Wrestling with God, Fear, and Ourselves: A rigged match that could have a big payoff

Once matters are settled with Laban, Jacob turns his focus to settling matters with his brother in Genesis 32-33.  Fear of Esau's anger was one of the driving forces behind Jacob's departure two decades earlier, since Jacob had tricked Esau, his elder brother, out of his birthright and their father's blessing.  So, Jacob approached expecting hostility.  He was prepared to offer great gifts of livestock in exchange for his brother's tolerance.  He never really considers apologizing or asking his brother for forgiveness, but the bribe seems to be a sort of supplication in itself.  Basically, Jacob has invented a scenario in his mind about how things are going to go and he plans for the events his imagination has concocted.

Before he and Esau are reunited, there is an interesting night in which Jacob wrestles with a stranger until daybreak.  In the story, the stranger suggests that he is God, and he changes Jacob's name to Israel.  Of course, he wrenches Jacob's hip out of socket first.  Now, there were no witnesses to this incident, and it seems like a fanciful bit of folklore.  Setting aside the question of whether the story is accurate, though, there is certainly something true about the lesson embedded in it.  It's common to hear talk of people "wrestling with themselves" about an issue, or being "of two minds" on a subject.  Neurologists have even been able to watch the physiological indicators of a mind struggling to reach a conclusion about a complex matter.  While we may not all have the experience of literally wrestling with a god, we can certainly relate to the feeling of wrestling within ourselves.

What if the two experiences were actually the same thing, though?  What if wresting with ourselves was actually wrestling with the divine by a different name?  While there may not be an external divine being to wrestle with, people certainly possess the characteristics of the divine within themselves.  We don't always recognize the truth, beauty, and creativity within ourselves, and we are often conflicted when expectations and actions don't line up with that deep sense of truth.  Whether it's our own expectations and actions, or the expectations and actions of other people or society as a whole, life can be pretty messy.  It can be a real wrestling match to come to terms with how we are going to be in the face of conflicting expectations and beliefs.  We can hope that the divine within us will win out, that the deep truth, beauty, and creativity will be stronger than misguided beliefs that foster fear and violence.  When we are really in tune with the character of the divine within us, the fearful and violent reactions might even seem silly.  Other times, the fear wins.

Like in the case of Jacob when Esau came to greet as a brother.  Esau didn't seem to hold any grudges.  He wanted to do everything in his power to make his brother's homecoming easy.  Esau had his own prosperity.  He wasn't suffering.  And he wasn't angry.  Still, Jacob just can't quite embrace that reality.  Whether it's out of shame or suspicion, he keeps his brother at arm's length.  We do the same thing when people or circumstances surprise us.  Sure, if something seems to be too good to be true, it probably is.  But sometimes we decide that something is too good to be true simply because it doesn't lock into the fears we've cultivated.  In those moments, the divine within us has lost the wrestling match.

The good news is that we are capable of changing how we see things, if we want to.  When we find ourselves wrestling within, we can hone in on the invented fears and imagined dangers we've been believing and wrench them out of socket.  We can let the divine -- that deep sense of truth, beauty, and creativity -- win the wrestling match.  We can ask for forgiveness without bribing someone into accepting our apology.  It isn't weakness to acknowledge when we've made a mistake.  We can receive the gifts that others offer graciously without trying to figure out what their angle is, or what's going to be expected in return.  Suspicion smothers beauty (although we can be very creative when we let our suspicions runs free).  We will most likely never find ourselves literally and physically wrestling with a god next to a stream until daybreak, but when we wrestle with ourselves -- when our fears and doubts wrestle with our divine character -- we choose which side wins.   

Twelve Tribes Born of Jealousy, Fear, and Deceit: How the Children of Jacob Came to Be

Looking at the title for this entry, it becomes apparent that certain moral judgments are inescapable when people hear or read stories from other cultures.  To be fair, the Bible doesn't always blatantly pass judgment on the behavior of people like Jacob's wives; it simply states, "This is how she felt, and this is what she did."  Cultural mores and a cultivated societal understanding of right and wrong are bound to color how people are seen.  In a way, that's the point of much of this conversation.  In order to accept the Bible's teachings and apply them to modern-day life, one must be discerning about what makes sense and what doesn't fit with contemporary society.  It cannot all be equally accepted without analysis.  Many people want to lift up scripture as morally unassailable, but the truth of the matter is that we must use an internal sense of morality in order to judge what we read.

As an example, take the story of Jacob and his wives in Genesis chapters 29 through 31.  Back when Abraham was looking for a wife for Jacob's father Isaac, he was insistent that the wife be brought to Isaac instead of Isaac going to get her.  It's as if Abraham knew that his kinfolk were trouble.  Jacob has to find this out the hard way in dealing with Uncle Laban, who soon becomes Father-in-law Laban.  When Jacob had worked seven years to earn the wife he wanted, Laban changed the rules and told Jacob he had to first marry the elder (and uglier) daughter, Leah.  So Jacob worked for another seven years to get the wife he wanted, Leah's sister Rachel.

Laban was the very epitome of shrewd cunning.  When Jacob finally wanted to take his wives and children and head home, Laban played the grateful employer and (after over 14 years of not paying Jacob a wage) told his son-in-law that he could name his price to stay on and keep tending Laban's flocks.  Jacob wanted all the speckled or spotted goats or lambs, so after agreeing to the deal, Laban sent his sons to weed out all the speckled or spotted goats and lambs from the herds Jacob was tending.  Then he put three days between him and Jacob, probably feeling quite smug.  Jacob, while most likely feeling betrayed by his uncle, pulled a crafty bit of witchcraft and essentially bred his own wealth.

When he had had enough of Laban's tricks, Jacob took his wives and herds and children and headed back toward his father's land without telling Laban.  Just to twist the knife a bit, Rachel also took her father's household gods (or idols).  When Laban came to chase him down, Jacob was indignant, Rachel hid the idols, and Laban was forced to cut his losses and make a truce with Jacob.  So Jacob got the last laugh, not by being more righteous, but by beating Laban at his own game.

During all of this time, Jacob's wives had been having a breeding war.  Although Jacob loved Rachel more and found Leah to be less appealing, Leah was the one who got pregnant first.  In fact, Leah had four children by Jacob, which made Rachel very jealous.  Since she wasn't getting pregnant, and the problem obviously wasn't with Jacob, Rachel suggested that Jacob sleep with her maidservant Bilbah.  When Bilbah got pregnant, Rachel felt vindicated through a strange bit of vicarious conception.  After Bilbah had borne two of Jacob's children, Leah's competitive side kicked in and she threw her servant into the mix.  Leah's servant, Zilpah, also gave birth to two of Jacob's offspring.  The two sisters even traded herbal conception aids (mandrakes) for the opportunity to sleep with Jacob.  In the end, Leah had two more sons and a daughter with Jacob, and Rachel at long last (perhaps due to the mandrakes?) had a son, Joseph.  Some time later, after the departure from Laban, Rachel died giving birth to another son, Benjamin.

So, Jacob wound up with twelve sons by four different women, which wasn't a bad thing in that culture.  But wives were often considered valuable only in terms of the offspring they could provide to further the bloodline.  In fact, the story takes special care to point out why Rachel would be kept around if she wasn't bearing any children: She was aesthetically pleasing to Jacob, she was useful in hiding Laban's idols, she was loyal to her husband, and she had a handmaiden that could do the important work of conceiving children as a surrogate.  The fear of being worthless compelled Leah and Rachel to suggest some things that seem utterly alien to today's society, but it wasn't anything strange from Jacob's perspective.  Maybe the early Jews thought the situation strange, but every English translation conveys the story in very matter-of-fact terms, the impression being that this is just a recounting of how the twelve tribes of Israel came into being.  Whether there is any factual or historical accuracy to the story or not, it can at least be assumed that there is some cultural accuracy involved.

There are some spiritual lessons in these stories of Abraham's children and grandchildren as well.  In this particular case, there may be some lesson about trusting one's own ability rather than relying on an abusive "patron".  People often stay in situations in which they are being taken advantage of, simply out of a lack of faith in themselves.  Jacob's story encourages people to take responsibility for their own wealth and well-being.  His sacrifice for what he really wanted (Rachel) is also a lesson.  If something is worth having in the long run, it's worth some hardship in the short term.  In Jacob's case it was fourteen years of working without wages, but some people today are unwilling to make sacrifices for even a month or two in order to get what they truly want.

The lessons one can reap from the stories of these people are manifold, but they must be cast through the lens of the society in which a person lives.  A 21st century American man cannot expect to marry two wives, get to sleep with their maidservants as well, and perform a magic spell to make his wealth multiply.  He can expect, however, to wait for what he values and to cultivate a willingness to do every ethical thing within his power to create the life he wants.  Readers cannot look upon the words of the Bible, or any other text, and take it at face-value.  People must engage their minds in interpreting what is there, and that means tapping into the internal sense of what is right -- a sense of truth that surpasses personal preferences, and an awareness of beauty and value that sees beyond what is convenient. 

Fear and Family Ties: Examining the Exotic Cultural Origins of Judeo-Christian Thought

Some say that blood is thicker than water.  It's also scarier than water for a lot of people.  In the story of Isaac and Rebekah and their sons, Jacob and Esau, we find that Judeo-Christian ethics emerge from a culture that is very foreign and very familiar at the same time.  It is the very insular and fearful culture of one family that forms the basis for biblical spirituality.  This, again, refers to passages in Genesis chapters 24 through 34.

Fear is a natural human emotion, and certain circumstances and relationships can foster fear more than others.  In Isaac's case, a certain amount of fear is learned from his father, Abraham, and he responds to it as Abraham did.  When Isaac is living in Abimilech's land, his fear of the other men there leads him to tell the same lie Abraham had told about his wife on more than one occasion.  Isaac identifies Rebekah as his sister.  When Abimilech sees Isaac and Rebekah being affectionate with each other, he realizes the truth and chastises Isaac.


Abraham's insistence on purity of the bloodline is also handed down to Isaac.  When Esau (technically the eldest son) marries local Hittite women, his parents Isaac and Rebekah are not pleased.  But Esau was responding to a dynamic that his parents created.  Even though Esau was the elder son, his brother Jacob was the one that mommy loved best.  In fact, Rebekah encouraged Jacob to steal a final blessing from dad while Esau was out hunting.  If the story is to be believed, when the two brothers were younger, Jacob had demanded his older brother's birthright in exchange for food.  When their father was about to die, mom apparently wanted to make sure the deal was sealed.  So, in a feat of trickery that seems unbelievable, Jacob tricks Isaac into believing that he is Esau and Isaac blesses him.

Here is the weird bit: When Esau returns, Isaac oddly declares that he only had one blessing to give and now he's out.  Even understanding that words have power and such, this seems like a strange claim to make.  "I have two sons, but only one of you can receive my favor."  How does that not equal atrocious parenting?  To make matters worse, when Esau challenges Isaac on the "only one blessing" claim, Isaac basically curses him with a prophecy of a challenging and violent life.  No wonder Esau gets back at mom and dad by marrying a few Canaanites.

As has been mentioned, it's a simple thing to write prophecies back into stories after the fact.  If the history of these two brothers and the legacy they leave behind are the main themes of the story, then prophetic words from the mouth of their father make for good storytelling.  This is essentially the way that an oral tradition works.  One has to keep the listener interested in the story if they are to remember it and pass it down to their descendents, and foreshadowing is a very effective tool for maintaining interest.  Still, the impression of Isaac as a father comes across as less than model parenting.  And while it may still be the way some mothers behave, the intensity of Rebekah's favoritism (which leads her to encourage deceitfulness between her children) isn't much closer to an idealized picture of what a mother should be.

In any case, according to the story, Rebekah and Isaac are not happy with the idea of Jacob also marrying some local trash, and Rebekah is afraid that Esau may be angry enough to kill Jacob.  Thus, Jacob is sent off to find a wife among his family's people and live with his uncle, Laban (Rebekah's brother).  He finds two wives, as a matter of fact, and they are sisters.  Rachel and Leah are actually Laban's daughters, and as the story goes, they are the first women Jacob sees.  Since they are Rebekah's nieces, that makes them Jacob's first cousins.  Since they are also Isaac's cousins twice removed, the two sisters are also Jacob's second cousins twice removed.

Laban doesn't make Jacob's courtship easy, either.  Jacob wants to marry Rachel, and Laban demands seven years of labor in exchange.  At the end of the seven years, Laban pulls a fast one and sends Leah instead of Rachel.  (Laban and his sister must have learned from the same teacher.)  But Jacob wants Rachel, so he works for another seven years and earns her hand as well.  Their story has lessons of its own, but the basic theme in all of this can be seen in the best light as maintaining purity and in the worst light as insular and xenophobic.  After all, holiness in its most basic definition means to be set apart.

The patriarchal family of the entire biblical narrative creates a belief system out of a fearful, insular culture in which deceit is practiced even within the closest familial relationships.  All of the mandates and "shalt nots" in the scriptures can be traced back to this behavioral tradition.  While we sometimes hear arguments that the culture of biblical times was different from modern-day culture, we rarely stop to think just how different it was.  This family preferred marrying multiple cousins in order to maintain a purity apart from the influence of the rest of the world.  Does that level of paranoia seem healthy on any level?  Why do we accept rules and axioms based on fear and deception?  Why is it impossible to conceive of a scenario in which brothers are encouraged to coexist peacefully and relatives don't deceive one another just to get their way?  Aren't people capable of more than this?

That's a rhetorical question, of course.  Some people don't believe people are capable of anything more than this.  Some people believe that we are indeed deceitful, conniving, and scared at our very core, just like Abraham's family.  The only person in the bloodline who seems to have any sense is Esau, who sees the relationships around him and decides he wants nothing to do with it.  Although even he goes a bit overboard with marrying four Canaanite women just to spite his parents.  Children of all ages are influenced by their parents' dramas, and the patriarchal line of Genesis is no different.  Everyone has choices, though.  We are only bound by the fears and beliefs of our parents as far as we want.  We have the option to claim an identity based on trust and hope rather than fear and deception.  And we don't have to go overboard like Esau in order to do it.

The desire for separateness brings up another issue for modern American society, however.  If those who wish to honor biblical standards of behavior also were content to keep themselves apart from mainstream society, there are few people who would challenge them.  Like Abimilech, leaders would most likely say what they could to make believers feel safe and let them do as they wished provided it didn't infringe upon the livelihood and well-being of others.  However, some believers want to hold everyone to their standard.  They want the whole of the population to be compelled to adhere to a standard that has more to do with fearfulness than it does with right and wrong.  And many of them are quite willing to practice deception in order to get their way.  While we can see a biblical precedent for this kind of behavior, this is not keeping oneself apart.  This is not maintaining holiness.  This is bullying, plain and simple.  Frankly, I believe we are capable of better than that.