2 Nov 2025, Genesis 41: 37 – 52, Luke 19:1-9, The Blessing of Letting Go: Finding Our Manasseh and Coming Down

My mother-in-law, Okja, has the best memory of anyone I know. Incredibly good memory. Honestly, if she’d ever had the chance to study in the right environment, I’m sure she’d have earned several PhDs by now!

Let me tell you how good her memory really is. About 18 years ago, she took her very first trip overseas — to Sydney. It wasn’t exactly a holiday; her granddaughter was about to be born, and she came all the way to help. She bravely got on an international flight all by herself for the first time. She still remembers that whole trip — from the moment she arrived to the day she went back home, almost a month later. Not just the weather, but what we ate, who we met, the coffee we had at a local café, the scones and tea in the Blue Mountains, even the friendly couple at the next table. Things Dana and I can barely recall, she remembers perfectly!

And it doesn’t stop there! Last Saturday was Haryne’s 10th birthday, and when Okja called to say happy birthday, guess what? It turned into another one of her famous “memory tests.” She remembered everything from that day ten years ago: how long Dana’s labour lasted, the little moments at the Women’s and Children’s Hospital, the Synod staff and local ministers who came to celebrate, even the gifts we received. She may not remember their names, but she still remembers what they looked like. And that’s quite something because, as you know, to many of Asians, all foreigners tend to look alike! To this day, she still remembers every visit she’s made to Australia,

every stop, every meal, every encounter as if, and I might be exaggerating a little here, she were flipping through the pages of a perfectly kept diary. With a memory like that, she truly deserves the title “Queen of Memory!” Dana and I often talk about Okja’s unbelievable memory. We always say it, half amazed, half not quite believing it.

But lately, my thoughts have changed a little. When I look back, I realise — Okja isn’t a genius with a photographic memory. She’s not extraordinary. She’s just like me, just like you. So how can she remember so many moments so vividly? The answer is simple — and yet, it moves me deeply. It’s because she loved. Every memory she held was touched by love. And because she loved, she was happy. Those memories didn’t stay in her mind — they lived in her heart. Each one was precious to her, cherished moments spent with her beloved family while living far from home in a foreign land. She couldn’t just let those moments fade away. Just imagine — every night before bed, she reviews the day and offers a prayer of thanksgiving. She even recalls the smallest events, thanking God for each one. Those prayers built up, layer upon layer. On her flight home, she quietly replayed her time in Australia — the moments we shared, now filled with gratitude and love. And that love, that prayer, became part of her heart forever.

The Two Sides of Memory

Now, here comes the scary part. Remembering is like two sides of a coin: it can bring both joy and pain. Surely, we all wish we could live holding only good memories. But the truth is remembering isn’t always beautiful. Sometimes the experiences, the events, the wounds from the past come back to us. They rise again and make us feel the same pain all over. Some memories still hurt. We find ourselves crying out, “Why did this happen to me?” “I shouldn’t have done that.” “Why did that person treat me that way?” It’s an inner battle that doesn’t happen just once, it keeps returning, again and again, sometimes for years. Time may pass, but the pain lingers.

What painful moments do we still carry in our heart? What memories from the past still linger even now and perhaps, will stay with us for years to come?

With that in mind, let’s turn together to Genesis 41, the well-known story of Joseph, standing at the happiest and highest point of his life, as he rises to become the governor of Egypt. Yes, it was glorious moment of his journey and yet, he was a man who carried many painful memories.

He remembered being the most loved son of his father, Jacob. He remembered the jealousy and hatred of his brothers. He remembered being abandoned, nearly killed, sold as a slave, and thrown into prison. He remembered the deep homesickness — the ache of missing his homeland, the longing for his father Jacob that brought him to tears. At times, perhaps even anger. His journey was filled with memories he would rather forget.

Manasseh: The Blessing of Forgetting

And then, with God’s help, from being a foreigner, a slave, and a prisoner, he rises to become the second most powerful person in the entire nation. After all those lonely years, Joseph finally starts a family. He holds his first newborn son in his arms, something he might have thought he would never experience in his life. Can you imagine what that moment must have felt like? After all the betrayal, the waiting, and the tears, now joy, laughter, and the sound of a baby’s cry fill his home. And here’s something truly remarkable: he names his son “Manasseh.”

The meaning of that name is even more amazing! “Manasseh” means, “God has made me forget all my trouble and all my father’s household.”

A few weeks ago, while I was preparing for the Year 12 Blessing Service, I reflected on the story of Joseph and Jacob. When I came to verse 51, I was deeply moved ...wow ...almost to tears, thinking, “How much pain must Joseph have carried? How many memories must he have wished he could erase, that he would name his son, ‘God has made me forget’?”

I should say, this was Joseph’s testimony. He was saying that God’s greatest blessing was not his success, not the power but the grace of God that helped him forget his past. The blessing of release, of healing, of peace in his new journey! that was the true blessing. Imagine this: every time Joseph holds his son, every time he calls his name “Manasseh”— maybe a million times! it’s like a quiet prayer: “God has made me forget!!” I really love this moment. Manasseh... Manasseh... What a simple yet beautiful blessing, a quiet treasure of grace hidden in his story.

But Joseph still remembered everything. The pain he went through wasn’t something that could simply be forgotten. The true, spiritual meaning of “Manasseh” is this: those memories no longer controlled him. They no longer ruled his heart. That’s the real meaning of being “made to forget.” That’s not forgetting... that’s healing. When we look at the Hebrew meaning of the name “Manasseh,” it carries the sense of “to cover, to fade away, to lose its power.” Yes, the wounds were still there, but they no longer had the power to destroy him. The pain remained, but now he could look at it with gratitude. He found a new strength, the power to interpret everything through God’s will. That is why he was able to enjoy the blessing of Manasseh. I love this part so much. Manasseh... Manasseh... "God has made me forget!" I pray that this blessing will be upon us too.

Coming Down to Grace

Now, in our lectionary reading, in Luke 19, we see another person who needed “the blessing of Manasseh.” He's a unique character that almost everyone loves: Zacchaeus. We usually call him ‘the short man, Zacchaeus.' Chief tax collector, betrayer of his community, the outcast, inviting Jesus, repaying what he had stolen... but surprisingly, the story of Zacchaeus is deeply connected to Joseph’s story. I mean, these two stories reveal the God who makes them forget.

Let’s take a moment to focus on two powerful images here: “Going Up and Coming Down,” and “Remembering and Forgetting.”

Zacchaeus goes up. His life had always been one of climbing: climbing to become a chief tax collector, climbing to protect himself with money, power, and reputation. But when he finally reached the top, there was nothing there. He wasn’t accepted by people, and he was far from God. So Jesus says to him, “Zacchaeus, hurry and come down immediately. I must stay at your house today.”

He had gone up so that he could be seen or perhaps to see better. But Jesus invited him to come down  from the place of being seen to the place of being loved, from the place of memory to the place of grace. Zacchaeus had been living in the tree of memory, holding on to who he was, what he had done, and what others thought of him. But Jesus said, “Come down. Come down from those memories, your name, your past, your old story. I will make you new.”

It’s a powerful moment. Zacchaeus came down , down from everything that had bound him: guilt, loneliness, comparison, and fear. Just as Joseph once said, “Manasseh,” that same blessing, the blessing of forgetting  that is the heart of today’s message.

The Blessing of Manasseh and Coming Down

My dear brothers and sisters, if someone were to ask me, “What kind of blessing do you long for the most?” what would I say? I would answer, the blessing of Manasseh and The Blessing of Coming Down. How about you?

Here’s a quick quiz. What was Joseph’s childhood nickname? That’s right! "the dreamer." His brothers mocked him, “Here comes the dreamer!” But what about now? He’s not a dreamer anymore. Now, he’s the forgiver, the one who lets go, the one who is free. As a child, he lived by his dreams. Now, he lives by grace.

And Zacchaeus? Short Zacchaeus. Chief tax collector. The outcast. People gave him labels, names, stories that stuck. But not Jesus. Jesus simply said, “Zacchaeus.” And that was enough.

Can we hear the voice of Jesus? “Come down from the places we’ve been striving to climb."

Coming down is the beginning of healing, the moment you can finally let go, the moment when old memories lose their power, and grace helps us to forget and begin again in Christ.” And can we also hear another word “Manasseh”? If so, let’s meet our Manasseh today, the place where God helps us to let go, and start anew.

So... may this quiet but precious blessing the hidden grace of Manasseh be upon us all. May we find peace in letting go, and joy in being made new by God’s love.

Amen.