Breaking Jacob

Propers: The Twenty-Second Sunday after Pentecost (Lectionary 29), A.D. 2016 C

Homily:

Grace, mercy and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

Jacob is the trickster of the Bible, and in literature tricksters are always ambiguous characters. They get by on cleverness and deception. They would sooner fool a foe than fight him. We like to root for the tricksters, on the whole, but we wouldn’t want one dating our sister.

Jacob was born to make trouble. He and his twin brother, Esau, much to their mother’s distress, kicked and fought each other even while still in the womb. When Esau was born, Jacob come out clutching his ankle, refusing to let go, and so was named “Jacob,” which means “leg-puller” or “deceiver.” I’m afraid the family feud only got worse from there. Esau was a wild man, a hunter, their father’s favorite, tall and strong and tough and covered from head to foot in manly, ruddy red hair. In contrast, the text says of his younger brother that Jacob “liked to sit in tents.” In a Bronze Age society of farmers, hunters, and warriors, this is by no means a ringing endorsement.

But Jacob had God on his side, not to mention his mother. It had been foretold to Rebekah that her elder son would serve the younger, and so when her husband Isaac grew old, she conspired with Jacob to steal the familial blessing reserved for the firstborn son. Esau was the eldest and the apple of his father’s eye, but Isaac had grown blind and infirm with age. It was an easy thing for Rebekah to disguise Jacob as his wilder brother, and so Jacob received from his father’s hands the blessing, and thus the mantle of tribal leadership, that Isaac had intended for Esau.

The deception was soon discovered. And Esau reacted as one would expect a man’s man to react. “Where is my brother?” he demanded. “I’ll kill him!” And Rebekah, knowing that Jacob was no match for her far stronger son, gave to Jacob the only advice that would do him any good.

“Run!” she said.

And run he did. Jacob would flee to the land of his mother’s family, there to grow in wealth and prosperity, farming, marrying, and raising 12 sons of his own. But he didn’t accomplish all this simply through hard work and an honest day’s later. No, he was a trickster. And while there were times that the joke was on him, by and large he got the better of his opponents by quick thinking and divine favor. Eventually, his wealth became so great, and the list of his enemies so extensive, that he again had to flee, this time back toward home. But therein lay the problem. For while Jacob had been busy accruing herds and flocks and servants and sons, Esau had prospered as well. He too now had wealth and power to spare. Indeed, his family had begun to grow into a mighty nation of their own.

And even after all this time, Jacob was scared of Esau, scared of his stronger, faster, bigger brother, so skillful with the bow, so unrelenting on the hunt.

All of which brings us to this morning’s story. Jacob is on the move, with trouble behind and trouble ahead. Now entering his brother’s territory, he sends before him messengers of goodwill, along with wave after wave of gifts: hundreds of goats and sheep, dozens of camels and donkeys and cows. He soon hears that Esau is also on the move, marching toward him with 400 men. And Jacob trembles with fear, for the reckoning is surely upon him. He divides up his men and his herds, so that when Esau falls upon one group, the other might escape. At night he sends his family and herdsmen across the river, so that he is left alone to pray, and to beg that God might deliver him from his brother’s righteous wrath.

And maybe—just maybe—Jacob is preparing run. The text does not state this explicitly, but his whole life, that’s how he’s escaped from danger: he’s run from it. And now, with everything he loves and everything he owns on the other side of the river, he might just slip away, in the dark, all alone. But then, suddenly, he is attacked! An unknown assailant slips out of the darkness and wrestles with Jacob, wrestles with all his might. Not content to attack at dawn, Esau has come to finish off Jacob with his bare hands, is that it? And so they roll and kick and grapple and punch, brother against brother, until dawn draws near.

And the assailant, seeing the twilight rising in the east, strikes Jacob a massive blow on his hip, throwing it out of joint. But still he will not yield! “Let me go,” his opponent demands, “for the day is breaking.” But Jacob will not relent.

“I will not let you go unless you bless me!” he cries. He needs Esau’s word that he will not be harmed. But what comes next is a surprise.

“You shall no longer be called Jacob, the deceiver,” the wrestler says, “but now your name shall be Israel—he who wrestles with God—for you have striven against God and men, and have prevailed.”

“Who are you?” Jacob asks. “What is your name?” But the mysterious stranger only blesses him, then vanishes into the night. “I have seen God!” whispers Jacob, “And I have lived!” That, it seems, is why the stranger had to flee before the dawn, for to look directly upon the face of God would surely be too much for any mortal to survive. Thus, as the sun rises, Israel crosses the river, limping because of his hip, and goes bravely to face his brother. As he sees Esau coming with his 400 men, Israel presents his family about him and prostrates in the dust, prepared to meet his fate.

But Esau does not react as Jacob had expected. Instead, Esau rushes to meet his brother and gathers him up in a great bear hug, weeping and kissing and clutching him tightly. And Israel, in a rush of relief, breaks down weeping as well. “Why did you send all these gifts before you?” Esau asks. “I have no need of them, my brother, for I have plenty of my own.” And he returns to Israel the servants and goats and sheep and cattle and camels and donkeys. And the two continue on their way together, as brothers restored in love. Both of them, it seems, have grown up.

The story of how Jacob became Israel has resonated with Jews and Christians alike for thousands of years. Who is this God, who chooses the younger brother over the elder, the weaker party over the strong? Who is this God, who descends from Heaven in such a rough and physical way, who wrestles and strives in the darkness of night and will not let us go until we bless Him? Who is this God, who leaves such a mark upon us that we are no longer capable of running from our problems but must face them, limping and in awe?

We are very much like Jacob, you and I. We can be deceitful and tricky, maneuvering for personal position, while fleeing the consequences of our actions. Yet God is ever with us, ever faithful to the promises He has given from before we were born. He comes to us, descends to us, in rough and physical ways, through the proclamation of God’s Word, through the river of Baptism, in the Body and Blood that we receive from this altar. And He wrestles with us, struggles in the night, so that we cannot run away, that we may know the truth, face to face and hand to hand. And He gives to us a new name. And He pours out upon us His blessing. And He restores us to the brothers we had lost, the brothers we had wronged along the way.

And we are marked now. Marked, like Jacob with his wounded hip. Marked with the Cross of Christ and sent out to face a hostile world in honesty and bravery and vulnerability. No longer deceivers. No longer as tricksters. But as brothers and as sisters who have struggled with God and with men, and by grace we have prevailed.

We are the New Israel, here, together. We too seek the blessing of our Father, a blessing far beyond what we deserve. We too have a Mother who intercedes for us, in the Blessed Virgin Mary and in our Holy Mother Church. We too have an elder Brother, whom we have cheated and wounded and betrayed. Yet when we bow down in humility before Him, we find neither the anger nor the wrath we know that we deserve, but instead we find only tears of joy, holy kisses, and the loving embrace of His strong and crucified hands.

How can we respond, but with tears of gratitude, and of joy, and of forgiveness of our own?

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

In the Name of the Father and of the +Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.