Sunday,
October 25, 1998
Rev. James
A.Todhunter
"WRESTLING
TO RECONCILIATION"
Genesis 32:22-32
Romans 3:21-28 Luke 18:9-14
Jacob is returning to the land of his birth after fourteen years of exile. There he must confront his brother Esau. Jacob had fled for his life after having ruthlessly fooled his blind, aged father, and cheated his brother out of his blessing and birthright. You know the story. Jacob, after many adventures, prospers in exile, and now resolves to return home and claim his land. But it means now, that after all these years, he must confront his brother. Hoping to placate Esau, he sends lavish gifts in advance. Jacob’s party encamps on the banks of the River Jabbok, the boundary line. Sending everyone ahead, he himself crosses the river in the dark of night. And there in the cold, dark waters, experiences a dreadful encounter with what the Bible simply refers to as a "man." It is a ferocious wrestling match in which Jacob, though himself wounded, finally prevails. The mysterious entity over whom Jacob triumphs refuses to reveal his identity, but in turn says this: "Your name shall no longer be Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and humans and have prevailed." Jacob then limps on into the morning daylight. Then eventually he finds Esau and a reconciliation occurs. "...Esau ran to meet him, and embraced him, and fell on his neck and kissed him, and they wept."
What was this creature with whom Jacob wrestled? Tradition has answered that question in various ways. Some have suggested it is simply an unknown force or adversary. Some have suggested that it was a river demon. Remember that in antiquity demons could be good or bad or even both. Some have argued that, even though the reference is to a "man," that this entity was an angel. Angels appear representing God quite a bit in Genesis. And others have argued that it was actually God. After all, this person has the power to name and bless. But, of course, mortals have that power, too. So the identity of this creature will, I suppose, always be shrouded in mystery.
I was reading an article on this scripture in a biblical journal recently, by the writer and scholar Jack Miles (God: A Biography). In it he makes a bold and interesting suggestion. He says that the wrestling adversary in the River Jabbok that night was none other than Esau. I find that assertion stunning and very thought provoking. He spends some time backing up this idea with research in the text, which I think makes enough of a case that it is worth thinking about.
I would like to take this a step further and wonder with you what it means if we consider this wrestling match in the river as a bout between two estranged brothers. This Sunday is traditionally observed as Reformation Sunday. It is a day we recall the issues and the venerated persons who brought about the Protestant Reformation of the 16th century. Interestingly, the United Church of Christ designates this Sunday as Reformation-Reconciliation Sunday. I am not exactly sure of the official reason for this, but I find it an interesting juxtaposition. Historically, the Reformation can be seen as a tragic, but necessary split in the Christian Church. Many hold that it really cannot have taken place gradually or graciously. And it took the huge and passionate person and intellect of a Luther to achieve it. But there are many tragic and divisive consequences that we still live with today, including the lingering split between Catholic and Protestant. Hopefully, we appear to be entering a time in which ultimate reconciliation seems, at the very least, a hope. Reformation-Reconciliation Sunday thus seems to affirm a process that yields hope.
If it was Jacob and Esau struggling there in the River Jabbok, what does this tell us about the process of reconciliation? The Bible spends a lot of time and energy talking about the relationship between brothers. Some have convincingly said that the Bible is the story of one dysfunctional family after another. The first murder was brother on brother violence. The prodigal son and his namby-pamby brother show fraternal hatred in the New Testament. And we all know that feuds can often only intensify when brothers are separated by time and distance. Jacob wanted to reconcile because it was clearly in his interest to do so if he were to return home. Esau, we can only assume, was still at some level seething with rage, since after all, he was clearly the wronged party. There was no misunderstanding at the root of this hatred. But in a strange way, anger keeps people united. No one can make us more furious than people we love. In Esau’s heart, in the midst of his anger, there was still a brotherly connection. Maybe it was the anger that actually kept him connected. And if this is so, there must have been a yearning for reconciliation in him as well.
But the thing I like about the idea that it was Esau in the River is that, understood this way, it recognizes that the expression of anger, struggle and violent emotion, is a necessary step in the process of reconciliation. What Jacob wanted to do was effect a reconciliation by placating his brother with gifts. He wanted to make nice with Esau in the attempt to block, divert, minimize and avoid the anger he knew his brother felt. But if it was Esau in the River, the message to him was "We have some honest and hard struggling to do before we get to reconciliation." Peace offerings are good and always helpful, especially to reopen communication. But the hard feelings have to be dealt with.
The challenge I feel in preaching each Sunday at this time at CCC is to relate my message to this time of grief and loss for us. In a way, moving through grief is a journey to reconciliation. The goal is reconciling ourselves to the reality of loss, to the new reality we find ourselves in, to one another in a new reality, and reconciling ourselves to the new reality in ourselves. Grief, understood this way, is a reconciling journey. The pioneering work of Elizabeth Kubler-Ross and others in understanding the stages of grief, has taught us that we can expect a tremendous number of intense feelings to be coming out: feelings of shock, feelings of ambivalence and bargaining, and feelings of anger. Anger at those closest to us, even anger at the deceased, and even anger at God.
The fact is that in churches, intense feelings, particularly anger, are the hardest to deal with. We often think that the goal is to be placid, saintly, and composed in the face of pain and loss. In fact, all of us as human beings are bundles of intense and often contradictory feelings and passions just waiting to burst. There is a terrible temptation to sit on this anger, deny it, reject it. At the same time, something can touch off our feelings, and we fly into a rage. The other night at home we sat down to a late dinner, and, understandably, one of our kids started eating before we said our grace. And I felt this rage, and it was all I could do to keep from bursting into a righteous fury. Fortunately, for once, I didn’t, and I think my feelings went unnoticed. But I thought to myself, "Whoa, where was that coming from?" There are plenty to good reasons for reacting to loss with passionate intensity. Loss hurts. Loss tears us apart. Loss changes our lives and our situations in ways we don’t want. And it is doubly hard when we tell ourselves that the way to deal with it is to be nice and composed; that is, to rush to reconciliation with the new reality a little too quickly. There always has to be some wrestling in the river of cold reality in the icy dark of night before this.
Now is a time in our congregation in which we are beginning a journey of coming to terms with loss. The loss of Bob Petzold, our treasurer, just last August. The impact of that loss was felt on all of us, but especially on Mary Carnahan, our assistant treasurer, who suddenly found a mighty task before her; one that, luckily for us, she shouldered with tremendous skill and dedication. Appreciation now goes to Dan Pence for agreeing to become our new treasurer. Bob’s loss certainly changed all our lives, and will continue to change us. A loss none of us wanted, but it came. There is the incalculable loss of Joey. There has not been a single day in which I have not had to face some reminder of the ways in which our lives were intertwined, and the many ways in which I depended on her. And now the departure of Ruth Grace Crutchley. Ruth has been a colleague and really good friend for eight years. She touched the lives of many, many people here at CCC. Another loss. So, however any of us may feel about any of these losses (and we will all feel different because we are all different), the total impact feels devastating. The anger and rage and hurt of any one loss mixes in there together. And we relive old losses and are even more sensitive to new losses.
But the feelings have to come out and we don’t know what they mean until we feel them. This is important for our emotional health. But it is also important for our spiritual health. For the dark feelings of anger and rage must be experienced if we are to be reconciled with one another and with God. In a paradoxical way, anger is both the barrier and the bridge to reconciliation.
I believe the only way to journey through our time of grief together is to recognize that we can expect a time that will include intense feelings. There will be times in which we all may feel like the whole show is coming apart. We will feel that because, in fact, we are all, each of us and all of us together, coming apart. This is necessary if we are to come together in a new way. Of that process I can only say that it feels terrible and frightening, none of us truly knows how to do it, and thank God for God. If there has ever been a time in which I have known my need for God, it is now. Jesus’ parable this morning is a great tonic for me. There are these two men - the man who has it all together, and the poor slob. The story shows that whenever I think I have it all together, inevitably I end up looking down my nose at someone. And, in those times in which I recognize the foolishness, ineptness, and sinfulness in my heart, yes, those times of wretchedness and need - am I most open to the love and strength of a God who loves me no matter what. There is something very important for all of us, in this time of transition, to recognize the reality of that wretched helplessness we all feel. We aren’t in charge. I can assure I am not. Please don’t depend on me. But I tell you this. You and I can depend on God. If we depend on God, then we truly can depend on each other.
Many, many of you have been very kind to me in this time. You have said, "What can we do to help you?" Let me tell you what you can do? Pray for me. And I will pray for you. Be real. And I will be as real with you as I possibly can. And being real means expecting the intense feelings to flow and our stuffings to show. And finally, let our common life here be surrounded by a circle, a boundary that says that nothing is more important than love and trust. If there is true love and trust, just about anything can be expressed. If there isn’t love and trust, it won’t matter anyway.
A closing thought. Was the creature in the River who wrestled with Jacob a demon, a man, a God, or his brother Esau? We can never know. But I would like to go one step further. Maybe the person Jacob wrestled with was, in fact, himself. Perhaps this was truly his own dark night of the soul. Maybe this was his own inward journey, putting himself in touch with the wretched, wrenching, numinous depths of his own soul. He rose from that struggle, up from the depths of darkness into the light of day, with a new wound, a new mission, and a new name. Perhaps that is the journey each of us shares these days. Amen.
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