Sermon Preached at St. Aidan's, Alexandria VAOctober 17, 2010
Proper 24: Genesis 32:22-31, Psalm 121, 2 Timothy 3:14-4:5, Luke 18:1-8
"I lift up my eyes to the hills; from where is my help to come?
My help comes from the LORD, the maker of heaven and earth"
If you were to glance around my apartment, you would see small bowls of rocks and shells scattered around on nearly every table, dresser, and shelf. It all started with a pocketful of rocks I gathered several years ago when my husband and I helped lead a pilgrimage to South Dakota. At first I picked them up because they were unusual colors that I'd never find in my backyard in Tennessee – orange and dark black and shiny white. But after I returned home they came to represent much more, serving as a reminder of that intensely spiritual journey, one that challenged me in many ways. So in the years since then I've continued to bring back rocks, shells, and the occasional pine cone from places where I have encountered God.
This rock is not one of mine - it was graciously loaned to me today by Barbara Katz. It is from the River Jabbok in Jordan, the setting of the story we read today from Genesis, in which Jacob encountered God. Barbara's friend Bob visited Jabbok during a pilgrimage to the Holy Land many years ago and brought this rock back for Barbara as a reminder of that story. So you see, I'm not the only one who gathers up little pieces of earth as mementos of spiritual encounters…
But if our story tells us anything this morning, it is that encountering God can come in the form of struggle. For Jacob it was a wrestling match that lasted for an entire night. Jacob has been wrestling his whole life. You may remember that he wrestled with his twin brother Esau in the womb. As an adult he wrestled away Esau's birthright as the older son and their tricked their father Isaac into blessing him instead, and everyone was so mad that Jacob had to flee for his life. While he was away he struggled with his future father-in-law Laban for 14 years so he could finally marry Rachel (and, by accident, her sister Leah). When Jacob finally had so many wives and children that he needed to find his own land to live on, he swindled Laban out of his best livestock on his way out of town. So as our story for today opens, Jacob is again a fugitive, and he has been away for home for about two decade. And the next day he will encounter Esau for the first time since that day so many years ago when he cheated his brother out of his inheritance. His best guess is that Esau will kill him on the spot. Jacob still has much to wrestle with.
Over the course of this story, all of this baggage Jacob is holding onto is torn away from him. When you look at this portion of Genesis in its original Hebrew, you learn straightaway that this is a story of deconstruction. Many of the words in this story are echoes of the second chapter of Genesis, which contains one of the Hebrew Bible's accounts of creation. Here are some highlights of that account:
"The Lord God had not caused it to rain upon the earth, and there was no one to till the ground; but a mist would rise from the earth, and water the whole face of the ground— then the Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and the man became a living being…Then the Lord God said, ‘It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper as his partner.’…So out of the ground the Lord God formed every animal of the field and every bird of the air, and brought them to the man to see what he would call them…For the man there was not found a helper as his partner. So the Lord God caused a deep sleep to fall upon the man, and he slept; then he took one of his ribs and closed up its place with flesh. And the rib that the Lord God had taken from the man he made into a woman and brought her to the man."
Back in the story of Jacob, many of these images reappear. The word for "wrestle" in the original text of this story is derived from one of the Hebrew words for "dust." And here is Jacob standing by a river. Water, dust: flashbacks to creation. But this story is UN-doing what God did in the creation story. In creation, God brought the man animals and a wife as partners and helpers. Now Jacob sends his wives and his livestock away, ahead of him across the river. And so Jacob is left alone, the exact same word as in the creation story, except that just like in the other story there is actually someone else there.
We come to understand by the end of the story that the stranger Jacob has wrestled with all night is actually God. In his encounter with God, Jacob himself is undone. He is struck on his hip– or a better translation might be in the hollow of his thigh joint – deep in the core of his body, deep in the core of himself.
The Hebrew tells us, then, that this is a story of un-doing, of a return to a primal struggle. It also reinforces that this is a story of identity. The name of the river, in Hebrew Yabbok, looks and sounds like the world for wrestle, yabak, and none of this is far from the name of our protagonist, Jacob. It's supposed to be a little bit unclear where Jacob leaves off and the wrestling begins. Because, after all, Jacob has always been wrestling.
Finally, though, his wrestling is blessed. When Jacob clings to the stranger, still not quite sure who the stranger is, and asks for a blessing, he is given a new name. And that name, Israel, means loosely "one who strives with God." The naming and the blessing seem to be one and the same. His new name acknowledges and honors Jacob's struggle with God as part of his blessing.
Jacob leaves this place a changed man. He will limp for the rest of his life, and that is Jacob's bowl of rocks, his constant reminder of his encounter with God. And while what happened in that place altered him and blessed him forever – in his body, his identity, and his heart – Jacob doesn't start a brand new life. He limps back to being a husband and a father and a brother.
Speaking of that, I think it's important to note the next chapter of this story. The next thing Jacob encounters is his dreaded meeting with Esau. He sees Esau coming toward him with what seems like a whole army of people. But instead of killing him, instead of even fighting him, Esau grabs his brother right away in an enormous embrace, and they kiss, and they cry. Jacob says to Esau, "Truly to see your face is like seeing the face of God." Since we know what Jacob went through to see the face of God the night before, we know the full weight of these words he speaks to his brother.
Jacob knows that seeing the face of God involves being alone and vulnerable to God. He knows that seeing the face of God involves being undone. He knows that seeing the face of God involves wrestling with everything he has ever done wrong. He knows that seeing the face of God involves crawling back to the person he has hurt most in the world. But now Jacob also knows that seeing the face of God involves freedom and forgiveness, and he sees this shining back at him from his brother's face.
Barbara's dear friend and colleague Bob brought her this rock because he said he saw in her someone who was always wrestling with God, as she continually explored her faith and discerned what God would have her do. And he knew she was also one to hold on for her blessing, even as things in her life were undone. In the years since then, she has kept this rock with her as a reminder that our deepest wrestling and our greatest blessings are often one and the same.
I know that Barbara is not the only person at St. Aidan's/in this room with a history of wrestling with God. I wonder what moments and experiences are in your bowl of rocks? I wonder when you have been vulnerable, when you have been undone, when you have admitted that you were wrong. And I wonder when you have been able to say with Jacob, "I have seen God face to face, and my life is preserved."
(Drawing by Debbi Friedman: http://dlfriedman.com/myblog/category/rock-still-life/)
