Sunday, August 6, 2023 (The United Church of Christ; Santa Fe, New Mexico)
PRELUDE
I am very honoured to be your presiding and preaching pastor this morning in the absence of Rev. Talitha who was in Chicago yesterday at the memorial service for the beloved Rev. Betsy Beuschel. Let us pray:
O God our creator and sustainer, receive our prayers for Rev. Betsy Beuschel, your faithful servant who has died. We thank you for her ministry among us, and for the gifts of love she has shared with us and your whole church. Give us grace now as we commend Betsy to your merciful care and your endless love. Strengthen us and help us to continue to serve and care, as Betsy did, for one another, in your name and unto your love, we pray. AMEN.
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When I was asked by Lin, our Office Administrator, this past week if I had a Title for my Sermon today, I told him the story of my first few months as a newly Ordained Associate Pastor at St. Luke’s Lutheran Church in Albuquerque. [1972 for those who are counting years.] The Office Secretary asked me the Thursday before I was to preach my first Sermon in that congregation, “What is the Title of your Sermon?” I replied that I was not very good at entitling my Sermons, mostly because I had not written them yet, and replied, “Just leave it blank in the Bulletin.” She protested, “We do not do that here! You have to give me a title.” And so thinking quickly I said, “OK, here it is: God’s Mighty Word Proclaimed with Power and Conviction.” So that is what she typed into the bulletin — actually she typed it onto the Mimeograph Stencil which was the thing from which the Bulletin was printed. For those of you newer in life I can explain that printing device after the Service. So Lin agreed and therein is the Title of the Sermon in the Bulletin. The title may change tomorrow morning, but for now this is what we have. Now to the STORY.
This morning we have before us the the story of Jacob and the Angel, or Jacob at the River, or Jacob Wrestles at Penuel — it rather depends upon which translation of the Hebrew Scriptures one is reading. But suffice it to say that here is the story of Jacob Struggling in the Night (that’s what I call it) which we find in the 32 Chapter of the first book of the TORAH, the Hebrew Scriptures, the book we call Genesis (which means, beginning).
Genesis 32.22-31
22 The same night he got up and took his two wives, his two maids, and his eleven children, and crossed the ford of the Jabbok. 23He took them and sent them across the stream, and likewise everything that he had. 24Jacob was left alone; and a man wrestled with him until daybreak. 25When 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. 26Then he said, ‘Let me go, for the day is breaking.’ But Jacob said, ‘I will not let you go, unless you bless me.’ 27So he said to him, ‘What is your name?’ And he said, ‘Jacob.’ 28Then the man said, ‘You shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with humans, and have prevailed.’ 29Then Jacob asked him, ‘Please tell me your name.’ But he said, ‘Why is it that you ask my name?’ And there he blessed him. 30So Jacob called the place Peniel, saying, ‘For I have seen God face to face, and yet my life is preserved.’ 31The sun rose upon him as he passed Penuel, limping because of his hip.
You know, I am sure, as do I the “deserted places of our hearts” — those places, those times when we are absolutely alone and cannot distract ourselves by daily activity — the places and the times in our hearts of ultimate struggle, of grief, of doubt, of fear — do I believe? Am I faithful? Am I right? Am I worthy? Am I loved? Will I be forgiven? — the dark night of the soul where our past comes to meet the uncertainty of our future and we ask ourselves questions in the loneliness that we never ask in the crowded days of living.
This morning’s reading is about such a time and place.
To begin with, I need to tell you that while I have spent years learning and studying the Greek language (particularly that of the New Testament), Hebrew (that in which the “Old Testament” is written) is only a secondary language for me. And so when I came to the story which is before us for this Sunday, Genesis 32, I immediately made a telephone call to my brother, Rab. Marvin Schwab (retired Rabbi Emeritus of Temple Beth Shalom). Marvin and his wife Janet, and Beverly and I have been friends and colleagues for a very long time is truly a gift. So, Rab. Marvin is a very real and significant part of this Sermon, since among other things, he is fluent in Biblical Hebrew!
You cannot understand the story which was read to you this morning without understanding what comes before it, and what follows it in the book of Genesis. So what I ask you to do this afternoon, or this evening, is to pull out your Bible and open it to Genesis and begin reading, not the whole book, just from Chapter 27 through Chapter 33.
You see, the problem we have in the Church is that we only get little pieces of Scripture on any given Sunday, little snippets. What we do not have is the whole story, what comes before, what follows. We assume that everyone listening to the story read in worship already knows what comes before and what comes after. However, my experience is over the years of my Ordained Life that that is just not true. And trust me, you need to have the whole story if you are to understand at all the meaning of the story (both story with a small “s” and Story with a capital “S”). So, please, do some homework this afternoon, tonight, tomorrow, sometime next week and read these chapters.
It all begins with Abraham and Sarah, who in their old age have son, Isaac (איזאק] Yitsak in Hebrew, it means laughter because Sarah laughed at the angels outside the tent when they told Abraham that Sarah was going to give birth in her 90s. The result of that encounter is Isaac [Laughter].
Abraham and Sarah live and die (again you need to read the whole story in Genesis). Isaac marries Rebekah (an interesting story it itself). They have twins: Esau (a red and hairy baby) who is born first, followed by a very smooth Jacob who is born next with his hand grabbing the heel of Esau. (That’s a somewhat significant comment on the family dynamics to follow.)
They grow up. Esau is the hunter, Jacob the quiet stay at home boy. Isaac loves Esau the best. Rebekah loves Jacob the best. She gets Jacob to steal the birthright, meaning the now elderly blind Isaac is tricked to think that Jacob is Esau. (Go home and read the story; it’s all about animal hairs and what they smell like!)
The result is that Esau hates Jacob and vows to kill him. Jacob flees the home into a nearby land which actually belongs to Rebekah’s brother Laban, and on the road has a dream. You will remember this from Sunday School as you sang “We are climbing Jacob’s Ladder, Soldiers of the Cross” — which has nothing to do with the Cross of Jesus, it’s just one of those Songs we learned in Sunday School.
Jacob dreams and in the dream God blesses him. When Jacob wakes up he takes the stone which he has used as a pillow, pours oil upon it, and makes a vow that if God will protect him then Jacob will make the Stone the House of God.
Jacob then moves on and meets Rachel at the Well (there’s more to the story and it has to do with Laban’s other daughter Leah whom he marries first, but let’s just skip all that for the moment and note that Jacob marries Rachel, as well as Leah.)
As time goes on and events happen, Jacob learns that Esau (remember him?) is coming to meet him with some 400 men.
Now, it’s obvious, that Esau is not interested in a family reunion around the barbecue complete with potato salad and lentils and such. He is coming to kill Jacob.
So, Jacob does this. He divides his family into half. Why? Because if Esau destroys one half, then the other may be able to survive.
And then he prays to God, reminding God of the Blessing that God made to him in the former dream.
Jacob sends some gifts to Esau and then he takes his two wives, his two maids, his eleven children (by both wives), and crosses the Jabbok (the modern Zarqa River in Jordan). He takes his family and sends them across the stream, along with everything he owns to meet his Twin Brother. He puts them in front of himself as a “family barrier.”
Why? Because perhaps-maybe-hopefully Esau will take pity seeing that Jacob has surrendered all that he has all that he is.
And then what? He is all alone. And — does he sleep? Does he have another dream? The story only says that he is alone and he wrestles — struggles with some entity. Not an “angel” in the Hebrew, for the word for angel [מַלְאָך] mal’akh] does not appear. The word in Hebrew is [איש] ish— which can be a person, or a thing, or an entity.
What happens? Jacob struggles. He is alone. Rachel is not there by his bedside, nor is Leah, nor the servants, nor the children. He is all alone. And he is struggling — with this entity.
But with what? With whom? He made a vow with God. Does he believe the conditions of the vow will be met? Will God bring him back to his land? Will he live in Peace? What about his brother? What about the enmity between them? What about his past? Can he be forgiven?
It is a question of faith. It is the human question in all of us. Do you believe? Or do you not? Will you trust? Or not?
Yes, we all face this. We all find ourselves at one time or another in the night darkness — in the deserted places of our hearts — wrestling, struggling, striving.
After a night’s struggle with no sleep, the entity wants to go away, but Jacob will not let it go. And so the entity puts Jacob’s hip out of joint.
In the pain of that mark that will stay with Jacob the rest of his life, a reminder of what he has been through, he demands a blessing.
It comes strangely. The Entity asks him his name. “[יעקב] Ya’akov, Jacob,” he says. “No,” says the Entity, “From now on you will be[ישראל] Yis-rael
[that is,
The One who Strives
with God]
because you have struggled with God and with humans and you have prevailed.”
Yes, dear friends, here is where the name Israel comes from.
Jacob, demands the name of that with which with whom he has struggled. But it does not come.
If you ever read the works of Ursula K. LeGuinn, there is a book she wrote called: A Wizard of Earthsea. The main character is what she calls a mage (wizard), he begins life as Sparrowhawk, but his name is changed. His wizard name is Ged. He spends his life being pursued by a shadow, a darkness, something eerie and almost evil. He struggles throughout the book with this darkness, trying to conquer it, trying to make it go away by his magic.
In the end, in a lonely place, in the darkness the shadow finally catches up with Ged, he can no long outrun it, he can hear it breathing down his neck. And so, he turns finally to face this dark shadow — and when he turns he sees that it is — himself.
And in that moment Ged and his shadow, his dark side become one, because he has finally faced the darkness of his soul. And he is changed.
Jacob calls the place where he has had his night experience [פְּנוּאֵל] Penuel which in Hebrew means “The Face of God”. He has been in God’s face, as it were, and survived. How could he not be changed forever?
Jacob limps away.
The next day is frightening (this is the part you need to read at home). He sees Esau coming with an army. Jacob goes ahead of his family and kneels down on the ground, bowing his head so that his brother could, if he wished with his sword, sever it from his body.
BUT (in Bible stories, as in life, as in our lives — this little word BUT is everything.It becomes the word of grace and forgiveness and hope. Don’t every forget that.
BUT, Esau sees that Jacob is changed, because indeed, Jacob has been changed.
Change is, if I may, what takes place for each one of us whenever we come into the place of worship and plunge ourselves into the liturgy, into the words, into the music, into the community — this morning into the bread and the cup. We are changed. We are not the same ones we have been who entered through those doors an hour ago. We are different. We are forgiven, we are free, we are placed into newness of life.
This is the pivotal point of the story. Jacob has changed, he is changed. He has entered into the darkness and in the darkness, in the struggling, in the wrestling, he meets (and maybe also you and me and us if we are so blessed meet) the Holy One, or the Entity of our human struggle for meaning which is a holy struggle and if we allow ourselves to go there deeply with ultimate trust, then we may find the answer, that beautiful and all-loving answer that you and I and all of us are forever as we have always been beloved of God.
And that, my sisters and brothers, is everything.
In the story, Esau does not draw his sword, but runs to meet Jacob, lifts him up and embraces him, and kisses him, and they both weep uncontrollably. Not death, but life and love.
What more can we say? It is the same for us, not death, but life and love.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
Nota(ble) Be(n)e 