This is Who We are Now - Genesis 32:22-31

At the risk of sounding like a broken record, let me start by saying, I love the book of Genesis. Until very recently, I would have gone so far as to call myself “literate” in the book of Genesis. But I have had quite a week wrestling with today’s Old Testament passage, and I promise that that is the only time I will make that joke in this sermon.

My first reaction when I read today’s lections was a slight eye roll, because the story of the all night wrestling match has never been one of my particular favorites. Jacob gets a lot of airtime in the Ancestors stories, and sometimes his details run together. For instance, didn’t we just hear about Jacob having an encounter with God in the night a few weeks ago? But my slight annoyance quickly turned into surprise — surprise that I hadn’t thought about wrestling imagery at all during COVID-19. Our nation is struggling to make spiritual sense of a global pandemic, a flailing economy, and systemic racism, and I never even considered the wisdom Jacob might have to offer in his experience at Penuel.

I started to get a little excited about the possibilities, and took cursory glance at the internet, which revealed a quote from Walter Brueggemann, whom I trust deeply when it comes to the Old Testament. He said that in his experience with biblical scholarship, which is quite extensive, Jacob wrestling at Penuel is one of the most studied stories in all of Scripture. What had I been missing? Needless to say, I dove in, picking the story apart and searching for meaning in every word, and to my delight, I found an incredible portrait of our relationship with God, and deep wisdom for where we find ourselves today.

But first, my weekly indulgence: a little Old Testament back story. Jacob has had a tense relationship with his twin brother, Esau, since they were in the womb. Throughout the course of their lives, Jacob has managed to steal three treasures from his brother: their mother’s love, Esau’s birthright as the eldest, and their father’s blessing. But Esau is the stronger, more powerful brother, and Jacob has to flee for his life from Esau’s rage. When we meet Jacob today, he hasn’t been back home in 20 years. Granted, it has not been a horrible 20 years. Jacob’s parents set him up with his rich uncle Laban, and while he had to work to earn his keep, he got a variety of satisfactory wives out of the deal.

But after two decades, Laban and his people have realized that Jacob is what my dad would call a scuzzbucket, and once again, he’s on the run, with nowhere to go but home. He’s caught between the proverbial rock and hard place: he made a covenant with Laban that he would not go back to Paddan-aram, but he has no idea how Esau will receive him. Just before today’s passage, Jacob sent servants ahead of him with gifts to appease Esau. They returned with the news that Esau is camped with 400 men. Things aren't looking good for Jacob.

So today, he sends his family on ahead of him, across the Jabbok river to camp for the night, so that he can spend what very well may be his last night on earth alone. I can barely imagine the quiet, the stillness, the true aloneness he must feel. We can say all we want about Jacob’s questionable character, but I don’t envy him preparing for the end of his life this way. And yet, as continues to happen throughout our Scriptures, just when the story reaches its bleakest moment, something incredible and transformative happens.

It came on quickly, without warning or pretense. One moment, Jacob was alone with his thoughts and his fears and the next he’s embroiled in a full-on physical fight with a complete stranger. Some say the stranger was Esau, others, an angel. Regardless, the fight went on and on, lasting through the night, and neither wrestler could gain an advantage. Finally, the exhausted stranger takes a shot at Jacob’s hip, and when Jacob still will not yield, the stranger engages him in a new way — with words.

Let me go, he says. Let this thing that has plagued us through the night, and maybe longer, be over and done with. But Jacob is finally done running away from his battles. No, he says. I will not let our struggle end without a blessing. And then a miraculous exchange occurs. What’s your name? the man asks. Jacob, he tells him. Not anymore, the man says. You have been changed. You are Israel. You have struggled but still you live, and this is who you are now. The stranger will not tell Jacob his name, but gives him a blessing that only God can give, and Jacob names the place of his transformation Peniel, “I have seen God face to face, and yet my life is preserved.” This is who you are now.

For most of us, this pandemic came on quickly, with little warning or pretense. One day we were enjoying the beginning of a mild spring and the next we were in lockdown hiding from a virus we didn’t understand. Even worse than Jacob’s all night wrestling match, our struggle with this virus has dragged on and on, lasting most of the year, with no end yet in sight. We work hard every day to stay above water, and like Jacob and his hip, when we make it to the other side, we will be surrounded by permanent reminders of what we’ve gone through.

Theologically, we understand that each of the ancestors in Genesis tells us something about who and what Israel is and thus, who we are. Through Abraham we learn that Israel is in a covenantal relationship with God. Through Isaac we learn that sometimes it will seem to Israel as though that covenant is broken, but God will always remain faithful. And through Jacob, we learn that Israel only becomes who she truly is through struggle.

Whether in a physical challenge, the throes of grief, or a global pandemic, when we cry out to God for a blessing, God gives us our name. We are Israel and we have been changed. We have struggled, and yet we persevere. We are a people coming into our true identity as God’s children through a painful struggle. This is who we are now.

A little spoiler alert: our lectionary is going to skip a few chapters next week, but I don’t want you to be left hanging. The morning after Jacob receives God’s blessing and his new name, he crosses the river and meets Esau, who is nothing short of thrilled to see him. We don’t know when or how Esau let go of his anger and forgave his brother, but we do know that where Jacob expected hatred and death, he was met with love and joy. This is part of his transformation, and ours, too. We may never understand why suffering is so essential to human life, but as God’s people Israel, and now, as followers of Christ, we trust that the people we become through struggle is a people who’s story will never again end in hatred and death, but joyful resurrection. This is who we are now.