Why Jacob?
Excerpt from Genesis 25:19-27
"The first to come out was red, and his whole body was like a hairy garment; so they named him Esau. After this, his brother came out, with his hand grasping Esau’s heel; so he was named Jacob."
Reflection by J. Mary Luti
The grown-up Jacob was always working an angle, manipulating the system, scheming to get ahead. He was even born that way. His twin, Esau, was delivered ahead of him. When Jacob emerged, he was grabbing Esau's heel, trying to pull him back in. As someone else wryly noted, Baby Jacob seems to have known from the start that in this world, you only matter if you come in first.
His birthday is the last time Jacob comes in second. By the time the story ends, he's stolen Esau's birthright, manipulated his dying father into giving him a first-born's blessing, and achieved super-wealth by scamming his relatives. And he wasn't one bit sorry—not sincerely, anyway.
And yet this same unrepentant cheater gets to see a vision of angels ascending and descending a heavenly ladder. He gets to go 15 sweaty rounds with God and live to tell the tale. And he gets a new name—Israel, the name that forever adorns the people who are God's own.
How does such a morally bankrupt huckster win the game of life? Why is God is so taken with him? I don't know. But I do know from experience that being good isn't always good and that there are worse things than being bad. I know that when we set out to be perfect, we'll always have an ally in the effort ("I will help you!" says Pride). I know that God is not as hard on messy people who sin as on tidy people who are determined not to.
And I wonder if in the end what God asks of us is not coherence of life, but humility of heart; not consistency, but convertibility; not uprightness, but awe. Maybe our human task is not so much to make ourselves "better persons" as it is to embrace the flux, uncertainty, and moral paradoxes of being creatures, and let ourselves get dragged out beyond sight of land by the unruly undertow of God’s wisdom, so full of mercy and mystery, and so unlike our own.
Prayer
Holy One, when I fret about my imperfections, sins, and unworthiness, please remind me where I'd be without them. Disorient me with the same love that blessed my ancestor, Jacob—the love that will not let me go.
Excerpt from Genesis 25:19-27
"The first to come out was red, and his whole body was like a hairy garment; so they named him Esau. After this, his brother came out, with his hand grasping Esau’s heel; so he was named Jacob."
Reflection by J. Mary Luti
The grown-up Jacob was always working an angle, manipulating the system, scheming to get ahead. He was even born that way. His twin, Esau, was delivered ahead of him. When Jacob emerged, he was grabbing Esau's heel, trying to pull him back in. As someone else wryly noted, Baby Jacob seems to have known from the start that in this world, you only matter if you come in first.
His birthday is the last time Jacob comes in second. By the time the story ends, he's stolen Esau's birthright, manipulated his dying father into giving him a first-born's blessing, and achieved super-wealth by scamming his relatives. And he wasn't one bit sorry—not sincerely, anyway.
And yet this same unrepentant cheater gets to see a vision of angels ascending and descending a heavenly ladder. He gets to go 15 sweaty rounds with God and live to tell the tale. And he gets a new name—Israel, the name that forever adorns the people who are God's own.
How does such a morally bankrupt huckster win the game of life? Why is God is so taken with him? I don't know. But I do know from experience that being good isn't always good and that there are worse things than being bad. I know that when we set out to be perfect, we'll always have an ally in the effort ("I will help you!" says Pride). I know that God is not as hard on messy people who sin as on tidy people who are determined not to.
And I wonder if in the end what God asks of us is not coherence of life, but humility of heart; not consistency, but convertibility; not uprightness, but awe. Maybe our human task is not so much to make ourselves "better persons" as it is to embrace the flux, uncertainty, and moral paradoxes of being creatures, and let ourselves get dragged out beyond sight of land by the unruly undertow of God’s wisdom, so full of mercy and mystery, and so unlike our own.
Prayer
Holy One, when I fret about my imperfections, sins, and unworthiness, please remind me where I'd be without them. Disorient me with the same love that blessed my ancestor, Jacob—the love that will not let me go.
|
No comments:
Post a Comment