By the Lord Bishop of Ripon.
"Do not interpretations belong to God?"—Genesis xl. 8.
The words were spoken by one of those men who have moulded the history of the world. When he spoke them he was a prisoner, forgotten in his misfortune and blameless of offence. He was passing through a time of trial. Later he was destined to emerge into a position of much power and usefulness.
Joseph had shown from the first a character and qualities which distinguished him from his brethren. They were men with little or no thought beyond their daily work. In the open fields, watching their flocks and enjoying, after their day's task, physical repose, they found enough to satisfy them. He possessed a soul which went out beyond such a level of life; he reached out to something higher. Like the great French preacher, he could not leave his soul amid mere earthly things. In his brethren's eyes he was a dreamer. They were practical, and they had no sympathy with his dreams. He, meanwhile, was full of a wistful wonder, longing to find out the meaning of the strange visions which filled his soul. Life to him must be something more than eating, drinking, and tending sheep. No doubt a touch of egotism and personal ambition mingled with his dreams; this belonged to his youth; this, in time, would pass away. Life, with its stern and remorseless reality, would come to test him and his visions, proving what manner of man he was. Meanwhile, he was better with his dreams of the larger purpose and scope of life than his brethren, who were content with somewhat material gratification.
Time showed that he was no mere dreamer. The day came when the Prince of his people let him go free. The opportunity of large and noble service came to him; and he showed force, readiness of resource, sagacity, and practical vigour. His genius it was which mitigated misfortune and averted disaster. He foresaw and provided for the days of scarceness; he piloted Egypt through the bitter seven years of famine. His dreams were not the idle dreams of an empty mind; they were the visions of an energetic and finely tempered spirit. His gifts stood the strain of practical duty.
They had previously endured the harder test of adversity, neglect, and inaction. There are powers which lose their bloom under the pressure of prosaic duties; there are powers which wither under the shadow of misfortune and obscurity. The trial which comes from neglect is, perhaps, the severer, since it is hard for men to believe in themselves when there is seemingly none else to believe in them. But in the darkness of those neglected days the genius of Joseph remained bright. His insight, his power of vision, was not dimmed in the prison. He entered into the sorrows of other men; he showed a sympathy with their difficulties; he strove to read for them and with them the meaning of their lives.
And the sustaining source of his powers breaks out into view in the words of our text: "Do not interpretations belong to God?"
We can realise the pathos of the question and the tried, yet unbroken, faith which it reveals. Joseph is trying to read the meaning of the dreams of his fellow-prisoners. Life, and the experiences of life, he assures them, are not meaningless. He will not forego his faith in the significance of life. We may not be able to explain all; but there is, nevertheless, a meaning in all. It is as though he said, "I too have known my visions—beautiful visions of life's triumphs and life's joys. They faded with my growing years; and instead of the achievements which I saw in my dreams, there came false accusation, imprisonment, and neglect; but though the golden light of those visions is gone, they were not meaningless. I wait still for the unfolding of their significance. Still I rely upon Him who will make all things plain—for do not interpretations belong unto Him?"
As we listen to the words, we feel how aptly they fit into our own lives.