Those who wrestle with God

God who is all reality and all identity,

We come together because we need you,

We need each other,

And we need to hear your word.

And if we hear it hear, may we be so possessed by it

That we become servants of it out in your world.

In Christ who was and is and is to come. Amen

Our scripture readings today show us three miracles. One is that great scene in which Jesus serves lunch to a hillside congregation, somehow stretching a few loaves and fishes to satisfy the hunger of thousands. Well, that’s no big deal; my mother used to do it all the time. Really. Un-planned-for company would turn up at our house and she would discreetly set to work, and I knew she had nothing but scraps and leftovers, and somehow, she would assemble a refined feast out of a few stalks of asparagus, half a box of old rye crackers, some cheese, some yoghurt, a couple slices of ham and a cucumber. While doing this she would monitor the conversation in the living room, dropping into it from time to time, and if it wasn’t lively enough she would say something vaguely scandalous and retreat to the kitchen. In short order the table would be set and the candles lit, and two hours later everyone would depart satisfied and enlightened, just like the crowd at the Sea of Galilee. It certainly seemed miraculous to me, every time it happened.

There are two other miracles in our readings for today including the one I wand to talk about in Genesis, in which “Jacob was left alone [all night, on the bank of the river Jabbok]; and a man wrestled with him until the breaking of the day. When the man saw that he did not prevail against Jacob, he struck him on the hip socket; and Jacob’s hip was put out of joint as he wrestled with him. Then the man said, “Let me go, for the day is breaking.” But Jacob said, “I will not let you go, unless you bless me.” So the man said to him, “What is your name?” And he said, “Jacob.” Then the man said, “You shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with humans, and have prevailed.” Then Jacob asked him, “Please tell me your name.” But he said, “Why is it that you ask my name?” And there he blessed him. So Jacob called the place Peniel, saying, “For I have seen God face to face, and yet my life is preserved.” The sun rose upon him as he [went his way], limping because of his hip.”

Ok, Two miracles, one of which Jacob names: I have seen God face to face, and yet my life is preserved which spoke for itself to the Hebrews, as far as miracles go. The other, the most remarkable one of all, is that Jacob wrestles all night with God, God asks to be let go, and Jacob won’t do it until he extracts a blessing. Jacob makes a demand and God complies.

Is our God so human as that, that He can be compelled to do what we ask in return for our grace and cooperation?

Apparently so—He confirms this when He says “you have striven with God and with humans, and you have prevailed.” You have prevailed; you will get your way. Let us not miss that He also confirms His authority by giving Jacob a new name. That name? Isra-El, which translates “wrestles with God” or sometimes “strives with God.”

And so, the word this morning is that God, our god, the god of Israel, is the god of those who “wrestle with God.” God is the god whose grapple leaves us limping—limping and blessed—limping and blessed and known and named.

What on earth are we to do with that? I take for granted that all of you, like me, grapple with the question of where you stand in the universe, where you stand in the community, where you stand in your family. Community is complicated, and family is complicated and vexing, and these fundamental relationships wear us out, mostly because community and family are subject to constant redefinition. If my father or my brother does not accept me are they still my father or my brother? Is one who refuses to call me by my name really a neighbor? Are we in the same community? We know that family estrangements are increasing in our society, and you don’t need me to go on about all the ways our communities are divided in these fractious times. If we do not know where we stand in our families and our communities, we’re not alone, as it were; I hope we can all live long enough to figure some of that stuff out.

But with God and in God, there is no need for estrangement. We can know where we stand, and in particular, we know how we stand. We are those who wrestle. And we are those who limp on our way with God’s blessing. And because we have wrestled and continue to wrestle, we are known and named. Above all, the word this morning is that our being in God and with God is not passive, and it’s not even polite; it requires strenuous engagement and real danger. But the danger is not that we might “lose”. The danger is that we won’t be in relationship with God at all, through our own fear and by our own choosing. The danger is that we will avoid wrestling with God if we can. I might say here that we ought not beg off wrestling with God, but I don't need to because-- and this is the good news-- it can't be done.There is no avoiding God. It can’t be done, and God’s blessing of his people is a given when we wrestle with whatever we wrestle with, because that’s where God is and that’s what God does. All the time.

Amen