Limp
Genesis 32:22-32

August 3, 2008


In the 19th and 20th centuries there was a movement so-called of “muscular Christianity,” which emphasized an energetic Christian activism in combination with an ideal of vigorous masculinity. A modern version is in the declaration, “My Jesus is no wimp.”

No Biblical story is more muscular than this final (Lectionary) episode in the Jacob saga. Lots of little boys in Sunday schools really became excited at Jacob’s wrestling match with the angel. Yet it isn’t all about muscles. I remember being confused by the fact that while Jacob appeared to win, he was the one limping away hurt. The limp matters.

There was nothing muscular about the setting for this wrestling match on this side of the River Jabbok. Jacob was heading home to the Promised Land, but that also meant he was heading home to have his delinquent accounts settled by his brother Esau. Esau was coming with a band of 400 soldiers, so Jacob had plenty of reason to fear the worst. Moreover, he knew that his brother was in the right and that he was wrong. All he could do was pray to God in the verses prior to the reading, reminding God of his promises to him, but recognizing that he was unworthy of God’s love and faithfulness. Still, God, Jacob pleads, won’t you save me anyway?

This is not a muscular Jacob: all his cockiness had evaporated, his sense of entitlement had disappeared, his shrewd courage had completely melted. As a last desperate measure, he sends on a huge number of animals as a present to his brother. He then sends half of his company of servants ahead as bait for Esau’s posse in the hope that his half would escape alive. Finally, in the middle of the night he guides his whole family across the Jabbok to the side Esau is approaching, then retreats back alone across the river and hunkers down. No explanation why he did not go with him, and many think he was acting the ultimate coward at this point, simply trying to save his own skin with the lives of his loved ones as decoys. But now, he had nothing at all, had reached the end of his rope, and was completely, terrifyingly alone.

The story leaves us no time to muse upon his situation. Without a hint of transition, Jacob is wrestling desperately with a man all through the rest of the night until the break of day. Where the man came from is not mentioned or why he was wrestling Jacob; was it the inner demon catching up to this man some have nicknamed “grabber”? Jacob grabbed his brother’s heel as they were born and grabbed his birthright and father’s blessing away from him. Now was all this life of trickery and deception coming home to grab him in the dark night of his soul? That’s way too psychological to fit the story, but whatever the case, the other man wrestling preferred the darkness.

The man couldn’t beat Jacob who was obviously wrestling for his life, so he knew the right pressure points and dislocated Jacob’s hip, but Jacob would not let go. “It’s daybreak,” he said, “let me go.” He did not want Jacob to see his face clearly.

Jacob, despite his state of depression and fear, was always ready to haggle a deal. He knew the man was now very interested in ending what he had started, so Jacob used the leverage to demand in exchange another blessing. The man would not just be saying, “Jacob, you’re a nice guy,” but would give him something palpably physical and substantive.

“What’s your name?” is his question, Jacob tells him, and the man proceeds to rename Jacob. Who has the authority to do such an audacious thing? He shall be Israel - the God wrestler - for now it becomes clear that Jacob has been wrestling with God and has somehow prevailed. Not exactly won, but he has not been defeated.

“What’s your name?” Jacob shoots back, amazed in his exhaustion. Who are you to pretend to do all this? The man replies laconically, “Why do you want to know my name?” and says nothing else, except that right then he blessed Jacob. He does not disappear, there is just no more mention of the man or angel or God.

Jacob has to name something, however, for this was the most real thing that had ever happened to him. He calls the place Peniel, which means “the face of God.” I have seen God face-to-face and lived to tell the story! In ancient times the general theory was that if a person encountered God in some fashion, the wide chasm between human and divine nature was something the human being could not withstand and would be annihilated. Jacob, whose name now is the name of all his descendants, including us, Israel, has touched and grappled with God itself. He is not the opportunistic “grabber” anymore. He has been grabbed. And he limped away.

There is always the danger of reducing this story down to a parable and allegory, complete with a nice and concise moral. Yet there is a lot here that cannot be simply dismissed as a one-time, one-off, historical event. Jacob was shaken through and through by the fact that he had actually grappled with God and survived. No one today ever seems worried about the physics of such an encounter. It is only the demented people who talk with and meet God today, we are convinced. Even very religious people gave that up for Lent millennia ago; or is it that God doesn’t pack the wallop God used to, or that human beings are a tougher breed than in antiquity? Well, God doesn’t give out business cards or whisper names into our ears. The Jews were right: God’s real name is never to be mentioned - “God” is just the generic category given a capital letter - for we should never think we own God.

We have tried and succeeded at domesticating God and our religious faith. No running in the sanctuary, nothing muscular, nothing physical, yet in our spiritual bones we are wrestlers. Many a Christian wants to do away with the unpleasant things of life in the sanctuary, to resolve all conflicts, to do away with unnecessary contradictions to our rational nature, to make success - financial of course, achievement, fame, happiness - the measure of our faith. Yet we are wrestlers and though we sweat it out exhausted through the night, there never is a resolution. No one is declared the winner. The wrestling never quite ends.

Jacob, the sort of victor here with a new name and an unparalleled accomplishment under his belt, limps away. Keep in mind that he now is heading back across the River Jabbok to meet his rightfully angry brother and probable death. It is the last thing he needs in such a critical encounter. The limp is not a badge of courage; no one will feel sorry for him. Typically, there is never a word about the limp again. That’s just what happens when you meet God face-to-face; you end up limping. If it really is God and not your own self-aggrandizement, something in you will be sore and aching. Something that you found precious and valuable will be challenged and probably damaged and you will hurt and mourn what used to be. You’ll limp, but nobody will notice. Still, you will be blessed and will never be the same again. Thank God.

Preached by Robert Kitchen
Knox-Metropolitan United Church
Regina, Saskatchewan