I want to tell you a story as a way to explore ourselves and what it means to be human.
I am going to do something a little different. I want to tell you a story as a way to explore ourselves and what it means to be human. The story I tell may be familiar to some. If so, please allow yourself to enter it in a fresh way. If it is new, what meaning might there be for you? For all of us, what does this story tell us about who we are as humans.
Grab a favorite beverage, sit back, and enjoy!
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Each labored inhale of the hot desert air slowly sears Rebekah’s lungs. Dank wind blows dust into her ears and eyes, caking her hands and face. Shade is offered by a grove of trees, but she must get away from the unrelenting desert wind and swirling dust. For her own sanity Rebekah must get out from under the servants’ constant chatter, countless questions, staring eyes, and whispering voices. She gulps each breath with every painful shuffle forward. Her muslin tunic is drips with sweat. Oh, to have a breath of fresh air. She pushes against the Goatskin tent flap, heaving her heavy body inside. Musty air greets her, offering a possible reprieve from the pain.
Gulping the hot air, she struggles to sit on the stool. Spreading her legs, she gives her large and heavy belly a space to be. Walking, moving, even breathing, has become agonizingly painful with each passing day. Her womb has grown large and heavy—too heavy, too large, too fast.
“What is happening? After all those years of reproach and begging and hoping and crying—but now, but now! God, I cannot do this. I am too old. I am too weak. I would rather die than live with this pain. I want to die,” she gasps. Struggling to get her breath, Rebekah cries out, “If this is the way it’s going to be, why go on living? Do you hear me God? Do,” she gasps, “You. Hear. Me.” Gasping with each word, a staccato of helplessness and anger, reverberating and echoing throughout the musty, closed tent.
Slowly Rebekah’s chest stops heaving, and her breathing resumes to normal—whatever “normal” is when her womb now occupies much of her lung space. She sits on the stool, deliberately inhaling and exhaling, trying to regain some control over her out-of-control body. This child that had taken residence inside her womb tumbled and kicked, struggled and fought causing Rebekah pain and distress, to the point of defeat. She is convinced a civil war is occurring inside of her. She can no longer breathe or sleep or … live. Frustration and anger have been welling for weeks now. This is not the life she had hoped for or been promised.
Sitting on her stool, Rebekah has had enough. Enough pain. Enough confusion. Enough sleepless nights. Enough gossip. Enough. Anger and despair explode. She chokes out a halting, pain-filled question, “What is going on? Why is this happening to me?”
A silence grows heavy in her tent. Time stands still. Matter hangs suspended. From behind her, from in front of her, all around her, Rebekah hears the Eternal One:
“Two brothers are growing in your body;
two brothers are butting heads and fighting while inside your womb.
They will be divided in the future
warring against the other
the one will overpower the other
the older with serve the younger.
The first born will be strong, the second nimble-witted, and clever.”[1]
~~~~
Thick and heavy air fills the tent as sweat rolls down Rebekah’s panicked face. Muffled whispers are heard outside the tent as servants scurry and busy themselves, clanking pans and stoking the fires. Sighing, Isaac sits down on the stool. He stands up. He sits down. Barking at the servants, he tries to drown out Rebekah’s screams. Hour after hour screams piece the air. Her gasping moans fill the space between. Another scream. Then another. And another. And another. Then. Silence. Deafening silence. The earth stands still. Time collapses. Rebekah’s long shrill scream pierces the heavens. Blood and tears flow.
Esau arrives first, large and full of reddish hair. Jacob arrives second, smaller and holding on the heel of his brother. Winds of favoritism begin swirling early in childhood, strengthening as the years unfold. Esau becomes a skilled hunter, who brings home all varieties of wild game, delicious in flavor and exceedingly pleasant to Isaac’s pallet. Jacob becomes Rebekah’s favorite. Jacob becomes a pampered and spoiled momma’s boy, who sticks close learning the art of deception, exploitation, and manipulation.
One day as the twins are nearing adulthood, Esau returns from the forest. Jacob is stirring pot of stew cooking over the fire filling the air with savory aromas. Esau is staggering and stumbling with exhaustion and hunger. After three days of hunting, he is coming home empty handed, beyond famished, and angry. His body deep in need, Esau cries, “Jacob, I’m starving. Starving!” He leans against the tent pole. “Give me a bowl of porridge,” he demands. Jacob’s years of training take hold as advantage, exhortation, and profit play into his hand. “I will sell it to you Esau, for the price of the birthright,” Jacob says with a greedy glint of supremacy in his eye, for with a birthright goes all a father’s possessions when he dies. “Jacob, I am about to die of starvation!” Esau lurches forward, “What good is my birthright to me if I am dead?” Privilege and status abandoned. Dignity and identity sacrificed. “Swear to me brother.” And Esau does. Jacob hands some bread and lentil stew to Esau. The greedy glint in Jacob’s eyes shines. Esau eats and drinks and is satisfied. For a bowl of stew Esau shrugged off his rights as the firstborn and treated his valuable birthright haughtily.
~~~
Isaac is old and blind. No longer able to leave his tent, days are spent drifting in and out of daydreaming and night dreaming. Time on earth draws nigh. Issacs’s voice is thin. He rasps, “Esau, prepare to receive the double portion of the blessing. But first, bring me my favorite savory meat. Cooked as I like.” Esau makes haste and goes to the forest with his bow and quiver of arrows. Tents sewn of goat skin are not soundproof. Rebekah overhears her husband’s request.
Steel glint fills her eyes. A mother’s misshapen and distorted love for a child shapes a plan in Rebekah’s imagination. Cunning deceit along with patterns of duplicity and control take over.
Rachel’s body moves into action. She puts on a face of determination, whispering in a hushed voice, “Quick Jacob, put on your brother’s clothes. Hurry. Hurry,” She scurries to find Esau’s cloak. “This is your chance. Hurry!”
“Why?” Jacob hesitates. But he knows.
“To smell like Esau to receive his blessing.”
Jacob hesitates. There’s still time. Sin is crouching but has not sprung. “Father will know I am not Esau.”
Rebekah’s crooked love and determination shove Esau’s cloak at Jacob. She scoffs and dismissively says, “He’s blind and almost deaf. He’ll think you Esau.”
“But,” sin pulls taut its muscles, ready to pounce, “my arms are smooth.
“No matter, he’s only half here. Come. Come here.” She grabs the goatskin she was going to use to patch the hole in tent. Glee fills her eyes. She carefully covers his arms and neck with goatskins, then gives him a plate of roasted goat. “Go,” she shoves him towards his father’s tent, sealing the deal. Sin has sprung. He goes. Lying and deception follow.
Esau’s aroma and Jacob’s presence open the tent flap into Isaac’s tent. “Who are you?” Isaac asks. Jacob tells the first of his lies. “Father, I am Esau. Who else would it be? Eat the food you like so much, then bless me.” Jacob moves the savory goat under his father’s nose, pausing to let the aroma infiltrate Isaac’s body, then gently sets it on his lap. The trap has been set.
The old man is suspicious. He knows his wife and her loves. He asks, “But how did you come back so soon?” “Yahweh sped my arrow.” Worse is the second lie, as it involves Yahweh.
Still unsure and suspicious, Isaac isn’t convinced. He still has some facilities intact. “Come closer. Let me touch your arm.” The hairy pelt is Jacob’s third deception. It’s Jacob’s voice but Esau’s arms. “Give me the food.” Eating slowly to savor and enjoy each bite, Isaac’s hunger is gratified. Even after he’s eaten and satisfied, uncertainty and suspicion remain. “Come close and kiss me”—not so much as to kiss as to sniff Jacob’s clothes. Clothes smelling like the forest is the fourth deception. The trap sprung. The deception works. Isaac takes a deep breath and blesses his second son: “You will have dominion over your family and over many kingdoms.”
Jacob scurries from the tent.
Esau joyfully rushes in. “Father!” he cries. “Enjoy the game I’ve caught, then bless me.” Poor, poor Isaac. “Who are you?” “Esau your son,” he says confused. Blood draining from Esau’s body. Time stands still. Isaac slowly asks, “Then who did I…?” his voice trailing off. Realization sets in. The old man lifts his voice and wails. “I have already blessed your brother.” The high pitch cry piercing the nearby tents. “Revoke it!” Esau says as he shakes Isaac’s fragile and limp body. “Give it to me!” he pleads. “Pleeeeeeeeeeease,” he begs, burying his head in Isaac’s lap.
Isaac lays his trembling hands on Esau’s wet head, then tipping his head skyward, powerless, he mutters, “What was done before the Lord cannot be undone.” Isaac sighs, his chin wobbles, “I have a second blessing. But it must be lesser than the first. You will live by your sword and serve your brother.” Inadequate. Unsatisfying. Unjust. Isaac continues, “But in time you break the yoke of your neck.” Blood pours into Esau’s ears, adrenaline rushes through his body, as he flies into a frenzy. Driven by mistreatment, cruelty, and exploitation, he howls in purple rage. Muscles and veins strain against the skin. Vengeance takes control. “I am going to kill him!” Esau hisses. Make it stand out
Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.
Fear grips Rebekah’s body. She again flies into action. “Run Jacob run. Run. Go. Don’t look back. Run. Your brother is going to kill you.” She pushes him out of the tent. Jacob runs and does not look back.
~~~
Did you find yourself in the story? If so, where and why? What was that like for you?
Which character did you relate to? Why?
Is there anything in this story that helps you understand yourself or what it is to be human? If so, what is it?
What meaning is there for you in this story?
[1] Genesis 25:23 paraphrase