What’s Your Name?

Genesis 32:9-12, 22-32[1]

Herman Melville’s classic story Moby Dick begins with an interesting line: “Call me Ishmael.” Now, to the average person that probably doesn’t mean much today. It sounds to most of us like a typical name for an American whaler in the 19^th Century— a bit old-fashioned. But Melville was writing to an audience he knew would assume more than that. You see, “Ishmael” is the name of an outcast. Ishmael was Abraham’s son who was rejected, banished from his home, and sent out into the desert with his mother to die.[2] Although the narrator of Moby Dick is the only one to have survived the tragedy of the good ship Pequod, he considers himself to be unlucky, rejected—an outcast. When he says, “Call me Ishmael,” it’s almost as if he’s apologizing for even existing!

We live in a much more “enlightened” era—we know better than to assume that our name somehow reflects who we are. Most of us were raised with the phrase, “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” And so we know better than to let “name-calling” get to us, or to indulge in such uncivilized behavior! (My tongue is firmly in my cheek at this point!).

Of course not! Names are important, whether or not we choose to acknowledge it. Would you ever name a daughter “Jezebel”? Or who would name a son “Judas”? There are definite associations with those names in our culture that effectively remove them from the list of most parents’ possible baby names. The truth is that names do matter—not only our own names but also the names we create to attack and demean others.

When Jacob approached his homeland, he had been away from home some 15 years. And yet he was still afraid of what he might face when he met his brother Esau, whom he cheated out of his birthright. So Jacob did what he always did—he tried to manipulate the outcome by sending messengers to appease Esau (cf. Gen. 32:4–5). But instead of receiving word of his brother’s disposition, all they reported to Jacob was that Esau was coming with four hundred men, a small army!

So Jacob the deceiver continued his manipulative ways by dividing his caravan. He sent several groups of animals ahead as a gift to Esau, separating them into different groups, perhaps to magnify the size of the gift, perhaps to achieve the desired effect of placating Esau with repeated offers of good will. Jacob then sent his wives and children across the Jabbok River, and “strategically” remained behind! After all that Jacob had been through, it seems that he had not learned a thing!

Then Jacob did something we only hear of him doing one other time—he prayed! He prayed earnestly for God to deliver him from danger and rescue him from vengeance at the hand of his brother Esau. And in response Jacob encountered an unknown adversary attacking him in the night! He wrestled with this “someone” all night, and apparently was able to hold his own! At the end, Jacob’s adversary asked him his name, and the fact that he replied with “Jacob” suggests that he was admitting his character as a deceiver. Somehow this wrestling match brought Jacob to the place where he could finally admit to himself and to another who he really was—a liar, a cheat, and a fraud.[3] Jacob’s adversary then renamed him “Israel,” meaning “one who strives with God and with men and prevails.”[4]

It was only at the end of this strange wrestling match that Jacob realized he had actually been struggling with God! So he named the place “Peniel” in honor of the fact that he had seen God face to face and yet lived. Jacob crossed the river to rejoin his family, with a new limp to remind him of his encounter with God. The result was that instead of slinking up to his brother behind his wives and children, as he had originally planned, he went ahead of them. When Jacob met Esau, he was a changed man—so he humbly bows down to him seven times. Esau, himself a changed man, embraced his brother and forgave Jacob his past wrongs.

Thomas Moore, in Care of the Soul, reminds us that the first step toward embracing the life we have may very well be to embrace who we are. We can only embrace those around us when we can embrace ourselves, and we can only embrace ourselves when we can acknowledge who we are—all of who we are![5] Unfortunately, many of us are like the beautiful young man Narcissus of Greek mythology, or like Jacob the deceiver—we cannot really embrace those around us because we cannot embrace ourselves! The tragedy is that it leaves us disconnected, both from our own life and from the lives of our family and friends.[6] And if we never have to face who we are, like Jacob did, we may wind up selfish, rigid, intolerant, and perhaps even bitter![7]

The problem is that, like Jacob, we have to be “dislocated” or perhaps even “broken” in order to come to the place where we can actually look ourselves in the face and not only acknowledge what we see—all of what we see—but also actually embrace it![8] That’s what happened to me 8 years ago—I lost everything that meant anything to me. At the time I thought my family life was through and my career was over. Before my divorce, I was a lot like Jacob—very wrapped up with reaching my personal goals but not very connected with the people around me. But after all I went through, I came out much more comfortable with who I am—all of who I am, the good and the not-so-good! That kind of experience is one that many of us go through at one time in our lives or another. But the good news is that it brings us to the place where we can acknowledge our own name, with everything that goes with it, and that frees us to embrace our lives and the lives of those around us in the joy of friendship and love that God intends for us.

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[1] © 2008 Alan Brehm. A sermon preached by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 10/26/08 at First Presbyterian Church, Dickinson, TX and at A Community of the Servant-Savior Presbyterian Church, Houston, TX.

[2] The only other significant “Ishmael” in the whole Bible is Ishmael the son of Nethaniah, who assassinated the Babylonian governor who was appointed over the Jewish people after the fall of Jerusalem and then proceeded to kidnap his court (2 Kings 25:23, 25; Jeremiah 41).

[3] On this and other interpretations of the story, see Frederick C. Holmgren, “Holding Your Own Against God,” Interpretation (1990): 5-17.

[4] Jacob’s new name signifies the change in his character in an ironical manner. The name “Israel” itself means “God strives” or “God rules” (Holman Bible Dictionary, 722); in this text, however, the meaning of the name is interpreted as “one who strives with God and with men and prevails.” In a sense, because of Jacob’s resistance to God’s purposes, God was “striving” against him; yet in another sense, though Jacob was certainly “striving” against God, God graciously allowed Jacob to “prevail” by blessing him (cf. G. Wenham, Genesis 16–50, 303).

[5] Thomas Moore, Care of the Soul, 57.

[6] Moore, Care of the Soul, 58.

[7] Moore, Care of the Soul, 65-67.

[8] Moore, Care of the Soul, 61-62. Stuck with a certain “image” of ourselves that gets in the way of relating to others.

Risking Family

Genesis 17:1-8, 15-22[1]

Families. What can we say about them? It seems we either love them or hate them. Given the necessities of biology, everybody has some kind of family somewhere. Of course, that doesn’t mean that everybody wants to have anything to do with their family. In a day and time when the word “family” is glibly thrown out as a political campaign strategy, I think it’s high time we admit the truth—we’re all pretty ambiguous about our families. I guess what you’d have to say about families is: “you can’t live with ‘em, you can’t live without ‘em!”

Thomas Moore has an interesting twist on the family in Care of the Soul. He talks about family in terms of the risks each of us takes in order to engage in family life. Fathers take a risk—you don’t just automatically become a father by procreation! The process of becoming a father is a long and sometimes precarious journey.[2] Motherhood is also a risk—the role of a mother is wonderful but also painful, because in the end you have to let your children go down the paths that could very well destroy them, but it’s the only way for them to find their own individuality.[3] Children face risks: sons have to grow up with an imperfect father, have to set out on their own journey to find out what it means to be a man with their own flaws and foibles that probably resemble those of their fathers.[4] Daughters have to find a way to be a woman in their own right, without the voice of their mothers telling them what they should do differently![5]

It’s interesting that the “first family” of the Bible, the family of Abraham and Sarah, has so much “exposure.” All their dirty laundry is on display in the stories of Genesis. First there’s Abraham, the “prototype” of the kind of faith that God desires from us all—and we see him passing off his wife as his sister in order to save his own skin—not once, but twice (Gen. 12:10-20; 20:1-18)!?![6] Then he sends one son out into the desert to die (Gen. 21:9-14) and takes another son up a mountain to “sacrifice” (Gen. 22:1-13)!?! Sounds like a family I’m not so sure I’d want to be part of. Sounds like a family just like yours and mine!

With a father like Abraham, it’s no wonder Isaac follows in his daddy’s footsteps and puts Rebekah at risk in the same way (Gen. 26:6-11). And in turn, his two sons, Esau and Jacob, wind up estranged from each other over their inheritance (Gen. 27:19-29).[7] Jacob successfully “cheats” his brother Esau and leaves home—only to be cheated in return by his uncle into spending 14 years of indentured labor (Gen. 29:12-30)![8] Then Jacob’s own sons are so resentful of the favored son Joseph that they throw him in a pit, initially planning to kill him, but then they “only” sell him into slavery (Gen. 37:12-28)![9] Sounds like the kind of family we could very well do without![10] And yet, this is the family of promise, the family through whom God determines to bless all the families of the earth (Gen. 12:3)!

Thomas Moore reminds us that one of the most important lessons we can all learn about family is that in a very real sense we cannot choose our family—we’re stuck with them. It’s a lesson most of us have a hard time learning, because we spend our lives in the futile effort to escape the influence of our families—after all, in one respect our families are programmed into our very DNA! But the frantic attempt to escape the influence of your family is a little like trying to cut off a part of your own self! You never can quite accomplish it, and all you’re doing is hurting yourself in the process.

A healthier, happier, less stressful approach is to simply accept our families as they are—warts and all! In a very real sense, we can only be “comfortable in our own skin” when we come to terms with the fact that, for good or for ill, your family is the only one you’ve got! In fact, one of the greatest obstacles most people face in accepting themselves is accepting their family. The sooner you can accept that they are yourfamily, the sooner you’ll be on the road to wholeness.

Although all families have their shortcomings, it is those very challenges they present to us that make our lives rich and meaningful. [11] Like the fires that purify and refine precious metals, the disappointments and heartaches of the family becomes the very means by which we can forge a life for ourselves that is beautiful and precious and fulfilling.

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[1] © 2008 Alan Brehm. A sermon preached by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 10/19/08 at First Presbyterian Church, Dickinson, TX and at A Community of the Servant-Savior Presbyterian Church, Houston, TX.

[2] Thomas Moore, Care of the Soul, 34-39.

[3] Moore, Care of the Soul, 40-49.

[4] Moore, Care of the Soul, 34-35.

[5] Moore Care of the Soul, 43-44, 47.

[6] Of course, we should recognize Abraham’s great faith in other respects of his life, but one wonders where it was when he was so afraid for his own life that he put Sarah’s at risk! We are used to acknowledging Sarah’s “lack” of faith in that she laughed when God promised her a son; perhaps it is time to recognize that both Sarah and Abraham showed both faith and frailty in the course of their life’s journey.

[7] Gordon J. Wenham Genesis 16–50, 214–16, points out that the Genesis narrative is surprisingly restrained in that it does not condemn any one member of this tragic family for their role in it.

[8] Wenham, Genesis 16–50, 237–38, suggests that Jacob’s subsequent experiences seem to fit poetic justice for his own previous deceptions.

[9] Wenham, Genesis 16–50, 351, points to Jacob’s favoritism as causing a complete breakdown in his sons’ relationship with Joseph! Of course, Joseph’s actually recounting his dreams to his brothers suggests that his own selfish absorption must have contributed toward the problem; cf. Wenham, 359-60.

[10] Cf. David L. Peterson, “Genesis and Family Values” Journal of Biblical Literature 124 (2005):14, where he says (or perhaps understates?), “The final chapters of Genesis describe a family in disarray.”

[11] Moore, Care of the Soul, 26, reminds us that “to some extent all families are dysfunctional”! See further, ibid., 27-32.

Sacred Work

Genesis 11:1-9[1]

The 2005 film The World’s Fastest Indian is based on the true adventures of Burt Munro, a sixty-seven year old motorcyclist from New Zealand. Working in a cinder block garage in Invercargill spent 20 years modifying a 1920 Indian Scout motorcycle, which was originally designed to go about 50 miles an hour. In 1967 Burt travelled to the USA to compete at the Bonneville Salt Flats, setting an under-1000cc world record by reaching the speed of 183 mph! During his ten visits to the salt flats, he set three speed records, one of which still stands today.

I think one reason why Burt Munro achieved what many would have thought impossible was because he had a passion for what he was doing. He loved going fast! In fact, at one point, when asked if he’s afraid of being killed in a crash, he says, “You live more in five minutes on a bike like this going flat out than some people live in a lifetime.” Burt’s passion was also fired by his imagination—he could imagine what it looked like to set a land speed record—he could see it, he could taste it, he could feel it in his bones! His dream inspired him to the extent that he spent all his waking moments working on his beloved “old girl,” forging his own tools and parts in his shed. Not only that, but he also overcame a whole list of obstacles, from booking his passage aboard a ship (which included him working for part of the fare), to finding welding tools to repair his makeshift trailer, to talking the officials at Bonneville into letting him race even though they thought he was just a “crazy old coot”! Boy did he prove them wrong!

Our story from Genesis today tells us about a people who had another dream. The people of ancient Mesopotamia decide to build a great city and a tower “with its top in the heavens.” Now, if you think about it, there’s nothing wrong with having a passion for building great cities and impressive towers. But what was wrong was their motivation. They did it to “make a name” for themselves and to prevent them from being “scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth” (Gen. 11:4).[2] They were motivated by one of the oldest motivations of all time: pride.

Now, as we learned from the story of Cain and Abel, there’s nothing wrong with a healthy sense of satisfaction at “being good at what you’re good at.” But the kind of pride that motivated the builders of Babel was different. It’s the kind of pride that many theologians throughout the ages have called the “original” sin![3] Think about it: there’s a huge difference between the joy of finding fulfillment in what you do and the desire to “make a name” for yourself. One can inspire you with the kind of passion that enabled Burt Munro to achieve his dreams. The other will drain you of all imagination and energy, and leave you bitter and angry. Even if you achieve the goal of “making a name” for yourself, you have to guard it jealously because fame is so fleeting.

We are a people who suffer from a serious lack of imagination. The only reason we seem to be able to find for actually pursuing what we do for a living is to “make a name” for oneself or to make a lot of money. Talk about unimaginative! We keep spinning our wheels in the rat race thinking if we only get more fame or more money we’ll finally be “happy.” What’s the definition of insanity? Isn’t it doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results!

Thomas Moore reminds us that we all need to be able to see our work in the context of a larger story, a story that is concerned with what really matters in this world, a story where we make a significant contribution. [4] I would say that before we can do that, we need some idea of the larger story we’re in! This is where our Bible stories can help us. The story of Creation reminds us that we were made for the purpose of contributing to the life and beauty of God’s world. The story of Abraham and Sarah and their descendants reminds us that God’s purposes in this world don’t just “appear” out of thin air—they get done by people with flesh and bones. The story of Jesus impresses upon us the immense value God places on our being able to carry out our part in the larger story of God’s purpose.

That biblical view of God’s story might be overwhelming to you. It’s a pretty big story, after all. As my favorite Reformed Theologian, Jürgen Moltmann, reminds us, that’s the whole point of the story of God’s Spirit. God’s Spirit is poured out on all people in order to us free from everything that keeps us from fulfilling our part in God’s story. The Spirit fills us all in order to energize us to accomplish things we could never even dream of![5]

When we can live our lives in harmony with the story God’s purpose, we can view all our work as God’s work.[6] If we can have the imagination to conceive our work in that way, then all work is sacred work, and we can do it with passion and enthusiasm. Then all work is a “vocation”—a calling from deep within; it is an “occupation”—something that chooses us from outside ourselves; it is “liturgy”—we are contributing toward the well-being of life, and thus participating to God’s ongoing creation.[7]

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[1] © 2008 Alan Brehm. A sermon preached by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 10/12/08 at First Presbyterian Church, Dickinson, TX and at A Community of the Servant-Savior Presbyterian Church, Houston, TX.

[2] Cf. Gordon J. Wenham, Genesis 1-15, 242. Cf. also Walter Brueggemann, Genesis, 99; and Nancy L. deClaissé-Walford, “God Came Down … And Scattered: Acts of Punishment or Acts of Grace,” Review and Expositor 103 (Spring 2006): 403-417; they suggest that the scattering that God effected on them may be construed as a blessing rather than punishment!

[3] See Otto Weber, Foundations of Dogmatics I:571, 600; cf. also Paul Tillich, Systematic Theology, II:50, where he defines sin as “hubris” and says, “Hubris is not one form of sin besides others. It is sin in its total form, namely, the other side of unbelief or man’s turning away from the divine center to which he belongs. It is turning toward one’s self as the center of one’s self and one’s world.”

[4] Thomas Moore, Care of the Soul, 185.

[5] See Jürgen Moltmann, The Spirit of Life: A Universal Affirmation, 114-122.

[6] Cf. Moore, Care of the Soul, 199.

[7] Moore, Care of the Soul, 181-82.

Comfortable in Your Skin

Genesis 4:1-16[1]

As we continue to discuss what it means to embrace life as it is, following Thomas Moore’s advice in his book Care of the Soul, I think one of the serious challenges we face can be summed up in a word: discontent. We are a people who are not content with our lives. How many people do you meet who are content with life just as it is?

The biblical story that I think best exemplifies the problem of being discontent is the story of Cain and Abel. Two brothers, one seemingly content with his life, the other apparently discontent. They have a fateful encounter with God one day, and God accepts the younger brother Abel’s offering but not Cain’s. The biblical text does not explicitly tell us why God did not accept Cain’s offering. The statement in Gen. 4:7 “If you do well, will you not be accepted?” may imply some sort of wrong-doing on Cain’s part.[2] Most commentators throughout history have observed that while Abel offered “the firstlings of his flock, their fat portions” Cain simply “brought to the Lord an offering of the fruit of the ground” (Gen. 4:3-4).[3]

Cain’s anger hints at the real problem—it would seem that he was jealous of his brother.[4] The “death” introduced into the world by Adam and Eve has now spilled over into jealousy and hatred and even violence, and the repercussions continue to reverberate! But what Cain missed was the importance and value attached to his very existence—as attested by his mother’s exclamation (Gen. 4:1).[5] He missed the fact that, “As the first-born, he embodies future possibility.”[6] It’s no wonder his discontent and his jealousy spilled over into violence!

Most of us would rather not fact the fact that we have many conflicting impulses within us, playing themselves out in our lives.[7] Sometimes those conflicts emerge in a way we’d rather not own up to. For example, the experience of jealousy over someone else’s good fortune makes us aware that there are aspects of our character that we’re not entirely fond of.[8] But the irony is that the only way to be free from jealousy’s poison is to embrace that part of us from which it comes.

The same is true of envy. When we are troubled by envy, the reality is that we both want something very badly while at the same time we actually sabotage our ability to attain it.[9] We see our fate as a cruel lot in life, but rather than embracing it and making the best of it, we spend our time and energy detailing the extent to which we have been cheated out of what’s rightfully ours while those around us who are more fortunate have received what they don’t deserve! Under envy’s spell, we spend our lives pining away for some fantasy of “what might have been.”[10]

But like Cain, our underlying problem is that we “fail to see the necessity and value in our own lives”—in the lives we have, our lives just as they are.[11] The truth of human existence is that there is something necessary to our existence in this world. There is something of value that we and only we can contribute to life. When you take that approach, then you have the freedom to “be good at what you’re good at,” regardless of whether you’re a farmer or a shepherd, a carpenter or a tailor, a salesman or a manager, an engineer or an artist, etc., etc.[12] Then you have the joy of finding satisfaction in what you do just because you enjoy doing it!

When we can adopt this approach to our lives, then we find ourselves empowered in a way that nothing can hinder—like a powerful river![13] But when we keep the river dammed up, we shouldn’t be surprised when it bursts out into all kinds of violence—just as with Cain and Abel.[14] The alternative is to simply be yourself—let your “individuality and unique gifts come forth” naturally and of their own, which they inevitably will do![15] That is an incredibly powerful act—perhaps the most powerful act anyone can do! In fact, just one person being willing to take that stance can change the course of the whole world![16]

Contentment is a rare quality these days. We have a phrase that fits the quality of contentment we’re talking about—being “comfortable in your skin.” When we can look at ourselves in the mirror, and recognize in the face we see a person whose life is important, whose life has value, whose life is necessary for the rest of us to thrive, then we can be comfortable in our skin. Then we can know the joy of contentment.

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[1] © 2008 Alan Brehm. A sermon preached by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 10/5/08 at First Presbyterian Church, Dickinson, TX and at A Community of the Servant-Savior Presbyterian Church, Houston, TX

[2] The author of Hebrews says that Abel’s offering was acceptable to God “by faith,” perhaps implying a lack of faith on Cain’s part (cf. Heb. 11:4).

[3] Cf. Gordon J. Wenham, Genesis 1-15, 104; cf. Leon R. Kass, “Farmers, Founders, and Fratricide: The Story of Cain and Abel,” First Things 62 (Apr 1996): 22, who speaks of “the deep ambiguity at the heart of the human impulse to sacrifice,” suggesting, among others, Cain’s desire to “outdo” his brother! Contrast Walter Brueggemann, Genesis, 56, who overstates the case when he says “there is nothing here to disqualify Cain”!

[4] While the Hebrew text lacks the content of what Cain “said” to Abel in Gen. 4:8 (cf. KJV, NASB), the ancient Samaritan, Greek, Syriac, and Latin versions of the account supply what Cain said to his brother as “let us go out into the field,” strengthening the impression that he intentionally killed Abel. CF. Wenham, Genesis 1-15, 106.

[5] Kass, “Farmers, Founders, and Fratricide,” 20, points out Cain is the “the first farmer, the initiator of sacrifices, and the founder of the first city, as well as the progenitor of a line of men that invented the arts—including music and metallurgy”; cf. also Paula M. McNutt, “In The Shadow of Cain,” Semeia 87 (1999): 45-64.

[6] Brueggemann, Genesis, 56; cf. Robert Karl Gnuse, “A Process Theological Interpretation of the Primeval History in Genesis 2-11,” Horizons 29 (2002): 36, who says, “Cain was the center of attention and the hope for Yahweh's future relationship with humanity.”

[7] Moore, Care of the Soul, 98-99.

[8] Moore, Care of the Soul, 103-4.

[9] Moore, Care of the Soul, 113.

[10] Moore, Care of the Soul, 116.

[11] Moore, Care of the Soul, 114-15.

[12] Moore, Care of the Soul, 121.

[13] Moore, Care of the Soul, 119.

[14] Moore, Care of the Soul, 127.

[15] Moore, Care of the Soul, 127.

[16] Moore, Care of the Soul, 135.