One of my dear companions from Union Seminary in NYC, Anna Olson, preached on this Genesis text in our third and final year at Union. Her sermon and the image of Jacob wrestling with the stranger in the night have stuck in my head ever since. Anna’s words and images at that time are still vital to my reading and interpretation of this story at this time.

There was Jacob, traveling with his entire household in tow, not entirely sure where he was going, and he finally managed to send them all across a stream. After a long journey, including an intense encounter with his estranged brother, Esau, Jacob just might have thought he was going to get some rest. But instead, he was knocked down by a stranger who was relentless in wrestling with Jacob throughout the night.

This was a relentless wrestling match.

Can you picture this in your mind? Jacob and this stranger—trying to out maneuver, out rank, out power each other, sweating, muscles aching, minds strategizing, and neither one giving up all through the night.

The stranger, in a conniving moment, realizes that he needs to do something since Jacob is still in the game. So the stranger decided to play dirty, and he hits Jacob on his hip, an essential body part in ancient times to get to-and-from anywhere on a journey.

Jacob’s hip becomes dislocated but even then Jacob does not give up.

This wrestling match continues on and can you imagine Jacob’s pain, the ache, the torture of wrestling with a dislocated hip?  Jacob is being pushed to the threshold of his mental and physical limits.

Finally, the stranger says to Jacob, “Let me go, for dawn is breaking.” But Jacob answers,
“I will not let you go, unless you bless me.” At the end of this wrestling match, the unknown figure finally asks Jacob his name and Jacob replies. The angel gives Jacob a blessing and Jacob is given a new name---Israel.

Blessings were a crucial element to faith in ancient times; to be blessed meant to be favored by God. Jacob went to great lengths to be blessed, even deceiving his brother,
Esau, to receive the family blessing from their father, Isaac. Blessings were a turning point in life and identity. A blessing was an opening in ones life that expanded possibilities. People waited lifetimes to receive blessings.

Being re-named Israel represents a vast possibility, as yet unrealized. It represents a people, a covenant, and a new relationship with God. Jacob is Israel; he is the beginning of history, the beginning of a long, long story of God’s engagement with the land and God’s people.

But here’s the catch: this is a genesis moment; this is the origin of a people coming into being. But the stranger doesn’t say to Jacob, “Ok, Go back across the stream. Get your family together and go south. Turn left at the next rock, then right at that small village and go on this way….and once you get there, you are going to have this many children, to this, that and the other….”

Jacob gets no such directions. He has now become this new being and is left without knowing what to do next.

My friend, Anna, in her sermon on this text, wrote she wishes the stranger would have said something eloquent and dramatic at this threshold moment to at least acknowledge the unknown. Something like this:

Oh, Jacob. A blessing is not a straight path laid out for you to walk down. To ask for a blessing is to ask for courage to walk where there is no path. But walking where there is no path doesn’t mean that you are alone, and it doesn’t mean that you are lost. Because you walk in the knowledge that you are part of God’s creation. You are part of a vision that has been revealed, a vision of the world transformed, a world where love and justice and peace rule over creation. A world where the children of God know that they are loved and are able to love each other without hurting one another.

From this place where you enter this world where there is no path, you have to learn to seek out your own way. There is both freedom and responsibility in a blessing. You have to struggle to understand how your life is going to serve this vision that has been laid out for you.

But Jacob got no such clarity. The stranger didn’t even say, “Good luck.”

Jacob just knows he has seen the Holy One face-to-face and with the run rising in glory, he continues on with his journey, with no clear destination, limping with his dislocated hip.

Over these summer months, we have been living with our Pentecost theme of the Work of the Spirit by hearing stories like we heard from Gregg Seppala this morning.

As we come to an end with this theme and particular set of storytelling, it is important to look back and get a collective sense of what we have witnessed in our testimonies.

Here is a quick re-cap of some of the stories:

Ann Krehbiel: As Ann enters her senior year at Mary Washington, she is terrified of her next steps, unsure of what’s next but still trying to be the person she wants to be in this transition.

Yvonne Kavuo: Yvonne, an HIV/AIDS activist from the Congo, recalled the death of her sister 10 years ago from complications from AIDS and the vision of her next steps being blurred by grief and skepticism but trusting the Spirit that burns bright.

Matt Boote, our Pilgrimage Program Manager. After a 48 hour plunge on the streets where Matt slept, ate and lived among the homeless, Matt came face-to-face with his rawest and most visceral emotions about himself, poverty, and homelessness. The experience muddied his view of homelessness, left him more confused than ever, but Matt was clear the confusion was part of the work of the Spirit.

Marilyn Lutter spoke about life after the death of her beloved, Rudy; trying to figure out how life goes on after the death of a spouse.

Chelsy Weber imagined herself in law school as a lawyer working for the public interest. Right now she has found herself in corporate law, not exactly fulfilling her vision of serving others. Until things change, Chesly is mindfully aware that the Spirit has use for her in the here and now.

Steve Coxe intentionally works at taking Sunday into the rest of his week, especially as he works through a conflicted relationship with a co-worker.

Kathy Keler: After a year of struggling with depression, Kathy has realized, as she looks back, that the Spirit never abandoned her and while she doesn’t know what tomorrow will bring, she can remember that experience of loss of control---and know that she will be OK.

Mary Judy shared that the Spirit has worked through her in acts of sharing as she reflects on her faith growing up and her relationship with her mom and family. Through various experiences of sharing, Mary has widened the perspective she has on herself, her relationship with her partner Chuck, and her faith.

For me, these stories have lots of things in common but I see a thread that weaves these stories together----our storytellers have been through or are going through a wrestling match. Wrestling with depression, conflict, life after the death of a spouse, life after college, life in transition, justice issues, vocation, the intersection between being an adult and becoming more of an adult….all of these experiences take me back to Jacob wrestling with the stranger.

Our storytellers have wrestled with the Spirit—our meaning maker—to name the realizations and learnings from their experiences. A handful of our storytellers walked away from the communion table with tears in their eyes—emotionally limping and revealing how deeply impacted they are by struggle to be whole, healthy, and living with a purpose.

While these storytellers didn’t have something as dramatic as Jacob becoming Israel, becoming a new community for God’s people, you can’t come out of these experiences
of the work of the Spirit and not have a new sense of self.

After limping away from the wrestling match, many of our storytellers revealed a new sense of openness and possibility.

So when Ann Krehbiel talked about being terrified about life after college and the unknown yet she is still trying to be the person she is called to be—that idea of being grounded in herself in the midst of change---that’s real possibility, that’s an openness to life and what’s next. Like our other storytellers, Ann didn’t directly ask for a blessing but she has received a blessing as she courageously walks where there is no path.  

For many of our storytellers that experience of openness and possibility, the blessing, may feel small but its there, waiting for the Spirit to continue on with the work of transformation and change.

Our stories of the Work of the Spirit, as our storytelling has been in the past, have been a blessing, allowing the rest of us to reflect on how the Spirit is at work in our own lives.

But it’s still not an easy road map of faith, or a journey with easy answers. Not one of our stories had an ending that was packaged neatly with a clean and crisp bow. In fact, many of our stories didn’t really have an ending at all; it was almost as if we walked in the middle of their experience with the Spirit.  

In a few minutes, we will come forward to the table to receive communion, our sacrament of companionship. In sharing the juice and the bread, we remember the story of God: liberation, forgiveness and healing. When we share the bread and juice along with our stories, we come to understand the truths and realities of our lives and how our experiences become holy as we share life with one another.

Our lives can feel like a wrestling match-- the pull and tug, back and forth with relationships, impacting how we care for ourselves and the world around us.

My friend Anna proclaimed in her sermon on Jacob 10 years ago that we do not walk without guidance; we are not alone in those wrestling matches. There is both freedom and responsibility in a blessing—those times when the Spirit creates openness and possibility.

You have to struggle to understand how your life is going to serve this vision God has laid out for you. When we come forward to the table, we proclaim that our lives and this world are worth that holy work.