Struggling With All Energy

I've often thought that the story of Jacob's struggle with "the Man" in Genesis 32 gives a new meaning to the old hymn, "He Touched Me." Jacob experienced the divine presence not as a healing touch but as a crushing blow that brought great agony. Carl Jung (Freud's most brilliant and wayward disciple) said that if the Bible (particularly the story of Job and the book of Revelation) teaches us anything it is that "though God can be loved, he must be feared."

As in so many other stories in the Bible, in Genesis 32 we again encounter the image of a violent God. But then as Alister suggested last week maybe these stories reveal more about the human misperception of God's character than anything else. Maybe our struggles with the God-that-crushes is really a struggle with our own internal violent demons. Maybe we project our own violent tendencies into the external world and especially onto God. I wish I had more to offer on this but "maybe" is the best I can do right now.

As much as the story troubles me on one level it also deeply inspires me on another. For example, I absolutely love Jacob's defiance, even after having his hip disclocated (or whatever the exact physical injury might have been). The "Man" says, "Let me go" and Jacob says, "I will not." That reminded me of God saying, "Let my people go" and Pharoah responding "I will not." The human will really is an imperial power. This is why tyrants and dictators of all stripes attempt to break it with violent force. So I applaud Jacob for refusing to submit to what he perceived at the time as divine violence. Somehow his faith recognized that behind what he experienced as the divine-power-to-crush was ultimately a divine-will-to-bless.

To me, the most profound moment in the story is the question in vs. 27, "What is your name?" The last time that Jacob had heard that question was when asked by his old and dying father Isaac. At that time Jacob had lied and said "Esau" in order to get what he wanted. As I see it these are the two defining moments in Jacob's life. In both instances the question is "What is your name?" I think Jacob spent most of his life pretending to be what he wasn't (Esau) in order to get the blessing that he desperately wanted. But he finally realized that it was enough to simply be Jacob. And the irony of it is that when he stopped trying to be something he wasn't (Esau) he became a new man and received a new name (Israel). How much of our lives do we spend trying to take what can only be received as gift?

Interestingly, the story itself does not name Jacob's assailant. Jacob even asks, "Tell me your name" but rather than an answer gets a probing question instead, "Why is it that you ask about my name?" Why is naming so important to us? Maybe it gives us a sense of control in that what we name we somehow think we know. By naming our children we indelibly place our stamp upon their lives. Giving something a name defines it and limits it and signifies our mastery over it (like Adam naming the animals and then his wife, which might have been an even bigger mistake than eating the forbidden fruit!). But in this story God is the nameless One. We can encounter but never control God. Every god that can be named is an idol of our own making. God will never comfortably fit in our small mental boxes.

I like the final image in our story: Jacob limping out into the bright light of a new day. He may not look like much of a hero but he has wrestled with (his perception of God) and prevailed! As the hymn says, "Now I am no longer the same. He touched me, . . . and O the joy that floods my soul!"

© Paul Fisher