19th Sunday after Pentecost (Fr. Guiliano)

Palantine Chapel, Palermo, Sicily.

Our Old Testament lesson dropped us in the middle of the story of Jacob. He is heading south to Canaan, the land of this birth. He has sent his family and possessions across “the ford of the Jabbok,” and he remains on the north side of the river. There, he has a mysterious confrontation with a man. They wrestle until daybreak.
 
It is a moment of tension, heightened by the narrative’s terse sentences. We should remember that Jacob had reasons to be afraid that night. 

He was leaving the house of his uncle Laban, who had cheated him and whom he had cheated. He was drawing near to where his twin brother, Esau, held sway – Esau, with whom he had been in conflict since their birth, Esau, who had promised to kill him, Esau, whose birthright and blessing Jacob had usurped through trickery.

It was not a good moment for a lonely encounter with an unknown assailant -- in the dark, by a river. Jacob could have chosen not to return home. He could have gone another direction: east toward the land of the Chaldeans, from where his grandfather Abraham had gone; north into parts unknown, even west, skirting the coast of Canaan, or taking a ship. 

But his birthright, his inheritance, and the places where he had previously encountered the living God all lay south. So south he went. 

And at the ford of the Jabbok, he wrestled until daybreak. He endured the strain of the battle. He must have cried out as his bones were put out of joint by the blows of his enemy – who, it turns out, was not his enemy, but a mysterious manifestation of God. 

Jacob said to him, “I will not let you go, unless you bless me.” God did bless him, and renamed him: “You shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with humans, and have prevailed.” Jacob went away, limping, as the sun rose, and the place was named Peniel or Penuel, which means “face of God.” 

Like the parable in our Gospel reading, Jacob’s encounter reveals to us the nature of life here on earth, the life that is lived by faith. It is a life in which we do not understand everything that happens to us. It is a life in which the future remains open: we do not know what it is coming next. It is a life amid uncertainty, where we may continually encounter God, sometimes finding him in those places where we are struggling the most, unsure, alone, burdened by the past. 

We are not left without agency. God knows the future, and we do not. But we may strive still, strive with God and humanity, and come to prevail, come to receive the blessing and a name. We may enter those good times that the Lord has prepared for those who love him. 

It takes persistence – persistence, like the widow in the parable of Jesus. She is confronted by the injustice of her opponent, and challenged by a judge who does not care to uphold the law. This judge operates without regard for anyone, and for a while “he refuses” the widow’s case. But he is worn down by her pleas, her irritating and bothersome complaints. 

The life of faith takes persistence and sometimes urgency and determination to knock on the doors that lie ahead of us, to push through them, to remain steadfast in the tasks to which God has called us. Think of St Paul’s exhortation to Timothy, which grounds Timothy’s life in the word of God and in the ministry of the Gospel.  Paul says to him – and to us: 

In the presence of God and of Christ Jesus, who is to judge the living and the dead, and in view of his appearing and his kingdom, I solemnly urge you: proclaim the message; be persistent whether the time is favorable or unfavorable; convince, rebuke, and encourage, with the utmost patience in teaching.   

That apostolic mission remains for us today: Persistence, patience, passionate proclamation of the good news. We have a divine calling to fulfill, and whatever our past or present struggles, the Lord is pushing us forward, responding to our prayers and our actions in his name. 

Today marks the beginning of our Annual Giving Campaign. I won’t say a lot about it now. Bruce is going to speak during the announcements, and registered members are receiving materials in the mail. (If you are new, you may pick up envelopes here.) 

But what I have tried to evoke this morning is a sense of the open future, and of the importance of wrestling and struggling to reach our goal, persisting in the life of faith. I saw a sign recently that said, “My ancestors fought for my future; now I fight for that of others.” It was written in Spanish: Mis papás lucharon, using that same word at the root of luchador, like a Mexican wrestler. As we consider our future together, will we fight for it, wrestle for it, strive with God and with humans to achieve it?

What is giving in the Church but an act of faith and a commitment to the future, and one that requires effort? We give of ourselves – times, talents, treasures – trusting that our actions are placed in the greater context of God’s merciful plan for the world. 

I pray that God will bless us as we consider these things, as we stand like Jacob on the banks of the river, looking forward to what is next, and seeking always to meet the living God.