart,” National Public Radio, October 27, 2020. https://www.npr.org/2020/10/27/928209548/dude-i-m-done-when-politicstears-families-and-friendships-apart

4. Carolyn B. Helsel and Song-Mi Suzie Park, The Flawed Family of God: Stories about Imperfect Families of Genesis (Louisville, Westminster John Knox Press, 2021).

Suzie Park is associate professor of Old Testament at Austin Seminary. She earned her PhD from Harvard in 2010 and began teaching at Austin Seminary the following year. Park is the author of the new book for the Wisdom Commentary series, 2 Kings (Liturgical Press, 2019), in which she engages the latest in feminist biblical scholarship. Her newest book, The Flawed Family of God: Stories about Imperfect Families of Genesis, is due in 2021.