A Tale of Two Stories

Today I tried to tie together two very different stories: Jacob wrestling with God and Jesus feeding the 5000 with only five loaves and two fish.  The connection:  both stories start with someone who is afraid …

Scoundrels and Saints

Genesis 32:22-31  Matthew 14:13-21 

The cover of this morning’s bulletin may have been a clue to you about my reflections on the Biblical texts for this week: two illustrations of different styles sitting next to each other, but not really connected. The two stories we just heard – one about Jacob wrestling with God, and one about Jesus feeding a crowd of 5000 people with five loaves and two fish – these stories are remarkably resistant to being woven together into a single sermon. What they do share, curiously enough, is a focus on fear.

The disciples are afraid there will not be enough – not enough food for the great crowd that has followed and listened to hear Jesus. This is not an unreasonable concern, after all, if the Biblical estimate of 5000 men (plus women and children) is at all accurate. There is almost certainly not enough food in the deserted place where he has been teaching.

Before you think that I have chosen this story for today as a comment on the economic uncertainties of our own time, let me assure you that this is the lesson assigned in the lectionary for today. The readings in the Revised Common Lectionary were chosen to follow the church year and the life of Jesus, not to respond to current events – though it is always somewhat unnerving when they do resonate with front page news.

And resonate they do. This week’s news brought reports of a slowdown in home building and home sales, a speed up of home and business foreclosures, an increase in unemployment and a corresponding decrease in the number of jobs available, and financial problems for businesses, retailers, airlines, and nearly everyone else. Just as importantly, confidence is waning, as more and more people worry about money and debts and dreams that will likely go unmet in the future. What can we learn from this narrative of abundance when we are in the throes of growing scarcity?

We can be reminded, first, of the cost that fear of scarcity brings into our lives. When we believe that there is not enough – not enough money, not enough energy or time, not enough love or loyalty – when we believe that there is not enough, we become stingy, cranky, and focused on hoarding whatever we believe is in short supply. Few of us are ennobled by our worries about money. Believing in abundance, on the other hand, does bring out the best in us. It makes us feel grateful, generous, and generally optimistic. A sense of abundance brings people together – even if an objective accounting of assets doesn’t show much wealth. (People who have traveled in the third world – where scarcity is a fact of daily life — almost always report with surprise that they have encountered folks who are remarkably generous with what they do have …) Living with an awareness of God’s good and extravagant creation – as described in the beginning of the book of Genesis – seems to be good for our souls; recognizing abundance, like recognizing love, casts out fear.

Believing in the abundance of God, of course, is not the same as expecting your bank account balance to go up by itself, or your credit card balance to go down. Believing that there is “enough” is a tool that helps us to steward our resources more faithfully and more thoughtfully. The story of the loaves and fishes is not so much a story of magic as it is a story of generosity and hospitality.

Jacob’s fears were of another sort altogether. Jacob really was a scoundrel, and he had come to the moment in his life when he needed to confront his brother, whom he had defrauded many years before.

The story of Jacob is told in the book of Genesis, starting in chapter 25, and I commend the whole tale for your attention. [Here’s a hint: choose an easy-reading translation of the bible when you want to get an overview of the whole story, then go back and read one of the more scholarly versions (like the NRSV) to catch the nuance and detail.] Briefly, here’s what has happened so far: Jacob and his twin brother Esau were rivals even when they still in the womb. Genesis says that Jacob stuck his hand out of the womb even before they were born, as though to establish his claim to superiority. Esau was came first from the womb, but Jacob came out directly afterwards, holding on to his heel. When they became adults, there came a day when Esau came in hungry from the fields, and Jacob used that greedy hunger to trade the birthright of the firstborn for a bowl of lentil stew. And when their father Isaac was coming to the end of his days, he asked Esau the hunter to bring him some meat and prepare to receive the ritual blessing. Jacob, conniving with his mother, disguised himself as his twin and stole that blessing, too. After that, Jacob had fled in fear of Esau’s reprisal.

So in the passage we heard this morning, Jacob has decided to come home after many years away. He returns with his two wives and their two maids (the four women who together have borne 13 children), and with all of their slaves and livestock and belongings. He does not know how he will be received – which may be why he has sent everyone else ahead of him, including servants with generous gifts of livestock for Esau.

We can’t help asking who it is, exactly, that Jacob wrestled with that night on the bank of the Jabbok. The text is tantalizing ambiguous here. At first, it identifies the foe just as “a man,” and we imagine it might be a thief. But when the wrestling match takes all night, we begin to suspect that it might be his own fear and remorse with whom he is grappling. The match is a draw apparently, with neither man able to subdue the other – until suddenly Jacob’s hip is put out of joint. Still, Jacob holds on, and demands – of all things, a blessing from this stranger.

Jacob, who connived to get the blessing of his own father, now demands a blessing from this midnight adversary. The blessing he receives is a new name, Israel, a name that commemorates the struggle he has had, both human and divine. In the words of the stranger, “you have striven with God and with humans, and have prevailed.”

Jacob quickly asks the stranger for his name. He receives no reply, nor does he need one, for he is clear that is God he encountered alone on the bank of the Jabbok. Our lesson for today ends here, but I think it is important for you to know that Jacob’s encounter with Esau turns out to be a peaceful one, in spite of all of his worry and even in spite of all of his precautions.

Just as the two illustrations on the front of the bulletin do not come together easily, these two lessons about fear do not come together easily. Sometimes fear erodes our souls and makes us stingy and the only cure is to push against the worry and act out of generosity and hospitality anyway. Sometimes fear paralyzes us and makes us prepare elaborate defenses, and the only cure is to push inward to struggle with our own history and with the power and mercy of God.

And today, of course, we often stand in just these fearful places. The economic changes swirling around us (whether or not they are of our own making) leave us afraid that there is not enough. The political and social changes swirling around us (not to mention the wars and violence) leave us afraid that we will be attacked. We understand the disciples. We understand Jacob. We understand being afraid.

The question is whether we will hear the voice of Jesus, gently insisting that we feed those who are hungry, and in that act of generosity set aside our fear. The question is whether we will wrestle with the stranger on the riverbank, and in that act of struggle find our new name, and our welcome home. The question is whether we can learn from both the saints and the scoundrels about the weakness of fear and the power of obedience and faithfulness.

Amen.

Prayer for August 3, 2008

Almighty and everlasting God, creator of all things seen and unseen, hear now our silent prayers, as we open our hearts to you in the sacred quietness. [pause]

God of faith and hope, we bring before you our prayers for those we have named this morning – we especially remember … Bring to each of them the gifts of mercy and grace that are most needed, according to your wisdom and love. [pause]

God of all seasons, the summer heat that slows us down leaves us more time to think about our own lives. Instead of taking joyful rest, we find ourselves ruminating over past mistakes, shortcomings both real and imagined, and dreams that have not come true.

Bring your cooling and gentle healing to us, so that we may let go of our fussing and worrying. Sooth our injured feelings, and draw us into a wider perspective that will make it easier to let go of our resentments. Quiet our fears, and fill us courage to meet the challenges of our lives. Reconcile our aspirations with our aptitudes and energies, so that we can know the delights of accomplishment and completion without the burden of exhaustion.

At the same time, Lord, help us to be soulfully quiet so that we can hear your words of correction and direction. Let the slower pace of our summer lives make us better at discernment, and less likely to jump to decisions based on our anxieties. Help us to appreciate the gifts of slowing down and taking time, and to use these gifts to reshape our lives where they bulge with business or warp with weariness.

Do not, we pray, let the languor of this weather decrease our compassion, or dampen our ardor for peace and reconciliation. Teach us, we pray, the ways of summer discipleship.

All this we ask in the name of the one who lived in the heat of the Middle East, and who fed the multitudes with loaves and fishes, even Jesus the Christ, and we pray together now I the words that he taught us: …

First offered July 30, 2006

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