WRESTLING JACOB
Genesis 32:24-32
the Reverend Odette Lockwood-Stewart

Jacob was father to the twelve tribes of Israel.  But Jacob was also a less than perfect person.  He was a trickster. His name means, "supplanter, "one who holds the heel of another." Early in his life, Jacob stole his twin brother Esau's inheritance, birthright, and blessing.  He used his brother's hunger and their father's blindness to manipulate the one and deceive the other.   When Esau learned how Jacob had tricked their father and stolen his life's blessing, he hated him and threatened to kill him.  So Jacob left their home in Canaan and went to the land of Haran to live with his uncle, Laban.

There, Jacob was tricked by Laban, but still he mangaged to prosper at Laban's expense. He married two of Laban's daughters and became father to 11 children. Finally, pursued by Laban and Laban's sons, Jacob took his family, and livestock, and possessions, and headed back toward Canaan, the land of his birth.  But still, he worried. It had been twenty years, but he knew that the estrangement between him and his brother Esau had never been healed.

He sent messengers ahead... who told him that Esau was coming to meet him ... with 400 men!  

Jacob wasn't sure what that meant, but he was afraid.  So he planned and prepared; he prayed to God, and he sent gifts to try to appease his brother.  Finally, he sent his family and all he owned across the river to a safe place.  And he waited ... alone.

 Jacob waited ... into the night ... alone... by the river named Jabbok, which means struggle.  He did not know what would happen the next day when he faced Esau.  In that night, ...someone... wrestled with Jacob... until daybreak.  Who?  A man? An angel? God? All Jacob could see or sense was that he was in the fight of his life ... and he didn't know who he was fighting.  He wrestled with all his strength... and all he could do ... was hold on ... and ask to be blessed.  

On his way home to face the brother he had cheated so many years before ... Jacob came face to face ... with God.  For he named the place of struggle Peniel, which means the face of God.

This story reveals that finding the face of the Divine means confronting the demons that we bring with us ... and entering, however fearfully, into the dark night of the soul where such struggles take place for persons, for a people.

I was moved to read the writings of Mother Teresa contained in a collection of her private journals and letters, published this month.   As one reviewer in the NYT, James Martin, writes, "Most of (the) pages reveal not the serene meditations of a Catholic sister confident in her belief, but the agonized words of a person confronting a terrifying period of darkness that lasted for decades."  In 1959, she had written, "In my soul I feel just that terrible pain of loss ... of God not wanting me - of God not being God - of God not existing."  Later she wrote, "If I ever become a saint, it will surely be one of darkness." These writings have set off powerful reactions around the world- many people shaken, others cynical, others saddened.  Unintentionally, now, Mother Teresa's ministry extends to those of us who struggle with faith, with doubt, with God.

As I read of her spiritual struggle that apparently lasted for more than half a century, I found myself drawn back to "wrestling Jacob."  He wasn't sure who he was wrestling with ... all he could do was refuse to let go. "I will not let you go, until you bless me."  In the struggle, Jacob, still the supplanter, the trickster, imperfect person, received an additional name, a new identity, Israel, -- meaning "Godwrestler."  A people born and named in the struggle.

I imagine Mother Teresa, struggling in the night ...  holding on ... doing works of mercy... even when she didn't know the source of her strength or her struggle.  James Martin writes, "In time, with help, ... (she) concluded that these painful experiences could help her identify not only with the abandonment that Jesus Christ felt during the crucifixion, but also with the abandonment that the poor faced daily."  

There is an African-American Spiritual that tells the story and makes the connection this way,
        O wrestlin' Jacob, Jacob day's a-breakin'
                I will not let you go!
        O wrestlin' Jacob, Jacob day's a-breakin',
                You will not let me go!
        O, I hold my brother with a tremblin' hand;
                I would not let him go!
        I hold my sister with a tremblin' hand;
                I would not let her go!

The story of "wrestling Jacob" ends:  "The sun rose upon him as he passed Penuel, limping because of his hip." Jacob, blessed at last, known and named, wounded from his struggle, heads home.

But the story continues.  Genesis chapter 33 begins, "Now Jacob looked up and saw Esau coming, and four hundred men with him.... But Esau ran to meet him, and embraced him, and... they wept."  And in verse 10, Jacob says to his brother, Esau, "...for to see your face is like seeing the face of God."

"Wrestling Jacob" is a reminder of the struggles and wounds we carry as the less than perfect people we are.
 "Wrestling Jacob" is a reminder of dark nights, and uncertainty, and fear, when all we can do is hold on.
"Wrestling Jacob" is an invitation to new identity born of struggle.
"Wrestling Jacob" is a challenge to each of us, and all of us, to every nation, to our church to stop seeking the blessing of others, to stop stealing the birthright of our brothers and sisters; to wrestle with God, alone, in the night, at the banks of the river Struggle, and to hold on.
At daybreak, we will rise and confront our future.  Together. Limping.  Blessed.

Charles Wesley called "Wrestling Jacob," his spiritual autobiography.  
In this beautiful hymn, truly my favorite hymn, Wesley reads the story of Jacob through the story and struggle of a Christian.  As we sing this hymn, let us pray our own stories.

Whatever struggles we bring ... whatever personal demons bear in upon us, and keep us from feeling loved or loveable, keep us from being just or just being, keep us from receiving the blessing that is ours and honoring the birthright of others ... Let us know that they all are held by a power and a love that will not let us go.

        Come, O thou Traveler unknown,
        Whom still I hold, but cannot see;
        My company before is gone,
        And I am left alone with Thee.
        With Thee all night I mean to stay,
        And wrestle 'til the break of day.
        With Thee all night I mean to stay,
        And wrestle 'til the break of day

Let us sing together.