From the Vossed World....
The narrative about Jacob wrestling a “man” has become, for me, one of those key OT passages that explains so much about OT redemptive history (Abraham’s torch-oven vision would be the other). These are some of the thoughts I shared with my SS class a few years back (loosely based on some thoughts from Brian Vos quite a few years ago when I asked the same question).
At its core, this narrative is a “theology of glory vs. theology of the cross” episode. Jacob’s wrestling with a man is all about Jacob being confronted by the Lord of the Ladder to once and for all rid Jacob of his self-dependence and self-reliance. Jacob’s entire life has been marked by wrestling... he was born holding Esau’s heel. He “wrestled” with Esau over a birthright and blessing. He “wrestled” with Laban. Jacob was known as a conniver, getting what he wanted through wit, cunning, and deception... all in his own strength for his own glory. If there was ever a picture of someone who believed and lived as if God existed solely to bless his efforts, it was Jacob. This is the kind of man who, in the wake of heaven -- and Coram deo no less, dared bargain with God with his own benefit in mind (Genesis 28:20-22).
While much has changed in the interim between Bethel and Genesis 32, not *enough* has changed. Jacob is about to meet his brother for the first time in years and already he is conniving and manipulating the situation in fear of what might happen. But Bethel has already begun to intrude again into Jacob’s life (Gen. 31:13 and 32:1-2). Angels, much like Eden, guard the gateway back into the land promised to Abraham, Isaac, and most recently, Jacob. The “supplanter” is no longer the orchestrator of his life’s events and he knows it. Jacob may have been faithless in bargaining with the Lord of the Ladder, but the Lord of the Ladder has not been unfaithful since.
In his fear, Jacob reminds God of the Abrahamic promises made to him in the land of Laban. Years of hard living at the expense of Laban have stripped Jacob of his former pretense. It is clear that his transformation has already begun. Jacob acknowledges that he is not worthy of God’s covenant love (this is the second mention in scripture of the formulaic “steadfast love and faithfulness” that describes God’s favor toward His people). Faced with the unknown of meeting his brother again, Jacob reaches out to God in apparent affirmation of Abraham’s covenant. Jacob initiates this interaction with the covenant God of Abraham and his father Isaac, probably hoping for a “more sure word” than the one he had been given. But God is silent. If Jacob had been expecting all Bethel to break loose, especially in the wake of Mahanaim, his expectations were ingloriously unmet. The silence between Mahanaim and Peniel is deafening.
God has something else in mind for Jacob. The Lord of the Ladder does descend into the silence, but in a most unexpected way. Jacob expects glory; he expects assurance. What he gets is mystery, vulnerability, and darkness. It is no coincidence that what transpires is at night. God is about to resolve the self-centered bargain made by Jacob at Bethel. Before Jacob can return to the land, before he can reconcile with his brother, and before he can return to Bethel, Jacob’s transformation must be complete. He cannot take self-sufficiency into the land. His self-reliant striving must be brought to an end; his self-rule will be brought into submission to another; his self-serving resolve must be broken.
This time there is no gateway to heaven. The ford at Jabbok is a gateway to land. Indeed, this divine meeting has no angelic glory with the LORD of hosts standing in the gateway to heaven. This one has an earthy feel. For Jacob, there is no sleep as he had at Bethel. There is only insomnia, loneliness, and the sweat of a wrestling match with a mysterious man-figure whose identity is not cloaked in glory but humanity’s darkness.
Just as has been true with Esau and Laban, the stranger who meets Jacob at the gateway to the “promised” land is just another man to be wrestled with and conquered. And, true to form, Jacob prevails in his wrestling. Once again, Jacob’s self-reliance seems vindicated. Or has it been? Things aren’t what they seem. As dawn breaks, the truth dawns on Jacob and his world is flipped on its head. The mysterious “man-figure” is no mere man. And Jacob knows it. This is the Lord of the Ladder with whom he has been wrestling, the Son of man whose glory transcends and transverses heaven and earth (see John 1:51). The Lord of hosts has come to earth and the all-glorious concedes defeat in humanity. Despite having the power to maim Jacob’s strength and reduce him to nothing, the mysterious man allows Jacob to seemingly prevail. Jacob has bested the Lord of the Ladder. But it is not Jacob who is the ultimate victor. It is not a good thing to wrestle with God and win.
The prospect of the mysterious divine-man-figure leaving the scene without blessing Jacob is more than a now broken and contrite Jacob can bear. For the one who is "undone" face to face with the Holy, a departure without blessing is unthinkable. Jacob's transformation is complete. There will be no more wrestling. Only clinging. The divine intrusion into Jacob’s life via submission of the mysterious man in “conflict” moves Jacob from wrestling to clinging. The divine touch on his life emanating groin has not merely robbed him of physical strength. Jacob’s knowledge of the holy exhausts him of his willpower. No longer is Jacob attempting to impose his will on God. He is no longer reminding the covenanting God of promised blessing. Gone is the cocksure attitude that would bargain Coram deo with the Lord of the Ladder. Now he is clinging to the Lord of the Ladder for blessing, even if it costs him his life. It is the clinging of the spiritually bankrupt at the end of himself crying out the only hope he has: “Bless me or I die”. He recognizes that the wrestling man is both antagonist and Savior. The Lord of hosts has humbled himself; in conceding defeat, he wins Jacob's salvation. And Jacob's desperation of faith is that of Job's: "though he slay me, I will still hope in Him".
The man-"mysterium” responds to Jacob’s plea with a question in a manner reminiscent of the Son of Man who invariably would ask a question in these kinds of situations. The question here is meant to illicit a confession from Jacob (compare the confession of Legion in Mark 5:9): what is your name? With the mouth confession is made, and a repentant Jacob speaks a one-word confession that summarizes life long self-gratification and self-sufficiency: "Jacob". At the end of himself, he acknowledges in one word to the Lord of the ladder that his life has been the life of the supplanter, even to the point of naively believing that the covenant promises could be secured through betrayal and deception. Jacob is a sinner, a fool who has lived life in the wisdom of man. In clinging to man-mysterium, Jacob confesses his only hope of life lies in the One to whom he clings.
And in the Son of Man who stood at the top of the ladder at Bethel (John 1:51), Jacob receives grace and life. This life-giving Son of man gives Jacob a new name and with the new name, a new identity. It is this new name and this new identity that not only gives rise to a nation, but it is a name and identity forever borne by those who would cling to the Son of Man at the expense of their own lives. In the receiving of new life with a new name, Israel gains entrance to the land promised to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. 400-500 years later, this will be repeated as a nation is born with a new identity in the Passover and Exodus. Even though Israel the nation gains entrance to the Promised Land, they will forget the lesson of their forefather. Rather than cling to the Yahweh who offers them life, they will play the unfaithful fool and be driven from the land.
Over the course of redemptive history, Israel's descendents will give rise to the Son of Man Incarnate, the new Israel in whom heaven and earth meet. The Lord of the Ladder will shed his mystery and descend the ladder at night, surrounded by the angels of glory. The Lord of those hosts will take upon himself flesh forever. The man-mysterium has been revealed for the ages to be the Image of God, Jesus Christ. In humility and suffering he will concede defeat, and in that defeat win salvation for his people. Our striving in the theology of glory has been brought to its end at the cross in the Son of Man’s death.
A new day dawns. Christ, both Son of Man and New Israel, gives grace and life to the spiritually bankrupt. With a new name and new identity, we have been brought into the new creation, an abundant life that flows with milk and honey from the king’s table. Blessed are those at the end of themselves who prefer death to letting go of the Son of Man. As we cling to our only hope of life, may our desperate plea forever be: bless us or we die.
