Judah in Three Acts

If you love the book of Genesis, then you know: Judah seems like two different people. His first and final appearance are worlds apart. But it all starts to make sense when we step back and perceive his story in a broader sense. As a whole, it follows a classic three-act structure that we Westerners so know and love. 

• Act 1, the Setup, Gen. 37: Judah instigates the sale of Joseph into slavery. 
• Act 2, the Confrontation, Gen. 38: Judah sins again, but is confronted by his daughter-in-law Tamar. 
• Act 3, the Crisis & Resolution, Gen. 44: Judah must choose whether to step out and save his little brother Benjamin from slavery. To do so is to put his own life on the line. 

Let’s run through all three acts, but not in chronological order for dramatic reasons which will make sense later. 

Act I: Genesis 37: The Judean wilderness. 

 

Joseph is struggling for breath at the bottom of a pit, having been left for dead. His older brothers are seating themselves for lunch, fingernail scratches still red on their forearms. A merchant caravan appears on the hillside; they are heading toward Egypt. Judah spies an opportunity. His pitch is simple: Brothers, let the slavers in Egypt work Joseph to death. This way the blood is their hands, not ours. And as an added bonus, we’ll score an easy profit.

The brothers like the idea. They return to the pit to hoist Joseph back to the surface. For a moment Joseph, still at the bottom of the pit, believes they’ve had a change of heart. But sadly the opposite is true. The brothers have returned merely to make his disappearance irrevocable. 

 

Who brokers the deal? Genesis doesn’t specify. But with the oldest brother absent, and given that Judah proposed the idea originally, it seems natural that Judah would now lead the negotiation. Ultimately the merchants purchase Joseph for 20 shekels and go on their way. 

 

Judah and his co-conspirators now find themselves involved in a cover-up. To hide this heinous deed from their father, they immerse Joseph’s robe in a pool of goat’s blood. Days later they present the robe to their father and, in an Oscar-worthy performance, they tell him, “This coat we have found, identify please (ha’ker na in Hebrew) if it is your son’s robe.” Their father Jacob is panic-stricken. He cries out, “It is my son’s robe! A fierce animal has devoured him. Joseph has been torn to pieces.” Their father then rips his garment and puts on sackcloth. He mourns the loss of his son for many days, weeping (37:34). 

 

As time passes, the brothers (including Judah) try to comfort their father but he is inconsolable. Their father Jacob insists, “No, I will continue to mourn until I join Joseph in the grave.” Having to witness their father shrivel into a shell of his former self, Judah – the ringleader of Joseph’s disappearance – becomes a target of resentment. For the brothers, it is easier to blame him than blame themselves. They reason: if we had left Joseph to die in the pit as originally planned, Rueben would’ve returned and pulled him to safety, then today everything at home would be better than it is. Instead though, nothing is right. Their father’s crestfallen spirit sucks the life out of every room they ever share. 

 

Be that as it may, the brothers keep the big secret a big secret. For us readers, this is a telling insight because we glimpse Judah’s stature in the eyes of his brothers. We know that all the sons of Jacob try to comfort their father (37:35), yet not one points a finger at Judah. Not one rats him out – not even their oldest brother, Rueben! Judah seems a natural leader as evidenced by his brothers’ cooperation and loyalty. Judah possesses the gift of influence, or perhaps, authority. Whether he wields his presence for good or evil is, ultimately, his choice to make. But we see its effect on those around him: the brothers watch their father agonize over a false narrative while they keep their mouths shut, prioritizing their brother Judah above all. 

 

However he manages to garner their respect, Judah will certainly merit ours in Act III. Act III is Genesis 44, a chapter in which Judah wields his gifting for the good. 

 

 

Act III: Genesis 44: A sprawling Egyptian palace with towering ceilings. 20 years later.

Joseph has become viceroy of the most dominant superpower on earth. He doesn’t answer to Joseph anymore. Here he is Zaphenath-Paneah (41:45). And seated in the heights of the most royal palace, Zap is right at home. Zap looks, acts, and speaks as an Egyptian overlord, an intimidating power player on the world’s biggest stage. 

 

Being reacquainted with his long-lost brothers, the unrecognizable Joseph plays 4D chess. His actions reset the table in a way that gives him the advantage. He wants to see if his brothers will make the same move as before and show the same behavior that he remembers. He creates a scenario in which a familiar opportunity presents itself to the brothers, absent their father. The scenario will set Benjamin in the ejection seat and invite them to press fire. The question is, will they rid themselves of Rachel’s second son just as they rid themselves of her first? 

 

Joseph frames Benjamin for a theft Benjamin did not commit. Joseph then summons the boy to receive due punishment: a life sentence to slavery in Egypt. But then, the unexpected: Judah (Judah!) steps forward to put his life in the balance. In earnest he tells this Egyptian overlord, “What can we say, my lord? God has uncovered our guilt. We are now your slaves.” 

 

Joseph nudges a chess piece forward with curiosity without risking control. “No,” he says, “you go back to your father in peace. Just leave me the boy guilty of theft.”

 

Judah counters, his maneuver is unexpected. Joseph has no way to know that Judah isn’t the same man as before. Today a much-older Judah stands before him: a man who has witnessed his father after the loss of a son. Judah himself has endured the torment, the loss of two sons in fact. He tells Zaphenath-Paneah, “Pardon your servant, my lord, but let me speak a word to you.” 

To see this moment with modern eyes, picture a high-stakes courtroom drama. Judah approaches the bench with his brothers behind him, their eyes wide and uncertain, Judah’s voice so turned away they can’t discern the particulars of his plea. 

 

The old shepherd speaks personally to the Egyptian Royal who measures him with eyes that weigh the life and death of an ordinary man with ease. Making the best of a voice weathered by hardship, Judah pleas, “Do not be angry. I recognize that you are equal to Pharaoh. But listen, our father loves this boy. He didn’t want him to come in the first place! But we insisted; I insisted. If we now return without him, my dad will die in grief. My lord, you must understand: I personally guaranteed the boy’s safety. I said, ‘Father, if I don’t bring him back as promised, the blame. I will bear it until the day I die.’” 

 

The sun-wrinkled eyes of the old shepherd press against Joseph’s. An expression trained and held for control barricade their impact, eyes that show no emotion behind dark and carefully-etched Egyptian make-up. The old shepherd surrenders. “Please, let me stay behind as your slave in place of the boy. Let the boy go back. I cannot go back if the boy is not with me. I cannot see the misery that would befall my father.”

 

Judah’s redemption moment has arrived. Joseph is so touched by the transformation that he cannot contain his emotions. He commands the palace servants to leave at once. Only after the last servant has exited the palace hall does the Egyptian overlord reveal his true identity to the brothers. 

 

For us readers 4000 years later, we can still feel the heaviness in that room at that moment. But a question emerges. How does this guy Judah go from the wicked, self-serving opportunist of Act I to the selfless, family-first heroism of Act III? At this point our main character, Judah, seems totally incongruent. How do we reconcile the contradictions?  

The answer lies in Act II, i.e. Chapter 38. In Chapter 38 we witness Judah’s turning point, or, if you prefer, his breaking point. Let’s rewind to Chapter 38 and see what happens. 

 

 

Act II: Genesis 38: Canaan. The decades between Chapter 37 & 44. 

 

Chapter 38 is the middle act in Judah’s story. Here’s a summary of the chapter, itemized by a few strategic call outs. 

 

Judah leaves his brothers at the beginning of the chapter (38:1). 

No surprise here! Given the level of tension that exists among the brothers following the sale of Joseph and their father’s ensuing depression, Judah leaves his home because he wants to escape the mess he has caused. He is running away from his past in hopes he can quiet a guilty conscience. 

Judah marries a Canaanite woman (38:2). 

Indicative of a man who is breaking ties with his Hebrew family.

Judah and his Canaanite wife have three boys, all of whom reach the age of marriage before the end of the chapter (38:3-14). 

In terms of its timespan, Genesis 38 is a looong chapter. It spans close to two decades. 

Reading the chapter, we learn that Judah’s oldest son is put to death by God due to his evil deeds. This makes the man’s wife, Tamar, a widow. Tamar is then married to Son #2 (as was custom in those days). But then Son #2 is put to death by God due to his evil deeds. Tamar, again a widow, is now supposed to be given to Judah’s third son. However, the third son is, for the time being, too young to be married. So Tamar goes off to live with her parents while she waits on further word from her father-in-law, Judah. 

After a long time Judah’s wife passes away. Judah becomes a widower. As a widower, Judah travels to a town where he encounters a prostitute along the roadside. A veil cloaks her face. For temporary payment, he gives this prostitute his staff, his seal and its cord. They sleep together and he leaves. A few weeks pass. Through a series of revelations, he discovers that he’s been robbed by the prostitute. He’ll never see his personal belongings again (or so he thinks). He doesn’t want to be a laughingstock among the townspeople, so he writes it off and buries the matter. 

Three months later he learns that his daughter-in-law, Tamar, has become pregnant. In his eyes the surprise pregnancy is problematic. She widows his first two sons and has yet to marry his third son, so how can she be pregnant if not but for an act of adultery? Furious, he calls for her public execution. “Bring her out and burn her to death!” he declares. The townspeople agree to Judah’s verdict. They bring her out to be killed, both her and the unborn life inside her. 

But Tamar does the most unexpected thing. She sends private word to Judah, saying, “I am pregnant by the man who owns these.” Lo and behold, the items she offers are Judah’s personal belongings: his staff, his seal and its cord. She says (and this is key), “Identify please (ha’ker na) whose seal and cord and staff these are.” 

 

Without realizing it, Tamar uses the same language as Judah and his brothers when they presented the torn and bloodied robe of Joseph to their father, Jacob. A flashback jolts Judah to his senses. Judah hears her words in a way that only Judah can hear. They land with all the force of the Holy Spirit. He melts. Judah reverses course and stops the execution. “She is more righteous than I,” he says, “since I did not give her my son.” 

This marks a turning point in the life of Judah, and for our purposes it is the end of Act II so to say. For us readers, his remark warrants some thought. In various ways Judah and Tamar are alike. How so?

• Judah deceived his father; Tamar deceived her father-in-law. 
• Both Tamar and Judah, a widow and widower, slept with someone out of wedlock.  

Yet according to Judah, Tamar is the more righteous. How can this be? 

Well, notice:

• Judah’s ha’ker na was a manipulation: it was contrived to cover up Judah’s evil deed of selling Joseph. 
• Tamar’s ha’ker na was a plea to live: it was a plea made with such discretion that it covered up Judah’s evil deed of sleeping with a prostitute.

By sending word to him privately rather than blurting it out in public, Tamar kept Judah from becoming the thing he feared most: a laughingstock. She also put her future in his hands. Judah, having by now repossessed his belongings, could have denied her legitimacy and followed through with her execution––a brand new cover-up of epic proportions. But, this time around, Judah chooses a more righteous path forward. He recognizes that Tamar did the same thing that he did, but she did it in the opposite direction: toward the good rather than the bad, toward life rather than death. And this made an indelible impact on him. 

The next time we as readers see Judah, he is once again living alongside his brothers and Jacob, their father. Judah is a changed man, a man who will go on to display the selfless heroism in Act III, standing up for Benjamin and putting his own life on the line. 

My Take on Gentile Inclusion - Helpful Parallels

In my view, the Torah provides two pictures to help us understand Gentile inclusion into the commonwealth of Israel and the covenants of promise (Ephesians 2:12). 

• First: Jacob's adoption of Ephraim and Manasseh. 
• Second: the mixed multitude's presence at Sinai. 

Let's start with the first. To begin we glean a clue from the First Century. 

Jesus would have been known as Jesus son of Joseph among His contemporaries. As far as I am concerned, this has a strategic double-meaning. (Why is it strategic? Because God created the genius of all the best poets. As such, He is doesn't stumble into coincidences.) The character of Joseph in Genesis portrays the person of Jesus son of Joseph. In Genesis, Joseph has two sons during his residence in Egypt – that is – the Gentile world. Their names are Ephraim and Manasseh. Ephraim and Manasseh (E&M) are Gentiles according to currently-held, centuries-old Jewish law. Why? Because both were born of a Gentile mother in Egypt. And growing up in Egypt, E&M knew only the Gentile version of Joseph. They knew little of their father's Jewish life. They knew, perhaps, that his Jewish brothers had rejected him, had put him in the ground, had sold him for silver, had passed him off to the Gentile world, had vetoed his place among the family. Indeed, E&M esteemed their father's Jewish day to be of very little worth. It was an offense, in ways. Their immediate contribution to Joseph's story had aged quite poorly. 

Fast forward. 

Jacob Israel adopts Ephraim and Manasseh as sons of his own. With a careful read of Genesis 48, the cosmic curtain pulls back to give you a peek into the truths revealed later in Romans 11. How so? Because in Genesis 48, Israel tells Joseph that his sons "are mine, as Rueben and Simeon are." In other words, the father grafts in Jospeh's Gentile sons as if they were his own – and not only that, he elevates them to the firstborn position! We must run our finger up against this to catch the undercurrent that carries the entire climax of Genesis. Israel the father pictures God the Father; Joseph the son pictures Jesus the Son; E&M picture us Gentiles being grafted into the house of Israel by way of our personal relationship with Jesus.

Later in Exodus, the sons and daughters of Ephraim and Manasseh leave behind everything they have ever known. They leave Egypt and all of its trappings to travel along with the families of Jacob toward a place entirely unknown. Whereas the other tribes/familes are returning to a place they came from, the tribes/families of E&M are traveling to a place that is alien to their origin story. They are nevertheless determined: they belong to Israel now, not to Egypt – even though their fathers E&M have never been to the land of Israel! The tribes of E&M represent us Gentiles who find our place in the family of Abraham. We are not Jewish but we do inherit the covenants of promise and the commonwealth of Israel. Recall, Jacob didn't adopt Ephraim and Manasseh. Israel adopted them. From this we derive an insight: we Gentiles are not the sons of Jacob, but we are the sons of Israel – products of the one who wrestled with God and persevered, albeit with a limp.

Let's jump to the second picture: 

At Sinai, God gave His Torah to the Israelites. Right? Well yes, but when we say it this way, we tend to think of "the Jews" and no one else. But what about the great mixed multitude that went out of Egypt with the Jews? Those Gentiles who saw the judgement of Egypt and experiences a change of heart? This Gentile multitude recognized that the God of the Hebrews was indeed the one true God, and they gave Him their allegiance. Maybe they put the blood on their doorposts; maybe they lost a firstborn son. Whatever the case may be, they left Egypt and risked their lives on that decision. Not only was this multitude a big crowd of Gentiles, it was a crowd of Gentiles that (I believe) represented every nation on earth. How can I say this? Genesis 41:56 says that a great famine was over "all the face of the land." (Read the various translations and you get the sense that the whole civilized world was affected. The world's population at the time was largely concentrated in and around that area of the globe.) This famine brought people from all over the known world to Egypt. Some came and went, others came and stayed. I believe God used the famine to bring a mixed multiple of people into Egypt so that, in time, He could draw them out and bring them to Sinai. This speculation aside, a great mixed multitude of Gentiles was nevertheless present at the foot of Sinai and they, too, had a Pentecost experience when God gave them the Torah. These Gentiles came to see themselves as partakers in the covenants of promise, members of the commonwealth of Israel. God didn't just give His Torah to Jews; He gave it to Gentiles too. He gave it to His people, the kahal, the sons of Israel. 

These two pictures inform my thinking on a number of items. That said, I look at the elders in Acts and I appreciate the wisdom of their light-handed approach to things regarding the Gentiles. They leave it so open-ended. In Acts 15, they give four basic laws which get Gentiles through the door of synagogue (see Acts 15:21). In synagogue, they would hear the Torah read, learn about their God, learn background about their Messiah, learn about the commandments. Where they went from there would a personal journey, but the elders had to assume that Scripture (ie. the Old Testament) would speak for itself. (Remember: there was no "New Testament" at the time.)

Buried Treasure: Rachel’s Last Call for Confession

There’s a treasure of a story buried beneath the topsoil of Genesis 31-35. The characters in focus are Jacob, Rachel, and Laban. We join the plot as Jacob prepares to flee his father-in-law, Laban, without telling him. Jacob will take with him a caravan of family members, servants, animals and possessions. Little does he realize, his beloved wife Rachel is about to steal her father’s idols.

Alone in Laban’s dwelling, a question crosses Rachel’s mind as she pockets the idols. “How am I going to get away with this?” Rachel realizes that Laban will soon discover that his idols are gone, and he will link their disappearance to Jacob. But Rachel reasons with herself: no, Laban won’t go so far as to pursue Jacob into the hills. Laban is more likely to replace the idols and leave the matter alone. 

Why does Rachel take her father’s idols? 

Here are five potential motives. 

1.    A noble act: She takes them from Laban as a kind of rescue, to wean her father away from idol worship. “If the idols can’t save themselves, then they can’t save you, Laban. You need to wake up to the truth.” 

2.  A prudent action: Laban’s idols are “oracles” according to Rabbi Hirsch. With this reading, Rachel recognizes that behind these idols are real and dark supernatural forces. She doesn’t want these forces to tell Laban the whereabouts of Jacob’s location. So, by taking the oracles, she is buying time. “I’ll steal the idols so Laban can’t consult them and learn our location.”

3.    A sentimental attachment: She grew up with these idols and now she simply can’t let them go. Almost like a teenage girl packing her time-raggled stuffed animal as she travels off to college. Or maybe like a Christmas nativity set from your childhood that you can’t seem to part with. “I’m taking these because I want something that reminds me of home.”

4.   A business move: It’s been pointed out that there was a tradition in ancient Mesopotamia that he who possessed the family gods possessed certain rights over the household. As revealed in Genesis 31:14, Rachel knew that her father had no intention of passing a share of his estate to her and her sister, Leah. So Rachel thinks, “I’ll take these idols so we can return after my father’s death and lay a claim to our inheritance.” (Proponents of this explanation reference the fact that Laban accepts the theft of his idols only after he receives a guarantee that Jacob will not cross a particular boundary line between them. Laban knows then that his sons’ inheritance will be protected; Jacob will not return and lay claim to any piece of Laban’s estate.)

5.    An act of spite: Rachel is so fed up with Laban that she wants to hit him where it hurts the most. “I’m going to steal these idols because I know how much they mean to my father, and he deserves to hurt after the way he’s treated me, after the way he ruined what should have been my wedding night.” 

These potential motives deserve consideration, and perhaps all factor in to some extent. The narrative provides two clues which may help us clarify the matter some. 

Clue #1: she doesn’t tell Jacob about the theft. 
Clue #2: she still possesses the idols after 10 days! 

Clue #1 leads me to believe that a guilty conscience is involved, thereby ruling out “the noble act” idea. Had it been a noble act, she would’ve told Jacob. 

Clue #2 leads me to believe that “the prudent move” isn’t the answer either. Had she just been trying to prevent Laban from consulting his oracles, she could’ve buried the idols at the first opportunity, her goal having been accomplished. Clue #2 also leads me to believe that “the act of spite” isn’t her primary motivation either. Had it been a simple act of spite, she would’ve discarded or destroyed them soon after their departure. There’s no need to keep incriminating evidence any longer than necessary. But as we know, Rachel was still holding on to them after 10 days!

“The business move” isn’t compelling because she already knows that Jacob is a wealthy man returning to a wealthy family. Rachel doesn’t need to claim additional riches from her father Laban. Besides that, this motivation doesn’t seem true to her character in my opinion.  

Does she take the idols due to sentimental attachment? Possibly. The tokens of our childhood can be difficult to let go of, especially if we derive a level of emotional security from them. Still, I don’t find this reason compelling in and of itself. 

There is another explanation, a sixth possibility. Dennis Prager puts it well: “Rachel surely believed in the God of Jacob, but she might well have still believed in the power of idols with which she grew up. When people believe in many visible gods, it takes a very long time to get them to believe in one invisible God. Rachel’s behavior may have been similar to that of Neils Bohr, the Nobel-prize winning physicist who was said to keep a rabbit’s foot in his laboratory. When an astonished visitor asked, ‘But surely, professor, you don’t believe in a rabbit’s foot?’ Bohr responded, ‘Of course not. But they say a rabbit’s foot brings you luck whether you believe in it or not.’”

Rachel was desperately anxious to have a child (Gen. 30:1) and then, later on, desperately anxious to have a second child. Prager points out that Rachel may have taken the idols because she was open to utilizing all means necessary toward procuring her goal, including mandrakes, Jacob’s God, and perhaps also the gods from her father’s household. This point, I believe, explains Rachel’s motivation in the most satisfying way. 1) She’s an anxious person by nature, 2) she is desperate to have children, and 3) she’s hedging her bets.

Ten days after leaving, the unexpected happens. Laban catches up to them and confronts Jacob about the disappearance of the idols.  

Jacob is flabbergasted by the accusation. Even still, a simple assurance from Jacob that he did not steal the idols would suffice at this point. Instead, Jacob makes an audacious declaration to Laban. “Anyone with whom you find your gods shall not remain alive!” (31:32).

Remember now: Jacob, the grandson of Abraham, has inherited the power to bless and to curse. His words carry weight. They have an effect. Furthermore, how do you think his words washed over Rachel who was also present at the scene?

Dennis Prager comments, “We are all occasionally tempted to make these types of grandiose avowals, but they are risky and rarely necessary. Jacob’s statement turns out to be highly risky—and unnecessary, as it does not deter Laban from searching the tents in Jacob’s camp.” Even more than risky and unnecessary, it is harmful because, in this moment, Rachel cements the secrecy of her sin. Suddenly the theft threatens her future, her very life. Her husband’s condemnation is so strong that the possibility of her ever admitting the truth to him is here and now smothered.”

Laban resorts to searching the tents. But why? Why doesn’t he believe Jacob’s denial of guilt? “Because Laban regularly deceived people. People who lie assume everyone else does, too. This is the built-in punishment of the dishonest: they go through life convinced they are constantly being deceived” (Prager).   

Laban starts his search beginning with his top suspects: Jacob, then Leah, then the two maidservants. His youngest daughter Rachel is the least suspected of all, evidenced by the fact that Laban visits her tent last. As he closes in on her tent, I am reminded of Achan in Joshua 7. 

• Just as Achan took from Jericho “some of the devoted things,” Rachel had taken from Laban some of his devoted things. 
• Just as Achan endured an agonizing countdown before being singled out from his family, so too Rachel endures an agonizing countdown as Laban closes in on her and her secret. 
• Just as Achan hid the stolen gold and silver in the ground beneath his tent, now Rachel hides the stolen idols in a saddle beneath her in a tent. 

Of course, death was Achan’s sentence. If discovered, what will come of Rachel? 

As Laban enters her tent, Rachel tells him, “Let not my lord take it amiss that I cannot rise before you, for the period of women is upon me.” Laban takes Rachel at her word. He does not look under the cushion because it would have been inconceivable to him that Rachel would run the risk of menstruating on his gods. Moments later he exits the tent empty-handed, and Rachel breathes a sigh of relief believing that she is off the hook. But is she really? 

We read that after Jacob and Laban part ways, Jacob arrives safely at the city of Shechem and buys some adjacent land (33:18-19). Not long after, something crazy takes place (Genesis 34). As a result, the women and children of Shechem fall under Jacob’s authority (34:27-29). Jacob wants to leave the area because he is worried about the neighboring Canaanites (34:30). God gives him directions to go to Bethel. Jacob obeys, but before leaving Jacob commands all who are with him to bury their idols under an old oak tree. He does not want any foreign deities to join them on their journey to Bethel. 

The widows of Shechem approach the old oak tree as commanded and discard their idols, one by one, into a pit. The question is – is Rachel still harboring Laban’s idols? And if so, does she bring them forward in this moment? Because this (we can agree) is her opportunity to do it! In fact, it may well be her last call for confession, because the Bible tells us that her untimely death is just around the corner. The Bible doesn’t specify what Rachel does with the idols. We as readers are given no closure in this regard. Laban’s idols are last seen with Rachel sitting on them as she guards her sin from everyone who is important in her life. What happens to the idols after that moment remains a mystery to this day. 

Nevertheless, here is a way to demystify the story with a measure of plausibility. We teleport ourselves to that afternoon underneath the old oak at Shechem. There, with Jacob and pregnant Rachel standing next to us, we watch the Shechemite women – widow after widow after widow – step forward to deposit a household idol into this pit under the oak tree. What is not so obvious is that Rachel envies their ability to surrender their idols. She thinks of the idols that secretly remain in her possession. They are stowed away among her belongings. She has come to resent them in a way, but she is extremely protective of the saddle that they stay inside. She is pregnant, after all, and miscarriages are common.

Believing all idols to have been discarded, Jacob leaves Shechem and travels southward with the rest of his caravan. The caravan makes a stop in Bethel and then travels onward to Bethlehem. Along the way Rachel goes into labor and gives birth to a son. She names the baby Benoni, “son of my sorrow.” She then dies unexpectedly during childbirth.

Okay y’all – here is the question I have been building up to, a question that can’t be answered with certainty but a question that still merits some consideration. Is Rachel’s premature passing a result of the curse that Jacob pronounced over her life without realizing it? Recall, Jacob had declared death to the person who stole Laban’s idols. He did not know who the curse would fall upon. Still his words carry the weight of God’s promise to Abraham, that “whoever dishonors you I will curse” (Gen. 12:3). And then, given Rachel’s failure to confess and seek correction, had Rachel unknowingly sealed up its lethal affect?

Her departing words express sadness as she names her son Benoni. We might wonder: what if her sorrow was made worse by unresolved guilt? She knows that Laban’s idols still hide in a pouch inside her tent. She knows that Jacob will discover them over the course of time. But perhaps she takes this knowledge with her to the grave. 

We know that Jacob struggles in the wake of Rachel’s death. He withdraws from the rest of his family. Genesis 35:21-22 describes that dark period. Rabbi Hirsch translates the original Hebrew in a way that renders a unique insight. We key in on one specific detail: “[Jacob] journeyed on [from the place that Rachel was buried] and pitched his tent at some distance from the herd tower. When [Jacob] was residing in that land, Rueben . . . placed his couch beside his father’s concubine so that [Jacob] heard of it.” What is the meaning of this detail: at some distance from the herd tower? Hirsch writes, “It is possible that the tent pitched by Jacob is the tent that Jacob formerly shared with Rachel. Thus, the meaning would be: Jacob pitched [the tent that he and Rachel used to share] at some distance from the herd tower around which the rest of his family had encamped.” 

So to say, Jacob withdraws from the rest of the family due to his grieving Rachel. Whereas Jacob resided among them when Rachel was alive, he isolates himself in the days or weeks following her death. And it is during this absence that Jacob’s oldest son makes a salacious move and sleeps with his concubine.

We can imagine a moment during this timeframe. It might have gone like this: A servant breaks off from the camp and travels over to Jacob’s tent, distant and isolated. The servant goes in to tell Jacob about the outrageous act committed by his oldest son Rueben. But Jacob, for the time being, is too detached to be outraged, too exhausted to seek action. At first the servant cannot understand why. But then Jacob gestures toward a pouch that is folded up in the corner of the tent. Out of the bag, the servant pulls a number of carved objects into the firelight. The objects are unmistakable. The objects are Laban’s idols. 

This telling sure seems plausible to me! I mean what if something like this happened? What if, following the burial of Rachel, Jacob stumbled upon her long-held secret? And perhaps Jacob, wide-eyed and white-faced, couldn’t help but remember the words he so rashly blurted out over the thief’s life. 

Genesis 26: A Flashback

Alright. I’m convinced. 

Genesis 26 is backstory. It’s a flashback. It’s an excerpt from a previous time. Now I know it’s a stretch to say this because the narrative doesn’t typically break from the forward progress of time, but we do have some examples. Exodus 10:27-29 & 11:4-8 seem to be out of order, for instance. The earlier passage seems to occur after the later passage takes place. Another example of the text breaking from linear time is Genesis 2. Chapter 2:1-3 tells about Day 7 of creation, but then 2:4-25 goes back in time to revisit Day 6 with more detail. All of this is just to say, revisiting something from the past isn’t unheard of in the Torah. It is rare but it happens. We’d have to ask, though: why a flashback in Genesis 26?

Well first things first. What is flashback?

Flashback is a literary device used to create a background to the present situation. An author uses this device as an opportunity to provide insight and meaning within the story at hand. Flashback is one of the most common and recognizable writing techniques, and, when executed well, one of the most effective.

There is generally a trigger, something that causes the narrator to recall a particular event or detail from the past. The trigger is explored/explained in the flashback itself which serves to provide new information to the reader. 

With this in mind, let me make the case that Genesis 26 is actually a flashback. Start by noting that Genesis 26 tells the story of Isaac and Rebekah living among the Philistines in a city called Gerar. The account says they lived there for a long time (26:8). And yet, no mention of their twin boys, Jacob and Esau, is made in association with their time in Gerar. In fact, the boys are not a factor at all! While Isaac acts like Rebekah is not his wife, not one Philistine asks, “Then who do these boys belong to?” Indeed, the whole charade between “unmarried” Isaac and “unmarried” Rebekah appears to be uncomplicated by the presence of kids. Of course, we can make perfect sense of this if we read it as a flashback, an excerpt from a previous time. When they lived in Gerar, they hadn’t had kids yet!

This would make sense of the Narrator’s storytelling, too. The flashback is triggered by Esau selling his birthright to Jacob in Genesis 25. “Esau despised his birthright” is the final statement of chapter 25. We turn the page to chapter 26 and suddenly the reader is transported back in time. Where do we land? We land at the moment that God goes to Esau’s father, Isaac, and endows him with all that was given to Abraham. In other words, when Esau trades away his birthright for a pot of beans, it’s as if the Narrator calls a time-out. He’s like let’s go back and understand the magnitude of this birthright. Because––clearly––Esau has forgotten it, or he underestimates it, or something. I don’t want you to do the same. 

The flashback commences. We find ourselves witnessing a time from years past when Isaac and Rebekah are living among the Philistines in Gerar. They live here “for a long time” (Genesis 26:8). Their marriage is a total secret. The locals don’t realize the two of them are married because Isaac is lying to everyone, acting like his wife Rebekah is actually his sister. Why lie? Because he is afraid! He is acting out of fear. And this tells us something about him. It tells us that Isaac can sometimes lose sight of the big picture because what’s in front of him is the most pressing thing. He’s a godly man, for sure, but the danger in Gerar is clear and present, and God’s larger-than-life promises are, well, larger than life. So he loses sight of the big picture and decides to lie about his situation. And no one knows that better than his own wife, Rebekah, who has to pretend to be Isaac’s sister “for a long time.” She knows it’s deceitful on their part, yes, but the ends justify the means. 

The flashback ends when we reach the final two verses in Genesis 26. We’re now back where we left off at the end of Genesis 25. Esau abruptly re-enters the frame. Esau thought little of his birthright the last time we saw him, and now we see him thinking little of his family name as he intermarries with the Hittites. Still, he is rubbing his hands together in anticipation for his father’s blessing. 

Time out! Important context ahead:

Here’s the birthright and the blessing in a nutshell.

Birthright: the responsibility to take care of the family and the estate. 

Blessing: the means with which to carry out that responsibility.

Whoever has the birthright (typically the firstborn son) needs to get the blessing,
because the blessing is the means with which to carry out the birthright. 

In this case, the firstborn son should not receive the blessing because, legally, he is not the firstborn son anymore! Esau sold his his firstborn status to Jacob. Jacob took on the responsibility of the firstborn son through that transaction. So Jacob, now technically the firstborn, is the one to whom the blessing should go. And his mother Rebekah knows this with such certainty. (After all, God told her long ago that the older would serve the younger.) But Rebekah also knows her husband well. She knows that her husband can, at times, lose sight of the big picture. He did it in Gerar and he is about to do it again. If he gives the blessing to Esau, it will be a mistake he cannot undo. And so, with the courage she learned as an “unmarried” women living among the Philistines, it is decided: she will make a bold move. She will be deceitful, yes, but the ends justify the means.  

In time, her husband would learn the truth. Isaac would learn that Rebekah was behind the scheme to switch Jacob for Esau. And Isaac would have been furious with her had it not been for one important discovery. He discovers that the birthright belongs to Jacob, not Esau! He discovers that Jacob has legally come to possess the firstborn status! So Isaac can’t be too angry with Rebekah, because Rebekah protected him from a terrible mishap. That is, to give the blessing to someone who does not possess the birthright in God’s eyes. 

Still, a very daring maneuver on Rebekah’s part, to instigate this whole son swap, to risk her good name on a move so audacious. But she is no stranger to risk. She learned to accept risk during her long stay in Gerar, going out as a “single” woman among the Philistines. While Isaac was afraid, Rebekah learned how not to be afraid. She certainly wasn’t too afraid when she told her son Jacob, “My son, [if this ploy doesn’t work], let the curse fall on me. Just do what I say; go and get the ingredients [of the stew] for me.”

Can you see why I like to read Genesis 26 as flashback? Let me speak broadly. 

- God is the ultimate author. The Torah is His book. If a human author can use flashback as a literary device to tell a story more powerfully, why can’t God do it in His book? 

- If Genesis 26 is a flashback, it makes sense of why Jacob and Esau aren’t a factor in Gerar. It explains why Isaac and Rebekah can pretend to be unmarried. 

- Genesis 26 (the flashback) is wedged between Jacob’s receiving the birthright and Jacob’s receiving the blessing. In my eyes, it makes sense to go back in time at this moment because rewinding the timeline to visit Isaac and Rebekah in Gerar pertains to both the birthright and the blessing! 

- We see the magnitude of the birthright that Esau so casually gave away. 

- Through the flashback, we see where Isaac’s blessing gets its teeth spiritually and physically.  

- We see how Rebekah garnered the courage to make the decision she made, and perhaps why she was okay with a measure of deceit so long as the ends justified the means. 

- We see why Isaac would have loved his wife even after she deceived him. After all, she had put up with his deception in Gerar for such a long time, and she’d done so at her own risk.  

- Finally, reading Genesis 26 as flashback yields a window into a beautiful moment. Remember when the king of Gerar spies Isaac and Rebekah being intimate with each other in Genesis 26:8? I like to think this detail captures when their twins, Jacob and Esau, were conceived. 

SCANDAL!

Genesis 20 is scandalous! I’m telling you, this is juicy stuff. First we have to understand that Abraham is no small character among the people of his day. People know him. He’s a very wealthy man (Genesis 13:2). He has dealings with kings and pharaoh (12:16; 14:17-18). His possessions are great (13:6). He has numerous servants and herdsmen––more than 300 men work for him (14:14)! And those 300 men presumably have wives and children of their own. Suffice to say, Abraham’s name carries quite a bit of recognition in the region.

In Genesis 17, we read that Abraham circumcises “all the men of his house, those born in the house and those bought with money from a foreigner” (17:27). From this we see that Abraham is also well known for his covenant relationship with God. Everyone in his household is aware of it. They are part of it. They know of God’s promise to make Abraham a great nation. And God has made it very clear that He will do so through Sarah, Abraham’s wife.

So now get this: Abraham gives his wife Sarah to King Abimelech! Sarah stays in Abimelech’s house for at least one night. We turn the page to Genesis 21 and guess who’s pregnant?! Sarah!

Said at a whisper: Is Sarah pregnant with Abimelech’s baby?

You and I know better––of course she’s not. The Torah is clear: Abimelech does not touch Sarah (see 20:4, 20:6). Upon returning her to Abraham, Abimelech gives Abraham a thousand pieces of silver as a sign of her innocence in the eyes of all who are with them. He tells her, “...before everyone you are vindicated” (20:16).  

But then she’s pregnant. And you know how it is. During those long days out in the field, the shepherds get to talking. The wives of the shepherds get to talking. “Did you hear Sarah’s pregnant?” “Oh? Didn’t she spend the night at Abimelech’s house somewhat recently?” “Well Abimelech said he didn’t do anything with her.” “Oh yeah, right...” 

Modern American pop-culture tends to be critical, cynical, and celebrity-obsessed. If this story were to occur in America today, the front page of the tabloids would read like this: “SCANDAL! SARAH PREGNANT WITH PHILISTINE BABY.” It would have a paparazzi picture of Abraham, head down, set beneath a snapshot of Sarah and Abimelech disappearing behind closed doors. The edition would probably sell well, despite it being very, very untrue. 

I’d sooner believe the Torah than a tabloid. There’s a verse in Genesis 25 that I love because it relates to this so-called “scandal.” It’s verse 19 and it starts this way: “These are the generations of Isaac: Abraham fathered Isaac, and Isaac was forty years old when he took Rebekah . . .”

Actually, that’s not how it reads. Did you notice anything missing? I removed a portion that God included on purpose. I like to think He included it to quell the rumors that arise from Genesis 20. Here’s what it actually says (and note the redundancy): “These are the generations of Isaac, Abraham’s son: Abraham fathered Isaac, and Isaac was forty years old when he took Rebekah. . .”

It would have been enough to say simply “Abraham fathered Isaac,” but it also says “...Isaac, Abraham’s son” as if to stress the fact that Isaac is indeed the son of Abraham. God is leaving nothing to question. Isaac is, without a doubt, Abraham’s son. Despite what you may hear in the fields, the son is Abraham’s!

Can you think of anyone else in the Bible whose birth was under “scandalous” circumstances?

Genesis 23: Part of a Larger Portrait

Genesis 23 begins with the death of Sarah in Hebron. Abraham gets word of her death and goes to weep over her. The language implies that they are separated when she passes away. 

When Abraham breaks from his mourning, he rises to find a place worthy of Sarah’s burial. “His wife is to rest in a place that will be her permanent, everlasting burial site, and for this purpose Abraham seeks to acquire a piece of land in perpetuity. For many years he has dwelt in Canaan as a stranger; despite all his wealth, he has never sought to acquire even a square foot of land. After all, his calling is to be a wanderer. But now the necessity to bury his wife forces him, for the first time, to make a permanent acquisition of land. His wife’s grave is to be the first bond that will tie him to the land; it is to be the place that will draw him and hold him” (The Hirsch Chumash, Bereshis, pg. 503).

He goes to the Hittites in Hebron and there, at the city gates, he negotiates a real estate deal. Abraham has a certain cave in mind so he speaks directly to the property owner. The owner prices the property at 400 shekels. A high price according to all commentators, but without complaint Abraham pays the 400 shekels in full. Having acquired the property, he buries his wife in the cave at the end of the field. In time, this cave will become the burial site of Abraham himself, as well as that of Isaac and Rebekah and even Jacob and Leah. Today the cave––a very holy site––can be visited in Hebron. 

Examining the whole of Genesis 23, we’ll find that the chapter is characterized by ongoing repetitions. Every point is repeated and reiterated. Verse 17 enumerates literally every article of the property: “So the field of Ephron in Machpelah, east of Mamre––the field with the cave in it and all the trees in the field, throughout its whole area––was made over to Abraham as a possession in the presence of the Hittites, before all who went in at the gate of his city.” The narrative adds further: “…the cave of Machpelah, before Mamre, that is Hebron in the land of Canaan . . . the field and the cave deeded to Abraham by the sons of Heth as a property for a burial place” (23:19-20). The Torah leaves no room for ambiguity as it itemizes the conditions, the details, and the witnesses involved. In this way Genesis 23 constitutes a kind of legal document, a contract or a deed with all of its stipulations. After all, this chapter marks one of the most historic transactions ever made: the first piece of Holy Land ever procured by a Hebrew. If for nothing else, Genesis 23 is significant for this reason alone.

It is significant for other reasons, though. Let’s stand back and behold the wider panorama into which Genesis 23 fits. In Genesis 23 Abraham procures a field. In Genesis 24 Abraham procures a bride for his son Isaac. I love that a field and a bride are procured in back-to-back chapters. Permit me to elaborate. 

A theme we find in Scripture is that the field and the bride are connected. The two go together. The story of Ruth is our classic example. In the last chapter (Ruth 4), a man named Boaz tries to sell a parcel of land (4:3-4). The potential buyer offers to buy it. Boaz says, “The day you buy the field you also acquire Ruth the Moabite” (4:5). It’s like: You want the field? Then you have to take the bride as well. But now the buyer declines. He wants the field but he doesn’t want to marry Ruth the Moabite. So he tells Boaz, “You buy it for yourself” (4:8). So Boaz does. Boaz himself redeems the field and the bride. 

In the New Testament Jesus says that “the field” represents the world (Matthew 13:38). Jesus then tells two short parables that run like this: 

(#1) “The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and covered up. Then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.” 

(#2) “Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls. Upon finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.”

In both parables, a man gives up all that he has in order to acquire that which he truly desires. But in the first illustration, the man buys the field to get the treasure. In the second illustration, the man buys only the treasure itself. And what is the treasure? One pearl of great value. Now interestingly, Proverbs 31:10 (CJB) associates the pearl with the great value of an excellent wife. Making the connection, we see this theme of the field and the bride sneaking up through the cracks. Jesus will give up all that He has to purchase the field and the treasure, the pearl of great value––the excellent wife. 

In Romans 8:19, 22-23, Paul writes that the world is longing for redemption just as we––the Bride of Messiah––are longing for redemption. The world and the Bride are in this together: both fallen, both groaning, both eagerly awaiting the return of our Redeemer. Our need for redemption traces back to when man sinned and the earth was cursed “because of you” (Genesis 3:17). Everything comes full circle when the earth is made new and the Bride is presented at the end of the story. All of this to say simply, the field and the bride are connected. It is quite lovely that they are procured in back-to-back chapters in Genesis. 

We return to the panorama into which Genesis 23 fits. In sight now are chapters 22, 23 & 24.

Looks a lot like the New Testament, doesn’t it? The Father gives up His only begotten Son, Jesus. What follows is the death of His beloved Jerusalem. Jerusalem’s tent goes vacant as her people go into hiding, or “underground” so to speak. The Father sends His Holy Spirit into the world to seek a Bride for His Son from among the nations. The Holy Spirit returns the Bride to His Son. The Son brings his Bride into the New Jerusalem where He is with her. The whole earth is theirs because the field has been purchased at no small price. 

This deserves a little unpacking. First, a look at Jerusalem. We see Jerusalem through Sarah: Sarah passes away and her tent is vacated, though Isaac and his bride will, in time, inhabit his mother’s tent (Genesis 24:67). Sarah is a mother, and note how Jesus personifies Jerusalem as a mother:

“And when Jesus drew near and saw the city, he wept over it, saying, ‘Would that you, even you, had known on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes. For the days will come upon you, when your enemies will set up a barricade around you and surround you and hem you in on every side and tear you down to the ground, you and your children within you...’” (Luke 19:41-44).

“O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing! See, your house is left to you desolate. For I tell you, you will not see me again, until you say, ‘Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord’” (Matthew 23:37-39).

Following the tragic events in 70 AD, God’s beloved Jerusalem passes away, the Father mourns, and her tent becomes desolate. But the story is not over. God sends His Spirit to return a Bride to the land. And here, in this special place, His Son and the Bride take up residence. From that day on, they never depart from the land just like Isaac and his bride never left the land.  

What an amazing thing to consider: that the whole of the New Testament is hinted at here in Genesis 22, 23 & 24!

Let’s part with one last note about Genesis 23. It is a detail revealed only in the Hebrew. The high price that Abraham paid to secure the field in perpetuity was 400 shekels. 400 is the value of the last letter in the Hebrew alphabet, the letter tav (ת). The letter tav represents a cross. And that is perfect, because it is with the cross that God paid in full to acquire the title deed of the earth (see Revelation 5:9), thus securing a place in which His family can spend their future together at rest––not dead but forever alive.