Another election is coming.
Sorry to bring it up. Technically, though, this pronouncement is always true. If you’re reading in the future, I’m sure there’s a midterm or primary sometime soon. But I’m speaking, of course, of the November ’22 midterms and ensuing ‘24 presidential cycle.
It’s going to be a fun one.
I’m actually more political than I always let on. There’s another reality where I went into journalism or became a commentator of some kind.
The reason I don’t talk much politics is the same reason that compels me to: I often feel much in common with our politicians.
Politicians are performers. I won’t comparing myself to the president, but I could be staff on the hill. They subject us to tweets, debates, and manufactured viral moments. To me, it’s just a bunch of fellow language-types performing their rescue of the world.
Cynical as I am, I think there’s purpose in engagement. I’m not advising anyone be apolitical.
And don’t get me wrong: I think some run with the right sort of intentions. It’s not pure theater. (There sure are a lot of theater kids, though.)
Still, the performativity demands critique—which feels like an indictment on myself. I was once an extra in The Music Man, after all.
One story consistently comes to mind when reflecting on the manner of our politics. It’s the Biblical story of Joseph. If you aren’t familiar with Joseph, the dreamboat in the dream coat (I’m so sorry), allow me to summarize.
Joseph is from the family of Israel. Interestingly, one of the first details we’re told in the Biblical account regards his attire. The youngest son of Israel, Joseph is his father’s favorite and is gifted an “ornate robe.”
I won’t belabor the story, but Joseph flexes on his brothers (had to do it to ‘em) and winds up thrown in a pit, where he’s later found and sold into slavery. He ends up a slave in the house of Potiphar, an official in Egypt. Exhibiting remarkable ability, Joseph eventually finds himself as Potiphar’s own attendant.
We’ll take our interest in what happens next.
Joseph’s chapter as second-in-command comes to an end after repeated run-ins with Potiphar’s wife. We’re told that she takes notice of Joseph and daily tries to seduce him. After all, he is a catch—handsome, skilled, and well-dressed.
One particular day, Potiphar’s wife tries to bring Joseph in, grabbing his cloak. Dreading to sin or betray his master, Joseph flees, leaving the cloak in her hands. She accuses him of advancing on her, and Joseph is stripped of his position.
This is the perfect youth group story, and I heard it plenty—the emphasis always on the fleeing. Be willing to flee from compromise. That certainly seems to be the point made.
What I never considered, though, was Joseph’s alternative.
Had he taken the other choice, Joseph would have slipped out fully clothed. Buttoned up. None would be the wiser. Instead, he made the integrous move and wound up naked for it.
In Joseph’s wager, it was precisely doing the right thing that looked really wrong. In youth group, I only considered the black-and-white morality factor. It’s so much more interesting, though, to consider the optics of it all.
Up to this point, Joseph’s success looked like success. In more ways than appearance, he was an attractive person. It’s why Potiphar and his wife were drawn to Joseph the same. He clearly had something going for him.
And before you accuse me of forgetting his path of slavery and hardship, let me remind you why it began: Joseph’s brothers were jealous of him—for his favored status and his drippy robe.
Joseph lost it all and built back from nothing. He rehabilitated himself by nothing but his own character. Now he faced a different test than before. Arriving in Potiphar’s house, his ethics had gotten him promoted. On his way out, they would leave his butt in the cold.
What I’m saying is that what presents as right isn’t always what’s right. Sometimes goodness works against the cause—if the cause is only to be seen as good.
Imagine the calculus in Joseph’s mind—the inner justifications. If I run out of this place naked, that’s a bad look for me. It looked worse than if he just sinned.
This is the lesson we are sorely in need of.
Politics is an optics game. Every news event gets twisted and bent by both sides to serve their images. Nothing is their fault, and everything proves their point. Being right is peripheral, appearing right is central.
I find it annoying when representatives try to patronize, saying: You don’t understand. If I did that thing I promised, I’d lose my committees, my budget, my job. You don’t want that, do you?
Actually, yes. Lose your job. Be the martyr. If your public career is shortened for doing something agreeably right, then that’s better than we can say for most. You’ll be remembered well.
When do the ends justify the means? This is (of course) the question. And I hope you read this recognizing that politicians aren’t the only guilty ones. We collectively breed this culture of hyper-presentation, and we send our best and brightest to Washington.
Sometimes you take the fall. Sometimes you do the thing that doesn’t look so good, but it doesn’t matter because it is good.
Joseph reminds us that not every justification is just. There are times that your convictions should bruise your image. You can’t wear the shiny coat forever.
It should be noted, though, that Joseph didn’t stay bare. The same guy who told Potiphar’s wife what she didn’t want to hear would end up telling Pharaoh some tough truths.
For his character, he’d again be promoted to second in command—this time over the nation of Egypt. A nicer gig with a nicer robe.
PS - After you’ve subscribed, check out this post for more on image obsession and perfectionism.