"The Beast"

Joshua J Sander
7/10/11
4th Sunday after Pentecost—15th in Ordinary Time
Pulpit Supply at Olivet Congregational Church
"The Beast"

Genesis 25:19-34

When I was a child, my brother Matthew and I would wake up on Saturday mornings and camp out in front of the television. I have a lot of hazy memories of short-lived cartoons. And I have some very distinct memories--like eating Pillsbury cinnamon rolls in front of “The Smurfs” and my Mom interrupting the WWF broadcast to make us promise never to try what we were seeing on each other. “They know how to do that stuff without killing each other,” she insisted, “I never want to see you doing any of that.”

Even though that moment was a little bit like learning how, exactly, Penn & Teller forced you to pick the Three of Clubs, it didn’t stop Matthew and I from enjoying watching Hulk Hogan, and Randy Savage, and Tito Santana and all those guys wrasslin’ on Saturday mornings. And one of our favorites to watch was George “The Animal” Steele.

“The Animal” had a bald head and a clean-shaven face, but the rest of his body was completely covered in hair. He somehow dyed his tongue green--which we know because it was frequently hanging out of his mouth as he stalked around the ring. And our very favorite part was his finish--where he would tear the turnbuckle cover open with his teeth and strew the stuffing around the ring before bashing his opponent’s face into the exposed turnbuckle!

I have to admit that when I read about Jacob and Esau, my brain immediately jumps to George “The Animal” Steel ripping open the turnbuckle cover with his teeth. And there’s probably some good reasons for that. The text says that when Rebekah’s time to give birth was at hand, there were twins in her womb. The first came out red, and his entire body looked like a hairy mantle; so they named him Esau. Esau means “Hair,” but like the hair of a goat--fur if you will. Afterwards his brother came out, with his hand gripping Esau's heel; so he was named Jacob, which means “Heel Snake.”

So not only is Esau hairy like a beast from birth--in fact, Jacob uses a goat skin to trick their father Isaac into giving him the dying blessing intended for Esau, but that’s later in the story--not only is Esau literally hairy, but he was also named something like “Beasthair.” And I’ll admit that I’m a little superstitious about how children live up to their names. I have a second cousin once removed named Maverick. I’ve never met him, but the only thing I know about him is that he once got in trouble for pulling down a ceiling fan while trying to hang from it. On the other hand, that sounds like something I might have tried as a child--so let’s go back to the text and see what kind of a beast Esau turns out to be.

When the boys grew up, Esau was a skillful hunter, a man of the field, while Jacob was a quiet man, living in tents. Well, here Esau sounds like a real Good Ol’ Boy. I’ve known my share of Good Ol’ Boys. Some of them are pretty cool. Others really do behave like animals.

Once when Jacob was cooking a stew, Esau came in from the field, and he was famished. Esau said to Jacob, "Gimme some of that red stuff, I’m starving!" But Jacob replies, “First sell me your birthright."

Well, just like any story, we could see both sides of this. It’s actually kind of interesting, my wife immediately sees it from Esau’s perspective--just imagine you’ve been out working in the sun, hunting for food to put on the table. You’re hot. You’re tired. You’re really, really hungry. You drag yourself home and there’s the wonderful smell of fresh baked bread and lentil stew--Mmmmm! Gimme some of that! Only to have your brother say, “Huh-uh, not so fast, you have something I want...” The little schemer.

I always find myself seeing things from Jacob’s perspective. Gentle and good--but gentle and good rarely go hand in hand with popularity. No-no, you have to be a bit of a beast to be popular around here. You’ve been slaving over a hot stove, baking bread, cooking stew--with no meat in it, by the way, the mighty hunter has not lifted a finger to help you, when in he rolls with his green tongue hanging out and bits of turnbuckle padding in his chest hair and grunts out, “Gimmie some of that red stuff!” Neanderthal.

In all honesty, I’m not in love with either character at this point in the story. Neither of them is completely in the right--neither completely wrong. Esau said, "I’m about to die; what good is a birthright to me?" Jacob said, "Swear to me first." So he swore to him, and sold his birthright to Jacob. Then Jacob gave Esau bread and lentil stew, and he ate and drank, and rose and went his way. Thus Esau despised his birthright.

I think that last sentence is where the crux of the matter is. “Thus Esau despised his birthright.” The word “despised” seems awfully strong to describe someone essentially behaving like a teenage boy, “Whatever, I’m hungry.” But what if his birthright is something more important than a physical inheritance when his father dies? I think that there must be something more to this story than a moment of hungry weakness.

It becomes more and more clear that God favors Jacob over Esau as their story progresses. Jacob steals the dying blessing of their father from Esau, so Esau vows to wait until Isaac has died and then kill Jacob. But word gets back to Rebekah, who sends Jacob off. While in hiding from Esau, Jacob sees the vision of the ladder going up to heaven, gets married, makes his fortune and more enemies before returning home.

Meanwhile, Esau stays at home and gets married--but even that has the taint of vengeance all over it. He intentionally marries a Canaanite woman because he knows it’ll anger Isaac. Esau let’s himself be ruled by his passions--hunger, rage, vengeance--like a beast. Perhaps that’s what the text means when it says that Esau despises his birthright.

Think about it. What are birthrights? What rights do we all have, universally, and based on the simple fact of our birth? Today we refer to these as human rights, and most of us ascribe to the 27 outlined in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights adopted and proclaimed by the United Nations on December 10, 1948.

Politicians and philosophers are still arguing over what human rights are, how they work, and whether a specific right actually qualifies. I believe that those kinds of arguments are necessary and important--and beyond the scope of this sermon. So let us not miss the forest for the trees. What we know in our hearts, what politicians and philosophers struggle to describe in detail, is that when those rights are violated we descend into the realm of inhumanity. People are treated like animals. And people behave as if they were beasts. The best positive description of the point I’m trying to make comes from an Episcopalian priest named Martin Bell, who writes:

“Something like an eternity ago, human beings got all caught up in the illusion that being human is a relatively unimportant sort of proposition... What’s more tragic, of course, is that in the wake of this basic error there quickly followed the idea that human beings are expendable, which easily degenerated into the proposition that some human beings are expendable. Really bad guys... Guys with low I.Q.’s... Anyone who disagrees with me... Well, that’s not true. It’s wrong. All wrong. And it has always been wrong. From the creation of the heavens and the earth, it has been--wrong. There is nothing more important than being human... God raised Jesus from the dead to the end that we should be clear--once and for all--that there is nothing more important than being human. Our lives have eternal significance. And no one--absolutely no one--is expendable.”

I think that is your birthright. And it is not something to despise.

But I bet you’re wondering if Esau ever learned that lesson. As Jacob drew closer to home, he sent out messengers to tell Esau that he had been living a life of exile, that he had made his fortune, and that he was coming home. The messengers returned with the news that Esau was riding out to meet Jacob with four hundred men.

So, fearing for his life and the life of his people, he split his people and his belongings into two groups, so at least half of them would have a fighting chance to escape his brother’s wrath. Then he sends out an extravagant “please don’t kill us” gift to Esau. And then, finding himself alone, he has that famous wrestling match with the angel who puts his hip out of place and renames him Israel.

So limping, fearful, and blessed by an angel, Jacob finally comes face to face with his brother Esau. And Esau strides up to him and--hugs him. And tries to refuse the “don’t kill me gift.” But of course Jacob insists--and so what could have been a blood bath turns instead into what it looks like when my father argues with a house guest over who gets to pick up the check in a restaurant.

The text does not tell us why or how Esau was changed. And maybe it’s not important. Maybe it’s enough to notice that when Esau stopped behaving like a starving, wounded beast all manner of good things fell into place. Simply being human is enough of a birthright. There is nothing more important than being human. Our lives have eternal significance. And no one--absolutely no one--is expendable.

That is your birthright. And your neighbor’s birthright. Do not despise it.

Thanks be to God. Amen.