"&request.querystring("c")&"

A Redemption Song

The Rev. Canon George M. Maxwell, Jr.
The Cathedral of St. Philip
Atlanta, Georgia
August 3, 2008
Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost: Proper 13  – Year A

My name is Jacob.  You know me.  I am the son of Isaac, the son of Abraham.  I am the favorite son of the favorite wife, Rebecca.  I am the twin brother of Esau, though he is the eldest by several minutes.

I want to tell you a bit about my story.

As my name implies, I have often been thought of as a “trickster.”  I am known for depending on my cleverness to get ahead. 

You have, no doubt, heard about how I tricked my Father into giving me the blessing intended for Esau.  I realize it seems unfair – taking what rightfully belonged to my brother.  But, it didn’t seem so wrong at the time.

Esau.  Well, we could all see that he just didn’t have what it takes.  He was fearless and strong, but not so smart.  He rarely used words with more than one syllable.  And, he never seemed to understand how what he did today would effect all of us tomorrow.  If I hadn’t taken advantage of him, somebody else would have.

Mother understood.  The ruse was her idea.  She was the one who convinced me to disguise myself as Esau and then go to my Father asking for his blessing.

And, my Father?  I think he understood too.  I know that I dressed up in skins so that I would feel and smell like my brother.  And, I know that I told him that I was my brother when he asked.

But, I think he knew.  He was getting near the end, but he wasn’t there yet.   He was a survivor and he always had a vision of the future.  He knew that his name would live on only if the family prospered. 

He never said anything, of course.  It wasn’t that my Father didn’t love Esau.  Esau was his favorite.  Esau was everything my Father wasn’t.  My Father was quiet and preferred to be in prayer at home.  Esau was active and spent his time hunting in the woods.  It was as if they completed each other.   

But, my Father had to know that he couldn’t give his blessing to someone who would trade it for a bowl of stew the next time he was hungry.  My Father had to know that Esau wasn’t the one. 
I heard it in his voice after he had given me the blessing and suggested that we share some of his son’s stew.  Not my stew, mind you, but his son’s stew.  I’ll never forget that sinking feeling.  It was as if my Father had given me his blessing, but Esau his heart.

Before you judge me too harshly, though, let me say that I know telling the truth is important and cheating is wrong.  But, you have to admit that life doesn’t always allow you to do the right thing.  There are times when you have to make hard decisions.   There are times when you have to understand that what is best for you and your family is not always what is right.   There are times when you just have to do what you have to do.

This was one of those times – or so I thought.  It just didn’t work out the way I thought it would.  I finally got the blessing, but I had to leave my home.  I had to go north to live with my Mother’s family.  And, nothing seemed to go right for me there.

I fell in love with Rachael, as you know.  But, her father, Laban, tricked me into marrying her older sister.   Then, he cheated me out of wages that I had earned and herds that I had raised.  He even humiliated me by accusing me of cheating him.  What goes around comes around, I guess. 

I soon began to feel trapped.  I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do with the power of the blessing, but I was sure that I hadn’t done it yet.  I had little beyond wealth to show for my cleverness and I certainly hadn’t done anything heroic.   I couldn’t find any trace in me of the greatness of Abraham or the vision of Isaac.  My primary talent seemed to be in avoiding confrontations.

I sought refuge in my dreams.  But, even there, I was too clever to begin climbing the ladder that God showed me unless he promised to take all of the risk out of it.

I knew I needed to go home.  Whatever I was supposed to do with this blessing, I would have to do it there.  But, I was afraid.  I was afraid of standing out, of being alone.  I was afraid of making my own decisions, of being solely responsible for my actions.

And, I was afraid of Esau.  I hadn’t seen him in twenty years and I had heard that he would be coming to meet me with four hundred armed men.   The last time I saw him, he said that he would kill me.

Then, it happened.  On the day before I was supposed to meet Esau, I sent the last of my family and herds into my homeland.  I stayed by myself on the other side of the river boundary.  I needed time to think.  I needed time to build up my courage.  Part of me wanted to think up some clever way to avoid the confrontation, of course.  But, part of me wanted to face the truth.  Part of me was tired.  Part of me wanted to do the right thing and be done with it.

I couldn’t sleep.  I kept turning from side to side, my mind racing from one thing to another.  It was then that I sensed I was not alone.  I sensed that a stranger had entered my tent.  When I looked up to see who it was, he jumped on me.  I struggled free and threw myself back at him.  This was not a fight I intended to lose.

It was so dark, and the movements so quick, that I couldn’t see who I was fighting.  At times he felt like Esau, constantly coming right at me with his fists – strong and direct.  At other times, he felt like Laban, never quite where I expected him to be – always tripping me up or throwing me slightly off balance.  Once it he even felt like my Father, seemingly daring me to fight back.

It went on all night.  The rivalry seemed to grow with each passing hour, as if fueled by old grudges newly uncovered.  My strength grew with my anger.  And, each time I blocked one of Esau’s charges, or anticipated one of Laban’s movements or got the best of my Father, my self confidence grew.

But, even as I became more confident, I began to get the sense that this was a fight I could never win.  I had lost all control.  My attacker seemed to be pulling all of the strings.   I couldn’t tell the difference any longer between what I wanted to do and what he wanted me to do.

Then, as the morning approached, he cried out for me to let go of him.  He cried out to be set free before the sun rose.   There was a moment – just a moment -- when I thought that maybe I had won.  I was elated.

Yet, just as I thought that victory was mine, he struck me in my hip.  And, the blow crippled me.  It was as if he had let me touch victory, and hold it my hands, just so that I would feel the full weight of defeat.

As I lay there on the ground, I grabbed his legs.  I didn’t know what else to do, so I just held on to him.  I didn’t hold on to get an advantage.  I didn’t hold on thinking I was going to win anything.  I held on for dear life.

Then, as the light began to dawn, I caught a glimpse of his face.  But, it was not a face that I expected to see.  I had expected to see vengeance.  I had expected to see anger.  I had expected to see a desire for punishment.
But, what I saw instead was concern.  I saw a heartfelt concern for me.   He did not want to win anything.  He did not want to take anything that I had.  He did not want to step into my shoes.

I realized then that the stranger hadn’t seen me as a rival at all.  He had just wanted me to live.  Maybe, he had just wanted me to be free of the guilt that I carried around with the blessing.

I knew then that I had truly seen the face of God, and I knew then what I had to do with my Father’s blessing.

I had to give it back.

It was a gift and it wasn’t intended for me.   The only way that Esau and I would ever be at peace was for me to give the blessing back.  As long as we were constantly reaching for the same thing, we would always be in conflict.  And, I would never be free.

Esau and I could stop being enemies and start being brothers only if I gave the gift back.

And, that’s when the stranger blessed me.  The moment that I figured out that the gift had to go back, he blessed me.  And, the moment that I understood that my cleverness was not my salvation, he gave me a new name.  Israel, the ancestor of God’s people.  

I wasn’t the trickster any longer.  I was a patriarch.

I wasn’t looking for ways to justify my failure to do the right thing.  I was a patriarch.

I wasn’t afraid of standing out.  I wasn’t afraid of making my own decisions.  I wasn’t afraid of taking responsibility for my actions.  I wasn’t afraid of every confrontation.   I was a patriarch.

And, I wasn’t going to give Esau any reason to envy me.  That’s why I bowed down before him the next day and called him Lord.  And, that’s why I was able to accept his forgiveness.

I told him that his face reminded me of the face of God.

It was in that moment that I realized that I had finally done something heroic.  It was in that moment that I first felt some of the strength of Abraham and saw some of the vision of Isaac.

I knew then that a hero is not one who defeats his enemy, but one who turns his enemy into a friend.

I had been blessed.

I had seen the face of God and, with that image in my mind, I had recognized the face of God in my enemy.   It was then that I recognized my enemy as my brother.  And, it was then that we became friends.

AMEN

Comments? Contact The Rev. George Maxwell at: gmaxwell@stphilipscathedral.org

view other sermons