Genesis 25:19-34
When we were little, my older sister and I told our youngest sister that our parents found her in a garbage can and brought her home. We only told her that because she was young enough and innocent enough to believe it and it amused us that she believed it. We convinced her also that her duty as the youngest child was to wait on us; run down to the kitchen and get us a snack if we were hungry, even run down to the 7-Eleven if we had a sudden craving for Doritos or Laffy-Taffy. We were bad.
It’s the natural order of things that older siblings dominate the younger ones because they can. They’re bigger, smarter, stronger … for a while. Later, when things even out; when the younger siblings are as big and strong and smart as the older siblings, they’re still dominated by the older ones, because everybody is used to it. It’s the way things have always been.
But the thing that seems kind of weird is that, even in the case of twins, it happens. This natural order asserts itself.
Even with twins, babies who share the same womb at the same time, even when they are born minutes apart – possibly just seconds apart, if we take seriously the notion that Jacob came out grasping Esau’s heel. Even if it’s just a matter of seconds, the older one is still the older one and, therefore, the dominant one. I’m not sure why it happens; it’s a bit of a mystery to me. So I asked one of my sisters who has twins and she gave me some insight into this.
Her twins are identical twins. They were born 20 minutes apart. The firstborn weighed about six ounces more than the second-born. A small difference. Yet that 20 minutes, those six ounces, were enough to cement the order of things into their personalities. It is clear to those who know them well which one is the firstborn.
It seems like just being able to say, “I’m older than you,” gives the firstborn an inherent advantage. In fact, if you ever see a younger sibling gain an advantage over the older sibling it’s probably because they carefully watched and listened and schemed to get it … like Jacob.
The story of Esau and Jacob is fascinating, like all stories of family dynamics are. The fact that they were twins, growing together in the same womb, then severing that relationship so completely, just adds layers of interest to it. But the story of Esau and Jacob is a puzzling one, as well, because it’s just hard to figure out what to make of these characters. I have questions. Would Esau really trade his birthright for a bowl of soup? Would Jacob really withhold food from his brother until he gave him his birthright? And is this really a binding legal transaction?
To the third question, I really have no idea. It seems to be mostly symbolic; it’s not as though there was any magic involved, like a Freaky Friday sort of thing where the two people switch bodies with each other. But it does seem to indicate consent on the part of Esau to give over to Jacob the right to his inheritance, presumably the traditional double share that the first son is entitled to. And as such, it takes us back to our bewilderment that he gave it up so casually. And cheaply.
The scripture says he despised his birthright. In the way we understand what it is to despise something, I don’t believe we really see evidence of that in the story. A newer translation, the Common English Bible, uses the phrase “showing just how little he thought of his birthright.” I think perhaps that makes more sense. Clearly, Esau thought little about his birthright.
And that is the point: Esau didn’t trouble himself to think about it, to appreciate it, to truly value it. Maybe Esau took his birthright for granted, never questioning that it was his. After all, his birthright was his natural right, wasn’t it? He couldn’t really give it away to his brother any more than he could give his brother his natural red hair. By the laws of nature it was his and his alone. Right?
Well, the message that the story in Genesis seems to be driving home is: the way we think things should be is not necessarily the way God ordains that they should be. And that God enjoys stirring the pot now and then to remind us of that. Don’t get too complacent; don’t be too self-assured about your rights.
Because, by what right do we have anything at all? When, really, it’s all gift? And yet it is true that all of us – at some time, about some things – have that sense of entitlement.
Yes, entitlement. That’s a loaded word. It is generally used either to refer to a type of government program or a derogatory term to suggest that someone’s trying to get away with more than they should. Or both at the same time. As I said, it’s a word heavily-laden with baggage.
To be clear, I am not talking about government programs that we call entitlement programs. These efforts to ensure that all have the basic needs met – like food, shelter, health care – are important for a society to attend to. What I’m really talking about here is the creeping sense of entitlement, or privilege, that you and I, all of us, are vulnerable to.
We get this sense of entitlement from growing accustomed to certain things, because it’s just the way things are. The culture we live in, the people around us; what we have always known and had, and learned to expect. It trains us to see a thing as our due – instead of seeing it as gift.
And if we ever think of those people who don’t have all the things that we are somehow entitled to, we tell ourselves that in some way they are different from us, and perhaps less deserving/entitled than us.
Maybe you don’t think this applies to you? You never have this sense of entitlement? Maybe you don’t. But next time you feel resentful about something, ask yourself this: Am I resenting this situation because I feel entitled to something different? And, if that is so, ask yourself this:
By what right do we have anything at all? Our God-given right, perhaps?
Well, that’s just what Esau thought – when he thought about it at all. He just assumed the rights of the firstborn son belonged to him. Because, of course, he was the firstborn son. Could there be any question about this?
And Jacob comes along, with some help from his mother, of course, and says, “Yes, I have a question about this. I would like the same rights.”
Now you may think that Jacob is acting like he has a big sense of entitlement, with all his grasping, but actually it’s just the opposite. Jacob knows that none of these things will be given to him. He will have to use his heart and mind and strength and wiles to get anything. He’s like Alexander Hamilton singing, “I’m just like my country, I’m young, scrappy, and hungry, and I’m not throwing away my shot.”
Esau thought it was his God-given right to carry the promise, to receive the inheritance, to be the chosen one – but it wasn’t. That would belong to Jacob, and he certainly had the God-given talents to seize it and hold it and succeed with it – that we will see as the story continues.
See the story of Jacob and Esau from the perspective of entitlement versus gift, and we see something we perhaps didn’t see before. It’s all gift. If there is one thing the book of Genesis wants us to know, it is that it is all gift from our Creator God. But we are God’s partners in receiving and using the gifts we are given. So, to borrow a phrase from Mr. Joel Osteen, how will we go forward living our best life now?
May we lose our sense of entitlement, and gain the joy in remembering that it is all gift from our Creator God.
May we practice gratitude for all these gifts, forgoing resentment about the gifts we don’t have.
May we follow the light and listen to the word that guides us on the path God gives.
- Photo: My sisters and I all turned out okay, in spite of everything.
