Jacob I have loved, but Esau I have hated...

I became an "ojichan" (grandpa) two days ago for the first time. Miriam McConnell is a 7 pound 15 ounce living expression of grace. I've never seen a new born with such alertness of eye, such keenness of ear, but then, of course, I am biased, she being a chip of the ol' block and all. Right now it's safe for me to say that Miriam is my favorite grandchild because she happens to be my only grandchild, but what if Jenny (my daughter) gave birth to twins? What would I say then? "Miriam I love but "x" I hate"? To tell the truth, I am troubled by those words of both Malachi and Paul which are ultimately attributable to God Himself: Jacob I have loved, but Esau I have hated. Those words conjure up in me all sorts of painful memories, memories when I felt someone (whether friend or foe) was for whatever reason (whether fair or foul) favored above/before me. I know the theological arguments about the potter and the clay, the hardening of Pharaoh's heart, the vessels created for dishonor, etc. I know I have no right to claim God's favor as something deserved, something earned, and yet...and yet, I return to baby Miriam and I think of all the less fortunate babies born in this world who will be hated, mistreated, and what's worse, totally abandoned and neglected as if their birth contained no more meaning than a sparrow that falls to the ground unnoticed by human eyes. Everything in me recoils against the idea that some babies should be loved more than other babies; nay, that some babies should be hated over other babies. Most folk in their right mind would say that people who choose to love or hate one baby over another are out of their minds. But isn't that same insanity attributed to God when we say that he chooses to love some people while choosing to hate others? If I recoil at the idea of human partiality in loving and hating, I would rather be cursed and damned than believe in a God who isn't much different than what we see in the midst of humankind all the time: prejudice, partiality, and preferential treatment.

So what to make of the "Jacob I have loved, but Esau I have hated" statement? Here's my quick take on the matter. From other passages we know that God is not a God of "favoritism" or "partiality" (see Acts 10:34, Rom.2:11; Eph.6:9; Col. 3:25; Jas.2:1, 9). We also know (though this isn't always pointed out) that Esau may have been "hated" by God, but he still was blessed by God through Jacob (Heb.11:20). The evidence that God's blessing was on Esau (even if lesser than Jacob's) is revealed in the encounter between the two brothers on the way through Seir, the land owned by Esau. Jacob is expecting doom and retribution from his brother, but is truly surprised by a warm, affectionate embrace: But Esau ran to meet Jacob and embraced him; he threw his arms around his neck and kissed him. And they wept. (Gen.33:4) Esau's response is almost identical to the response of, not an older brother, but of a loving father in a well known passage in the New Testament: But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him. (Lk.15:20) How is that possible? What happened to Esau's bitter rage and desire to seek vengeance on his younger brother who conned him out of both birthright and blessing? In the same passage in Genesis we get a clue to what contributed to Esau's change of heart: But Esau said, "I already have plenty, my brother. Keep what you have for yourself." (Gen.33:9) Esau clearly saw his life as full and not forsaken, as blessed and not belittled. In fact, Jacob describes seeing Esau's face as seeing the face of God because of the favor Esau shows to Jacob. The parallel character in the New Testament should not have been the loving father but the bitter older brother who interpreted the father's love for the lost son as a diminishment of the father's love for himself. In fact, the older brother's response is very much like Esau's initial response to having been conned out of his birthright. At that time he didn't feel blessed, he didn't feel loved, he felt cheated out of his father's love and there was no way he could rejoice in his younger brother's blessing. The older Esau is not the same person as the younger Esau. In fact, the older Esau's response to Jacob reveals a spiritual maturity far deeper than Jacob's.

So what's the point in all this? Simple. I am the younger Jacob who would con his brother out of his birthright with a bowl of beans, and I am the younger Esau who would sell his birthright to his brother for a bowl of beans. I am loved and I am hated. The part of me that is "hated" is that broken part of me that fails to perceive the goodness and grace of God, that twisted, convoluted part of me that cannot see the value of being a son of God but would exchange that glory for an inglorious bowl of beans. The part of me that is loved is the part that's been created in the image of God, the part that God sees as worth redeeming, worth saving, worth giving His one and only Son up for. The encounter between the brothers in their later years reveals how much they both began to see and taste that the Lord truly is good—despite their conniving, gut-feeding ways. It is in the encounter that we see Esau's favor and forgiveness of his brother because he must have found the favor and forgiveness of his God. It is in the encounter that we see Israel's (aka Jacob, the heel grabber) gratitude and generosity towards his older brother (OK, he still was a wheeler dealer, but, hey, at least he wasn't stingy) because he must have encountered the gracious generosity of his God, too.

By the way, every day in this world sparrows fall to the ground unnoticed by human eyes, but the truth is God not only sees the death of each and every sparrow but holds the worth of each and every sparrow alive in his memory. Therefore, whether your name is Jacob or Esau, you need not worry. You are worth far more than many sparrows. (Matt.10:29-31; Lk.12:6-7)

Under Grace,

Martin