The Sons of Isaac(97)

Jacob moved down to the brook Jabbok and camped there while he waited. He had done all he could to placate his brother. The waiting was nerve-wracking. He paced back and forth, trying to imagine the worst that might happen. With four hundred men, Esau could quickly wipe out his whole family. He struggled to think of some preparation he could make that would lessen the blow.

He finally reasoned that Esau would be looking for him, not his family. He must somehow separate himself from his family. He walked around thinking and planning, and finally he came to a decision. He would divide his family into two camps. Leah and her children would be in the first camp that Esau would meet, and Rachel and her children in the second.

It took the whole day to accomplish, but when night fell Jacob was still not satisfied. He tried to sleep but was too disturbed. It seemed to him that there must be something more that he could do. He finally rose and woke his wives and their children. “I have decided,” he said, “that it will be safer if we put the river between us. It’s me he will be looking for, and he will not harm you until he first finds me.”

They quickly passed over the Jabbok and settled down for the rest of the night, leaving Jacob alone on the opposite bank. The moon rose over the Gilead mountains behind him, touching the rocks and shrubs with a soft light but leaving the gorge of the Jabbok dark and shadowed. He could hear nothing but the rushing water crashing against the rocks and gurgling in its hurried descent.

A cold, damp, chilling mist rose along the rocky banks of the river. Jacob shuddered and hurried to wrap himself in his sheepskin cloak. He found a level space with soft tufts of grass and lay down, making sure he could keep watch over his family on the far bank.

Now that he was quiet, he could hear the sound of a child crying faintly and far away. One of his shepherds was playing his flute. Everything was calm and peaceful. It seemed hard to imagine that disaster could be coming toward them up the Jordan valley.

No sooner had he settled himself to sleep than he was suddenly aroused by the soft crunching sound of sandaled feet walking somewhere nearby. Then a shower of stones was dislodged above him. He jumped up and was immediately wrestled to the ground by a large man who seemed to have sprung at him out of the darkness. He assumed it was Esau come to take his revenge. Fear drove him to desperate measures. He wrestled, exerting every bit of strength at his command. The moon came out from behind a cloud and shone for just a moment on the man’s face, and Jacob saw that it was not Esau. It made no difference. The man had attacked him and he must prevail at all costs.

The man was stronger and bigger than Jacob, but Jacob tussled and wrestled him to the ground again and again. Sheer terror enflamed him. When Jacob would not give up, the stranger lightly touched the hollow of his thigh, putting it out of joint. Jacob was in excruciating pain but even then he would not give up.

“Let me go,” the man said. “The day is breaking.”

Exhausted, dripping with sweat and caked with mud, Jacob clung to him. “I will not let you go unless you bless me,” he gasped.

“What is your name?” the man asked, still trying to pull away.

“Jacob! My name is Jacob,” he almost sobbed.

There was a pause and then looking down at Jacob, the man said, “Your name is no longer Jacob but Israel, for as a prince you have prevailed. You have power with both God and man.”

Jacob stumbled to his feet and peered through strands of matted hair at the man. “What is your name?” he questioned softly.

“Why must you know my name?” the man asked. “It is enough that I have blessed you.” With that he was gone as mysteriously as he had appeared.

Jacob lay back exhausted. He must have dozed, because in what seemed just moments, the sun was up over the distant mountains, birds were singing, and the terror of the night was completely gone. Jacob felt oddly refreshed. He roused and looked around, remembering the struggle with the stranger of the night before. Surely it was just a dream.

Then he rose and found his hip was painful where the stranger had touched him. He took a few steps and found that he limped. With difficulty he made his way down to the river and knelt to wash his face. Stooping was painful. He saw his image in the water waver and break. “This is no longer Jacob,” he said with amazement. “I am no longer the trickster, the supplanter; I am Israel, God’s prince.”

He laughed a joyful, excited, gut-shaking laugh. “All my life I have had to plot and scheme to get ahead. I never dared to face a man or a problem head-on. Last night I wrestled with no tricks and won. I am Israel!”

The word sounded beautiful, even musical. He said it softly, then chanted it, then shouted the word so it echoed against the rocky heights behind him. He wanted to leap and run and dance, but his hip was too painful.