Genesis 33:3-4 He himself went on ahead and bowed down to the ground seven times as he approached his brother. But Esau ran to meet Jacob and embraced him; he threw his arms around his neck and kissed him. And they wept. (NIV)
Jacob and Esau were twins. And like most twins, they became best friends and invented words and games together. But they also competed and wrestled and fought.
And whenever they fought, Esau always won. He was just too fast, and athletic, and graceful, and strong. And so their playing often ended with Jacob crying. He’d have a bruise here or a bump there. And a bloody cut was not uncommon. But still, Jacob fought and lost and cried. And no matter how hard he struggled, no matter how desperate he wrestled, he never seemed to win. Esau was better at just about everything. And he kept getting better and better at more and more things.
As Esau became a man, he grew a beard, and hair bloomed across his chest. His biceps ballooned and his shoulders broadened. His strength and athleticism made him an excellent hunter. Every week, he would come home with an antelope over his shoulder like a hero, and people would cheer for the victorious hunter. And he learned to smoke the meat like his father liked it, low and slow, and the smell would fill the farm, and everyone would know Esau had done it again.
Jacob, on the other hand, was slender and wiry and could not grow a beard. He had thin arms and a narrow chest. And while Esau was beautiful to watch riding a horse, or running, or shooting a bow, Jacob was more stiff, gangly, and awkward. Where there was strength and elegance in Esau’s movements, there was just plain determination in Jacob’s.
And Rebekah never stopped worrying about her two children. She wanted them both to be successful and happy. And so she tried to teach Esau to be considerate of his slower, weaker brother. To look out for him and care for him. And she tried to teach Jacob that he could not rely on his muscles or stamina against Esau. Instead, he’d have to be clever. What he lacked in strength, he could make up for with intelligence. And so Rebekah taught Jacob how to plot, plan, and strategize.
She sent Esau out to hunt for antelope in the distant hills. And she packed him a lunch with only a single cracker, a tiny block of cheese, and a half-empty water bottle. She knew by the time he came back, he’d be starving. And she told Jacob what to do next.
When Esau came home, Jacob had a fresh batch of oatmeal stewing. Esau smelled the wet oats, brown sugar, and cinnamon, and his mouth began to water. “Can I have some of your oats?” he asked. “I’m so hungry!”
“Sure,” Jacob said. “As long as I get to inherit the farm.” This made Esau mad. Was his brother willing to take advantage of him like this? He’d spent the whole day hunting for the family. He’d worked for hours with almost no food or water, and now that he was almost ready to faint, his own brother would use that against him? It felt cruel.
“Fine,” Esau said. “You can have it. If the farm means that much to you, take it. What good is a farm if I starve to death?”
And so Rebekah’s plan had worked. And Jacob saw that a little manipulation could accomplish great things. And so Jacob and Rebekah hatched another scheme. They were going to steal Esau’s blessing.
Blessing, a definition:
A blessing is a gift from God to you. And it’s non-transferable. That means you can’t give it away. If God gives you kindness, or patience, or faith, or stubbornness, you can’t just decide to hold a garage sale and put your blessing on a rack for people to look through and purchase for themselves. You can’t trade it like trading cards. You can’t throw it in the trash. It’s just yours like a freckle on your face.
But Rebekah and Jacob didn’t know you can’t steal blessings. How could they? They were the first to try. This was their plan. The two boys were going to receive blessings from their father, Isaac. He was old and mostly blind and about to die. But before he went, he was going to place his hands on their heads one more time and bless them.
And when he did, Jacob would trick his father into thinking he was actually Esau. That way, his father would accidentally give Jacob Esau’s blessings. So Jacob put sheepskin on his arms so he was hairy, and tied rocks to his biceps so they felt strong, and put chunks of bark on his shoulders to make them seem broad and tough and manly. And Rebekah cooked some antelope and had Jacob bring it with him.
Before entering his father’s room, Jacob cleared his throat, lowered his voice and tried to imitate his brother’s tone. “Hello, nope, why hello there, yes, yes, better. Howdy, father of mine. No, too much,” He tried again. “I am Esau. Too weak. I AM ESAU. Better. I AM ESAU! Too much again.” It was now or never. He opened the door and went in. “Hi Dad. I brought you your favorite meat.” And it worked.
Isaac was fooled, so he put his hands on Jacob’s head and gave him all of Esau’s blessings. And Esau had a lot of blessings — strength, inheritance, and popularity. He was everyone’s favorite, he was next in line, and he was in charge.
As he left, Jacob jumped in the air and cheered. It worked. He could feel the blessing already pouring into his body. He threw off the rocks from his biceps and the bark from his shoulders. No need for those anymore. The blessing would make him just like his brother, only better. He watched. It was about to happen. Look there, at his arm. It’s…it’s…exactly the same as before. Wait, had it worked? Jacob felt his biceps. No difference. He measured his shoulders. Still narrow. But these things take time. He’d start growing his beard right away.
But the muscles and hair never came. Instead, the whole plan backfired. When Esau found out what Jacob had done, he was angry. “First the farm, and now this!” he yelled. How could his own brother betray him? Sure, they’d wrestled, sure they’d fought, but they’d also had fun. They’d shared socks and made up riddles and imagined saving the world together. They were twins. They were best friends. They spoke a language no one else knew. How had it come to this?
And so Esau asked his father to just give him the same blessing he’d given Jacob. But Issac wasn’t sure if he could. No one really knew how these things worked. And he thought he’d already given Esau’s blessing away. So Isaac gave Esau what he thought was Jacob’s blessing. And that made Esau furious.
Rebekah saw Esau returning to the kitchen, angrier than she’d ever seen him. “Run,” she shouted at Jacob. “Your brother is coming, and he’s going to kill you!” And so Jacob had to run from the farm. He hopped on a horse, took off into the wilderness, and found a new place to live hundreds of miles away.
And the twins that had been formed in the same belly, that had spent every day of their lives together, that had shared food and jokes and secrets, split apart. Rebekah cried. Isaac worried it had all been his fault. But Esau was glad that Jacob was gone — at least for a while.
But then twenty years passed. The boys grew into adults and married and had kids and jobs and responsibilities. And as Esau grew older, he became a little weaker but also a little wiser. And as Jacob labored in a distant land to survive, he grew stronger and learned what it was like to be tricked by a family member. And they both felt like something was missing in their lives. Like they’d left a part of themselves behind.
And they remembered now the times when they were just boys, crawling on the furniture, yelling nonsense words into the wind, and laughing. They remembered running over hills and pretending to fight bad guys. They were inseparable then. And when they remembered, they longed for the brother they’d lost.
And so Jacob decided to return to the family farm and face his brother. As he approached, he was very nervous. What would Esau do? Would he still be angry? But when Jacob arrived, Esau ran out to meet Jacob. “I have missed you,” he cried, picking Jacob up off the ground and pulling him into his chest. And Jacob hugged back with all his strength.
That night, Esau made his famous smoked antelope, and he waited the tables and even did the dishes while Jacob watched in tears. There was Esau, Jacob’s big, strong, beautiful, athletic, wonderful brother. The piece of himself that had been missing all these years. And for Esau to serve Jacob like this, after what Jacob had done, it didn’t make sense.
“I don’t deserve this,” Jacob said. “I should be serving you.”
“No, I am the one who chased you away. I will never forgive myself. We will never get back the years we lost. But I’m going to make the most of whatever is left.” And Esau served his brother Jacob for the rest of their lives.
And at some point, they must have realized that God was not tricked by Jacob’s costume. The blessings Isaac gave Jacob and Esau were exactly what God had promised Rebekah before they were even born: the strong would serve the weak.
It was not a curse. It was not an accident. It was a mission. A non-transferable blessing straight from God, unknowingly sealed upon their heads by their father. They had spent decades fighting and running away from each other. And when they ran away from each other, they were also running away from their blessings. But they were home now, and very blessed.
They were complete and happy together, and they had food, water, and wealth to spare. And they realized their biggest blessing wasn’t the farm, or speed, or strength, or money, or talents, or power, or anything like that. The blessing had been given to them at the very beginning by their mother. The blessing was a brother.
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