Esau and Jacob

Genesis is a book of brothers divided. Cain and Abel. Shem, Ham, and Japheth. Ishmael and Isaac. Esau and Jacob.

Esau is the last in the line of rogue older brothers, and he is the last older brother to spawn his own nation, to have his generations named in one of the ten volumes of the book of Genesis. Names are significant in Genesis. These are the generations of Esau — his name means “hairy” — also known as Edom — Red. Esau the hairy one settled in the hill country of Seir — the words are related. “Seir” is the hill country of the hairy people. Esau is Edom — The hairy, red guy is the father of the nation also known as Edom — the red men.

The Israelites, for whom Moses wrote Genesis, knew these hairy red guys, their brothers. They attempted to pass through the hill country of Seir, just south and east of Canaan, on their way in to the promised land, and Edom had denied them passage. So the story of Jacob and Esau — the story of Israel and Edom — would be very interesting to them indeed. So, this is where these Edomites come from; this is why they hate us so.

Two Nations in Rebekah’s Womb

The history of these two nations is typified for us with great economy, and great vividness, in our Old Testament lesson today. Isaac, the son of a barren woman, is given a barren wife, Rebekah. For twenty years the heir of the promise, the promised father of nations and kings, waits and prays for his barren wife to conceive. Life is hard. Even when Rebekah conceives, her pregnancy is hard. The children struggle within her. Why, Lord? She asks. Why bless me with a pregnancy that is only a curse, that is only going to end poorly.

The Lord’s answer is a prophecy. You do not have one child in your womb, but two. And these twins within you are not merely two children, they are two nations. Two peoples. And the struggles you feel even now are the struggles of the ages. Already in the womb, apart from any human exertion, any human willing, the Lord has appointed their destinies. The older, stronger one will serve the younger, for the younger will inherit the promise.

And the birth of these twins lived up to the drama of their pregnancy and the drama of the prophecy. Though the destinies had been named, the children had not, but the circumstances of their birth made that easy. Out first came the red, hairy one — Edom, Esau — his entire body covered as with a red hairy garment. A moment later, grasping Esau’s heel — his “Yacob” — was Jacob. Esau —  red, hairy, older by a hair — and Jacob — heel-grasper, striver, his name also means “God follows, God protects.”

One can imagine that the wrestling that occurred within their mother’s womb continued through their childhood. But we are simply told that Esau grew up to be a skillful hunter, a man of the field, while Jacob was a quiet, indoor sort of fellow. It is suggested that he is peaceful, and simple, though there is some irony. His life, and his name, will suggest a certain deviousness, a certain crookedness, about him.

Father Isaac, naturally loved Esau — the athlete, the hunter. He liked the red meat that he brought home. Mother Rebekah compensated and loved Jacob, she naturally was drawn to the underdog, the homebody, the cook. And a lifetime of battles waged between these two brothers — many of which we can imagine must have ended with the stronger Esau pummeling the mama’s boy Jacob — is boiled down to its very essence in a single, powerful scene.

The Sale of the Birthright

One time, when Jacob was cooking stew, Esau came in from the field and was exhausted and famished. His words to Jacob are crude and rough. “Give me some of that red red stuff to scarf down.” Big Red likes the Red stuff, and so the name “Red” sticks. If Esau is all muscle and might and stomach; Jacob is all brain, and wile. If you want what I have, what I made, so badly, then give me what I want, and what I know is bound to come to me. Give me the birthright. Now the birthright was commonly a double share of the inheritance, and we know that at this time it was not unheard of for one brother to buy the birthright from the other, even for a couple of sheep. But in this instance the birthright included the entirety of the blessing of Abraham, the blessing of the Lord, as the story will later make clear.

Esau, like his uncle Ishmael, is a man of the flesh, and his stomach has the final word. “I am about to die, what use is the birthright to a dead man?” These words are pregnant, and deeply ironic. What use is the birthright, the blessing of Abraham, to a dead man? When Abraham received the blessing, he was as a good as dead, as was his wife Sarah, and the blessing promised life, and the blessing brought forth life from the dead. When the Lord had demanded the sacrifice of Isaac, Abraham considered that the promise of the Lord could raise him back up from the dead, for it was through Isaac that his descendants would be named. And Isaac went down to the grave, and Abraham received him back again alive. What use is the birthright to a dead man? This birthright was not about property, not about a double share of the inheritance. This birthright, indeed, is not for the living, but for the dead, and only those who reckon with their own deadness receive this blessing.

“Swear to me now!” Jacob demands. Jacob closes the deal, and the swearing of the oath is the appropriate means for the covenantal transaction that takes place. Yes, Esau is rash and is driven by his belly, but Esau also officially renounces his birthright, and swears the oath. The author to the Hebrews warns us not to be immoral or godless like Esau, who sold his birthright — his very soul — for a single meal.

The scene closes in a flurry: Jacob gives Esau bread and stew, Esau ate and drank and rose and departed. And just like that, Esau despised his birthright. Jacob is no great shining example… he comes off as a bit of a sly trickster, and indeed this scene foreshadows the far greater and more explicit trickery he will undertake to snare the blessing of Isaac in the following chapters. But Esau’s low view of his birthright is nevertheless a grave sin; it is a sin that occurred because of who he was, the habits of his mind and body that elevated the pleasing of his desires over the promises of the Lord.

And the rest of Esau’s life is somewhat tragic. Esau prospers, but he intermarries with the Canaanites, contrary to the practice of his brother Jacob and his father Isaac. He marries Hittites, and Ishmaelites, women outside the covenant of blessing, and we are told multiple times that these women brought grief to his parents Isaac and Rebekah. And after he has Isaac’s further blessing stolen from him by Jacob, he bears a grudge and threatens to kill his brother Jacob. This threat drives Jacob away from the promised land, and the focus of the story remains on Jacob, and on his laborious procuring of Leah and Rachel, the daughters of Laban, to be his wives. And though Esau is a perceived threat on Jacob’s return, peace is restored. The brothers bury their father together, and go their own way as two separate nations.

Moses’s Lesson for Israel

The story of Esau’s offspring, of the nation of Edom, we are given in summary, in chapter 36. Volume IX of our X volume story. The story of Jacob’s offspring, of Israel’s travel down into Egypt, we get in somewhat fuller detail, as the story of the Lord’s particular dealings with his covenant people continues to unfold. This history occurred, and the story was recorded, first for their benefit. The Lord through Moses is telling the nation of Israel a crucial truth about his covenant dealings with them. Before the nation was born, the Lord bestowed the blessing on the younger, the weaker brother. Indeed, the weaker, the younger nation would inhabit the Land of Promise not by their strength, not by their military prowess, but by the provision and protection of their covenanted Lord, the one who had carried them through the wilderness these forty years even as a father carries their child. In this promise, in this blessing, was a warning: consider yourselves not strong and mighty, but look to the Lord, and to his provision. You, Israel, are not children of the flesh, but children of the promise. Be single-minded in your love, in your desire of the blessings that come by this promise alone.

Paul’s Lesson for Us

The Apostle Paul, likewise, understands Esau and Jacob much like he views Ishmael and Isaac. In Galatians 4, he says Ishmael and Isaac are an allegory, a lesson of the faith, teaching us the difference between children of the flesh and children of the promise, the difference between relying on our own striving, and relying on God’s provision. In Romans, our New Testament lesson today, Paul talks about both Ishmael and Isaac, and Esau and Jacob. Both of them, in the same way, are an allegory. Just as they taught Israel that they were chosen not because they were strong, and wise, but because they were weak, and faithful, so too they teach us the nature of the Gospel, and the Lord’s way of salvation.

The question troubling Paul is the failure of Israel… the failure of Israel, the offspring of Abraham according to the flesh, to believe in the Messiah, the promised descendant who brought the true victory of life over death. Israel’s failure is a great concern… after all, they were heirs of the promise. Was their failure, God’s failure? They were children of Abraham. Didn’t God have to save them?

Paul is more distraught for his brother’s failure than anyone. He wishes that he could curse himself to save them. But their failure is not God’s failure, any more than Ishmael’s failure, his mockery of Isaac, was. Or any more than Esau’s failure, when he despised his birthright.

The blessings of God come not to those who deserve, not to those who are strong, or prove themselves valiant on the field of battle. But those that receive, and rest, in the promise. And this receiving, and resting, is finally not a matter of our ingenuity, our moral superiority, our own perseverance. But of the Lord’s. He is the one who sets his love upon us, who follows us, and protects us. As it is written, Jacob I loved, but Esau I hated. The older, the deserving, Esau, will serve the younger, Jacob.

Esau have I hated. These words, from the prophet Malachi, were not written for Edom, but for Israel. They were not written for the sons of Esau, but the sons of Jacob. Malachi, the final book of the Old Testament, opens with these words of cursing on Esau’s children, on the nation of Edom beyond the southern border. Malachi notes how the sons of Israel cheer the judgment on the Edomites, “Great is the Lord beyond the border of Israel.” But Malachi wants to know, how has Israel honored her heavenly father? By profaning the name of the Lord. By polluting his worship. By giving him meaningless tokens of hypocritical love, blind animals, stolen sacrifices, tossed on the altar when the Law calls for a spotless lamb? Great is the Lord beyond the borders of Israel? No. False acts of piety, hypocritical vows, shallow worship, will not be honored by the Lord.

You bring what has been taken by violence or is lame or sick, and this you bring as your offering! Shall I accept that from your hand? says the LORD. Cursed be the cheat who has a male in his flock, and vows it, and yet sacrifices to the Lord what is blemished. For I am a great King, says the LORD of hosts, and my name will be feared among the nations.

Esau have I hated. Many sermons have been preached on the love of God, but how do you preach on his hatred? Though the children were not yet born, Paul writes, though they had done nothing bad or good. In order that God’s purpose of election might continue, not because of works, but because of him who calls, Jacob have I loved.

We should not recoil from the hatred of Esau, it should not shock us. But the love of Jacob. God’s love set upon his rebellious children, his longsuffering with Israel, while she polluted his altars and took his name in vain, while she played favorites, and sought cultural influence.

It depends not on human will or exertion, but on God, who has mercy. I will have mercy on whom I have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I have compassion. How can we worship such a god who lavishes kindness on those who don’t deserve it? How can we hope to know a god who hasn’t shown us kindness, we who don’t deserve it.

God’s choosing of us, his setting his love upon particular sinners who don’t deserve it, is the only way we could ever hope to be saved. It is the strong, the firstborn, those considered wise in the eyes of the world, that God leaves in their sins. God hates the proud. And Paul teaches this hatred to remind his saints to be humble. God’s choosing, his election, is the most humbling teaching of Scripture. It is, perhaps, the most easily twisted teaching of scripture, though it is usually the proud who twist it. God’s hatred of Esau is not a teaching for Esau, but a reminder that those who despise their birthright, those who heed not the gracious, loving voice of their heavenly father, will not inherit the kingdom of heaven.

Sermon text as prepared for delivery; minor errors may remain. Please do not reprint or publish without the written permission of the author.