Genesis 31

Jacob has finally had enough of Laban's chicanery and decides to leave. I especially like how the author describes Laban's feelings toward his nephew in verse 2: "Laban's attitude toward him was not what it had been." Nice use of understatement (and a particular kind of understatement called litotes, for all you fellow English nuts). We get solid confirmation that God did have a hand in the rather unscientific breeding of the sheep and goats, creating more spotted and speckled specimens for Jacob's inheritance.

Before Jacob absconds with his two wives, Rachel takes Laban's household gods. Why? To piss him off? An act of revenge? Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men (or women)? Unfortunately, I'm not The Shadow (and if I were, I certainly wouldn't reveal it on a public blog), so I'm afraid I can't shed any light. Laban, who takes "all his relatives with him" (verse 23) somehow manages to catch up with Jacob. Well, Jacob, that's what you get for going at such a leisurely pace. Maybe he was afraid that if he went at a strenuous or grueling pace, all of his oxen would die and he wouldn't get to sail his wagon down the Columbia River. In all seriousness, though, Laban probably did know that land better than Jacob did. And Laban might not have cared as much if one of his relatives had died from dysentery.

Both Jacob and Laban were kind of at fault here. Laban was taking advantage of Jacob, but he did have a point that Jacob didn't let him say goodbye to his daughters. Even worse, Laban didn't get to listen to timbrels and harps at a farewell banquet. The horror. The story then enters the realm of farce when Laban goes looking for his precious household gods. Rachel decides to sit on them, saying she can't get up because she's having her period. I'm not a woman, so I'm going to refrain from making any comment; to do so would probably reveal my ignorance. (OK, I know I've done that plenty of times already.)

In the end (I know that's a lazy writing device, but I'm being lazy), Jacob and Laban part on amicable terms, though we never find out if Laban got to listen to his beloved timbrels and harps. But God did incite this goodwill, keeping Laban in verse 34 from saying anything "good or bad," thus probably staving off a potentially explosive confrontation, or even a prelude to war. Sometimes, I have to remember to listen to God; I'm not a confrontational person, but sometimes I find it all too easy to ignore Him, thus hiding the love He has placed within me instead of letting it shine. Even Laban, who obviously worshipped different gods, obeyed the one true God when He spoke. Laban never got his gods back, so I can certainly live without all the little distractions that serve as "gods" in my life.

Easier said than done, of course. Going back to The Oregon Trail, your goal is to get to Oregon (not, as is commonly believed, Trail), yet the real reason anyone plays the game is to go hunting. In what other school-sanctioned game can you shoot and kill cute widdle bunny rabbits, birdies, chipmunks, teddy bears, and buffalo with near-impunity? But at some point, hunting becomes a distraction from the main goal of the game. If you do it too much like I used to, you collect more meat than you can eat. So at some point on the trail, you're greeted by a litany of dire messages, coming approximately .084 seconds apart: "You have lost 576 pounds of perishable meat" "You have lost 139 pounds of perishable meat" "You have lost 48 pounds of perishable meat" "You have lost 2 pounds of perishable meat"--all very frustrating, because it interrupts you when you're trying to click the "Hunt" button again.

I've lost the thread now, so I might as well close with one final Oregon Trail anecdote. At one river, you can choose to have Indians help you cross in exchange for some changes of clothes. My brothers and I always thought that this meant that said Indians would run on the bottom of the river carrying your wagon above their heads.