Open My Eyes, That I May See
The same night [Jacob] got up and took his two wives, his two maids, and his eleven children and crossed the ford of the Jabbok. He took them and sent them across the stream, and likewise everything that he had. Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him until daybreak. When the man saw that he did not prevail against Jacob, he struck him on the hip socket, and Jacob’s hip was put out of joint as he wrestled with him. Then he said, “Let me go, for the day is breaking.” But Jacob said, “I will not let you go, unless you bless me.” So he said to him, “What is your name?” And he said, “Jacob.” Then the man said, “You shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with humans and have prevailed.” Then Jacob asked him, “Please tell me your name.” But he said, “Why is it that you ask my name?” And there he blessed him. So Jacob called the place Peniel, saying, “For I have seen God face to face, yet my life is preserved.” The sun rose upon him as he passed Penuel, limping because of his hip.
Being human is tough. There are so many expectations in our lives. Expectations that others have of us, expectations that we have of ourselves, and expectations that we tell ourselves others have of us but may or may not actually be held by anyone outside of our imaginations.
We want to do the right thing. We want to be the right thing. And it’s so painful when we think we’re not making it. When, for some reason, who we are isn’t good enough, we try to be someone else, and folks can tell that we’re faking it. When we’re feeling like our true self isn’t good enough, Jacob’s story might have be a bit of comfort.
Jacob is one of the most complicated characters in scripture. He’s enormously important and figures large in so much for God’s plan through these early generations of the Old Testament. He’s one of these larger-than-life figures who should be like a superhero in the history of our faith. But he’s no Superman. Jacob’s record is complicated. A little spotty.
Jacob’s life is a struggle. He struggles with his family, with his people, with his relationship with God. And, on that level, I get it. Being human is hard. There are a lot of expectations from those people around us, and being everything that people want us to be is impossible sometimes. And, as happens to all of us, it crosses Jacob’s mind that maybe he can cheat a little to get ahead. Maybe he can take a shortcut toward the life and the identity that he wants for himself. So much of Jacob’s struggle seems self-inflicted. We can appreciate the messes that he finds himself in, but it’s difficult to be entirely sympathetic.
I am persuaded by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks who suggested in a sermon once that a huge part of Jacob’s struggle is that he does not want to be Jacob. He wants to be his brother Esau. In their mother’s womb, the identity of these twins is complicated. When they are born, Jacob follows Esau, clutching his heel. Jacob buys Esau’s birthright for a bowl of stew. Jacob steals Esau’s clothes, disguises his body to feel like Esau’s, and even takes Esau’s name. All in aid of stealing the blessing from their father, Isaac, intended for his brother.
In fairness to Jacob, who wouldn’t want to be Esau? By all accounts, he is big, tall, hairy, good looking, fit, a skilled hunter, firstborn even as a twin, everything that a “proper” man of their culture is meant to be. Jacob’s envy of his older brother leads him to make many choices that strain their relationship. Let us not forget that, back in chapter 28 of Genesis, Jacob is in a hurry to leave their homeland and avoid the conflict that, for the most part, he has sown with his brother Esau, his uncle Laban, and probably several others.
In today’s reading, Jacob knows that Esau is coming for a reckoning and bringing many men with him. We’ve heard in earlier chapters how Jacob has tried to placate him with expensive gifts, deferential messages, and apologies by the wagonload. Jacob is going to have to come to terms with the fact that he is not his brother and, in trying so hard to take what properly belonged to Esau, Jacob has fractured their relationship deeply.
And so it comes to pass that, on a night when Jacob is all alone and worried, he has a midnight visitor. Hosea identifies the visitor as an angel (Hosea 12:4), and Jacob believes he has encountered God. (Genesis 32:28-30) Unlike most visits from divine messengers, Jacob is not afraid. There is no statement of “Be not afraid, for I bring you tidings of great joy.” Jacob takes the only stance he knows for engaging with God, grabs the visitor and spends the night wrestling. A struggle now in body and spirit.
The two are well-matched and they wrestle without a clear winner until just before sunrise. Jacob demands a blessing before he will let the visitor leave. He is given a blessing alongside a new name. No longer Jacob, he is now Israel: one who struggles with God. This gift of a new name and a divine blessing change Jacob. By embracing his identity as one who struggles with God and realizing the blessings in it, Jacob can approach his brother in a new way.
When the two meet, Jacob returns to his brother Esau the blessing that he stole long before. Jacob gives up all of the power, influence, and wealth that Isaac’s blessing had given to him. Even though he’s limping in body from the wrestling match and in spirit from the humility of the apology and reconciliation, Jacob emerges from the experience complete. Jacob has learned that he is not Esau and that nobody expects him to be Esau, least of all God. He, finally, has taken up the freedom to be Jacob and, in so doing, discovers that he is Israel.
Being human is tough. There is a lot to do and so many expectations to meet. Often, we, like Jacob, add to the pile by thinking that if we were more like someone else, we’d be doing better. (Whatever “doing better” means.) But unless the person we’re comparing ourselves to is Christ, it’s probably an exercise that will discourage, depress, and distract us. It’s creating hard work that isn’t even the hard work we’re meant to be doing. Struggling with our own imaginations instead of with holiness.
We don’t need to be someone else. Not for other people, not for ourselves, and certainly not for God. We do need to work toward being the most Christlike version of ourselves that we can be. When we approach this calling faithfully, whether it’s with the wealth and power and charm of Esau or in the complicated, often misunderstood, faithful struggle of Jacob, our eyes are opened to see how God has been with us, in blessing and hardship all the way along. Thanks be to God.
