The Grace of Revelation
“But Joseph said to them, ‘Do not be distressed or angry with yourselves because you sold me here; for God sent me before you to preserve life.”
The dramatic moment of Joseph’s revelation to his brothers has inspired countless artists, but Gerard de Lairesse’s etching captures it with remarkable clarity and depth. Lairesse, a Dutch Baroque artist and theorist, was known for his classical approach, emphasizing balance, idealized forms, and the grandeur of divine providence.
In this piece, Joseph stands in a posture of both authority and embrace. His brothers—shocked, fearful, and humbled—encircle him, their varied expressions ranging from disbelief to deep emotion. The contrast between Joseph’s Egyptian regalia and his brothers’ simpler garments underscores the distance time has wrought between them, yet also the moment’s reconciliation. The detailed shading in the etching enhances the intensity of the revelation, mirroring the emotional weight of Genesis 45.
This week, as we reflect on the depths of forgiveness and God’s unseen hand in our lives, Lairesse’s work reminds us of how mercy transforms fear into grace. Like Joseph, we are called not to cling to resentment but to recognize the hidden workings of God’s love—even in what was meant for harm.
"The steps of a man are established by the Lord, when he delights in his way..."
– Psalm 37:23
Seventh Sunday of Epiphany
Texts for this Week
Prayer
O God, the strength of all who put their trust in you: mercifully accept our prayers, and because, through the weakness of our mortal nature, we can do no good thing without you, grant us the help of your grace, that in keeping your commandments we may please you both in will and deed; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
Scriptures
Genesis 45:3–11, 21–28
Psalm 37:1–17 or 37:8–17
I Corinthians 15:35–49
Luke 6:27–38
Few compositions carry the quiet assurance of Bach’s Bist du bei mir ("If you are with me"). Originally attributed to Bach in Anna Magdalena Bach’s Notebook, it is now known to be composed by Gottfried Heinrich Stölzel. Nevertheless, its place in the Bach repertoire remains secure due to its profound beauty.
This delicate aria, with its gently flowing melody and steady harmonic support, is a meditation on presence—divine and human. It speaks of the peace found in companionship, whether in life or in death. Set against the themes of this week's readings, Bist du bei mir becomes an anthem of trust: trust in God’s guiding hand (as Joseph exemplifies), trust in the resurrection of the body (as Paul describes in 1 Corinthians 15), and trust in the radical love Christ calls us to embody in Luke 6.
As we listen, may we hear in its strains the invitation to be unafraid—whether in reconciliation, in the call to love our enemies, or in facing the unknown. For in all these things, God is with us.
