The Stolen Blessing

An old man reaches out in the dark. His eyes no longer work. His fingers find a hairy arm, and he frowns. “The voice is Jacob’s voice,” he murmurs, “but the hands are the hands of Esau.”

Isaac is old now, and his eyes have grown so dim he can barely see. He believes his life may be nearing its end. So he calls his elder son. “Esau. Take your bow and go out to the open country. Hunt some game for me, and make me the tasty food I love. Bring it to me to eat, so that I may bless you before I die.” Esau grabs his bow and goes. But someone else has been listening. Rebekah.

Rebekah finds Jacob, her favourite. “Listen to me. Go to the flock and bring me two good young goats. I’ll cook them just the way your father likes. Then you’ll take the food to him, and he will bless you instead of Esau.” Jacob is worried, but not about whether it is wrong. About getting caught. “Esau is a hairy man, and I have smooth skin. What if my father touches me? He’ll know I’m tricking him, and I’ll bring a curse on myself instead of a blessing.” “Let the curse fall on me,” says his mother. “Just do what I say.” So she cooks the meal. She dresses Jacob in Esau’s best clothes. She covers his hands and the smooth part of his neck with goatskins. And she sends him in.

“My father.” “Here I am. Who are you, my son?” “I am Esau, your firstborn.” The first lie. “Sit up and eat, so you can bless me.” “How did you find it so quickly?” “The Lord your God gave me success.” The second lie, and this one uses God’s name. “Come close,” says Isaac, “so I can touch you.” He runs his hands over the goatskins. “The voice is Jacob’s voice, but the hands are the hands of Esau. Are you really my son Esau?” “I am.” Isaac eats. Then he says, “Come here and kiss me.” He smells the outdoor scent of Esau’s clothes, and he blesses him. “May God give you the dew of heaven and the richness of the earth, plenty of grain and new wine. May nations serve you. Be lord over your brothers.”

Jacob has hardly left the tent when Esau comes in from hunting, carrying a steaming dish. “Father, sit up and eat, so you can bless me.” “Who are you?” “I am your son, your firstborn, Esau.” And Isaac begins to tremble, violently. “Then who was it who brought me game? I ate it all before you came, and I blessed him. And indeed, he will be blessed.” When Esau hears this, he cries out with a loud and bitter cry. “Bless me, even me also, O my father!” “Your brother came deceitfully and took your blessing.” “Isn’t he rightly named Jacob? He has cheated me twice. First my birthright, and now my blessing. Have you not kept one blessing for me?” And Esau weeps aloud.

Isaac does speak words over Esau, but they are harder words. He will live by the sword, and serve his brother, though one day he will break free. And Esau’s grief turns to hatred. “The days of mourning for my father are near,” he says to himself. “Then I will kill my brother Jacob.” Someone tells Rebekah. Once again she makes a plan. “Your brother is planning revenge. Run to my brother Laban in Haran, and stay there a while, until Esau’s anger cools.” A while. Rebekah thinks it will be a few days. As far as Genesis tells us, she never sees her favourite son again.

Why couldn’t Isaac simply take the blessing back? In the world of Genesis, a father’s solemn blessing, especially one spoken near the end of his life, was more than a nice wish. It was understood as a binding word, passed from one generation to the next, and spoken before God. That is why Isaac says of Jacob, “and indeed, he will be blessed.” Once given, it stood. The same pattern appears later, when Jacob, now old himself, blesses his own sons and grandsons.

The stolen blessing. It is told in Genesis chapter twenty-seven. Every person in this family schemed or played favourites, and every one of them paid a price. And yet God did not abandon them; his promises would still go forward, through people who badly needed grace. So here is the question. Is there a shortcut you are tempted to take that might cost more than you think?