Finding God

Then Laban said to Jacob, “Because you are my kinsman, should you therefore serve me for nothing? Tell me, what shall your wages be?” Now Laban had two daughters; the name of the elder was Leah, and the name of the younger was Rachel. Leah’s eyes were lovely, and Rachel was graceful and beautiful. Jacob loved Rachel; so he said, “I will serve you seven years for your younger daughter Rachel.” Laban said, “It is better that I give her to you than that I should give her to any other man; stay with me.” So Jacob served seven years for Rachel, and they seemed to him but a few days because of the love he had for her.

Then Jacob said to Laban, “Give me my wife that I may go in to her, for my time is completed.” So Laban gathered together all the people of the place, and made a feast. But in the evening he took his daughter Leah and brought her to Jacob; and he went in to her. (Laban gave his maid Zilpah to his daughter Leah to be her maid.) When morning came, it was Leah! And Jacob said to Laban, “What is this you have done to me? Did I not serve with you for Rachel? Why then have you deceived me?” Laban said, “This is not done in our country—giving the younger before the firstborn. Complete the week of this one, and we will give you the other also in return for serving me another seven years.” Jacob did so, and completed her week; then Laban gave him his daughter Rachel as a wife.  Genesis 29:15-28 (NRSV)

I am Leah. Daughter of Laban. Daughter-in-law of Isaac and Rebekah. Wife of Jacob. The oldest of two daughters. Sister of Rachel, like me, also a wife of Jacob.

You remember me, don’t you? The wife that Jacob didn’t love. The daughter with weak eyes. Your translation of the story doesn’t tell the truth. My eyes were weak, which meant they lacked lustre. They didn’t sparkle. Between my sister and I, I was the plain one, unattractive. My sister, Rachel, she was was graceful and beautiful. It was Rachel who first caught Jacob’s attention at the well that day.

Another well romance, you say? Yes. Because it was the only place where we could come into contact with men. With our potential future husbands.

When Jacob met Rachel that day at the well, he’d been there for awhile talking with the shepherds. Bragging really. He asked them why they waited to gather all of the sheep at the well before they removed the lid--suggesting it would be more efficient for them to water the sheep as they arrived and then continue to graze them as others arrived and were watered. The shepherds, well, I’m sure they rolled their eyes at this newcomer, this stranger. Who seemed to know everything. 

They explained to Jacob why they did this--that the stone covering the well was so heavy that they needed several men to remove it, so need to wait until shepherds gathered and could do it together. No one shepherd could lift the stone by himself.

It was about this time that Rachel approached the well with her flock. The shepherds who were there told him who she was--that she was the daughter of his uncle. Cousin of Jacob. Then, Jacob felt the need to display his own strength. For the shepherds. But, mostly, I think for Rachel. Jacob rolled the stone covering off the well, entirely on his own. He watered Rachel’s flock. It was, then, that Jacob told Rachel who he was. That he was our kin. He kissed her. And he wept, as was often customary. 

Rachel ran to tell our father, who then ran to meet Jacob at the well. There, my father embraced Jacob, kissed him, and invited him into our house, where Jacob told his story. Everything. The story you heard last week--how he had tricked his brother, Esau, out of his birthright and his blessing. How Esau had become so angry he vowed to kill his brother, Jacob. How Rebekah their mother, who favored Jacob, sent him away for a few days to escape Esau’s wrath. How Jacob had traveled the long distance to our homeland. And how, during his trip, he had seen God and been blessed by God.

Everything that had happened to him he shared with my father. Hearing it, my father acknowledged that Jacob was indeed our flesh and blood. And he welcomed Jacob into our household.

It was about a month later, after Jacob had been working beside my father for no wages, that my father approached him. My father told Jacob that, even though he was our relative, there was no need for him to work for free. He asked Jacob what he would like to be paid. 

It was then that Jacob named his price. He had fallen in love with my sister. My younger sister, Rachel. Jacob told my father that he wanted to marry Rachel. My younger sister. 

You know how wrong this is, don’t you? It was our custom that the oldest daughter would be married first. That I should have been the first to be married. That if any sister were to marry Jacob, it should have been me. 

Yet, I had no voice in the decision. Neither did Rachel. My father agreed with Jacob that he could marry my sister. But, because, Jacob was destitute and had no property or belongs, he could not offer my father the bride price. And so, in exchange for it, my father told Jacob that he would have to work for my father for seven years. 

What could Jacob do? He had no leverage against my father. He had nothing to offer him for my sister. So, Jacob agreed. It was a handsome bride price for my father, who knew Jacob had nothing else to offer and who was so shrewd in negotiating the agreement.

Time passed. Seven years. I think, though, for Jacob it felt like only a few days. He was so enamored with my sister. Finally, the time came for the two of them to be married.

It was a week-long celebration in our custom. A week of festivities and rituals that brought our entire family and community together to celebrate the joyous occasion. Of the marriage of Jacob and my younger sister. The wedding that should have been my wedding.

It customary that at the end of the week, the marriage would be consummated. The wedding night. 

It was on this night that my father came to me. He directed that I put on my veil--one that would cover my face fully. And, then, he led me into the wedding chamber. Into the room that was to have been the room where Jacob and my sister would consummate their marriage. Instead, he told me that I would be a substitute for Rachel. 

I had no say in the matter whatsoever. Neither did Rachel. I knew this would cause hard feelings--harder feelings--between my sister and I. And, yet, what could I do? It was not my place to disagree with my father.

I’ve never fully understood why he did this. Why my father tricked Jacob. Perhaps, he understood how much he had flaunted tradition by agreeing to give Rachel, his youngest, away. Rather than me first, as his oldest. Perhaps he understood how upset I’d been.

Or, perhaps, he knew that, as soon as Jacob married Rachel, he would be leaving to return to his homeland. To be with his family in Canaan. To take Rachel away from us. So far away that we would likely never see her again.

Or, perhaps, it was simply because he had seen how hard Jacob worked. Harder that most of his other men. And that it had cost my father little, except for his daughter. Perhaps his plan all along was to get another seven years of free labor out of Jacob.

Whatever the reason, I became Jacob’s first wife. Head of his household. In the dark.

When jacob awoke the next morning and saw it was me in his bed instead of Rachel, he was furious. He ran to my father. “What have you done to me?” he said. “Didn’t I work for you to have Rachel? Why did you betray me?”

Do you see the irony here? The trickster tricking the trickster. What is the saying you have? “What goes around, comes around.” It was as though God was teaching Jacob a lesson for all of the ways in which he had tricked his own brother. That Jacob was reaping what he had sowed.

What messiness there is in our families! Tricks and deceit. Sibling rivalry. Brokenness.

And lest you sit there comfortably on this Sunday morning and condemn my family and our actions or our culture, you might look in the mirror yourselves. If you did, you might see that you and your families are no different. There is no “them” here. We are you. You are us. We are all far from perfect. Messy. Broken. We hurt each other intentionally and unintentionally. We act in our own best interest and against the greater good of others in our families. We fail to ask those who have no power about decisions that impact their lives. 

To look into the midst of our family--and of your family--is to look straight into human brokenness. To look on our culture negatively is to hold up a mirror to your world that still judges individuals on their appearance and treats women as less than men.

So, where--where in the midst of this messiness and brokenness--are we to find God? To find the Good News? The Gospel? Where is it to be found?

The Scriptures tell of the story of my husband’s ancestors--Abraham and Sarah--warts and all. It isn’t cleaned up to impress anyone or to give you impossible and unattainable role models for moral living. We are all faithful and sinful. We are all blessed by God and cursed by our own actions. We are all saints and sinners.

In Psalm 105 earlier, you read that “God remembers his covenant forever, the word he commanded to a thousand generations, which he made with Abraham, the solemn pledge he swore to Isaac. God set it up as binding law for Jacob, my husband, as an eternal covenant for Israel.” 

In our stories--yours and mine--God continues to work. To move God’s plan forward. God is present because God keeps God’s promises to a sinful humanity. God is faithful when we are busy managing our lives. Even if we don’t see it at first or have a hard time finding it, God is there. God loves us--the broken families of the world. God loves us so much that God will send his son to “the sons of Israel” and, by extension, to you and to all people. 

This is the good news. For you and for me. And for all people. Of all time. And all place. 

“O give thanks to the Lord,” the psalmist writes. “Call on his name, make known his deeds among the peoples.” 

May this be our response. For all time. Amen.