What the Lord is Doing

A sermon for July 5 by Jamie Howison on Genesis 24:34-38, 42-49, 58-67

And so once again we journey into the strange new world that is the biblical landscape of this long cycle of stories of the patriarchs and matriarchs of Israel, drawn from the book of Genesis. Last Sunday it was the story of the “testing of Abraham” or “binding of Isaac”—that difficult and complex story that resolves with Abraham’s assertion that God does indeed provide, but which also marks the last moment when we read of Abraham speaking with God. This week we have this story of a search for a wife for Isaac, and in between the two stories one very significant event has taken place: Abraham’s wife Sarah has died. You might recall my observation from last Sunday, that in the rabbinical tradition Sarah’s death has often been connected to that story of the testing of Abraham; that it was grief and sorrow over her husband’s willingness to sacrifice Isaac that drew her life to its close.

That is all speculation, of course, but it is notable how closely her death does follow the previous story. And then the whole of chapter 23 is given over to Abraham’s quest to purchase a burial place in which to lay Sarah’s body, which speaks to the dearness of this loss but also perhaps to Abraham’s need to somehow make up for having caused Sarah such grief. Again speculative, but don’t be afraid to explore the very human textures and emotions that hover all around these ancient stories.

With Sarah buried and Abraham “old, well advanced in years,” as the opening verse of chapter 24 puts it, he turns his attention to the matter of finding a wife for Isaac. The full story fills all 67 verses of this chapter, and while the excerpts that we read do a pretty good job of giving the heart of the story, a little bit of background is probably useful.

Abraham sends his most trusted servant out on this quest, and it is a journey that takes the servant far from where Abraham is settled. And why? Listen:

Abraham said to his servant, “… I will make you swear by the Lord, the God of heaven and earth, that you will not get a wife for my son from the daughters of the Canaanites, among whom I live, but will go to my country and to my kindred and get a wife for my son Isaac.” (24:2-4)

You might recall how when Abraham and Sarah are first introduced at the beginning of Genesis 12, God called him to get up and leave behind the land and home of his father, and to venture into a new place which God would show to him. Well, that has taken him into the land of the Canaanites, which might be fine so far as it goes. But when it is time to find a wife for Isaac? Back to the land of his kin!

After a long journey the servant stops by a well and sees that the women are coming out to draw water. He offers at this point a prayer: “O Lord God, when I say to one of these women, ‘Please give me a little water from your jar to drink,’ and she replies, ‘Drink, and I will draw for your camels also’—may she be the one chosen as the wife of Isaac.”

The servant is almost playing a little prayer game here, but it is something that people do, right? “Lord, if you want me to do such-and-such, then give me a sign by making such-and-such happen.” But what do you know? No sooner has the servant asked Rebekah for a drink than she offers to draw water for the camels as well! Out comes a nose ring and bracelets for her, and then a request by the servant to spend the night at her family’s home; the servant, apparently, is more than convinced that he has succeeded in his quest!

At this point Rebekah dashes home to tell the news of this strange meeting, which prompts her brother Laban to head straight to that well to see what he could sort out. Here is how the text goes:

As soon as Laban had seen the nose-ring, and the bracelets on his sister’s arms, and when he heard the words of his sister Rebekah, ‘Thus the man spoke to me’, he went to the man; and there he was, standing by the camels at the spring. Laban said, ‘Come in, O blessed of the Lord. Why do you stand outside when I have prepared the house and a place for the camels?’ (24:30-31)

Here Walter Brueggemann suggests that we’re getting a bit of a picture of Laban; a character who will figure in a major way later in these stories. “On the one hand,” Brueggemann notes, “it is surely important that Laban speaks the name of Abraham’s God. But on the other, the narrative is tongue-in-cheek. Laban has just seen the rings, bracelets, and camels. He may not be a true believer, but he is not fool, either!”

So back to Rebekah’s home they go, where proper hospitality is offered and the servant retells the whole story of the meeting at the well (that’s largely what we read). So tell me, the servant basically asks, will you agree to this arrangement? “Then Laban and Bethuel, Rebekah’s father, answered, ‘The thing comes from the Lord; we cannot speak to you anything bad or good,” which might more clearly be translated, “This is the Lord’s doing. We have nothing to say about it.”

It is the view of Amanda Benckhuysen that, “These words of Laban and Bethuel in response to the story of Abraham’s servant capture the major preoccupation of this story—attending to the leading and activity of God.” “This is the Lord’s doing. We have nothing to say about it.” (Genesis 24:50). It isn’t received in lightening epiphanies, angelic messengers, or direct words from God, but—to cite Brueggemann—more “a presentation of how it is to live in an ethos in which life is accepted and perceived as a gift from Yahweh’s hand.”

Thankfully, of course, Laban and Bethuel still do ask Rebekah, “Will you go with this man?” Yes, it does amount to an arranged marriage, but she is not entirely without agency. In fact, as the stories proceed we will discover that she is very much her own person, holding her own opinions and making at least a few rather dodgy decisions! “Will you go with this man?” “She said, ‘I will.’”

And then it is off to the land where Isaac has settled in the Negeb. Let me read to you the closing section of this episode:

Isaac went out in the evening to walk in the field; and looking up, he saw camels coming. And Rebekah looked up, and when she saw Isaac, she slipped quickly from the camel, and said to the servant, ‘Who is the man over there, walking in the field to meet us?’ The servant said, ‘It is my master.’ So she took her veil and covered herself. And the servant told Isaac all the things that he had done. Then Isaac brought her into his mother Sarah’s tent. He took Rebekah, and she became his wife; and he loved her. So Isaac was comforted after his mother’s death.

Isaac loved her, and I certainly hope that for her sake Rebekah loved him back. Isaac loved her, and in this he was comforted after his mother’s death. It is both an ending and a new beginning.

Still, as Amanda Benckhuysen notes, “There are certainly other things that may capture our attention in this story, things that may make us uncomfortable. For instance… the uncritical acceptance of a patriarchal culture leads Abraham’s servant and Bethuel and Laban to negotiate for Rebekah like she was a piece of property. [Such] ancient cultural practices may make it hard to appreciate this story today.”

So why do we keep reading stories like this one, with nose rings and golden bracelets and the men sitting around with their plates of food deciding on the future of this young woman?

From Benckhuysen again: “[I]t is right and good that we should be uncomfortable with these practices, because this is not what this story is affirming or celebrating. Instead, the focus is on what the Lord is doing and the attentiveness of those in the story to how God is at work.”

The truth is that God works in and through very real people in their very real social and cultural contexts, nudging and calling them—and us—forward step by step. There are these moments when the Spirit’s presence explodes peoples’ thinking and awareness beyond the parameters of the world in which they live—it actually will happen with Isaac and Rebekah’s son Jacob—but most of the time we see through the lenses of our times and context. I just have to admit that had I been one of Rebekah’s brothers I probably would have quite happily taken part in that conversation. I only hope I would have also asked, “Will you go with him?”, and asked in a way that would have recognized that her decision was a real decision, the choice hers to make. I hope, too, that as I watched her ride off on the back of that camel I would have been able to bless her with a prayer for her safety and happiness. I hope.

And with Isaac and Rebekah now together, the stage is set for the very colourful stories of the next generation; that of their twin sons Jacob and Esau. We’ll pick up there next Sunday.