Bird's-eye view
The book of Genesis, which began in a perfect Garden, now concludes in a coffin in Egypt. But this is not a conclusion of despair; it is a conclusion pregnant with hope and promise. The death of Jacob, the patriarch Israel, is the occasion for the final great object lesson of the book. Joseph, a man of profound faith and deep affection, mourns his father properly, but not as one without hope. His actions, from his weeping to the command to embalm, are governed by his father's charge to be buried in the land of Canaan. This entire episode, including the astonishing mourning of the Egyptians, is a testament to God's faithfulness. God had brought Israel down to Egypt to save them from famine and make them a great nation, and He had used Joseph to make the name of Israel honorable even in the eyes of a pagan superpower. These opening verses set the stage for the first leg of a great funeral procession that is, in reality, a precursor to the Exodus. It is an act of faith in the promise of the land, a down payment on the resurrection.
The scene is intensely personal, showing the genuine love between a son and his father, yet it is also profoundly public and political. Joseph is the second most powerful man in the world, and the death of his father is an affair of state. The mingling of Hebrew grief and Egyptian custom is striking. Joseph utilizes the skills of the Egyptians, but for a covenantal purpose. This demonstrates a principle of godly cultural engagement: we are free to use the tools of the surrounding culture, so long as they are directed toward the fulfillment of God's promises and not in violation of His commands. The long periods of mourning signify the greatness of the man who died and the depth of the loss, but for the believer, they are also a period of waiting for the fulfillment of what God has sworn to do.
Outline
- 1. The End of an Era, The Hope of a Promise (Gen 50:1-3)
- a. A Son's Faithful Grief (Gen 50:1)
- b. A Covenantal Use of Egyptian Custom (Gen 50:2)
- c. A Public Testimony of Honor (Gen 50:3)
Context In Genesis
These verses immediately follow Jacob's death, which itself came right after he had blessed his twelve sons and Joseph's two sons, Ephraim and Manasseh. The final words of Jacob in chapter 49 were a prophecy concerning the future of the tribes and, crucially, a command to his sons to bury him not in Egypt, but in the cave of Machpelah in the land of Canaan, with his fathers (Gen 49:29-32). This command is the driving force behind all the action in chapter 50. The entire book has been building toward the fulfillment of the Abrahamic promise, a central part of which was the land. Though the patriarchs die without possessing it, their faith is demonstrated by their insistence on being buried there. Jacob's death is the final patriarchal death recorded in Genesis, and Joseph's handling of it is his last great act of filial piety and covenant faithfulness in the book. This event transitions the people of Israel from a family residing in Egypt to a nation awaiting redemption from Egypt.
Key Issues
- The Nature of Godly Grief
- Embalming and Resurrection Hope
- The Relationship Between Israel and Egypt
- Covenant Faithfulness Across Generations
- The Significance of Burial in the Promised Land
A Coffin in Egypt
Genesis begins with God creating the heavens and the earth, a story of life, light, and goodness. It ends with "a coffin in Egypt" (Gen 50:26). On the surface, this looks like a tragic decline, from a garden to a grave. But Scripture is constantly telling stories of death and resurrection. God's people are always being brought low so that God can raise them up. Jacob's family went down into Egypt to be delivered from death by starvation, and now the patriarch has died in that same land of their deliverance. But his death is not the final word. His eyes are closed, but they are closed in faith, looking toward the land of promise. The coffin is not a symbol of ultimate defeat, but rather a vessel of hope, a seed that is being carefully prepared for planting in the soil that God Himself had promised. Joseph's actions here are not just the motions of a grieving son; they are the actions of a covenant keeper. He is tending to his father's body as a sacred trust, a tangible link to the promise that God would one day bring all His people, living and dead, into their inheritance.
Verse by Verse Commentary
1 Then Joseph fell on his father’s face and wept over him and kissed him.
The first action after the patriarch's last breath is one of profound and unrestrained love. Joseph, the vizier of Egypt, a man of immense power and authority, is here simply a son. He falls on his father's face. This is not a stiff, formal farewell. This is the collapse of a man overcome with grief. The weeping and the kissing are expressions of a deep and genuine affection that has been a central part of this story since Joseph was a boy. It is important to see that biblical faith is not stoicism. Grief is not a sign of weak faith. Joseph knew the promises of God, he knew his father was going to a greater rest, but he still felt the sharp tear of separation. God gave us tears for a reason. This raw, human emotion is sanctified here. Joseph's love for his father is a reflection, however faint, of the Father's love for His children. This is a righteous sorrow.
2 And Joseph commanded his servants the physicians to embalm his father. So the physicians embalmed Israel.
Immediately after the expression of personal grief comes an act of public command. Joseph moves from son to ruler. He commands "his servants the physicians" to act. The process of embalming was a highly developed Egyptian practice, rooted in their own complex theology of the afterlife. But Joseph is not commissioning this for Egyptian reasons. He is doing it for a practical, covenantal reason: Jacob's body had to be preserved for the long and arduous journey back to Canaan. This was not about preparing Jacob for the judgment of Osiris; it was about preparing him for burial in the land of Abraham and Isaac. This is a masterful example of using the "wisdom of the Egyptians" for the purposes of God. Joseph does not compromise his faith, but he has no qualms about using the best available technology, so to speak, to fulfill his father's dying wish, which was itself an act of faith. The physicians do their work, and the text notes pointedly that they embalmed "Israel," the covenant name, the name of the prince with God.
3 Then the forty days to do this were fulfilled, because in this manner the days of embalming are fulfilled. And the Egyptians wept for him seventy days.
The narrative slows down to mark the time. The forty days for embalming was the standard Egyptian custom, a period of meticulous preparation of the body. The narrator explains this to us, showing that this is simply how it was done. But then something extraordinary happens. The Egyptians, the entire nation, mourned for Jacob for seventy days. This was a period of mourning typically reserved for a Pharaoh. This is a stunning public testimony to the favor God had given Joseph, and through him, his family. Jacob, a foreign shepherd, is mourned by the most powerful nation on earth as if he were their own king. God had promised to make Abraham's name great, and here we see a fulfillment of that. The Egyptians weep for "Israel." They are, without knowing it, honoring the man through whom the Savior of the world would come. This period of weeping also serves a narrative purpose. It is a long pause, a time of waiting, before the great procession of faith begins its journey toward the land of promise. The grief is real, the honor is great, and the hope is greater still.
Application
This passage has at least three direct points of application for us. First, we learn how to grieve. We are not to grieve as those who have no hope, but we are still to grieve. Love feels loss. It is right and good to weep over our dead in Christ. Our tears are not a denial of the resurrection, but rather an honest confession that we eagerly await it. We feel the sting of death, and we long for the day when it will be swallowed up in victory. Joseph's example gives us permission to feel the full weight of our loss while still holding fast to the promises of God.
Second, we see a model for faithful cultural engagement. Joseph used the best medical science of his day, which was wrapped up in pagan assumptions, in order to fulfill a covenantal duty. He didn't partake in the paganism, but he used the technique. Christians are not called to retreat into a cultural ghetto. We are free to use the tools, the technology, the arts, and the sciences of the world around us, provided we consecrate them to the service of God and His kingdom. We can hire the physicians, so to speak, without adopting their worldview, all for the purpose of being faithful to the commands of our Lord.
Finally, we are reminded that our ultimate hope is not in this "Egypt," this present world. Jacob's body was in Egypt, but his heart, and his future, was in Canaan. He was a pilgrim, and he knew it. We too are sojourners. This world is not our final home. Like Jacob, our final request should be that we be brought to the true promised land, the new heavens and the new earth. Our lives, and our deaths, should be a testimony that we are looking for a city whose builder and maker is God. Every Christian funeral, like Jacob's, is a statement of faith, a declaration that the coffin is not the end of the story, but merely a pause before the final Exodus into glory.