Isaiah 55:1-5
Genesis 32:22-31
Common lectionaries were one of the last outcomes of 20th century ecumenism, a half century more or less when Christians sought unity rather than division. Our United Church of Christ, and similar denominations in other countries, were also an expression of that commitment.
The Revised Common Lectionary, which I and many other UCC pastors use in worship planning, was the third iteration of this schedule of readings, hence the name “Revised.” It follows the traditional liturgical seasons of Advent/Christmastide and Lent/Eastertide, then fills in ordinary time with a three-year cycle of texts intended to balance sequential and thematic reading. It is not always successful, especially when a pastor is faced with more readings than they intend to use, as is the case this morning. So we arrive at two seemingly dissimilar readings, one from Genesis and one from Deutero-Isaiah.
Let us begin with Genesis, which seems appropriate all things considered.
Genesis is a patchwork of at least two separate traditions, along with additions from the editors who combined the texts, and a couple of centuries of later redactors with different agendas. The result is a book with duplications, contradictions, and a disjointed narrative.
Today, we find ourselves in the middle of the story of Jacob, the third great patriarch of the Jewish faith after his grandfather, Abraham, and his father, Isaac. It is an episode in which Jacob wrestles with God who, in this text, is in the form of a man. Because this comes from what we know of as the Elohim source, God is never called Yahweh, as that name remains unknown to the Jewish people until Moses encounters the burning bush.
This is a story that is meant to explain, in this case the origin of the name of the nation. It is a little bit of myth dropped into a larger framing narrative about blessing and resources.
Jacob is a trickster, an archetype that occurs in many other religious traditions, including the broad category we call “indigenous” religion, which snobbishly means anything not from Eurasia.
Jacob’s mother prefers him over the first-born twin Esau, a burly redhead, and conspires to help Jacob steal his brother’s rightful blessing as the eldest. Or maybe Esau sold his birthright for a bowl of lentils. Doesn’t matter. This is all about scarcity.
Esau promises to kill Jacob in revenge as soon as their father dies, so his mother sends Jacob away to the house of her brother, Jacob’s uncle Laban. There, he falls in love with his cousin, and asks for her hand in marriage in exchange for seven years of labor. His uncle agrees, but on the wedding night, swaps out his older daughter Leah. The trickster is tricked, and there is an agreement that he can marry his intended, Rachel, in exchange for seven more years of labor.
By the time we get to the God-wrestling story, Jacob has fathered eleven children by his two wives and their two handmaidens, which is to say slaves. He would eventually have at least twelve sons who will nominally become the twelve tribes of Israel. There is also one named daughter.
Having completed fourteen years of service and accumulated his own wealth in flocks and servants, Jacob is returning to Canaan, and this wrestling with God is inserted pretty randomly in the middle of yet another conflict between brothers, the third in Genesis to this point. In this case, the brothers are reconciled, and both become prosperous. The scarcity that drove the conflict was never real, and no one is murdered, like Abel, or cast out, like Ishmael. We will see the same pattern again with Jacob’s youngest son, Joseph with his coat of many colors, betrayed by his brothers and sold off into slavery, only to reconcile with his brothers and save their people, another tale of scarcity as famine drives the Jews to seek relief in Egypt. But that is a story for another day.
If this story is about scarcity, birthright, heirs, divine blessing, all in short supply, our reading from Isaiah promises the exact opposite.
Continue reading “The Pursuit of Happiness”