Gradually, in the midst of these dark admissions, a strange and wonderful thought began to emerge. First at the edges of his mind and then in a sunburst of revelation. If he could ever be sure it was Elohim’s choice for him to have the birthright and the blessing, could he not also believe there was also a good plan for Esau? Esau was very different. He wanted different things, had different goals. He was a man who judged his success in physical terms: his land, his wives, his herds, and the chance to amass a fortune.
Jacob was so excited he jumped up and paced back and forth. All these years he had felt such guilt. Of course he had been wrong to go about it in such an unscrupulous way. But what if Elohim knew that the blessing wouldn’t fit Esau? Esau was not a man who would ponder the ways of his God or bother to build altars. He plunged into life with full assurance that he would succeed. If he made mistakes, he didn’t mull over them; he just altered his course.
It was late but Jacob could hardly contain his excitement. He sat down on an outcropping of rock and leaned back on his elbows so he could look at the stars. His father, Isaac, had set great store by the stars. With only the two sons, he still believed his descendants would be as the stars in number and as the grains of sand. Of course both Abraham and Isaac had envisioned these descendants being perfect. What would they have thought of Dinah’s willingness to give herself to a man who wasn’t her husband, his sons’ ugly slaughter at Shechem, and the many idols he had found among his own family? Esau too had disappointed his father with his idol-worshiping wives.
Jacob felt a great stillness settle over him. It was beyond remorse or guilt. He no longer excused himself, nor did he try to hide from ugly truths. He had nothing to offer Elohim but himself, and now he had to admit that if he were Elohim, he would not place even one bet on him. At the Jabbok when the stranger had wrestled with him and then called him Israel, the full extent of his unworthiness had not become evident. Now he was sure the wrestler would never call him Israel.
Jacob realized it was late and that he should return to his tent, but he was strangely hesitant. He was vaguely aware that all their campfires had been extinguished; the pinprick of light from clay lamps no longer glistened through the rough camel hair of the tents stretched out below him. The distant, muffled murmur of voices had died down and even the bleating of the lambs had ceased. The full moon rode high over the distant mountains above the Jordan.
A slight breeze began to blow. The sand at his feet rose in small clouds; the olive tree at his back came alive at the wind’s movement. Clouds scudded across the sky and covered the moon. He tried to stand but felt the growing tug of the wind pulling at his cloak, dislodging his headpiece, and pushing him back onto the stone seat. There was something almost human about the wind’s attack. He felt a powerful presence hovering over and around him. He cringed, covered his face with his hands.
Just as suddenly as it had begun, the wind ceased and a strange calm surrounded him. Then out of the midst of the silence, he heard the familiar voice. “You shall no longer be called Jacob the grabber,” the voice said, “but you shall be called Israel, one who prevails with God.” Jacob began to weep. He could hardly believe what he was hearing. “I am El Shaddai, the Almighty God,” the voice continued. “I will cause you to become a great nation, even many nations. Kings will be among your descendants. I will give to you and your descendants the land I gave to Abraham and Isaac.”
Jacob had fallen on his face at the first sound of the voice. He was aware of a great and blazing light and was not surprised that the being identified Himself as El Shaddai. This was the glorious God of Abraham and Isaac his father. The same God who had spoken to them was speaking to him. He knew he would never forget one word that had been spoken, but most of all he would remember he was to be called Israel, meaning God’s Prince. He really was to have a new name and the name was a wonderful name. “Israel,” he repeated over and over, with a great joy welling up in his heart.
He was awake the rest of the night, trying to grasp the meaning of what had happened to him. With the first streaks of dawn rising over the mountains of the Jordan, he woke the whole camp to tell them what had happened. He led them back to the hallowed spot and challenged them to build a pillar of the stones to make a memorial. “Such a wonderful happening must never be forgotten,” he said.
* * *
While they were busy constructing the pillar, someone shouted that a strange caravan was approaching from the south. The lead camel bore a litter on its back that was plain but well made and suggested the passenger inside might be a lady who was not well. To everyone’s surprise the small caravan did not go on past. Instead it paused while the curtains of the litter were drawn back, and a very old lady leaned out and looked around. “Is this the camp of a prince called Jacob? I was told I could find him here,” she said.