Bethel (Genesis 28:10-19)

 Last week in worship, we heard part of the story of Jacob: how he tricked his brother Esau into giving up his birthright, and how he stole from Esau the blessing meant for the first-born son. 

Because Jacob took Esau’s birthright and stole Esau’s blessing, Esau hated Jacob. Esau said to himself, “the days of mourning for my father are approaching; when they are over, I will kill my brother Jacob.”

Rebekah, the mother of Esau and Jacob, found out what Esau was planning to do. She called for Jacob and then said to Jacob: “Your brother Esau is planning to kill you. So run away. Go to my brother, Laban in Haran, and stay there until it is safe to return.”

I was curious, how far of a journey it was, for Jacob to travel from his home in Beer-sheba to Haran. I looked it up, and I was surprised to discover that Haran was way up near the modern-day border between Syria and Turkey. Jacob’s journey was about 500 miles! 

Many years later, after marrying and having kids, Jacob would return to his homeland, which means Jacob not only walked 500 miles to Haran, he walked 500 miles more, back from Haran. 

Knowing this means I will never hear that song by the Proclaimers (“I would walk 500 miles and I would walk 500 more”) without thinking about Jacob, walking 500 miles to Haran, and walking 500 miles back. 

But as far as our story goes, I’m getting ahead of myself. The part of our story today is about when Jacob was first starting out on his long journey.

Imagine what he was feeling. Imagine what was going through his mind. Imagine what emotions were present in his heart.

Remember from last week that Jacob wasn’t really the adventurous type. He didn’t even like to go out and hunt; he preferred to stay in his tent. He liked being at home, where he felt safe, secure, and comfortable. 

At home, he had his family. At home, he worshiped his God, or at least, went through the motions of worshiping God. His father worshiped God, and maybe Jacob let his father do the worshiping on his behalf. That’s how it is with kids, sometimes.

But if he left his home, where would his comfort be? If he left his home, how would he feel secure? If he left his home, who would worship on his behalf, or teach him how to worship on his own?

Would God protect him, if he ventured away from home? Would God be with him? Was God even present, at all, in that great, wild, unsettled wilderness through which he would be traveling?

So many unknowns. 

How he wished he could just stay home. Home, where his family was. Home, where he had dwelled his whole life. Home, where he had watched animals and people be born and grow up, and where he had hoped to one day watch his own children be born and grow up.

Can you think of a time when you’ve had to leave behind all that was familiar, and face an uncertain future? Maybe you’re facing such a time right now. Maybe we’re facing such a time right now…facing the possibility of leaving behind what’s familiar, and venturing forth into an unknown wilderness…

And yet, as much as Jacob wished he could just stay home… he couldn’t. It just wasn’t possible. He couldn’t keep doing what he had been doing; he couldn’t keep living life the way he’d always lived it. 

He would have to choose another path, and embark on a new beginning.

“So Jacob left Beer-sheba and went toward Haran. He came to a certain place…;” and I can tell you that that “certain place” was less than 50 miles from Haran, a place he could have reached after one really long day of traveling, or if not, certainly by the second day.

But it was far enough away, and in an unsettled wilderness, that Jacob already felt far from home, far from his family, and far from God. He had received his father’s blessing, but did that blessing apply to one who was forced out of his family, away from his home, and into the wilderness? Was the blessing still valid in that new situation?

Would God be with him on the journey that he had begun, and which had such a long way still to go?

These thoughts had been with Jacob all day. Now, as the sun was setting, and as Jacob prepared to rest for the night, these thoughts continued to dwell with him.

It didn’t take Jacob long to get ready for bed. He didn’t have much with him. He was roughing it, that’s for sure. He longed for the nice, soft pillow he had in his tent back home, but he didn’t have it. He didn’t have any of the comforts of home.

So he grabbed a rock, and placed it under his head.

The rock wasn’t comfortable; it was a rock! Couldn’t he have taken off his sandals, and used them as a pillow? (Maybe they were too stinky.)

Could he have taken off some of his clothes, wadded them up, and used them as a pillow? (Nah; he probably needed to keep them on his body for warmth.)

What about using nothing at all? Just laying on his back, his head on the ground. Wouldn’t that have been more comfortable than using a rock for a pillow?

But the rock, being the right shape and size, allowed Jacob to close his eyes and imagine that he was back home, resting on his own soft pillow on his own bed in his own tent, and that did give him a tiny bit of emotional comfort, at least. It made him feel a little less alone, lying there under the sky, the only soul for miles around…

I don’t know how long it took him to fall asleep, but when he did, he had a dream. He dreamed there was a ladder, or stairway, reaching from the earth up to heaven, connecting earth and heaven. Angels were traveling up and down the ladder, traveling between earth and heaven.

And in the dream, God appeared, and stood there, and said: “I am the Lord, the God of Abraham your father and the God of Isaac. One day you will return to this land, you and your countless offspring. In the meantime, know this: I am with you. I am with you wherever you go. I will not leave you.” 

When Jacob woke up, he realized that even out here in the wilderness, God was with him. In fact, God would be present with him wherever he went.

When Jacob had left home, he wasn’t sure that was true, but now he knew that it was. God was with him at home; God was with him on the journey through the wilderness, through the unknown; and God would be with him wherever this journey led him.

This knowledge, this awareness of God’s presence, made all the difference. When you realize that God is present, it changes everything. It changes your perception, your awareness. It changes your attitude. It changes your behavior…

Pastor and author Emily C. Heath wrote that “The challenge is learning how to really open ourselves up to God’s presence in our lives. God is always with us, always working in our midst. And… sometimes God is waiting for us to take notice and to get to work alongside God. At the heart of Christian spirituality is the capacity to experience God’s presence in our daily life. It’s learning to find that God is indeed in this place, and in every other place to which we go.”

Whatever happens, whatever changes are in store, whatever decisions we have to make, and wherever we go, God is present, and God’s blessings will continue to flow into our lives and through our lives.

As the sun was rising, Jacob took the stone that he had put under his head, and set it upright for a pillar, to form an altar; and he poured oil on top of it, consecrating it. 

After all, he wouldn’t need that rock with him anymore. He wouldn’t need that not-at-all comfortable pillow to remind him of his home, the place where he was loved and cared for and blessed, because now he knew that he would be loved and cared for and blessed wherever he went.

Jacob named that place where he had spent the night “Bethel.” Beth means “house,” and El means “God.”

Beth-El. “House of God.”

Perhaps before he only thought of his home, his homeland, as the place where God dwells. Now, he realized that God’s house is wherever he lays his head, because God cannot be limited by a particular place. 

Wherever you go, God is there. Whatever happens, God is there. 

God is there when you lay down your head at night and when you rise in the morning.

God is in the morning sun that greets you; or, the fog that moves slowly and silently. And God is in the moonlight, and the starlight, and the darkness of night.

God is in the flowers of your garden, and in the songs of the birds.

God is with you at home, in the midst of your family; and God is with you when you are far from home, or have no home, or have been separated from your family.

And even if you find yourself in a new place with new neighbors, God is there, too, among them.

God is even in you. You are created in God’s image… Some Christian leaders have gotten in trouble for preaching this over the years, that there is goodness and holiness within you, yet Genesis 1 says that every person was created in God’s image, and was created good. 

There is goodness in you. There is God’s presence in you. 

And the presence of God in you might be the reminder to someone else that they are loved, that they are blessed, and that God is with them.

So whatever happens, wherever you end up… God is there.

And God is good.

"Strange Dreams" (Genesis 28:10-19)

Imagine hiking 1,300 miles on the Pacific Crest Trail. That’s what a friend of mine did in the summer of 2017. 

Most of it, he did by himself. On his back, he carried everything he needed: his clothing, his tent, his sleeping bag, his food… and his guitar.

Some of you know this person I’m talking about. His name is James. He’s a musician - a singer and songwriter - which is why he carried his big ol’ acoustic guitar into the wilderness along with all his other essentials. 

Some years back, when James was still in high school, he and some other young Disciples musicians from San Diego played a little concert on our church patio. And last summer, I recruited James to counsel and lead music at Loch Leven.

It was there, at Loch Leven last summer, that James and I talked about his wilderness trek. I’ve done a bit of backpacking myself, but I’ve never done a backpacking trip all by myself, and I’ve never done a months-long trip on the Pacific Crest Trail.

So I asked him: “What was it like? What was it like, at night, in your tent, by yourself?”

He said that the sense of solitude was immense. It was really cool, and - at times - incredibly lonely. 

He said that lying there, alone in his tent at night, it was easy for his imagination to run wild, because who knows what’s lurking out there in the darkness?

It reminded me of one of my very first boy scout backpacking trips…

I was only eleven years old. I remember a steep trail getting to our campsite… and I remember that, as night came, I somehow ended up in a tent all by myself.

Not really what eleven year-old me wanted.

At night, it was dark. It was completely silent. It was lonely. And, yes, it was scary.

And then, it started to rain!

It was a long, lonely night.

In today’s scripture, it is Jacob who spends a night alone. It’s his first night ever away from home. And it wasn’t by choice.

Jacob was on the run. Jacob’s brother Esau was threatening to kill Jacob, so Jacob was fleeing for his life. 

And I imagine that, on the run, away from home, spending his first night away from his family, out in the wilderness… I imagine that Jacob felt isolated. And very alone. 

Especially once the sun set, and it got dark, and the hyenas started howling in the distance.

Jacob was tired, and he couldn’t see in the darkness, so he laid himself down on the ground. He grabbed a stone, and used it as a pillow.

Before he fell asleep, his memories tormented him. Had he done what was right? Was it worth it, to gain the birthright and blessing, only to be driven away from his family? From his home? 

Jacob never felt more alone than he did on that night.

The same is true for many of us today. We have never felt more alone, more isolated. We’re not out in the wilderness, sleeping alone on the ground beneath a starry sky - but it kinda feels like it.

To begin with, we live in the most individualized society in earth’s history. No other society, past or present, has valued independence and individualism more than our modern American society.

This tends to make people lonely.

Other societies, past and present, were much more communal in nature. It was all about the household, the tribe, the community. Jacob had been a part of a large household which included Isaac and so many distant relatives and friends and companions and servants. 

We would look at a society like that and lament the lack of privacy; they would look at a society like ours and lament the lack of connection.

We do live isolated lives. One of the reasons coming together in worship is so important and so meaningful to us is that it is a way to break out of our isolation, to connect, to form a community with people - a family - with people who become, in a very real way, our children, our siblings, our parents, our grandparents, our aunts and uncles, in the family of God.

But we’re not able to do that now. For the past several months, we’ve been more or less isolated - isolated even more than we normally are - by this pandemic which, at least in the United States, shows no signs of ending any time soon… which means that our isolation has gone to a whole new level, and many of us are feeling more alone now than we ever have before...

Another characteristic of the strange, uncertain times is that a lot of people are saying they’re having more vivid dreams.

I asked around in my own family, and they said yes, they’ve been having strange, unusually vivid dreams. And I have too. 

Psychologists say there is a reason for this. They say that when things are in turmoil, our dreams go into overtime to help us adjust. This, the psychologists say, is actually helpful to our wellbeing.

People who have vivid dreams during times of trial and uncertainty end up coping better, and are less likely to experience depression as a result of their stressful circumstances. This is true even if the dreams themselves are emotionally negative. Dreams can help us move on and move forward, emotionally and mentally. And in that sense, the psychologists say, dreams really do have healing power.

A recent article in Psychology Today by Dylan Selterman talks about dreams in the time of extreme social distancing. The article says: “our dreams may serve as a biological signal that we must work hard to maintain our relationship bonds. Folks have been describing their ‘random’ dreams online recently that included high school friends, exes, or folks who have passed away. When many of us can’t leave our homes or socialize the way we ordinarily would, these dreams are motivating us, as if our brains are crying out: Reconnect! Reconnect!”

Has that been your experience? Because I have, in fact, had a number of dreams lately which featured people and places from my past - churches where I was once a member or pastor - homes where I once lived - dreams featuring my parents - and dreams in which I’m substitute teaching, even though it’s been over four months now since the schools closed.

Is it because I’m feeling even more isolated than usual? Are these dreams telling me to reconnect, reconnect?

Jacob - away from home, isolated and alone - put his head down on the stone. Night fell. All became shadow. His memories tormented him, and then his dreams unsettled him. Strange, unusually vivid dreams.

He dreamed of a great ladder or stairway to heaven, connecting heaven and earth. And there were angels going up and down this giant stairway. 

And in his dream the Lord appeared, and said “I am the Lord, the God of Abraham and Isaac. This land will be given to you and to your offspring, which will spread like the dust of the earth; and you and your descendants will be a blessing to all the families of the earth.

“For I am with you and will protect you wherever you go.”

Jacob had gone to sleep feeling all alone - incredibly alone - but when he woke up, he reflected on the vivid dream he had had, and he realized: he was not alone. 

He said, “Surely the Lord is in this place - and I did not know it! I didn’t realize! I cried myself to sleep, wishing there was someone to hear my cries, someone to comfort me, someone to dry my tears… I didn’t realize that the Lord was here, hearing my cries; or that the Lord was, in that very moment, embracing me, protecting me, watching over me…”

“But now I know: the Lord is here with me. The Lord is here, and I need not fear. Even when I feel abandoned. Even when I feel alone. The Lord is here. And the Lord will always be here, with me, wherever I go.”

And Jacob took the stone that he had used as a pillow and he set it upright, forming a little altar; and he poured oil on top of the stone, so that, when he returned to this spot, he would see it, and remember that, here, when he was a young man and had left home for the first time; when he lay down to sleep feeling all alone and isolated, God was with him all along. And someday, when he comes back and sees that stone, it will remind him of God’s presence, that where he was, God was; and where he is, God is.

And Jacob named that place Bethel, a word that means “God’s home.” Jacob had left his home, but had found his way to God’s home. Because God’s home is always with you, wherever you are. Sacred space can be found wherever you are.

And in this time of pandemic, when we aren’t able to gather together the way we want to, that’s a good thing to remember: that God is always with you, wherever you are.

Building an Altar (Genesis 28)

Well, it started out as a sort of competition between me and my brother-in-law. You’ve met my brother-in-law, Ed. He and his sister and their two girls have visited here once or twice. They attend a Methodist church near their home, but we don’t hold that against them.


Anyway, I don’t remember which one of us initiated the competition. All I know is that we were at the beach one day, with our families, a beach that was covered with rocks and thus was not very good for swimming.

The rocks that covered the beach were of various sizes. Most ranged from golf-ball-size to the size of my fist, though some were larger, even as large as a watermelon. Most were smoothly rounded, but some had jagged edges.

One of us took a few of these rocks and stacked them on top of one another. The other of us responded by taking the same number of rocks plus one, and stacking them … and the competition was on.

It’s amazing how tall you can balance a stack of rocks. I wouldn’t have believed you could do such a thing until I tried. In fact, that right there is a very powerful lesson, one that probably deserves its own sermon: that so many things actually seem impossible, until you actually try.

People walking by stared in disbelief. One person actually asked, “Did you use glue to hold those together?”

No. I just balanced them. Carefully. Patiently.

On subsequent visits to the beach, I found myself stacking rocks, even if Ed wasn’t around. Eventually I found a facebook page devoted to rockstacking. I discovered that among some Buddhists, rockstacking is a form of meditative practice. And at Bella Cosa, perhaps the cutest store in Bixby Knolls, they sell a sculpture that is nothing more than 5 egg-shaped stones stacked on top of each other, held together by glue or a rod drilled through them or something like that. It retails for $34.95.

It wasn’t long before stacking rocks became for me more of a spiritual practice and less of a friendly competition or way to pass the time on a beach that wasn’t conducive to body surfing. Everyday life has so many anxieties and worries. We feel the pressure to do ten things at once. Hardly ever do we have the opportunity to focus on a single task, to meditate on a single topic, without being distracted by other thoughts.

Robert Fulghum, who has had many different jobs throughout his life, once wrote about the job he’d really like to have. If I remember correctly (it’s been many years since I read this), the job he most wanted was to live in a culture or tribe where his job would be to polish the stick. That’s it. He’d be the stick-polisher. It would be his one task, a task he could focus on and do well. Nothing else would distract him because he would be the stick-polisher.

I get that. I feel the same way sometimes when I’m doing a simple but important task, like painting a room. I get all set up, and start painting. For the day, until it’s done, that’s my one task. I can focus on it, and do it well.

Most tasks in life are not so simple. But balancing rocks on top of one another is as simple as it gets. And it requires all your concentration, all your focus. You have to know the tower, and anticipate how the addition of each new rock will affect the balance of the whole thing. You have to know each individual rock, intimately, for lack of a better word. Sometimes the rock just doesn’t want to balance, so you discard it and find another. Most rocks are willing, however, and will balance if you just have enough patience.

And, for some reason, it’s all very satisfying.

Last year at Loch Leven, I convinced a dozen or so kids to spend an hour with me stacking and balancing rocks by the stream. Some of them were actually pretty good at it. I was surprised. They were able to focus and show the patience necessary to make some really beautiful towers.

It made me think that rockstacking might be a really useful practice for kids and adults with attention deficit disorder. I think someone should do a study on that.

As we were stacking rocks, I introduced those kids to Ebenezer. Are you familiar with Ebenezer? I started thinking about Ebenezer soon after I started stacking rocks.

Perhaps this will help you remember Ebenezer. This morning we sang the hymn, “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing.” Verse two includes the line, “Here I raise my Ebenezer.”

I purposely had us use the original words to this hymn. If you happened to open up your Chalice Hymnal, you probably noticed that the words “Here I raise my Ebenezer” have been altered to read, “Here I raise to thee an altar.” So if you don’t know already, that should tell you that Ebenezer is an old word – an old Hebrew word, actually – and that it means an altar.

It comes from the first book of Samuel. God intervened on behalf of the Israelites by saving them from the Philistine army. The scripture says that, in response, “Samuel took a stone and set it up between Mizpah and Jeshanah, and named it Ebenezer,” which means stone of help.

Jacob also made an altar by stacking rocks in response to his sacred encounter with God. Well, he took one rock and set it up as a pillar, or, depending on how the Hebrew is interpreted, he took one rock and set it on top of a pillar of rocks. He did this in response to a special encounter he had with God at that place, which he named Bethel, a word that means house of God.

Of course, the altars built by Samuel and Jacob were probably a bit studier than my rock towers, which were easily toppled by seagulls, ocean breezes, or even the vibrations of the nearby pounding surf. Those biblical altars were built to last, to serve as a reminder to future passersby and even future generations of a special encounter with God that took place at a specific location.

Well, one thing leads to another, and just as my rockstacking led to an exploration and study of these biblical altars, that exploration and study in turn has led me to wonder how people today respond to a significant encounter with God. What altars – literal and figurative – do we build today? What do we do to remind ourselves and the world that, in our life and location, God has been present?

65 years ago, a committed group of Christians decided to build an altar in a new and growing section of Long Beach, and call it “Bixby Knolls Christian Church.” Do you know how much effort it takes to build a church? To raise the interest, to get people to commit their time, and to raise the money? There are times when I walk around this place, and I look at the buildings, the stained-glass windows, the classrooms, and I think: Wow. The people who built this church were incredibly generous and hardworking. This place really is a testimony to their dedication to God. They sacrificed great amounts of their money and their lives to establishing a place where God is worshiped, where the good news of God’s love for all people is shared with neighbors near and far.

You are impressed by my ability to stack rocks, something that takes one hour and is knocked down in the next hour. Far more impressive, I think, is the ability of a group of dedicated, committed Christians to establish a church and keep it going.

The generosity of our current members and friends is what keeps this church going, which is a remarkable thing given that we live in an age when it seems everyone wants to keep as much as they can for themselves. It’s harder to get people to commit to any kind of social or religious organization these days. This church, this building, this ministry, continues to be an altar to God.