SunJul102011
Scripture: Genesis 25:19-34
Genesis 25:19-34 These are the descendants of Isaac, Abraham's son: Abraham was the father of Isaac, 20 and Isaac was forty years old when he married Rebekah, daughter of Bethuel the Aramean of Paddan-aram, sister of Laban the Aramean. 21 Isaac prayed to the Lord for his wife, because she was barren; and the Lord granted his prayer, and his wife Rebekah conceived. 22 The children struggled together within her; and she said, "If it is to be this way, why do I live?" So she went to inquire of the Lord. 23 And the Lord said to her, "Two nations are in your womb, and two peoples born of you shall be divided; the one shall be stronger than the other, the elder shall serve the younger." 24 When her time to give birth was at hand, there were twins in her womb. 25 The first came out red, all his body like a hairy mantle; so they named him Esau. 26 Afterward his brother came out, with his hand gripping Esau's heel; so he was named Jacob. Isaac was sixty years old when she bore them. 27 When the boys grew up, Esau was a skillful hunter, a man of the field, while Jacob was a quiet man, living in tents. 28 Isaac loved Esau, because he was fond of game; but Rebekah loved Jacob.
29 Once when Jacob was cooking a stew, Esau came in from the field, and he was famished. 30 Esau said to Jacob, "Let me eat some of that red stuff, for I am famished!" (Therefore he was called Edom.) 31 Jacob said, "First sell me your birthright." 32 Esau said, "I am about to die; of what use is a birthright to me?" 33 Jacob said, "Swear to me first." F80 So he swore to him, and sold his birthright to Jacob. 34 Then Jacob gave Esau bread and lentil stew, and he ate and drank, and rose and went his way. Thus Esau despised his birthright.
In an online Christian Century article Verity Jones comments on the 2001 Sci-Fi movie K-Pax, in which the main character Prot seems content and happy. He’s intelligent and has a gift for helping people, but he claims to be from another planet, the planet K-Pax, a 1000 light-years from earth. Families do not exist on K-Pax, he tells his psychiatrist. Families of origin are never identified there and the community raises the children. The citizens of K-Pax never get married or connect with their relatives. Prot says this is good, for on the planet K-Pax there is no conflict, no pain, no strife. Everyone is content and happy. His psychiatrist wisely concludes that Prot is a human being who has experienced an event so traumatic, so unbearable that the only way he can cope with it is to create another identity, one free from human relatedness. In Prot’s case, he goes so far as to free himself from membership on Planet Earth.
Jacob in our story this morning is a little like Prot. The strife between him and his twin brother Esau becomes so severe that he ends up fleeing for his life. We discover in this morning’s lectionary reading that the conflict begins even before they are born, when Rebekah reports that the twins are battling each other inside her womb. She gets so depressed that she goes to God and asks what’s going on. God doesn’t sugarcoat the truth, telling her they will always be at odds. When the twins are born, Jacob, the younger, is grasping Esau’s heal, as if he were already trying to usurp Esau’s position. The account of their birth gives no definitive clue as to why the two suffer sibling conflict all their lives. But suffer they do. Esau loses his birthright to the sly Jacob; Later when Jacob tricks their old blind and feeble father Isaac into bestowing the parental blessing on him instead of Esau, it is the last straw. Learning what has happened Esau vows to kill Jacob, forcing him to run for his life. He ends up fleeing to the country where Rebekah’s ancestors live.
I understand something about sibling rivalry. I grew up in a large family, one of seven children. I would like to tell you that my five brothers, one sister and I always got along wonderfully well, that we never argued or fought or caused our parents any distress. I would like to tell you that, but it wouldn’t be quite true. Like Rebekah, my mother on more than one occasion was pushed to the brink of despair by the conflict of her children. I remember one incident that occurred nearly six decades ago. I have no idea now what the disagreement was about, but it escalated into a rather nasty dirt clod fight between my older brothers and me in the large vegetable garden beside our house. Why do I remember it so well? Several hours later my brothers and I had put our differences behind us and moved on. On that day mom was not finding it so easy to put “our differences” behind her. You’ve heard of delayed gratification? When dad arrived home from work and found my mom in tears, he practiced delayed punishment.
Howard Wallace in commenting on this passage writes of how in the story of Abraham and Sarah, which precedes today’s story, a central theme was Sarah’s barrenness and the question of whether faith or doubt in God would prevail. At the beginning of the Jacob story strife and deceit set the scene, and the issue is how God’s word moves to fulfillment in the midst of a complex, deceitful, and divided world.
None of the great biblical characters is without blemish. They cheat, steal, deceive, plot, trick and lie. And yet these are the very people with whom God chooses to become involved. This murky world of human reality is the arena in which God has chosen to work. Howard Wallace goes on to point out that there is a realism about this text that rejects any romantic pietism we might attribute to it. As it was then, so today God gets involved with the complex, often deceitful and strife-ridden world in which we live.
During a lecture series back in my seminary days I remember hearing J. Allan Peterson, a Christian author and counselor say, “God takes little people, gives them a great big job to do and then stretches them out to fit the job.”
I was thinking about the gospel passage from today’s lectionary reading, Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23.
It is the story Jesus tells of a sower who goes out to plant his field. And as he throws handfuls of seed from a bag slung around his neck, some falls on the hard, beaten down pathway, and the birds think it’s lunchtime. Other seed falls on rocky ground, where there is little soil, and it springs up quickly, but withers equally quickly in the heat of the day. Other seed falls among thorns, and the thorns grow up and choke them. Still other seed falls on good soil and brings forth grain in abundance.
The ideal, the goal is to be the good soil, the rich, the deep, the soil free of rocks and weeds and thistles. We want our lives to be fertile soil, where the seeds of faith, where compassion and kindness and honesty, where peace and joy and hope may be propagated. All of us like to envision our lives as that type of soil.
Remember those arguments I mentioned a few moments ago, the ones between my brothers and me? Over our growing up years we had a number of disagreements from less severe to those where the intent was to do bodily harm to the other. Have you ever noticed when you have a disagreement with someone, that it’s always their fault? That is the way it was in my disagreements with my brothers. Every time we got into a fight it was always their fault, never mine. You know, as I think back on it now, it seems rather unusual. You would think that once or twice it would have been my fault, but I can honestly say that Gene or Tom or David or Marvin were always to blame, when we disagreed. You are not believing me, are you?
The reality is that our lives are not all fertile, good-soil places. There are also the hard, beaten down pathway places, the shallow, rocky places and the thorny places, where weeds, rather than the seeds of faith seem to flourish.
Someone has said “God does not call the qualified. God qualifies the called.” I remember reading an article a number of years ago about football coach Don Shula. He grew up in this area, played high school and college football here and then played for the Cleveland Browns for a couple of years back in the early 1950’s. Shula is best known as coach of the Miami Dolphins, the team he led to two Super Bowl victories, and to the National Football League’s only perfect season, finishing 17 and 0 with a win over the Washington Redskins in the 1972 Super Bowl. In 1993 Shula was named Sportsman of the Year by Sports Illustrated. He currently holds the NFL record for most career wins with 347. In his 32-year coaching career Shula had only two losing seasons. He is something of a legend around here. Three years ago, when my son-in-law was an assistant football coach at John Carroll University, we watched several games at the Don Shula Stadium on the John Carroll campus.
In an interview around the time when the Dolphins were dominating professional football, Shula was asked the secret of his success. He told the interviewer that he always tried to build his teams on the strengths of his players, rather than try to fit them into some preconceived role.
Back in the early 1970’s when the Pittsburg Steelers had their “Iron Curtain” defense and the LA Rams were known for their “Fearsome Foursome,” Miami’s defense was called the ‘No Name Defense.” Shula was able to build on the strengths of his players and craft an unbeatable team.
God is able to use us with our strengths and weaknesses. When our lives are placed at God’s disposal, God’s purposes can be accomplished in our world. Someone has suggested it is not our ability, but our availability that matters most to God, that God does not call the qualified, but rather qualifies the called.
In “A Farewell to Arms” Ernest Hemingway has the line, “The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places.” That quote inspired Paula Ripple, a woman I knew in the Boston area, to write a book entitled “Growing Strong at Broken Places.” Paula Ripple points out that all of us have broken places in our lives. While the wounds we suffer can destroy us, they also have the potential to make us stronger, better, more compassionate people.
Thornton Wilder wrote the one-act play called “The Angel That Troubled the Waters ” based on a story from the 5th chapter of the Gospel of John. The people at the time believed in the power of the pool of Bethesda to heal whenever an angel stirred the waters. When the water was still, nothing happened. But when the water began to stir the ill would try to get into the water. There was only so much room. People would wait and wait and wait. Thornton Wilder tells the story of a physician who is wrestling with melancholy or depression. The physician is waiting because he wants to be healed of his depression. He waits until finally the waters begin to stir. The angel is there and the physician rushes forward and almost ready to go in. But before he gets to the water the angel stops him and says, “No, it is not your time.” The physician says, “Please let me be healed of this depression. If I were healed think of all that I could do for so many.” The angel says, “No. Without your wounds where would your power be? It is your melancholy that makes your low voice tremble into the hearts of men and women. The very angels themselves cannot persuade the wretched and blundering children on earth as can one human being broken on the wheels of living. In Love`s service, only wounded soldiers can serve. Physician, draw back.”
“In Love`s service, only wounded soldiers can serve.” Henri Nouwen, the well known writer on spiritual issues is a favorite author of mine. In his 1979 book, “The Wounded Healer,” Nouwen affirms the point Wilder is making in his play, that the most effective healers are often those who have been most deeply wounded in life. It wasn’t until a year-and-a-half ago when we did our One Book, One Community study of Nouwen’s book, “Return of the Prodigal,” that I became aware of some of Nouwen’s life-long struggles, including a struggle with depression.
So what is the point from this morning’s biblical story? That God can take us, faults and failures and shortcomings; God can take us, with our dishonesty and doubt and greed and misplaced priorities; God can take us, wounded though we may be and use us; that there is a role for us in establishing God’s realm in the world.