(Reading: Genesis 24; 25:19-34; 27)

Among Israel’s great patriarchs — Abraham, Isaac and Jacob — Isaac is something of a transitional figure. That doesn’t make him unimportant, but he is transitional. 

He’s important because he prefigures Christ. Abraham’s near sacrifice of Isaac on Mount Moriah prefigures the Father’s sacrifice of his Son, Jesus, on Mount Calvary. What Isaac foretold is realized in full in Christ.

Isaac is the bridge between Abraham and Jacob. Isaac grows into adulthood and his father, Abraham, arranges a marriage for him with Rebekah. Of their marriage would come twins, Esau the firstborn and Jacob clutching his heel. Rebekah speaks of the conflict she felt between them already in the womb.

As with Abraham, the “child problem” continued with Isaac. In this case, it was parental favoritism: Esau by Isaac, Jacob by Rebekah. But divided parental sympathies also mirror divine plans: God chose Jacob, though not by the manipulative means Jacob later tries to force God’s hand (Genesis 25:23-28). But that will be the later story of Jacob. Esau, on the other hand, could claim the rights of the firstborn, although his marriages to Hittite women alienated him from his parents (Genesis 26:34-35).

Esau was a hirsute hunter and outdoorsman, beloved by Isaac. Jacob was content to remain in the tents, of smooth skin, beloved by Rebekah. As noted, Rebekah’s pregnancy and birth of the children seemed to augur the tensions that would exist between them.

Jacob already took advantage of his brother, who is also not the brightest of bulbs on Broadway. Early on, Jacob swindled Esau out of his birthright for a mess of pottage. Esau comes in from the field, famished. Jacob was cooking stew, which Esau wanted. Jacob said he would give him the lentils (some of the cheapest of vegetables) if he swore to give him his rights as firstborn. Esau, whose stomach speaks for his brain, foolishly and rashly agreed. In that sense, he becomes a symbol of exchanging something of real value for the passing and ephemeral, “selling one’s birthright for a mess of pottage.”

Yes, Catholic theology will affirm that sins of the spirit are greater than sins of the flesh, but that doesn’t mean that sins of the flesh don’t matter, because human beings — spiritual and bodily beings — are directly affected and influenced by the senses. Even the devil doesn’t work harder than he has to.

But the real swindle occurred in Isaac’s old age. Isaac is old, blind, and house-and-bed-bound. He tastes his mortality and intends to convey his blessing to his firstborn son. (In truth, Isaac would live many more decades and meet Jacob after his decades-long sojourn away from home: see Genesis 35:27-29.) He dispatches hunter Esau into the field to catch him some fresh wild game and prepare his favorite meal for him, after which the strengthened Isaac will bless Esau. His blessing is not, however, merely his: he knows that, as son of Abraham, he is also passing down the Lord’s blessing of the covenant.

While Esau is in the fields Jacob — with his mother’s collusion — prepares to get Esau’s blessing for Jacob. They slaughter two choice goats, which Rebekah prepares. They clothe Jacob in Esau’s clothes, which bear the aroma of the outdoors. They cover his arms with furry animal skins to imitate his brother’s hairy limbs. And, when the ruse is ready, Jacob goes to his father, claims to be Esau, and serves him his meal. While his father has doubts — the voice doesn’t seem to match the arms — but, with those arms, the game meal, and the fragrance of the fields, three out of five senses speak for “Esau.” Isaac confers a generous blessing upon him.

Esau returns to find out what has happened and to receive but a residual, “second-class” blessing from his father. Aware that this blessing took place because Isaac’s end was near, Esau then plots to kill Jacob after Isaac’s death. Rebekah, aware of this murderous plan, sends Jacob off to her brother, Laban, in Paddan Aram. She convinces Isaac to join in dispatching the boy by playing on their mutual disgust for the pagan women Esau had married, intending for Jacob to find a wife among Rebekah’s observant kinswomen in Paddan Aram. With that, Jacob leaves — and his story will continue separately.

Most artistic depictions of Isaac feature either his own near-sacrifice on Mount Moriah (which we already discussed) or the episode of Jacob deceiving him to get his brother’s blessing. The latter is frequently depicted artistically, usually with Isaac in bed feeling his son’s arms to “identify” him. 

While many artists have painted that scene, especially in the Baroque period, our choice today is the 17th-century Spanish artist, Jusepe de Ribera. Ribera, alongside Murillo, Zurbarán and Velázquez, were the quartet masters of the Spanish Baroque. (See full version below.)

A prevalent note among Baroque representations of Isaac blessing Jacob is their anachronism: the event frequently is shown on a Baroque bed in a 17th-century house, not the cushions of a Mideast tent of perhaps the 18th-century B.C., 3,500 or so years earlier. The horizontal axis is prominent in Ribera’s painting. Dark colors and large figures (even if they are mostly waist-up) predominate: it’s the red bed linens and the blue sky of the open window that brighten the scene.

Jacob is the central figure. Blind Isaac, on the right, feels Jacob’s “hairy” arms. Rebekah encourages her son, pressing his back and pushing him toward his father. She seems to be the one person most deliberately promoting what’s happening in the scene, conscious perhaps of the Lord’s prophecy about Jacob’s predominance (see Genesis 25:23). Rebekah also draws us into the painting. In the window, Esau is returning from the field, clearly outside this domestic scene. On the right, Isaac’s meal has been turned into a quality still-life. 

Shortly after these events, Jacob will flee his home for his maternal uncle’s. Two events of that period — the vision of Jacob’s ladder and his wrestling with God — will be our next topics.