In the exodus, God acts in a new way, delivering these people by triumphing over Pharaoh and the gods of Egypt. Through this deliverance the people, while still knowing themselves as descendants of these ancestors, come to a new self-understanding: They become a 'congregation.'"

Meanwhile, Moses was minding his own business, or perhaps he was minding someone else's business, because that's what his father-in-law's sheep would have been. He had gone way, way out, beyond the wilderness, to the mountain of God.

This week we read these passages about life being drawn up from the waters of death, about God protecting us from the flood and the torrent, as we approach the third anniversary of the tragedy of Hurricane Katrina.

Walter Brueggemann imagines Joseph saying, "I became aware that my life was more than the sum of my little fears, my little hates, and my little loves. My life is larger than I imagined, and I decided to embrace the largeness that is God's gift for my life."

We can look forward to next Sunday's reading and a chance to reflect perhaps on destiny and God's providential care not just for Joseph but for his people and, ultimately, for all people. But today we sit with the awful reality of brothers plotting murderously against brother.

Food, and the sharing of it, are powerful in many ways, in feeding our bodies, but also, symbolically, in feeding our spirits. Isn't the offering and sharing of food--whatever bit of food we have--at the heart of hospitality, just as much as offering shelter, just as much as inviting someone in?

A mustard tree/weed is a humble image indeed for something as marvelous and transforming, as powerful as the kingdom of heaven.

Parables are mysterious, and as we said last week, as soon as we "know" what a parable means, we're probably mistaken. But if we're made uncomfortable by the challenge of a parable, we're probably getting a little closer to the heart of its meaning.