One of the questions we need to ask of every bible story is “What’s the point?” Why tell this story? Especially when you get into some of the Old Testament stories, you have to wonder why they’re part of our ancient scriptures. Some of them are just downright dodgy. Many of these stories have been told many times over many years, and the historical accuracy might have become a bit dubious over time. And yet, they remain as significant stories, becoming part of our sacred scriptures. Many centuries after their first telling, perhaps around a campfire, having been told time and again, they are eventually written down as sacred scriptures. So as we come to today’s story (Genesis 15: 19-34), keep in mind that many years ago, someone decided that this story that had been told many times over was significant enough to write down as part of their people’s sacred scriptures.
Why might a story make it into scripture? Some of these stories are told because the characters inspire us by their actions: stories of valour or faithfulness or some other noble and desirous quality. Some are told as stories that help us understand who God is and how we relate to God. But today’s story doesn’t seem to fit either of those.
Today’s story is of two brothers who have been fighting since they were in the womb together. It’s the story of one brother taking advantage of the other. In fact, a few chapters later, as Isaac is dying, mostly blind and bed bound, he sends Esau off hunting for a wild goat to make his last meal a savoury goat stew, but while he’s out, his wife Rebekah gets Jacob to slaughter one of the goats from their herd and make a stew for his father. She then takes some pieces of goat skin to wrap around his arms and neck, and then sends him in to Isaac, pretending to be his older, hairier brother. Together they trick Isaac into giving Jacob, not Esau, his dying blessing. Jacob claims the birthright and the blessing that should have been Esau’s.
So why tell this story? This is definitely not a story of brotherly love. It’s not a great story about good parenting either, with the twin boys knowing clearly whose favourite they are. As a story to serve as an inspiration to others, it’s not great. There’s very little in these two brothers to admire: one is brutish and short-sighted, the other is scheming and devious. As a story to tell us about God, it doesn’t do much either. In this bit of the story, God doesn’t get much of a mention. God doesn’t reward or punish either brother, doesn’t admonish Rebekah for her deceit, and doesn’t warn Isaac about the deception. I’m not sure what this particular story tells us about God, except maybe to remind us that sometimes, God lets dishonest people get away with it. There doesn’t seem to be any clear moral to this story where the devious and cunning brother seems to win out over the older Esau.
But there’s another reason why people tell stories about who they’re ancestors were and what they got up to. Stories about our ancestors tell us a bit about who we are. They help us understand our place in the world a bit better. It’s helpful to realise that when the Israelite people are writing many of these stories down as scriptures centuries later, they have become slaves in exile in Babylon at the time. They are a conquered, defeated people. They no longer have access to the temple, the place where God lived. And they have lost their connection with their land. They are at risk of losing their identity as a people. So they tell stories of their ancestors to remind themselves of who they are.
And we see a common theme already taking place in these stories. Abraham is an outsider, a foreigner, in Canaan but he manages to thrive while he is there. He is an old, old man with no children of his own but he is told he will father many nations. His wife, Sarah, is an old woman and barren and yet, she bears him a son. It is Abraham’s younger son, Isaac, and not the older son, Ishmael, who ends up carrying the inheritance of God’s promise to Abraham. Isaac marries Rebekah who turns out to be barren and yet, she bears Isaac two sons, Esau and Jacob. And it is the younger son, Jacob, and not his older brother who inherits the promise.
We’re only a couple of generations into the story, but there’s a pattern emerging. Abraham, Sarah, Isaac, Rebekah, Jacob, none of them are likely candidates for God to build a people on. They are flawed, but more than that, they are hopeless causes. If you’re going to build a legacy through the generations, you wouldn’t rely on old men, barren women, and second sons. They are not the obvious choices to carry God’s promise of a great legacy.
For the people living in exile in Babylon, they probably feel the same way. Their great nation has been conquered, the people have been dispersed, they are powerless and helpless. They are hopeless causes. It’s ridiculous to think that these people are the ones that carry God’s great promise, God’s hope for the future. But they remind themselves through these stories that their ancestors have always been hopeless causes; they have always been the unlikely heroes in this grand design of God.
But why is this relevant to us today? Let’s get back to our original question: what’s the point? We’re not slaves in Babylon and we’re not descendants of Abraham, not by blood at least. But we also carry the legacy. We also are part of God’s plan for a wonderful new hope for this world.
In Ephesians, it says: In Christ we have also obtained an inheritance, having been destined according to the purpose of him who accomplishes all things according to his counsel and will, so that we, who were the first to set our hope on Christ, might live for the praise of his glory. In 2 Corinthians, it says: All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and has given us the ministry of reconciliation. I could go on and on. The moment we were adopted into God’s family, we were also adopted into the family business; we have inherited God’s hope for this world and it’s through us that God’s dream may come to fruition.
Now I don’t feel equipped for that. I’m not some influential celebrity who people will automatically listen to. I’m not some holy saint that people will take notice of. I don’t have all the answers. I often don’t know the right words to say. I often find it easier to talk about football rather than my faith. I often don’t feel like I know what I’m doing. Most of you know by now that I have many other flaws as well.
And yet, I’ve been called to carry God’s hope for this world. I have been adopted into God’s family to help carry God’s dream for this world. And so have you, each one of you.
We might not feel like we’re up to it. As a church, we might look at some of the megachurches around the place who seem to be thriving, or we might look back to what felt like more successful times, and we might be tempted to think that we don’t have what it takes to make a difference. Individually, we might feel like we’re too old or too busy or maybe just not Christian enough to carry God’s hope for this world.
So these stories are relevant for us also. Let’s remind ourselves of these stories, of how we fit into a history of God using flawed people, people who aren’t the obvious choices, underdogs and hopeless causes, to carry God’s promise for this world. We might not feel like we’re the obvious choices. We might not be the best role models even. And yet, we’re part of this crazy history of unlikely, impossible heroes, carrying God’s dream for this world.
I wonder how God might be calling you. How will you carry God’s promise to this hurting world? However you do it, don’t be afraid. God believes in you. And our God loves to beat the odds.
Amen.