Genesis 23-36: Esau (and Jacob)

Sunday, July 19, 2026

The Rev. Megan Collins

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Dave and I have been married for 26 years. In that time, I have heard a lot of family stories about the Collins. Starting from the very first time I went to his family’s home, I heard stories at the dinner table about his grandfather, who would switch out someone’s milk for buttermilk when they weren’t looking, or his grandmother, who was a famous actress in Argentina. I heard stories about the trips his family took, the experiences they have had. 

As someone who wasn’t born into the family, but joined it as an adult, the stories give me insight into who their history, who they are, who they’ve become. Even though I’m 26 years in as a part of the Collins, I’m still someone who was married into the family, not born into it. There’s a bigger history below the surface that I’ll always be learning. 

As we move deeper into the Old Testament, we’ll find that many of the stories we read have a deeper history that we might have been taught in our Sunday School classes. In some ways, as we approach these texts, we are the ones who married into the family. Genesis, the stories of the bloodline of Abraham, and the broader Old Testament, they tell the story of the Ancient Israelites, long before the birth of Jesus. Most of us as Gentiles weren’t born into this family. We were, as Romans says, grafted in, like wild branches to a vine.  Even so, we’ll still see the God we know in these stories. That will be a constant. And we’ll still find ways these ancient texts speak to us.

Today we’ll start with two twin boys fighting in a womb, and we will end up seeing how we cope in a world like the one we’re in, right now, with all its darkness. We are going to move really quickly through several chapters of Genesis and into the Old Testament prophets, all the way forward to the New Testament letters, so we can really understand the stories underneath the one from Genesis.  (Also because if we don’t speed up a little we’ll never get to Exodus, let alone the New Testament). 

But before we jump in, let’s catch up with a segment we'll call "Previously on Genesis and Abraham . . ."

There’s a very old man who was called Abram before he was Abraham, and God says essentially, "leave everything you've ever known and go to a place I'll show you later." That was all of the information. And (this is crazy) he goes.  God also says "I'll make you a great nation," which was also wild because he and his wife were very old and didn’t have any children.

Then there’s a dark chapter where his wife Sarai, who becomes Sarah, gets impatient to have a baby and forces her servant Hagar to have a child with Abraham instead. We talked about that in June (read it here), and we’ll look more broadly at the Handmaid Tale situation here in two weeks when we read about Rachel and Leah. We’ll address the horrific story of Dinah as well. These women need to have their stories told. And we will. 

But back to today’s story. Sarah and Abraham are way past the age when you would have kids, but they finally get pregnant with a son, Isaac. Last week we read about how God tests Abraham by asking him to take this long-awaited miracle son up on a mountain and offer him as a sacrifice. At the very last second, an angel stops him, a ram shows up in a thicket, and Isaac survives.

Then Sarah dies, quite possibly out of shock from the whole “my husband took my son to a mountain and almost killed him” part. Abraham grieves her, buys a burial cave and then sends a servant to find his son Isaac a wife, and he finds Rebekah. Fast forward a bit more, and now Rebekah is pregnant. That’s where our story picks up. 

Genesis 25:22-34

The children struggled together within her, and she said, “If it is to be this way, why do I live?” So she went to inquire of the Lord. ²³ And the Lord said to her, “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.” ²⁴ When her time to give birth was at hand, there were twins in her womb. ²⁵ The first came out red, all his body like a hairy mantle, so they named him Esau. ²⁶ Afterward his brother came out, with his hand gripping Esau’s heel, so he was named Jacob. ²⁷ When the boys grew up, Esau was a skillful hunter, a man of the field, while Jacob was a quiet man, living in tents. ²⁸ Isaac loved Esau because he was fond of game, but Rebekah loved Jacob.

So the twins are born, and the parents definitely have favorites. Isaac loves Esau, who hunts. Rebekah loves Jacob, who likes to hang out in a tent. Then things get really interesting: 

²⁹ Once when Jacob was cooking a stew, Esau came in from the field, and he was famished. ³⁰ Esau said to Jacob, “Let me eat some of that red stuff, for I am famished!” (Therefore he was called Edom.) ³¹ Jacob said, “First sell me your birthright.” ³² Esau said, “I am about to die; of what use is a birthright to me?” ³³ Jacob said, “Swear to me first.” So he swore to him and sold his birthright to Jacob. ³⁴ Then Jacob gave Esau bread and lentil stew, and he ate and drank and rose and went his way. Thus Esau despised his birthright.

Flash forward again, and now Isaac is very old and blind. He knows it's time to give Esau his blessing, but Esau was the firstborn. Once this blessing is spoken, there's no taking it back. He tells Esau to make him a really good dinner and then he'll bless him. Rebekah (Team Jacob)  is listening and the second Esau heads out to hunt, she dresses Jacob in Esau's clothes and (wait for it) straps goat skins onto his hands and neck, so that when his blind father reaches out to touch him, he'll feel hairy, like his brother. Jacob is worried he’ll get in trouble, but Rebekah assures him she’ll take the fall if he does. Isaac is suspicious but goes ahead and blesses him. It's the full blessing: land, abundance, authority, the whole thing . . . to the wrong son.

Jacob's barely out the door when Esau comes back in, meal in hand. I’m ready for my blessing dad! Isaac starts trembling when he realizes. Esau breaks down, cries, begs his father to bless him too, which Isaac does, but with like a runner up, participation prize kind of blessing. Esau starts plotting to kill his brother. Rebekah tells Jacob to get out of town, and go stay with her brother Laban. Jacob goes. 

That's the story of Jacob and Esau. We could do a lesson about them, as just two brothers, with all the trickery and stew and parental drama. But they really aren’t just two brothers.

If you skip all the way forward in your Bible, after Jesus has come and gone, to the letter Paul wrote to the  Romans, Paul says this:

¹³ As it is written, “I have loved Jacob, but I have hated Esau.” (Romans 9:13)

We can see how you would get to the Lord choosing Jacob, based on what God says to Rebekah in the Genesis story. But hating Esau? Why? Paul says “as it is written.” But written where? Let's look back in Malachi chapter 1, a prophet in the Old Testament:

² “I have loved you,” says the Lord. But you say, “How have you loved us?” 

“Is not Esau Jacob’s brother?” says the Lord. “Yet I have loved Jacob, ³ but I have hated Esau; (Malachi 1:2-3)

That’s the text Paul is citing. The ancient Israelites are struggling. They are starting to think God doesn’t love them, and the Lord responds. We want to think maybe hate is a strong word here. Maybe it means like the Lord prefers Jacob a little.  But the rest of that verse in Malachi says: I have made his hill country a desolation and his heritage a desert for jackals. (Malachi 1:3) So perhaps hate is right on the nose. 

But why would the Lord hate Esau? He wasn’t perfect, but neither was Jacob, not by a long shot. Perhaps there is more going on here, a family story we have need more history about, because Esau isn’t just a man.  Look back at what the Lord said to Rebekah when she was pregnant:

“Two nations are in your womb, and two peoples born of you shall be divided;"

Two NATIONS. Esau and Jacob aren’t just two boys. There is something much bigger going on here. In our passage from Genesis, Esau was also called Edom, and then in Genesis 32, Jacob is renamed Israel. Edom and Israel are nations, people, not just individuals, and the people of Israel and Edom had some serious beef with one another. Now, before we really dive in, remember when we talk about Israel, we aren’t talking about modern day Israel. This is referring to the ancient Israelites, the people of the Abrahamic lineage. The problem alluded to in Genesis with two babies fighting in a womb shows up clearly in Numbers:

14“This is what your brother Israel says . . . 17 Please let us pass through your country. 18 But Edom answered: “You may not pass through here; if you try, we will march out and attack you with the sword.” (Numbers 20:14-21)

So the ancient Israelites, descendants of Jacob, needed help from the Edomites, descendants of Esau, but they didn’t get it. There is serious anger about this. It comes up again in the Obadiah:

¹⁰  For the slaughter and violence done to your brother Jacob, shame shall cover you, and you shall be cut off forever." (Obadiah 1:10)

Then again in Ezekiel 25:

¹⁴ I will take vengeance on Edom by the hand of my people Israel, and they will deal with Edom in accordance with my anger and my wrath; they will know my vengeance, declares the Sovereign Lord.’” (Ezekiel 25:12-14)

All of that leads up to the passage Paul was quoting from Malachi.  The Lord didn’t hate Esau the baby in Rebekah’s womb, or even Esau the man. This response was part of a long, complicated family history of the people of Ancient Israel and the people of Edom. 

This is the story we have married into, and it’s a messy one. It’s the kind of story you find out a few years into the marriage at family dinner when everyone has had a glass or two of wine and you realize why you are just finding this out now that it’s too late to turn back. Because it’s their story, but now you’re part of the family, so it’s kind of your story too. As those who joined the party a little later, we have to carefully look at texts like these so we don’t easily assume we know what they mean for us, as modern Christians. So what then does this story have to say to us? Actually, there is something that matters quite a bit for us, right now, today, in the world we are living in. Because there is another time the story of Esau comes up, in the letter to the Hebrews, chapter 12. 

The Christians receiving this letter are exhausted and beat up. They are at odds with the people in power. They are tired of resisting. They are tempted to just give up. 

That feels . . . familiar.

It’s been another week. 

A war we thought was over started back up again.

Election denial is back too. 

There was more violence from ICE,

And another day of survivors of sexual assault being silenced and ignored. 

Canada is on fire. 

Diptheria is back. 

Oh. and we can’t even eat salad anymore because of some parasite. We can't even eat salad.

Our world, it’s a lot. 

A community that's exhausted, at odds with the people in power, quietly tempted to just stop showing up because it’s all just too much and holding onto faith is beginning to feel precarious, that’s what this part of Hebrews speaks to.  And that’s where a lot of us are today. In this context the letter to the Hebrews brings up Esau, the man we meet in Genesis. But, this time it doesn’t appear to be referencing the nation/people of Esau/Edom like the Malachi passage Romans references. In this case, it points all the way back to the simple story in Genesis, about a man who chose a hot meal when he was hungry over a birthright that could define his life. And here is why this strange story in Genesis is also for us:

Hebrews 12:1-2 says: “Let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, ² looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of faith”

Keep running, keep persevering, keep going. Even when it’s hard. Stay locked in on Jesus, and go. And then the letter says this:

¹⁶ See to it that no one becomes an immoral and godless person, as Esau was, who sold his birthright for a single meal. 

Why bring Esau into this?

Because the choice Esau made, when he gave up on the thing that really mattered because he was tired. That choice is the one the audience of the letter to the Hebrews, and many of us here today, are tempted to make to.

 Don’t be like Esau, Hebrews says. Don’t give up your birthright. Don’t give up the stuff that really matters just because you’re exhausted  . . . and maybe a little hungry. Stay focused on Jesus, the pioneer and perfector of our faith.

Don’t give up on the life you were born for. You are a child of God. You are made in the image of the God who loves mercy, and justice. Your birthright is Jesus’ kingdom where the poor and the meek and the marginalized are lifted up. Don’t give up on what matters, just because you are weary.

But how? 

Look at Hebrews 10:

²³ Let us hold fast to the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who has promised is faithful. ²⁴ And let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds, ²⁵ not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day approaching.

The most important word in this section is just two letters: us.

Let US not neglect to meet together. 

Let US hold fast to the confession of our hope.

Let US provoke one another to good deeds and to love

Let US encourage one another 

When someone near you is starting to look like they might throw it all away for a warm bowl of stew, pull them back up. That’s what we do, for each other. 

Keep going, together. Stay the course, together. 

Now that our kids are grown they each have someone in their lives, someone who wasn’t born into our family but has joined us now at the dinner table. And they are the ones hearing the stories of our family, the things that have made us who we are, the stories that have carried us through and defined how we see the world. 

That’s kind of what we are doing here, as a church. 

We read these ancient stories together in the Bible, and try to make sense of them, to figure out how they define us, and carry us through, that’s what we are doing. 

We tell our own stories too, and figure out what where we’re going. 

We weren’t born into it this family. But we’re at the table together now. 

And so we tell the stories, of people like Esau, and we keep going.

And we hold onto hope. Together.