All in the Family
July 13, 2008
Rev. Susan Gilbert Zencka
Frame Memorial Presbyterian Church
Texts: Genesis 25:19-34; Genesis 27:1-39
I’ve been thinking a lot about relationships lately – ten days ago I was in North Carolina at one of our national conference centers, Montreat, for a remarkable conference with clergy, elders, students, and national leadership in the PCUSA. I went with a friend from Indiana, saw other friends, made new friends and was reminded of how much our denomination can be a family.
And then, yesterday, our son and daughter-in-law, Jason and Shenandoah, left for Washington D.C. where they are moving. And like most of us who are parents, I delight in my kids, and have so enjoyed having them live with us for the past 20 months – and yet, they are young adults and married, so I am also glad for their new beginning.
Finally, relationships have been on my mind a lot recently because a good friend and colleague has resigned from his pastorate – there have been conflicts in the church, and I have been aware of these conflicts as they have developed. These too have been a reminder of how much the church can be a family – there is a lot of complexity in family life. And although there are often periods of stability in families, and church families, they are also incubators for change – children are born into families, and our job is to prepare them to leave. Pastors come, and we only get to stay for a while, and when we leave we are supposed to end most of our relationships with the congregation and its members so that the next pastor can build relationships. You have warmly welcomed me partially because Ed was so healthy about leaving. And some day I will leave, and I hope I do as good a job as Ed has when it’s time for me to move on. It’s hard to grow in love with folks knowing that you will leave – and yet, in some ways, knowing that our experience is temporary makes it more important to love, and love well.
When I was at the conference in Montreat, we were talking about the long-range future of the church – many members, most elders and clergy, and all the scholars recognize that church is changing: as one speaker at the conference said, “The church we knew is gone – the church to which we are being called has not yet coming into being.” We were asked at Montreat to dream about the church’s future. We were asked, “What is the church you’re dreaming of? What are the obstacles to the dreams? Who can we work with to get there?” And yet, in the middle of this conference affirming the strengths and opportunities of the church, in the middle of the dreaming and the hoping, I received the news that my friend is resigning from his pastorate. And it was a reminder that this church is not just a church of dreams, but a church that is grounded in ground – in our earthy relationships, in the grit and grime of getting along, in the salt of tears. We who bear the ministry of reconciliation of Jesus Christ, we who are hoping to bring the reign of God into clearer view, we are awfully, painfully human.
And certainly this morning’s stories from Genesis bring home the frailty and imperfections of humans and human relationships – we are continuing the story of the patriarchs and have moved from Abraham, Sarah, Ishmael and Isaac, to the next generation: Isaac, Rebekah, Esau and Jacob. And in case we were in any doubt about our ability to hurt one another, these stories about this family remind us that indeed, we often are careless, or worse, with people who are close to us.
The family situation is set up with a problematic dynamic: before they are born the boys are struggling together, and we hear that the second born will triumph. More than by the prediction that the younger will prevail over the older, the events seem set in motion by the narration that Isaac loved Esau, but Rebekah loved Jacob.
I can hear Tommy Smothers saying to his younger brother, “Mom always loved you best.” It’s not a good thing this rivalry between the brothers, and it is not helped by the obvious favor of the parents. Hard too, when a parent’s love is won through performance, as is Isaac’s love for Esau – because Isaac loved the game Esau brought him. Rebekah’s love just comes freely: but Rebekah loved Jacob.
However there’s more to this story than simply the pain of sons contesting for affection and privilege: in the ancient world, primogeniture was a fixture. Primogeniture is the custom of favoring the firstborn. The oldest son was entitled to a greater share of inheritance, and whatever honors could be passed along as well. This story tells us that God’s ways are not to always support the human power structures that exist – and indeed, the whole of the Bible tells the same story. There are at least five stories in the Bible where the older son is not the one who prevails: Ishmael is passed over in favor of Isaac. Of course in that case, Ishmael is not the son of the father’s wife. Later this summer we’ll hear about the 12 sons that Jacob has, and his preference for the second to youngest: Joseph.
The greatest king of Israel is King David, the youngest of 8 brothers. And his choice for his heir is not his oldest son, but a later son, Solomon.
Even in God’s declaration of a chosen people, he chooses Israel, a small country, rarely militarily successful. Mary, when she learns she is pregnant, proclaims that God has looked upon her lowliness and because she will be the mother of Jesus, future generations will call her blessed. The whole story of the Bible tells the story that the way humans decide who is important is not the way that God decides. God upends human power structures. By now, we know about the world that non-human species are important to human life. Many scientists are concerned about bees, those tiny creatures who can show us a lot about working together in community. Bees are a vital link in the network of life – they pollinate plants and so feed us with much more than honey. But many bees are vanishing – something called Colony Collapse Disorder is leading to the death of many beehives without apparent reason. If only for our own good, some people are beginning to value non-human species as being vital parts of the bio-communities we inhabit.
We also are reminded in this story of something I’ve mentioned frequently lately, that relationships that are based on transactions are not as powerful as those based on free-flowing love: Isaac loved Esau because of what he did for him, a transactional relationship; Rebekah just loved Jacob. And it is through that freely-flowing love that the covenant is passed on.
We are also reminded of how important parental blessings are: in our world, we don’t think of a blessing as a scarce commodity, fortunately, but still, in too many families and communities, blessings are hard to come by. How powerful it is to receive the blessing of a parent, or a teacher, or a mentor, or a friend. How wonderful it is when we can be a community that blesses its members, when we can be a people among whom blessings and love both flow freely.
And what is not so clear to us in the translations, but is clearer in the Hebrew is that being ruled by one’s appetite does not lead to a good end. Esau gives away his birthright for a dinner, and in the Hebrew, it is even clearer: Esau is described as coming in a rudely demanding, “Give me some of that stuff.” The way the passage describes his eating is not using language that is normally used to describe human eating – the sense is more that Esau is gulping down his food like an animal. And because of that meal, and the transaction which accompanied it, both brothers end up lying to their dad later. Jacob says that he is Esau, not true, but claims the status of firstborn which Esau has indeed given over to him. Esau comes in later, too late as it turns out, and tells his father that he is indeed Esau, which is true, the firstborn, which is no longer a status he can claim as he has given it away,
And so in our part of the world, where our own appetites are leading to harm for us and the planet, we might remember those people around the world who are without power, and without supper. I have heard in recent weeks from Ethiopia and Tanzania where we have helped children that the schools we have helped are facing food crises. Is it possible for us as a people of God to reach out to those little ones halfway around the world who are hungry? It’s hard to know what to do, but in our world, the hungry are increasing in numbers. The powerful of the world, the leaders of the G-8 nations gathered to share 24 courses of rich meals while they were discussing the international food crisis. I wonder if we, as we gather later to eat the simple sacramental meal, can seek God’s guidance in reaching out to others. I know we can’t solve all the world’s problems, but perhaps we can find ways to share with these two groups of children we know about: the AHOPE orphanage in Ethiopia and the LEA ministry school in Tanzania. Both are facing serious problems getting enough food for the children. Perhaps if we, the wealthier nations among the world, learn to prioritize compassion, we can find our way to a world where we can solve problems before going to war.
So this morning’s stories end with more conflict, and it is probably conflict we could have predicted: Esau is threatening to kill his brother as soon as his father dies, and so Rebekah sends Jacob away to live with her brother – the conflict is not to be resolved too quickly, it seems. And this, certainly, is something we can relate to in our own world – how long we hold onto the hurts of our lives. Most of us have injuries we received in childhood that still have the possibility to push buttons for us now. And so the cycle of human hurt continues.
Perhaps the one positive note we can find in this story comes from watching Rebekah help Jacob – sometimes, it seems, we can’t just take relationships as they come, we have to take an active role in them.
Nonetheless, although I agree with the statement, I’m a little uncomfortable taking it as a moral from these stories, because I wouldn’t want to uphold the rest of the example: lying to those you love to get what you feel is owed you is OK. .
In the end, I wish I had some great way to interpret this story in which it wouldn’t come out as people being crummy to other people. But I guess that it’s not too bad to end up that way, considering what else comes along with that conclusion, which is: and God works through us anyway. Even though Jacob and Esau are hurtful to one another, even though they both behave badly, even though Jacob is a liar and a cheat, God is going to finds a way to work through him. And so, it turns out that our own human frailty and imperfection don’t disqualify us from being important to God and God’s work in the world. We can’t opt out of discipleship on the basis of our lack of qualifications – God can even use our frailty for good. Mary Oliver writes “Another morning and I wake with thirst for the goodness I do not have.” Me too. And yet God’s goodness continues around, in and even through us. How much God loves us that God should find ways to work beauty through the goodness we do not have, and in so doing, let us walk in beauty! In Navaho weaving there is a tradition of deliberately inserting a flaw into every piece, for it is said that the Spirit enters through the flaws. May our own weaknesses and flaws be an opportunity for us to receive and appreciate the love and power of God. Amen.
Frame Memorial Presbyterian Church
Texts: Genesis 25:19-34; Genesis 27:1-39
I’ve been thinking a lot about relationships lately – ten days ago I was in North Carolina at one of our national conference centers, Montreat, for a remarkable conference with clergy, elders, students, and national leadership in the PCUSA. I went with a friend from Indiana, saw other friends, made new friends and was reminded of how much our denomination can be a family.
And then, yesterday, our son and daughter-in-law, Jason and Shenandoah, left for Washington D.C. where they are moving. And like most of us who are parents, I delight in my kids, and have so enjoyed having them live with us for the past 20 months – and yet, they are young adults and married, so I am also glad for their new beginning.
Finally, relationships have been on my mind a lot recently because a good friend and colleague has resigned from his pastorate – there have been conflicts in the church, and I have been aware of these conflicts as they have developed. These too have been a reminder of how much the church can be a family – there is a lot of complexity in family life. And although there are often periods of stability in families, and church families, they are also incubators for change – children are born into families, and our job is to prepare them to leave. Pastors come, and we only get to stay for a while, and when we leave we are supposed to end most of our relationships with the congregation and its members so that the next pastor can build relationships. You have warmly welcomed me partially because Ed was so healthy about leaving. And some day I will leave, and I hope I do as good a job as Ed has when it’s time for me to move on. It’s hard to grow in love with folks knowing that you will leave – and yet, in some ways, knowing that our experience is temporary makes it more important to love, and love well.
When I was at the conference in Montreat, we were talking about the long-range future of the church – many members, most elders and clergy, and all the scholars recognize that church is changing: as one speaker at the conference said, “The church we knew is gone – the church to which we are being called has not yet coming into being.” We were asked at Montreat to dream about the church’s future. We were asked, “What is the church you’re dreaming of? What are the obstacles to the dreams? Who can we work with to get there?” And yet, in the middle of this conference affirming the strengths and opportunities of the church, in the middle of the dreaming and the hoping, I received the news that my friend is resigning from his pastorate. And it was a reminder that this church is not just a church of dreams, but a church that is grounded in ground – in our earthy relationships, in the grit and grime of getting along, in the salt of tears. We who bear the ministry of reconciliation of Jesus Christ, we who are hoping to bring the reign of God into clearer view, we are awfully, painfully human.
And certainly this morning’s stories from Genesis bring home the frailty and imperfections of humans and human relationships – we are continuing the story of the patriarchs and have moved from Abraham, Sarah, Ishmael and Isaac, to the next generation: Isaac, Rebekah, Esau and Jacob. And in case we were in any doubt about our ability to hurt one another, these stories about this family remind us that indeed, we often are careless, or worse, with people who are close to us.
The family situation is set up with a problematic dynamic: before they are born the boys are struggling together, and we hear that the second born will triumph. More than by the prediction that the younger will prevail over the older, the events seem set in motion by the narration that Isaac loved Esau, but Rebekah loved Jacob.
I can hear Tommy Smothers saying to his younger brother, “Mom always loved you best.” It’s not a good thing this rivalry between the brothers, and it is not helped by the obvious favor of the parents. Hard too, when a parent’s love is won through performance, as is Isaac’s love for Esau – because Isaac loved the game Esau brought him. Rebekah’s love just comes freely: but Rebekah loved Jacob.
However there’s more to this story than simply the pain of sons contesting for affection and privilege: in the ancient world, primogeniture was a fixture. Primogeniture is the custom of favoring the firstborn. The oldest son was entitled to a greater share of inheritance, and whatever honors could be passed along as well. This story tells us that God’s ways are not to always support the human power structures that exist – and indeed, the whole of the Bible tells the same story. There are at least five stories in the Bible where the older son is not the one who prevails: Ishmael is passed over in favor of Isaac. Of course in that case, Ishmael is not the son of the father’s wife. Later this summer we’ll hear about the 12 sons that Jacob has, and his preference for the second to youngest: Joseph.
The greatest king of Israel is King David, the youngest of 8 brothers. And his choice for his heir is not his oldest son, but a later son, Solomon.
Even in God’s declaration of a chosen people, he chooses Israel, a small country, rarely militarily successful. Mary, when she learns she is pregnant, proclaims that God has looked upon her lowliness and because she will be the mother of Jesus, future generations will call her blessed. The whole story of the Bible tells the story that the way humans decide who is important is not the way that God decides. God upends human power structures. By now, we know about the world that non-human species are important to human life. Many scientists are concerned about bees, those tiny creatures who can show us a lot about working together in community. Bees are a vital link in the network of life – they pollinate plants and so feed us with much more than honey. But many bees are vanishing – something called Colony Collapse Disorder is leading to the death of many beehives without apparent reason. If only for our own good, some people are beginning to value non-human species as being vital parts of the bio-communities we inhabit.
We also are reminded in this story of something I’ve mentioned frequently lately, that relationships that are based on transactions are not as powerful as those based on free-flowing love: Isaac loved Esau because of what he did for him, a transactional relationship; Rebekah just loved Jacob. And it is through that freely-flowing love that the covenant is passed on.
We are also reminded of how important parental blessings are: in our world, we don’t think of a blessing as a scarce commodity, fortunately, but still, in too many families and communities, blessings are hard to come by. How powerful it is to receive the blessing of a parent, or a teacher, or a mentor, or a friend. How wonderful it is when we can be a community that blesses its members, when we can be a people among whom blessings and love both flow freely.
And what is not so clear to us in the translations, but is clearer in the Hebrew is that being ruled by one’s appetite does not lead to a good end. Esau gives away his birthright for a dinner, and in the Hebrew, it is even clearer: Esau is described as coming in a rudely demanding, “Give me some of that stuff.” The way the passage describes his eating is not using language that is normally used to describe human eating – the sense is more that Esau is gulping down his food like an animal. And because of that meal, and the transaction which accompanied it, both brothers end up lying to their dad later. Jacob says that he is Esau, not true, but claims the status of firstborn which Esau has indeed given over to him. Esau comes in later, too late as it turns out, and tells his father that he is indeed Esau, which is true, the firstborn, which is no longer a status he can claim as he has given it away,
And so in our part of the world, where our own appetites are leading to harm for us and the planet, we might remember those people around the world who are without power, and without supper. I have heard in recent weeks from Ethiopia and Tanzania where we have helped children that the schools we have helped are facing food crises. Is it possible for us as a people of God to reach out to those little ones halfway around the world who are hungry? It’s hard to know what to do, but in our world, the hungry are increasing in numbers. The powerful of the world, the leaders of the G-8 nations gathered to share 24 courses of rich meals while they were discussing the international food crisis. I wonder if we, as we gather later to eat the simple sacramental meal, can seek God’s guidance in reaching out to others. I know we can’t solve all the world’s problems, but perhaps we can find ways to share with these two groups of children we know about: the AHOPE orphanage in Ethiopia and the LEA ministry school in Tanzania. Both are facing serious problems getting enough food for the children. Perhaps if we, the wealthier nations among the world, learn to prioritize compassion, we can find our way to a world where we can solve problems before going to war.
So this morning’s stories end with more conflict, and it is probably conflict we could have predicted: Esau is threatening to kill his brother as soon as his father dies, and so Rebekah sends Jacob away to live with her brother – the conflict is not to be resolved too quickly, it seems. And this, certainly, is something we can relate to in our own world – how long we hold onto the hurts of our lives. Most of us have injuries we received in childhood that still have the possibility to push buttons for us now. And so the cycle of human hurt continues.
Perhaps the one positive note we can find in this story comes from watching Rebekah help Jacob – sometimes, it seems, we can’t just take relationships as they come, we have to take an active role in them.
Nonetheless, although I agree with the statement, I’m a little uncomfortable taking it as a moral from these stories, because I wouldn’t want to uphold the rest of the example: lying to those you love to get what you feel is owed you is OK. .
In the end, I wish I had some great way to interpret this story in which it wouldn’t come out as people being crummy to other people. But I guess that it’s not too bad to end up that way, considering what else comes along with that conclusion, which is: and God works through us anyway. Even though Jacob and Esau are hurtful to one another, even though they both behave badly, even though Jacob is a liar and a cheat, God is going to finds a way to work through him. And so, it turns out that our own human frailty and imperfection don’t disqualify us from being important to God and God’s work in the world. We can’t opt out of discipleship on the basis of our lack of qualifications – God can even use our frailty for good. Mary Oliver writes “Another morning and I wake with thirst for the goodness I do not have.” Me too. And yet God’s goodness continues around, in and even through us. How much God loves us that God should find ways to work beauty through the goodness we do not have, and in so doing, let us walk in beauty! In Navaho weaving there is a tradition of deliberately inserting a flaw into every piece, for it is said that the Spirit enters through the flaws. May our own weaknesses and flaws be an opportunity for us to receive and appreciate the love and power of God. Amen.