When I did another “Biblical Grumps” series out at Silverdale, I used the slash and burn method on a DC Talk rap.  This had the simultaneous effect of proving, once and for all, that I could get down with the medium and their need for a real pastor.  So, thanks to me, they now have a real pastor; remember: no matter how bad this gets, you will thank me someday as you look back over your shoulder with a shudder and think of the continuing oratorical nightmares you might have had!  Apparently, you’ve heard the word, since you hired a pastor a week before my first message.  You are wise and take warning well.  Be that as it may, I won’t plug in the keyboard or put on the do-rag – there are some things that are simply more appropriate for the evening service; but here’s the rap. 

Grump Is A Noun

(With Apologies To Toby McKeehan, et al.)

Pullin’ out my big red book

‘Caus when I need a word defined that’s where I look

So I move to the “G”’s quick, fast in a hurry

Threw on my specs, thought my vision was blurry

I looked again but to my dismay

It was black and white with no room for gray

Ya see a big “N” stood beyond my word

And yo that’s when it hit me that grump is a noun

Introduction to Jacob the Grump

After that we should probably attempt to better redeem the time; so, take out your Bibles and turn to Genesis chapter 37.

First, it needs to be said that the most of the particularly grumpy statements of Jacob find themselves firmly planted in the Joseph narrative – and with good reason the rose of his treacherous nature has had opportunity to backfire and blossom into full blown bitterness.  So, quickly, what is the Joseph story, and what is it about?  Yes, those are separate questions.  We text-linguistic people use what we call the foregrounded and backgrounded macrostructure to divine these.  Now, you needn’t know the complex calculus we use to get arrive them but I think you will agree that we have a good handle on the Joseph story.  I will be following Robert Longacre, famous for well over 50 years of professional and scholarly publications and tireless Bible translator and linguistics instructor for SIL and Wycliffe.  According to him, the foregrounded macrostructure – the story itself – is:

Joseph’s brothers, meaning to harm him, sold him into Egypt, but in reality God sent him there so that he could save Jacob’s family and many others from death by starvation.[1]

Give or take a bit, I think we can all agree that this, in a nutshell, is what the Joseph story is.  But there is some backgrounded material that is instructive, as well.  It tells us subliminal things that the author of the Joseph story, let’s call him, “Cecil B. DeMoses,” wants us to keep in mind:

Among the descendants of Jacob, Joseph and Judah are to be preeminent both as individuals and as tribes.[2]

And so, these two characters factor heavily in the story itself as well as the prophetic blessings at the end of the story.  But within the story, there is at least a third level of subliminal message and it has to do with character.  Remember, all of this transpires within the overall structural framework of the book of Genesis.  Whenever you see a “These are the generations of” statement, you are into a new segment of the book and we should be reminded that we are now in the section entitled “These are the generations of Jacob (Genesis 37:2).”  So, let’s take a look at the old grump himself. 

The good news and my main point is that:

Even The Grumpiest Of Grumps Can Reform. 

Some of these texts are classics:

First, in Genesis chapter 37 at what Jacob is certain is the end of Joseph’s life we read the following:

32 and they sent the varicolored tunic and brought it to their father and said, “We found this; please examine it to see whether it is your son’s tunic or not.” 33 Then he examined it and said, “It is my son’s tunic. A wild beast has devoured him; Joseph has surely been torn to pieces!” 34 So Jacob tore his clothes, and put sackcloth on his loins, and mourned for his son many days. 35 Then all his sons and all his daughters arose to comfort him, but he refused to be comforted. And he said, “Surely I will go down to Sheol in mourning for my son.” So his father wept for him.^[3]

Alright fine!  You and I know that Joseph is not dead; Jacob’s sons know that Joseph is not dead; with that many blabbermouths in the family, you know the truth will leak out to others in the family; but Jacob cannot know at this time that his son is not dead.  Such things as police forensics had not been invented yet and goat blood and a shredded Amazing Technicolor Dream-coat look for all the world like Joseph’s apart from modern technology.  We feel for Jacob across the ages; but we cannot reach him and so we must wait for him to have the discovery we should all suspect is coming.  We cannot comfort him anymore than, apparently, the attempted consolations of his own family did – including the phony efforts of the treacherous sons.  I wonder if Jacob sensed any of their inauthenticity at this point. 

We have all been graveside as some folks have made some rather remarkable pronouncements and so we should not be so astonished by Jacob’s.  First, he is once again, reaping the bitter harvest of his favoritism.  He buried his favorite wife Rachel, who died in childbirth.  Joseph was his favorite son – a son doted on to the point that he was not taught not to flaunt his favoritism.  Jacob is being tested by God as was his grandfather Abraham in chapter 22.  If you put anything up high enough on a pedestal so that God takes notice of it, He might just test you on it.  No, I’m not the only one that thinks that way. 

But beyond all the theological stuff, let us just for a moment feel the grief of the man: no man expects his son to precede him in death – certainly not his favorite son.  There is something unnatural about it – there is something that violates the logical order of things.  Think about it in your own world.  What happens when a man loses his favorite wife?  Or his only wife for that matter?  He’s pretty upset about it for a while – probably downright angry; but then, statistics tell me that he gets over it and remarries.  What happens when a man loses his only son – whether in war, by disease, or in some tragic accident?  Statistics tell me that he can become unhinged.  Ladies, I know, it is not fair; but the father/son thing is one of those “no, no zones.”  Don’t ask us to explain it; we can’t.  And it will just make you mad if you make us try.  But feel Jacob’s grief for a moment; knowing that this story will have an ironic twist toward the end of Jacob’s life.  Moving on . . .

Now consider Jacob’s words in Genesis chapter 42.  Remember, the boys have been down to acquire provender in Egypt.  They did so at the expense of a rather cross examination from the ruler of the land and the subsequent incarceration of Simeon, held as collateral against the return without Benjamin.  Here’s Jacob’s response to the boys request to return to Egypt for more food with Benjamin in tow:

36 And their father Jacob said to them, “You have bereaved me of my children: Joseph is no more, and Simeon is no more, and you would take Benjamin; all these things are against me.” 37 Then Reuben spoke to his father, saying, “You may put my two sons to death if I do not bring him back to you; put him in my care, and I will return him to you.” 38 But Jacob said, “My son shall not go down with you; for his brother is dead, and he alone is left. If harm should befall him on the journey you are taking, then you will bring my gray hair down to Sheol in sorrow.”

Reuben’s statement is hardly worth a response: no grandfather, worth of the title, will sacrifice his grandsons on the altar of protocol.  Sons maybe, grandsons, never!  Be that as it may, fair warning has been given and the shot fired across the bow.  But in the wording of this – perhaps more than a dozen years later! – is the echo of words in chapter 37.  His grey hair has not going down to Sheol yet; but I can well imagine that he has made everyone share of his disconsolate nature in full measure on his way there.  There is a principle here: misery loves company . . . hence the word “commiserate.”  Wouldn’t it be just fine being miserable together!  But there is also a real warning: Boys if you’ve taken a chance by selling out one of the siblings and spent the last dozen years in damage control mode, why on earth would you want to tempt fate again?!  If at first you stupidly fail, try, try and stupidly fail again!  Some grumps just have to get over it on their own time.  You’d best stay out of the way.  Moving on . . . 

And in Genesis chapter 43, still after the first mission of the Judah and siblings famine relief commission:

6 Then Israel said, “Why did you treat me so badly by telling the man whether you still had another brother?”

It is a judicious question, no?  It is all the more so, since, according to the text we cannot divine that the “lord of the land” – that would be Joseph in Egyptian disguise – solicited any of the information.  The blabbermouth brothers simply blurted out the information at Joseph’s initial accusation of espionage.  Perhaps the boys were telling the truth when they said that he asked them particularly about the father and the absent brother; however, with their track record on truth, the narrator has led us to believe the worst about the boys. 

But now look at the morbid conclusion in the middle of Genesis chapter 43:

11 Then their father Israel said to them, “If it must be so, then do this: take some of the best products of the land in your bags, and carry down to the man as a present, a little balm and a little honey, aromatic gum and myrrh, pistachio nuts and almonds. 12 “And take double the money in your hand, and take back in your hand the money that was returned in the mouth of your sacks; perhaps it was a mistake. 13 “Take your brother also, and arise, return to the man; 14 and may God Almighty grant you compassion in the sight of the man, that he may release to you your other brother and Benjamin. And as for me, if I am bereaved of my children, I am bereaved.”

We are reminded of Esther’s stoic detachment to her own life as she committed herself to entering the King’s presence unbidden.  She said, “If I perish, I perish.”  Without any of Esther’s courage and certainly with none of her bravado, Jacob took a look at the situation and decided that the needs of the many . . . most probably including his own empty stomach . . . out weighed the needs of whoever else dropped along the wayside. 

However, there is something of a turn here: Jacob adopts God-talk for the first time in a while.  He has talked about death a few of times; but hitherto, there has been little acknowledgment of the place of the Holy One of Israel.  In this particular case, “God Almighty” or ‘el shaddai, is the title of sovereignty.  If this is an authentic representation of the Patriarch’s spiritual condition, it would be a proper statement about God’s sovereign position with respect to the final outcomes of human mortality.  Perhaps none of us are persuaded that this is a statement of faith as much as a wish.  It is as though he is saying, “Here, take something for a bribe and good luck to you.”  But it is a start and . . .

After the complete metamorphosis of Judah in the prequel, in Genesis chapter 45, the cat hops out of the bag and Joseph reveals his true identity.  When the boys get back to Canaan, we begin in earnest to see the transition in Jacob.  Ever the one for melodrama, he makes a statement anticipating action.  Note also that his name, “Jacob,” appears now as the far more powerful and future national title “Israel:”

28 Then Israel said, “It is enough; my son Joseph is still alive. I will go and see him before I die.”

I’d like to say that Jacob has a preoccupation with death; but that would be to reiterate the obvious!  In any case, he certainly seems to have a preoccupation with death, no?  We are told in the New Testament book of Hebrews that “Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”  Since Joseph is still off the set, Jacob is exercising his faith to the degree that he can believe the exponentially compounding evidence as to the terrestrial existence of Joseph.  James chapter 2 indicates that faith acts and so Jacob converts his new found faith into action and decides to go to Egypt and see Joseph.  But ever the macabre specter of death haunting the stage of Jacob’s life, he punctuates the misery that the brothers have subjected him to – we are now certain that he knows how this all came about! – and reminds the brothers that his departure is immanent: “. . . before I die.”  Oh, and did you notice Jacob’s preoccupation with death?  Jacob remains a picture of sound mental health, wouldn’t you say? 

Just a principle before we pass on, as it were: it cannot be a picture of spiritual health to be preoccupied with death.  I have been told that religion prepares you to die; whereas, faith prepares you to live. . . . 

Moving on and again, melodramatically, Jacob, upon meeting Joseph, is quoted in Genesis 46:30 as introduced by the narrator saying:

30 Then Israel said to Joseph, “Now let me die, since I have seen your face, that you are still alive.”

Wow!  I wish they would have given us something like: “Good to see you again, son; I’ve missed you; I love you.”  But you certainly get a sense of how Jacob feels and has felt about the whole thing.  But note the reversal: first the morbid mention of death, “Now let me die,” and then this is followed by the observation, “you are still alive.”  The narrator grabs these quotes and uses them strategically as indicative of subtle shifts in the old man’s thinking.  Really, if the favorite son lives on, our passing is alright.  And passing right along . . .

Reminding me of a Shakespearian Tragedy, the old dramatist makes his appearance before Pharaoh in Genesis chapter 47.  Notice that the passage is bracketed by blessing in verses 7 and 10. 

7 Then Joseph brought his father Jacob and presented him to Pharaoh; and Jacob blessed Pharaoh. 8 And Pharaoh said to Jacob, “How many years have you lived?” 9 So Jacob said to Pharaoh, “The years of my sojourning are one hundred and thirty; few and unpleasant have been the years of my life, nor have they attained the years that my fathers lived during the days of their sojourning.” 10 And Jacob blessed Pharaoh, and went out from his presence. 

Sounds like Hamlet, no?  “How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world.”  Really, Pharaoh asks the logical question.  If you were 130 years old, you would probably wear your age like a mantle.  However, in Jacob’s case we find that there is a crustiness to it.  The odds of me making it to 130 are slim and none with none gaining each day.  But should I make it to 130, I really doubt that the word “few” will describe my days – neither should it have described Jacob’s.  Jacob has lived long enough to see nearly all his peers die and most of those of his children’s peers.  He’s had a lot more birthdays than most people get, of his day or any other – yes even that of the antediluvians.  Just because Methuselah lived for nearly a thousand years doesn’t mean that everybody did – especially since his world was characterized by more violence than even our own . . . either that or God owes some apologies, no?  But Jacob discloses to Pharaoh that his days have been “unpleasant.”  That is the real problem.  Jacob is a bitter old tart and he wants to pass on not only his charisma but his love of life to everyone else! 

Try to keep this in context: this is most probably Jacob’s one and only audience with the Pharaoh . . . it might last a few seconds.  I ask you, is this the way you would address a world ruler were it the only shot you had?  I’m hoping there’s more collective wisdom here than that.  Yes, Abraham and Isaac did live longer than Jacob . . . they weren’t as sour either.  In view of some of the trials they went through, my guess is that back in their days as now being a sourpuss was something at the level of conscious choice. 

There’s a principle here.  When I was in Junior High School, my dad told me, “You catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar.”  Being a literalist adolescent male, I had no desire to catch flies so I didn’t take his symbolic advice either.  The fact remains: If you have one shot, you would be wise to put your best foot forward rather than in your mouth.  Pharaoh got a double-barrel blessing out of the deal; but, we wonder at how impressed Pharaoh was with the old man’s comport and faith.  I’m sorry friends, but there is an edge to this and it cuts on this side of history: if you cannot make someone laugh and enjoy your company, how will you ever earn the right to tell them the good news? 

Be all that as it may, however, God has some special plans for Jacob: giving him the 17 years he’d lost with Joseph while supposedly “bereft” of him.  Note that things become less pessimistic and more realistic – more the simple rehearsal of history – but is it not dispassionate.  The narrator quotes him as saying in Genesis chapter 48: 

7 “Now as for me, when I came from Paddan, Rachel died, to my sorrow, in the land of Canaan on the journey, when there was still some distance to go to Ephrath; and I buried her there on the way to Ephrath (that is, Bethlehem).”

He is still grieving for the object of his favoritism: Rachel.  This hits Joseph as well, like a ton of bricks, no doubt, because Rachel was his mother.  But, later on in the chapter, the cynicism gives way to elation.  Notice the God-talk in the equation.  There is probably something foundational in that. 

11 And Israel said to Joseph, “I never expected to see your face, and behold, God has let me see your children as well.”

Remember back at the beginning of this, I talked about an ironic twist at the end of Jacob’s life?  This is the twist: Jacob had Joseph for the first 17 years of his life.  Then he lost him for quite a while.  Jacob was 130 when he stood before Pharaoh as a new immigrant to Egypt.  He will die at the age of 147 and so have Joseph for 17 years at the end of his own life.  My feeling is that Jacob felt that his life had come full circle and the he was able to leave this world having lived a full life.  Great Grandchildren?  Full life?  I think so – and fuller every day. . . . 

The point in all this is: I suspect that if old grumps (or new ones, for that matter) are going to give up their grumpery, God will have to enter into the equation at some point.  The theological perspective is that God is in control, whether or not I like it, whether or not it feels good at the moment; and the acknowledgement of that and early relinquishing some feigned control I think I might have of my life may be the first step in the healing of a bitter spirit.  I think that Jacob’s life will come very close to proving that point because there is one more lesson to learn from him. 

This is, however, in the terminal discourse of the old patriarch in Genesis 49.  These are, as it were, the last words, the final will and testament of the Patriarch Jacob. 

29 Then he charged them and said to them, “I am about to be gathered to my people; bury me with my fathers in the cave that is in the field of Ephron the Hittite, 30 in the cave that is in the field of Machpelah, which is before Mamre, in the land of Canaan, which Abraham bought along with the field from Ephron the Hittite for a burial site. 31 “There they buried Abraham and his wife Sarah, there they buried Isaac and his wife Rebekah, and there I buried Leah— 32 the field and the cave that is in it, purchased from the sons of Heth.” 33 When Jacob finished charging his sons, he drew his feet into the bed and breathed his last, and was gathered to his people.

Jacob concludes his life very much in God’s program: he acknowledges that Leah is his wife and there is no mention of Rachel.  Unlike many of the biblical heroes, we do not get the clause: “an old man of ripe age, or full of days” (as, for instance with Isaac in Genesis 35:29); however, the textual silence may be only that, silence.  My guess is that there is more in that final notation “and was gathered to his people” than you and I commonly acknowledge.  One thing we can say for certain: the last 17 years of Jacob’s life were, potentially at least, years of fulfillment and contentment.  In a way it was his own doing that precluded the possibility of that contentment earlier in his life. 

Another thing that I think we can safely say is that Jacob saw something more of the larger picture and himself a smaller part of it.  He seemed to become a bit less self-absorbed and a bit more absorbed with God’s program.  The favoritism – a not-so-subtle form of materialism – is gone and he recognizes the sons of both wives and both concubines as full heirs.  The legacy has been passed on and soon perhaps even the brothers will understand that Joseph means them no harm.  We await the silence of the next several hundred years as the clan becomes a nation.  But in this small vignette of historical narrative we see that . . .

Even The Grumpiest Of Grumps Can Reform.