Sunday, September 24, 2017

The hero that wasn't: Why the Jacob story isn't about Jacob

Genesis 27:1-3, 15-23; 28:10-17

            God works through cheaters and scoundrels and all the sort that don’t do things right. Of course, those aren’t the only kinds of people God uses but since we are talking about Jacob… the thoughts that come to mind are: stubborn; cheater; thief of his brother’s birthright; fought with an angel; wasn’t exactly repentant about any of this.
            I want to start by saying this: This isn’t a story telling us to be like Jacob. Most stories in the Bible aren’t fables telling us to be like the heroes; most stories, like this one, are about who God is and what God does and not what are we supposed to do. In this case, God chooses to promote this nation, Israel. Jacob becomes Israel later in life—another of those biblical name changes. Israel is God’s chosen people. God’s chosen people can trace their history to a cheating liar that stole a birthright and, apparently, that’s not all a bad thing.
It could have been Esau. Volumes have been written on why God chose Jacob over Esau; they say that Jacob was more cunning, cleverer, he had the right heart, or whatever that means. At the end of the day, God chose a cheater. Jacob—the name—literally meant “he cheats.”
            So, we could also say that this is about God choosing somebody and transforming him. Perhaps God takes all the Jacobs and turns them into Israels. This feels closer to being true but still not the point. Not every Jacob turns into an Israel. And this story still is not about Jacob. It’s true that God uses good people and bad people—after all, he used Saul, the murderer; Jonah, the pathetic prophet; and also widows and children and all sorts of people whose powerlessness is their defining characteristic. God tends to use the people who we would least expect, both good and bad. But the main point is that God uses Jacob because Jacob is in the right place at the right time. Our world is messy, and God seems to do the best he can with the mess we’ve made.
            This isn’t about Jacob; it is about God’s plan, which is a plan for nations. Through Jesus, it becomes a plan for all people. The plan, however, is not a smooth road. The danger in making every biblical story about the hero is that we imagine that God’s plan for history is to make all of us into heroes. Turn on the news and you know this isn’t exactly true. Instead of a smooth road, God’s plan is to take the bumpy road of life and have it lead somewhere meaningful. It’s a plan that even when we are sent in the wrong direction and even when we crash and burn—even, especially, when we lose something that can’t be fixed—God is there to pick up the pieces.
In Jacob, the salvation story begins. God is setting apart a people—sons and daughters of Abraham—who are in need of something, something they can’t quite explain yet. Genesis is just the beginning; it’s people warring against other people; it’s cheaters becoming fathers of nations. It’s Abraham sleeping with his servant and taking Isaac to the brink of human sacrifice, and then it’s God changing the trajectory of the story. This is the start of the salvation story.
            For us today, it might be hard to relate. Many of us were born into Christian families that told us the Christmas story and the Easter story. Many of us have the salvation-answer given to us before we even ask the salvation-question, before we ever consider questions like, “Why am I here?” “What is my purpose?” “Why is there life at all?” We know Jesus before we know there is a need for Jesus. That’s not a bad thing, but it does mean that since we have the answer we sometimes worry when the questions come up. We feel that, if we are like Jacob, if we are part of a world that is dark and we wonder if there are clear answers or not, then we might be unfaithful. Our questions become associated with doubts. We run away from the questions. Jacob isn’t perfect—he’s a cheater, after all; he wrestles with God; he doesn’t follow the blueprint of faithfulness—but he is faithful. It is in his wandering, on his uneven path, even in his wrestling that he comes to recognize the presence of God.
            God promises to be with Jacob wherever he goes, which means—I suspect—that God expects him to go somewhere. Israel—once Jacob—goes many places. He has sons—one of whom, Joseph, ends up in Egypt. He blesses his own youngest son, again breaking the rules. He doesn’t bow to tradition, but follows a sixth sense toward a salvation story. Jacob is a reminder that God uses people apart from whatever caricature we have of the perfect person God could use. Jacob is a reminder that salvation is not a smooth road; he’s a reminder that God will wrestle with us, that our choices are not always black and white—good or bad—and that God will pick us up on the far side of the grey choices we make. Most of all, Jacob is a reminder that we are human and God chooses human beings, even though we make a mess of things, because we bear in us an image of the divine.
            At the end of the story, God promises again to be with us wherever we go. That means when we mess up. That means when we feel lost. That means when we angrily shout, “There is no God!” That means when we type terrible things on our computers or think terrible thoughts about our neighbors. But I don’t say any of this in a judgment-y way; I’m not saying, “He knows when you are sleeping and knows when you’re awake.” You already know that. Rather, I’m saying this as a salvation-promise; that there is no darkness inside of you that God is not willing to fill. You are saved by grace and though Jacob could have no idea what that means we are blessed to have a wider view of the heights and depths of it. We know Jesus, which is a wonderful thing to know. And we also know Jacob, we know where we’ve been, and that God will move the story forward using all sorts of imperfect creatures like us.

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