Genesis 37

Now it's time for Jacob's son Joseph to get his 14 chapters of fame. (Not quite 15). However, Jacob's arguably pernicious influence still snakes its way into Joseph's account right from the start: Jacob's favoritism of Joseph, manifested through the famed Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat (though the Bible just uses the word "ornate," and even that's an uncertain translation), leads to his other sons to sell Joseph into slavery.

Again, I'm not a parent yet, but I do know that showing favoritism to one of your kids never ends well. The favored kid may adopt an uppity or entitled attitude, while the unfavored kid(s) will feel demoralized and rejected. Although I'm not the most gregarious person, I do enjoy the company of some people more than the company of others--that's just a human trait. And although I don't trumpet to the four corners of the Earth that I like this person more than that person, my actions do reveal whom I prefer to be around. Well, as a parent, you can't really "prefer to be around" one of your kids more than another lest you evince favoritism. Yes, I'm not a parent myself, but (and this is a fact I've revealed only to a select, lucky few) I happen to have extensive experience being raised by parents. My parents did not show favoritism toward me or my siblings, but if they had, I definitely would not have dealt with it well.

Joseph and his brothers did not deal well with their father's favoritism either. Joseph acts like an obnoxious little prig, tactlessly crowing to his brothers about his visions of supremacy over them, causing them to resent him even more. Joseph's brothers soon see an opportunity to get back at the "dreamer," but their revenge goes far beyond giving him a wedgie or noogie. They actually want to kill him. Yes, Joseph was being a bit of an insufferable brat, but that's certainly no grounds for killing someone. (Very few people would be alive today if that were the case.) Reuben (of pastrami fame) tells his younger brothers to stash Joseph in a well; Reuben plans to sneak Joseph back out and return him home. But while Reuben wanders off to perfect his Thousand Island dressing recipe, Judah and the other brothers sell Joseph into slavery. Not good, but still better than outright murdering him.

Because Joseph's brothers thought about their plan before carrying it out, they kept themselves from committing a heinous crime. Sometimes, I'm tempted to do something unwise, but if I prayerfully think about it beforehand, I stave off embarrassment. Occasionally, I get sucked into reading YouTube comments (which serve as the nexus of ignoramuses, so I don't know why I keep reading them); at times, I'm sorely attempted to create an account just so I can bicker with imbeciles who write patently pea-brained comments, such as all Democrats/Republicans suck, women/men aren't talented enough to do such and such, or Hans Zimmer is better than John Williams. So far, I've avoided being drawn into that vortex of vituperative vitriol. But if I go further and bring all my decisions prayerfully before God, I can avoid making foolhardy choices.

Genesis 35-36

Following the rather horrid Dinah Debacle, God (referring to Himself in the third person, for some reason) tells Jacob to leave this nasty place and head for Bethel (the place where, if you remember, Jacob had his little Led Zeppelin vision). Jacob and his clan do have to change their clothes and part with their foreign gods--sorry, Rachel--but that must have been easy enough. However, it must have taken supreme willpower for them to get rid of their precious earrings.

As a result, however, God protects Jacob and his family, conferring on him the covenant promise He had given to Abraham and Isaac. I don't want to get into a "conditional" mindset with God (and right on cue, here come those dreaded memories of geometry proofs again). If I get rid of the distractions of my life, I shouldn't expect God to subsequently shower me with a free house, 29 flunkies, and unlimited In-N-Out burgers. At the same time, I also know that I do need to get rid of the diversions in life that keep me from God. Again, not that He calls us to be ascetics, but I have to be careful so I can keep a healthy balance, putting God first.

Rachel dies giving birth to Benjamin (be careful what you wish for). In her precious, final breath, she actually names him Ben-Oni. But Jacob renames him, following Mahalalel's example (chapter 5) and presciently giving his son a name that the other kids won't make fun of on the playground. It's nice that Jacob cares about his son's well-being, but I can't help thinking that contradicting your dying wife's final declaration is a bit of a d*** move.

In verse 22, the author glosses an event that will prove portentous: Reuben, Jacob's oldest son, sleeps with his father's concubine. And dear old Dad finds out. The Bible rather ominously doesn't elaborate any further, but an elephant never forgets; this little event will come back to bite Reuben in the butt in chapter 49. Oh well; at least he gets a delicious sandwich named after him.

Chapter 36 features yet another scintillating genealogy. This chapter does mention that Esau and Jacob have to part ways because they have too much livestock; I suppose all their goats and sheep are decimating the greenery and leaving aromatic deposits behind. That's as deep as I'll get in this conclusion; if you want something of more substance, you can read the second paragraph again.

Genesis 34

Jacob's decision to loiter around instead of returning to the home God promised him leads to a rather unsavory incident. A malefactor named Shechem rapes Jacob's daughter Dinah, and then has the temerity to ask Jacob and his sons to take her as his wife. What exactly did he think they were going to say? Sadly, it probably was the norm to treat women like objects, so I suspect Shechem expected Jacob and Co. to hand her over. As a prince (his father, Hamor, ruled that area), he was also probably used to getting his own way.

In a rather cruel yet morbidly humorous trick, Jacob's sons say that all of the males in Hamor's tribe must circumcise themselves if they want to intermarry with Jacob's clan. Utterly smitten with Dinah, Shechem agrees without a second thought. We all know the saying "adding insult to injury," but Dinah's brothers, Simeon and Levi, add death to injury by slaughtering all the men in Hamor's city--while "all of them were still in pain" (verse 25). Shechem, at least, probably deserved it.

Dinah is a non-entity in this story; all the guys do the work for her. I'm glad that society has progressed enough that we (for the most part) allow women to speak for themselves and stand on their own, though we still have some ways to go. But you know who else was also a non-entity in this story? You guessed it--Frank Stallone, I mean Jacob. In verse 5, when he hears what's been done to his daughter, he dallies around, waiting until his sons come home. If Dinah were my daughter, I'd be so apoplectic and appalled that I don't know how exactly I'd react, but I certainly wouldn't bide my time waiting for my sons to get home. His sons devise this whole plan while Jacob observes mutely; only after the fact in verse 30 does he scold his sons for making them "obnoxious" to the surrounding tribes. Well, Jacob, why didn't you speak up before your sons decided to butcher a whole city whose men were still clutching their nether regions?

I get that we're not getting every single detail of this story; Jacob indeed might have actually been concerned about his daughter (you know, the person who was actually raped). Perhaps his seeming detachment was a coping mechanism? I hope that I will never have to deal with anything like this, but if I do, I pray that I will react better than Jacob did. At the same time, while I respect that Dinah's brothers didn't sell her out, I also don't think they should have punished the whole city for one man's crime. Maybe they the whole city was wicked (like Sodom), but I certainly can't use that to justify any of my actions. And while the brothers had their vengeance, it seems that Dinah was left neglected when she really could have used some succor. It might be a little conceited for me to think that I'll be in a situation in which I am someone's ONLY source of comfort, support, and encouragement, but who knows? At any rate, that shouldn't stop me from offering those qualities anyway.

Genesis 33

Jacob finally prepares to run the gauntlet and confront Esau, putting the "female servants and their children" first, then Leah and her brood, then Rachel and Joseph (verse 2). I'm reminded of Magneto's line in the third X-Men film: "In chess, the pawns go first." I guess it makes sense that Jacob wants to protect his favored wife, but he is using children as human shields to do so.

Of course, all of Jacob's fraught precautions are for naught, as Esau runs to him with open arms. I wrote before that I've always felt bad for Esau despite his boneheadedness, so you can probably guess that their reconciliation gives me that warm, fuzzy feeling. It's all good in the hood, as Mr. Rogers might say.

I will concede that sometimes, nasty situations come out of nowhere. Other times, we anticipate a distressing situation, and when it comes, it's just as bad as we thought it would be. But sometimes, I worry needlessly. I used to play the clarinet in elementary, middle, and high school, and I always dreaded seating auditions. In high school especially I didn't practice as much as I could have, but even when I did, my nerves were jittery with tension. Yet I never ended up squeaking (the bane of a reed instrumentalist's existence) and pretty much always managed to get the first part. (The clarinet section was split into two or three parts, with the first part often being the most interesting to play.) I guess a small amount of worry was healthy because it spurred me to actually practice, but my stress was definitely out of proportion to the result.

Jacob asks Esau to stop smothering him, presumably so he can have some breathing room. However, as we'll later learn, Jacob will not actually follow Esau all the way home. Does Jacob still feel guilty for what he's done, afraid that his brother will change his mind? Either way, he still doesn't seem to completely trust his brother's change of heart.

Going back to Esau--what a transformation. When Jacob left, Esau vowed to murder him. Now, he's welcoming him, shedding unrestrained tears when he could have very easily clung to his grudge the whole time. While I'm not one to hold grudges, that's probably because I've been blessed enough not to have been egregiously wronged by anybody yet. I'm sure it will happen someday, and when it does, I hope I'll be able to follow Queen Elsa of Arendelle's example without becoming a doormat. After all, if Esau had still wanted to kill Jacob, life would have been a bit more difficult for all parties involved. I've read in numerous places that if you forgive someone, it benefits you the most. In this case, however, Jacob was probably glad too that Esau decided to forgive him. Forgiveness… such a simple concept with no real drawbacks, yet so difficult at times to put into practice.

Genesis 32

This chapter kicks off with an event that most would consider momentous: Jacob meets some of God's angels. No doubt some people today would immediately whip out their selfie sticks and take a picture to upload to Instagram or Twitter--making sure to add 30 irrelevant hashtags, thus simultaneously annoying normal human beings and evincing ignorance of how hashtags should actually be used. (I was about to facetiously write "Never," but thought better of it; I'm glad no one will ever know the grievous mistake I almost made.) And yet, this event only receives only a cursory, almost offhand mention from the author. Why? Maybe because Jacob is about to have an even more spiritually pivotal encounter in just a few short verses.

Before that encounter, though, Jacob frets about his reunion with Esau. He's so disquieted that he prays to God, asking Him for protection. OK, in verse 12, he does stick in a reminder of God's promise to him--as if God needed reminding. It could come across as an attempt to guilt trip God, but that's probably reading too much into it. Like many other Christians (I suspect), I cry out to God when something untoward happens--I had a bad cold recently (a few days ago by the time you read this post--or a 70 years ago if you're reading this in 2095) and I just felt like a miserable little wretch. The worst of it happened on my day off, so I was praying--rather querulously, I must admit--that I would get better by the time I had to go back to work the next day. Well, I wasn't quite 100%, but I was able to function. But when I think back, the last time I got a fever, it was also on one of my days off. God provides, even when He knows that I tend to pray to Him only when in dire need. I do know, however, that God doesn't always answer our prayers. Loved ones are taken from us, misfortunes befall us, tragedies leave us bereft of solace. You can probably guess what I'm going to write next: I don't have any answers.

Before meeting Esau, Jacob wrestles with God. Just as Jacob's getting the upper hand, God reminds him of who he's dealing with, incapacitating Jacob's hip. But Jacob has grown enough that he can recognize God and thus ask Him for a blessing. I don't know if I wrestle with God--as I mentioned before, I tend to ignore Him. But I suppose that's also a form of "fighting" with Him, keeping Him from working in and through me. As a result, I become more selfish and prideful. Now, if you've been kind enough to have been reading these prosy little posts, you probably know that I don't boast a whole lot. But I am prideful in thinking that I can live my life as a Christian without fully committing to a relationship with Christ. How hypocritical is that? At any point, God could metaphorically disable my hip. As always, I need to rely on God and remember to live completely for Him.

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.

Genesis 30

Leah and Rachel, in their jealousy of each other, start off a baby war, to the point of dragging their servants into it. In verse 1, Rachel even says to Jacob, "Give me children, or I'll die!" Rather histrionic--plus, Rachel doesn't seem to understand the biology of conception. After all, Jacob conceived kids with Leah just fine, so the problem's not on his end.

Perhaps it's wrong to look at this from a modern, scientific viewpoint; I'm sure that, if humankind still exists thousands of years from now, they'll guffaw at our ignorance. "How could they have been so uncertain about quantum mechanics and cosmology? Even my kid understands the explanation for dark matter!" I mean, both Leah and Rachel still believe that mandrakes will magically get them pregnant. I love the pickup line Leah uses on Jacob in verse 16 to get him to sleep with her:

"I have hired you with my son's mandrakes."

Well, there's no way any red-blooded guy is going to say no to that titillating little line.

I won't ever find myself in the situation of having two wives (especially as I'm never going to convert to Mormonism), but I think we've all felt tinges of jealousy toward others. With the dissemination of social media, now we're even more exposed to the carefully crafted highlights of our friends' lives. Sure, Leah had more kids, but Rachel was the one who received more love from her husband. Or: Sure, Rachel received more love from her husband, but Leah had more kids. It's so easy now to forget or brush aside our blessings, triumphs, and moments of elation and instead wallow in our misfortunes, failures, and seasons of despondency. The nadirs of our lives will never match up to the acmes of others' lives, but many of us insist on making such comparisons.

Before Jacob decides to up sticks, Laban attempts to take advantage of him yet again. When Jacob asks for the speckled sheep and goats from Laban's flock, Laban dutifully agrees before surreptitiously removing said speckled animals. However, Jacob gets the last laugh by holding branches in front of the stronger animals when they're "in heat" (verse 41) so their offspring become speckled. That's not quite how things work in scientific terms; if I hold up a purple piece of paper in front of a couple getting busy, their baby won't come out with purple skin. God clearly had a hand in this.

Now and again, I do admit to going through elaborate contrivances as Laban did in order to get my way. Often, God says, "Oh yeah?" and arranges matters so that I end up having to face what I tried so hard to avoid. And you know what? Most of the time, it's not as bad as I thought. And even when it is that bad, I know God is building my character. Who knew that Calvin's dad could be right about something?