Daybreak at the Jabbok

Read Genesis 32:22-32

The man asked him, “What is your name?”

“Jacob,” he answered.

Then the man said, “Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel, because you have struggled with God and with humans and have overcome.” –Gen 32:27-28

Jacob’s story can be told by two important crossings in his life. The first crossing was through the desert, on his way to his Uncle Laban’s home. The second crossing was when Jacob returned home to face his brother again.

Jacob didn’t have much choice about this homecoming. Jacob had been quite successful working for his uncle; he’d probably wanted to stay in Paddam Aran as long as he could. The problem was, he was too successful. His uncle became jealous of Jacob’s success and tried to take advantage of his skill as a breeder and tender of livestock. Jacob outsmarted his uncle at every return, and God had blessed him richly. Eventually, though, being smart wasn’t enough. Or, said differently, the smartest thing Jacob could do was to leave before his uncle took all his wealth away by force.

Going home, though, was no sure prospect either. The last time he’d seen his brother, Esau had threatened to kill him. Even though that was twenty years ago, Jacob didn’t know if his brother’s heart had softened over the years. So as he journeyed home, Jacob sent gifts ahead of his arrival: “two hundred female goats and twenty male goats, two hundred ewes and twenty rams, thirty female camels with their young, forty cows and ten bulls, and twenty female donkeys and ten male donkeys.” (32:14-15) Jacob sent whatever he could offer to win his brother’s affection and forgiveness.

Finally, Jacob arrived at the Jabbok River—his brother waited on the other side of that crossing. Jacob sent all of his family and servants and livestock ahead of him, and he stayed behind to prepare himself for that faithful meeting. In the midst of the night, an unknown stranger met Jacob and wrestled with him. The text is unclear as to who this stranger was. It could have been a symbol for Jacob’s fear, or perhaps an angel, or maybe even God himself. All we know is that the battle lasted all night long.

As morning approached, Jacob still would not let go of his adversary. So the stranger touched his hip and pushed it out of its socket. Even that pain, though, was not enough to make Jacob release him. I will not let you go, Jacob declared, unless you bless me. And so the stranger offered an unusual blessing: “No longer will you be called Jacob, but you will be called Israel, because you have wrestled with God and man and overcome.”

Names were important in Hebrew culture. They symbolized not only your identity, but also your future. The name Jacob, for instance, meant “grasper of heel” (derived from the Hebrew word ‘akeb, which means “heel”). The story goes that when Jacob was born, he came out of the womb holding onto his twin brothers’ heel. And he spent the first half of his life grasping after a birthright that was not his. Perhaps because of Jacob’s story, his name also became synonymous with “trickster.” A “heel-grabber,” in Jewish idiom, is anyone who trips another person up. When Esau discovered that Jacob had stolen his birthright, he declared: “Is he not rightly named Jacob? For he has cheated me these two times!” (27:32)

But the name Israel means something profoundly different. It derives from two separate Hebrew words: sara, which means “to strive or contend,” and El, which is the Hebrew word for “God.” In some ways, the name Israel sounds like a strange blessing. Wouldn’t it be nicer to be known as someone who “walks with” God or is “beloved by” God? But Jacob‘s new name gave dignity to his struggles. It conveyed a promise that God would continue to “strive” with him and his descendants, even when they were unfaithful. Ultimately, this is the name that his descendants would be known by; it was their divine calling to wrestle with God in both good and bad times.

So Jacob released the angel, and armed with his new identity, he crossed the river to meet his brother. Sure enough, he discovered that he no longer needed to “strive” with his brother; he no longer had to compete for his father‘s blessing or birthright. Esau had forgiven him and welcomed him home.

In the first crossing of Jacob‘s life, he learned something important about God: that God was real and would always be beside him. In the second crossing, Jacob learned something important about himself. The grasping of his brother’s heel had matured into a fierce determination to wrestle with God and never let go. He found dignity and courage to face the challenges ahead.

Can you remember a crossing of your life that changed how you understood yourself? Perhaps it was not as dramatic as Jacob’s; you may not have received a new name. Perhaps you discovered, though, something that was always present in your life, a purpose behind how God had made you, a reason for the gifts that God put within you and the experiences through which He has shaped you. Who are you now? And how have your struggles—and your crossings—given shape to that identity?

Thank you, Lord, for uncertain crossings and for “dark nights of the soul.” Thank you even for those times that You have seemed an adversary rather than an advocate. For even in that wrestling, You are with me. You will not let me go. And in the wrestling, You help point the way to the person You created me to be. May I be faithful to strive with You, even as You strive with me. Amen.