Genesis 29: 15-28 (links validated 6/29/26a)

My almost-four-year-old believes all of life as a race. A race every block to pre-school, which usually ends with “I win! You eliminated!” The alternate ending is tears so I’m (mostly) ok with my elimination. In addition to foot races and bike races, he loves to create, narrate and watch matchbox car races. From this, he has learned the strategy of swerving lanes, which—unfortunately—he has also attempted in our foot and bike races. I am worried of getting tripped up but my far greater fear is wiping him out with me when he trips me up. So I find myself shouting, “Stay in your lane, buddy!” Thankfully, a rather minor encounter of this sort has disabused him of this approach. When I read this story, I feel like I’m dodging all kinds of dangerous lane swerving: Jacob swooped into Esau’s lane. That’s where it all starts. Laban finds multiple ways of cutting Jacob off. Rachel and Leah, the sisters, have to share a lane and constantly merging in and out without signaling and dinging each others’ fenders, if not actually causing a spin out. It is a story of near misses and, seems to me, only by the grace of God that this doesn’t end in a multi-car pile up.

In other sermon commentaries here on the CEP website I have likely at some point mentioned something I learned a while back from the great artist Mako Fujimura. Mako has regularly lectured on the Japanese art form known as kintsugi. Kintsugi is the art that emerges after precious family heirlooms in the form of tea sets or other bowls and vessels break, perhaps from one of the many earthquakes Japan experiences. In kintsugi the vessel is repaired, glued back together. But unlike how we might do it in America—concealing where the breaks were so we can say in the end “It’s good as new!”—the mending points are actually highlighted, often in bright gold so no one can miss where the cup or bowl had broken. It is a reminder, Fujimura says, that a new beauty can come out of our brokenness. We need not deny our pains in life, our disappointments, the places where we have felt dislocated and broken. Like the fact that Jesus somehow retained his crucifixion scars even after being raised with a resurrection body, so kintsugi reminds us that healing and renewal happen not despite our scars but through them. When faced with narratives as fraught and broken as the ones we so often encounter in Genesis, this is a fine reminder for all of us who can see ourselves inside stories like these.

he much-acclaimed movie, “A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood,” gives a marvelous example of a hard man being changed by grace. A cynical and angry journalist is given the assignment of doing a brief piece on “Mister Rogers” of the beloved children’s TV show. The journalist has been deeply wounded by his no-good father, so he lives a closed and bitter life. Not surprisingly, he approaches his assignment with a negative attitude toward this ridiculously kind and caring TV figure. What’s his angle? Who is he really? Over the course of several visits, the reporter is softened and healed to the point where he is reconciled to his father before the latter dies...

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includes questions for discussion

It happened in an airport: in the waiting area by one of the gates. It was one of those terrible days when there’d been bad weather, and a great many flights had been canceled. Well, those of you who travel know what happens when flights are canceled: there’s a mad rush to re-book on other flights. At this particular gate, the flight was already full. But there were several passengers, bumped from other flights, who were crowding the desk. “Please be patient,” said the gate agent. “We’ve got you all on standby. We’ll let you know as soon as something opens up.” So, the standby passengers all sat down: except for one man, a business executive. “You know,” he growled, “I was booked in first class on the other flight, the one that was canceled.” “Yes, I know, sir. Please sit down. Make yourself comfortable. We’ll call you.” But this guy wouldn’t take “maybe” for an answer. He went on: “I want you to know I’ve got an important meeting back home. It’s of the utmost importance that I get onto this flight.” “Thank you, sir. We’ll do everything we can.” But he didn’t sit down. He just stood there and glared at the gate agent. Finally he asked, “Do you know who I am?” Airline gate agents are people of infinite patience, but this woman had had enough. She had one tool at her disposal: her microphone. She picked it up and said this: “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a man here who does not know who he is. Would someone please claim him, offer him a seat in the waiting area, and tell him I’ll talk to him when it’s his turn?” Sheepishly the man made his way to a seat, as the whole waiting area burst into applause...

("What does a sacred life look like? How might the life of a saint be described? In the fine film The Third Miracle, a Catholic priest is asked to investigate the life of a woman named Helen, who was reputed to have performed some miracles in her life and who, after her death, was credited with the healing of a child suffering from lupus...")

A classic car lover was perusing the classifieds and saw an ad that seemed impossible to believe. A 1966 candy-apple red Corvette, a dream car, and offered for $100. What? $100...for a classic? No way, José. Was it a wreck? Or maybe the price was a misprint. Still, he had to find out, so he called. A woman answered the phone and assured him that the car was in excellent shape and that there was no mistake about the price. He dashed over. To his delight the car proved to be everything the woman reported it to be. Gorgeous! Of course he told her that he would take it. $100. But his conscience gnawed at him as he wrote the check. "Ma'am, I have to tell you that this car is worth far more than $100. You have every right to get a much higher price." "Oh, I know that," she replied, "but you see my husband has left me and run off with his floozy secretary. He said he didn't want anything from our marriage - I could keep everything but the Corvette. He wanted me to sell that and send him the money. Which is precisely what I am doing. $100." Ah, justice. In a way, that is probably what came to mind to those ancients who listened to the story of Jacob...