Jacob was left alone; and a man wrestled with him until daybreak. When the man saw that he did not prevail against Jacob, he struck him on the hip socket; and Jacob’s hip was put out of joint as he wrestled with him. Then he said, “Let me go, for the day is breaking.” But Jacob said, “I will not let you go, unless you bless me.” So he said to him, “What is your name?” And he said, “Jacob.” Then the man said, “You shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with humans, and have prevailed.” Then Jacob asked him, “Please tell me your name.” But he said, “Why is it that you ask my name?” And there he blessed him. So Jacob called the place Peniel, saying, “For I have seen God face to face, and yet my life is preserved.” The sun rose upon him as he passed Penuel, limping because of his hip. –Genesis 32:24-31 NRSV
Eugene Delacroix, 1861
The titans struggled through the night, neither able to get an upper hand. As the morning mist evaporated over the Jordan one weary wrestler slipped away, as mysterious and unknown as before. The other limped into the dawn with a new name and calling, challenged to return home to confront a troubled past and an uncertain future. Only now could he–and countless heirs–claim and be claimed by God’s blessing.
Few Bible verses have been written about more than these. Some of that is due to the story’s open-endedness (like Jesus’ parable of the prodigal son, we’re left wondering what happened next to the brothers and the rest of the family).
There’s more to this name change than first meets the eye. People wanting to change their name today simply make application before a judge who can grant the new legal status. For ancient people, though, names were incredibly important, revealing much about character, purpose, and life’s calling.
And so this is not just a way to explain how a man named Jacob got a new name, “Israel.” It’s as much or more about the twelve Hebrew tribes named for his sons: who they are as a people, their relationship with God and other nations, and–perhaps most importantly–their divine calling as a “chosen people” through whom God’s will and eternal purposes were to be lived out.
That’s a lot to consider, of course, so before those complex issues can be dealt with, let’s back up and begin where Bible study rightly should begin: the story in the written text.
A century ago the German scholar Hermann Gunkel identified four levels in the Jacob saga:
1. stories of the twin brothers, Jacob and Esau, and their parents, Isaac and Rebekah;
2. Jacob’s dealings with his Uncle Laban;
3. Jacob’s encounters with Divinity; and
4. the twelve tribes of Israel, who looked to Jacob as their founding patriarch, role model, and namesake.
Scholars throughout the nineteenth and twentieth centuries argued over who wrote down and edited numerous oral traditions to get the Old Testament into its present written form (probably at least 2,500 years ago). This isn’t the appropriate place to delve deeply into those hypotheses. But we do have to recognize that these four elements existed independently and in relationship with one another, as a unified whole, and as meaningful holy scripture through the ages and into the twenty-first century of the Christian era.
Like practically everybody else in the Bible, Jacob was a paradoxical mixture of good and bad, morally gifted and substantially flawed. In other words, he was truly human. On the basis of the Genesis account it’s apparent Jacob was faithful to the “family promise” while at the same time deceptive, ambitious, greedy, and willing to stop at nothing to promote his own well-being. Yet this is the man God’s “chosen people” looked to as their founder. You have to ask, Why?
The simple answer: Because he was so much like them; his life story and relationship with God reflected their own. The mystery and complexity grow with the realization that these few chapters in the Pentateuch are not just a biographical sketch of Jacob, the man. They reveal a “type” of what Israel experienced with god, and so they took his new name for their own.
It’s worth remembering that the people didn’t even know their God’s name until Moses trembled before a burning bush:
But Moses said to God, “If I come to the Israelites and say to them, ‘The God of your ancestors has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘What is his name?’ what shall I say to them?” God said to Moses, “I Am Who I Am…. This is my name forever, and this is my title for all generations.” –Exodus 3:13-15 NRSV
Because the ancients did not consider names as so much “sound and smoke,” they believed that to know someone’s name offered access to their power.
Genesis tells us that Jacob was so named because he was a striver. Even in his mother’s womb he grasped his brother’s heel in an unsuccessful attempt to keep Esau from being firstborn. It appears he honed that character trait at his mother’s knee. She is credited as the instigator of Jacob’s theft of his father’s blessing years later. and although the text is unclear on this point, the way Jacob offered Esau a “mess of pottage” in exchange for his birthright may have been just as deceitful. Some scholars think Esau mistook the red pottage for blood stew, a far more desirable meal to a hungry hunter than lentils.
The point to remember through all these stories leading up to Jacob’s fateful crossing of the Jordan at the Jabbok ford is that grasping, conniving, deceit, and trickery were simply a means to an end for Jacob. He successfully outwitted his brother, father, and uncle and eventually acquired enormous wealth: two wives, concubines, many sons (and probably daughters, too), land, and herds of livestock.
Then one night he encountered Divinity in a dream. He renamed the place Beth-el (Hebrew for “house of God”) because there he witnessed the close connection between heaven and earth. This almost always is referred to as “Jacob’s ladder” although the text describes it as more of a ramp. What is more important for Jacob is that he realized God wanted him to return home (yes, the “promised land” of Abraham and Sarah) to reconcile with his brother and his God.
His fears of what that might entail were only heightened by the news that Esau was already on the way to meet him with 400 men! So Jacob did the expected: he plotted to first bribe his brother and, failing that, to at least outwit him by dividing his considerable possessions. The “children” of his favorite wife, Rachel, were sent to the rear (so even in defeat they might escape), while Leah’s sons would bear the initial brunt of Esau’s expected fury.
Image by Wayne Forte
Then Jacob camped alone at the Jabbok. Once again there was a divine encounter, but this time he was awake and ended up wrestling all night with a mysterious foe. Jacob is described as a man of incredible strength (the Hebrew word was the one also used for giants). that had come in handy before–most notably in his ability to move a huge boulder at a well where he met the love of his life, Rachel.
But this stranger possessed incredible strength and stamina, too, and as daybreak approached the weary wrestlers began to negotiate a draw. There is probably significance in the fact that this episode occurred at night, like the dream at Bethel, and it would be easy to get sidetracked by that point. One of the more insightful interpretations gives this meaning to the stranger’s request to “Let me go, for the day is breaking”: A new day is dawning, and its time to get on with your journey.
The stranger and his name remained a mystery. Was it Esau, an angel, God himself? We just don’t know. Because we assume God was in this stranger somehow, we can extrapolate that the mysteries of heaven and earth–the meaning of life itself–also stayed hidden from Jacob. Adam and Even tried to learn the same thing by eating forbidden fruit and were just as unsuccessful.
Something even more important happened to Jacob: first, he was crippled; then he was blessed and given a new name (inn Hebrew, Israel means “May God rule”). Those two facts are tied together, and as such they lead us to a penetrating insight: wounding and blessing are two sides of the same coin. The truth that there is “power in weakness” and “weakness in power” leads directly–certainly for Christians–to the New Testament gospel of the cross. For Jacob there would be no victory or cheap reconciliation, and so he departed from this blessing even with a limp. Frederick Buechner referred to this incident as the “Magnificent Defeat”: Jacob prevailed but also limped. To a far greater extent Jacob now realized the truth in his statement after waking from his dream at Bethel: “Surely the Lord is in this place, and I did not know it” (Genesis 28:16).
"The Meeting of Esau and Jacob" by Peter Paul Reubens
Although Jacob is “changed” and called by a new name, he does not become another person. Later Bible writers use both his names in reference to him. Nor does this saga have a “happily ever after” ending. Jacob/Israel soon met his brother, who surprisingly initiated heartfelt reconciliation (the one who had been wronged was the one who offered forgiveness with open arms). Still Jacob was unwilling to respond in kind and held back from telling Esau the whole truth. They never reconcile fully and in fact, had little contact with one another until their father’s death. Even after all he’d been through, Jacob was still to a certain extent “Jacob, the deceiver.”
Religious historian Gerhard von Rad noted that Israel in these few chapters in Genesis presented its entire history with God almost prophetically as a “struggle until the breaking of the day,” pointing out that the narrative itself makes this extended interpretation probably by equating the names of Jacob and Israel. That “national” story is entwined with the theme of Promised Land: divine promise, extended journey, repeated “falls from grace,” exile, return, dispersal, and finally “living by the promise.” Once again, there is an inevitable question: Doesn’t anybody ever learn?
Israel was not formed by shrewdness, success, size, or land but by an assault from God. In a curious way perhaps we should view this as grace, but it definitely is not the kind we usually imagine. The “chosen people” constantly pondered how divine blessings are given and at what cost. Just because Jacob/Israel “saw God” and glimpsed the divine purpose, this saga does not suggest that such encounters would leave Israel unscathed. For Jacob/Israel that wounding was necessary before he could return home.
Modern science informs us that broken bones heal more strongly than before. Likewise, we are strengthened by our struggles, challenges, and hurdles. Wrestling with God (and our inner nature) is rough going but an important part of the journey toward the kingdom of God.
After the wrestling and subsequent crossing of the Jordan, Israel could not go back. Still, the future for the man and the nation was far from assured. The journey could be undertaken only according to the promises of God.
In his superb commentary on Genesis, Walter Brueggeman showed how the most secular and the most holy overlap in this story. “Permission to be Israel (and not Jacob) depends on wrestling and prevailing. But it also required meeting the brother. Perhaps it takes meeting the brother to regard the limp as a blessing.” He then takes this a step further, connecting it to the distinctive Pauline statement about becoming “new creatures in Christ” (see 2 Corinthians 5:16-21):
The limping of Penu’el may keep us from speaking flippantly about the “New Being,” for the New Creature may be marked by limping as the sign of newness…. Love of God and love of brother belong together. It remains to ask about seeing and loving. What does it mean to be children and heirs of that man–crippled and blessed, bowed down and forgiven? More than one answer will be given. But all the answers must pass through the prism of the Crucified One. He is the one who knows fully about limping and blessing, about bowing down and forgiving. –Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching, “Genesis” (Atlanta, Georgia: John Knox Press, 1982), 273-274
So what can the Jacob/Israel story mean today for us, who rightly or wrongly have sometimes thought of ourselves as a “chosen people” or at least a “peculiar” one? suddenly, it seems, we believe God is calling us to a new name. Will it mean a new identity, a new relationship with God and our “neighbors,” a new future? Is it, as well, a divine call to “return home” in some way, to confront our past, our certainties and uncertainties, our character and nature? If this naming is indeed a blessing, is there also a wounding, too?
The Old Testament patriarch didn’t stop being Jacob when he became Israel, so how much of the “Reorganized Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints” will we carry with us as “Community of Christ”? What, after all, did our old name mean and to what kind of future does the new one point us?
I believe wholeheartedly that God is indeed behind this new name. For decades individuals and groups have tried to legislate a change, only to fail each time. the experience of the 2000 World Conference (bolstered by moving testimonies of Conference delegates, leaders, and observers) helps me past my own hesitancy to alter what is so deeply a part of my identity and history. If God is calling us, then we must wrestle with claiming and being claimed by this name.
Our history as a religious movement is incredibly rich, varied, complex, and sometimes just plain strange. And so it’s not a simple question to consider where or what our “promised land” is, much less to ponder the possibilities of what we must confront in our past to be reconciled with God, our neighbors, and even ourselves. It’s easier to hide or maybe deny the less attractive parts of our heritage, but of course God knows what they are even if nobody else does. Jacob/Israel discovered grace when he confronted his past; shouldn’t we hope for as much?
A new name from God is an exciting venture! As an heir of Jacob/Israel, I have to wonder, too, what kind of crippling might be involved. Perhaps we’ll learn in deeper, more profound ways how to be “wounded healers” (as Henri J. M. Nouwen eloquently put it), or to use our own vernacular: “bear the burden of their sin” for “people yet unaware of the joy freedom from sin can bring into their lives” (Doctrine and Covenants 150:10-11).
Jacob/Israel’s story teaches us that God often works through unworthy people, in unsavory situations, to do unexpected things. The blessings and wounding that occur along that journey are, maybe, incidental to the greater, ultimate purposes of God. God encountered Jacob in forms appropriate to him, that matched the course of his life. The last thing he expected was a new name, which for him meant an added character and calling that pointed to an unexpected future.
Many within our church are concerned they might have to “give up” being RLDS, with all that means. I don’t think God is necessarily asking us to do that. But if we want to respond positively to what I believe is a divine call to, metaphorically speaking, “cross the Jordan and enter the promised land,” right now we must wrestle with this calling before we can set out at the dawn of a new day.
In coming months we will ponder, pray, discern, and dream. A new name will not fully and magically transform us on April 6, 2001. But our 171st birthday is a good date to celebrate this added calling. We’re not the same people who gathered in Fayette, New York, in 1830 with Joseph Smith Jr.; or the scattered Saints who set apart Joseph Smith III in Amboy, Illinois, thirty years later; or the throngs who filled the unfinished Auditorium in 1930 for the Centennial Conference; or even the church working its way through controversy and dissension from the sixties to the nineties.
Yet in a way, we were there, and today we continue to stand on the shoulders of those who came before. God meets us at a new dawn; through the mist we are beginning to see what lies ahead for us.
To consider further:
1. If there are poeple in your group who have experienced a name change, what were some of their thoughts and feelings about that process? Can you imagine how you might feel yourself?
2. Can you imagine yourself “wrestling with divinity,” sin some way similar to Jacob’s experience? What life issues can you imagine creating such a struggle?
3. Jacob is described as a “type” of Israel’s experience with God–an experience of faithfulness coupled with faithlessness. What is the significance of a nation of “God’s chosen people” looking to such a flawed founder?
4. Stolen identity is an increasing problem in an electronic age where personal data can be obtained and abused by computer hackers. Do you see a parallel with the ancient belief that to know one’s name offers access to their power?
5. The author suggests that one significant dimension of Jacob’s all-night wrestling match was the understanding that “wounding and blessing are two sides of the same coin”–what Frederick Buechner referred to as the “Magnificent Defeat.” Explore this paradox as it relates to your own life experience.
6. In a dream Jacob received the divine invitation to turn away from his deceiving ways and be reconciled with God and with Esau, the brother he had wronged. Recount the story of this famous reconciliation and its meaning for you today.
7. What would you see as the “wounding and blessing” possibly entailed as the RLDS Church seeks to be called by a new name?
8. Explore the author’s question: “Jacob/Israel discovered grace when he confronted his past; shouldn’t we hope for as much?”
9. Before he could cross the Jordan to the promised land, Jacob was called by a new name. Similarly, the author suggests that “right now we must wrestle with this calling before we can set out at the dawn of a new day.” Explore this possibility.
