The Last Shall Be First
Jolien Boumkwo is an expert shot-putter. She holds the national record in Belgium. It is safe to say that she is used to coming in first place. But until last month, I’d never heard of her. I probably never would have if it hadn’t been for a strange turn of events in the European Athletics Team Championships. All of Belgium’s hurdlers were injured, and the country stood at risk of falling out of the competition if it did not complete the hurdling event. Up stepped Jolien Boumkwo, the shot-putter—big, broad-shouldered, muscular. Not anything like the light and nimble hurdlers with whom she would be competing. But that did not faze her. With a servant’s heart and a brave smile, she took on and completed every hurdle for her country.
Of course, she was much slower than her professional competitors and came in last place. But she was the talk of the tournament and made headlines all over the sporting world. Even her competitors gave her high fives of admiration at the end of the race. It is a heartwarming story, and I would like to think it gives us a glimpse of gospel truth. Though she was last in the competition, she was first in the eyes of many viewers. Her greatness was not in competing and prevailing over others. Her greatness was in serving her team. She did not care that she would come in last or stand out like a sore thumb. She cared about helping her teammates.
An Ambiguous Prophecy
Jacob and Esau are on the same team, you could say. They are
brothers, part of the same family, part of team Abraham. But in fact they are bitterly
divided. Many readers of scripture assume that their conflict is preordained.
After all, when Rebekah inquires of God about the pain of her childbearing,
God’s response seems like a straightforward declaration of fate. “Two nations
are in your womb, and two peoples born of you shall be divided; the one shall
be stronger than the other, the elder shall serve the younger” (Gen 25:23). Esau
is the elder, and he will indeed lose out to his younger brother on multiple
occasions. First, he willingly forfeits his birthright. Later, he unwillingly
misses out on the blessing for the firstborn, which his younger brother steals
from him. Jacob’s repeated gain at the expense of his older brother seems like
fulfillment of what God had foretold. Case closed, right? The elder has served
the younger. Esau has relinquished to Jacob, sometimes willingly, sometimes
not, the privileges that originally belonged to him.
But there’s a little detail that complicates this clear-cut interpretation of events. In the original Hebrew, God’s words to Rebekah are more ambiguous. A more literal translation would be: “The one shall be stronger than the other, the greater shall serve the lesser” (Gen 25:23). Here God differentiates the brothers not according to seniority, but according to greatness. “The greater”—not the elder—shall serve the other. Greatness itself is ambiguous. In the Old Testament, it regularly refers to power and wealth, in which case God would be saying that the more prestigious or successful brother would serve the other. That would certainly be a twist of its own in the story, and we could see it, perhaps, when Jacob, after years of prosperity, meets Esau again and bows down profusely before him and gives him a tribute of flock and servants (cf. Gen 32:13-15; 33:3). Is this not the greater serving the lesser? The one who got ahead, serving the one who fell behind?
But there is yet another interpretation I’d like to consider. So far, we have read God’s revelation to Rebekah as fate. In other words, God is saying who will come out on top, as though the story has already been written and is not subject to change. But to me, fate seems contrary to the freedom that, elsewhere, God regularly gives humanity. Even when God issues prophecies of destruction, God also holds out the possibility that humanity may change its ways and God may change God’s mind. Thus Jonah announces the imminent demise of Nineveh, yet Nineveh surprisingly repents and then so does God. A seemingly sure fate is averted, because Nineveh is free to change its mind, and so is God. I wonder, then, if God’s revelation to Rebekah—“the greater shall serve the lesser”—is less a foretelling of fate and more a declaration of principle. That is, serving others is the mark of greatness. The greater does not serve the lesser in spite of his greatness, in an act of condescension or concession. Rather, it is precisely his service that makes him great.
From Strugglers to Servants—How?
If service is indeed God’s hope for these brothers, then it is a long road for them to get there. Even before they are born, scripture says, they are locked in a struggle with one another (Gen 25:22). They are born strugglers, not servants. Esau may seem to have won the struggle, as he comes out of the womb first, but locked onto his heel is Jacob’s hand. In fact, Jacob’s name means “heel-grabber.” He is scrappy, persistent, a go-getter that does not give up. Jacob and Esau may have different personalities, but they share in common one trait: they serve no one but themselves. Esau is at the service of his appetite, seeking only to satisfy his immediate desires. In the defining scene of their childhood, he comes in from the field and cannot see beyond his hunger, so he thoughtlessly exchanges his birthright for some food. Jacob is at the service of his ego, his social appetite, his desire always to win and come out ahead. There’s only one outcome to the brothers’ endless struggles. Conflict. Separation. They cannot live under the same roof.
Yet after twenty years, they do reconcile (Gen 33). Technically, that’s not part of our scripture today, but I want to look ahead at it for a moment, because in their reconciliation there seems to be a radically different spirit between them, a spirit that seems to match with God’s prophecy of servitude. Both are vulnerable in their own way. Jacob, perhaps fearful of retribution, strikes an especially submissive pose, repeatedly bowing and calling his brother, “lord.” Esau falls on his brother’s neck with tears and kisses.
What has brought them to this place of servitude? In short, I think they have both finally been broken by their struggles. Defeated by their own exhaustion. We see this dramatically in the famous episode where Jacob wrestles the angel and walks away with a permanent limp.
On the one hand, both characters could theoretically look back at their lives and feel some satisfaction at their little victories. Jacob has prospered in building a family and acquiring a wealth of livestock. Esau may count it a victory that it is Jacob who flees home and he who remains. On the other hand, what is the cost of these little victories? The poet Rainer Maria Rilke gives simple but profound expression to the brothers’ struggle and its ultimate futility:
When we win it’s with small things,
and the triumph itself makes us small.
What is extraordinary and eternal
does not want to be bent by us.
I mean the Angel who appeared
to the wrestlers of the Old Testament.[1]
“Whoever Wishes to Become Great…”
Could it be, I wonder, that Jacob and Esau’s reconciliation later in life is a fulfillment of God’s prophecy at their birth that “the greater shall serve the lesser”? Could it be that the measure of this prophecy is not the triumph of one brother over the other, but rather that both brothers have become greater as both submit to one another? The brothers that were born in struggle, who served their own appetites before anyone else, have finally learned the greatness of service. In yielding to one another, they have broached the gospel truth that Jesus would encapsulate: “You know that among the nations those whom they recognize as their leaders lord it over them….But it is not so among you; but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all” (Mark 10:42-44).
Living as a servant may seem like foolishness and weakness to the world. And yet the world’s response of admiration and awe for Jolien Boumkwo tells me that something about serving others resonates deep within our hearts. We sense intuitively there’s something to this strange, upside-down “greatness” of being last, about which Jesus speaks. Maybe it’s because we’ve won enough as it is but feel empty inside, or maybe it’s because we’ve gotten ahead of others only to feel alone. Maybe it’s because we’re tired of the struggle and the competition, and we’re walking with a limp, and we wonder if there’s another way. Maybes when we see the freedom and joy of a person who has little but helps much, we realize that relationship is more fulfilling than control. I don’t know exactly what it is that resonates within us when we hear the story of Jolien, or the story of Jacob finally bowing before his brother Esau, or the story of Jesus who gives his life for others. I only know that these stories ring true. Real greatness is not just self-exertion to the maximum, whatever that may get you. Real greatness is living together. And if the gospel teaches us anything, it’s that living together means mutual submission—serving each other.
Prayer
Humble God,In Christ you have emptied yourself
Of every claim to authority
And drawn near to us,
As a servant, as a friend:
This is greatness,
Greater news than any other.
…
Thank you.
Help us as your children
To live in your way,
To serve and befriend
Neighbor, stranger, enemy,
All the world.
In Christ: Amen.
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