Original Meaning

Dinah and Shechem (34:1–24)

IN CULTURES WHERE parent-arranged marriage is the norm, there are always reasons and means to bypass the system. If it is considered unlikely that a marriage will be arranged by the parents, one or both of the parties can take matters into their own hands. For example, if the man is seduced or the woman raped, or if the couple engages in intercourse by mutual consent, the question of whether arrangements can be made is largely preempted. Once the girl has been deflowered, the chances of making a suitable arrangement with a different family are significantly reduced. In such a situation, arrangements often follow for the couple to be married, though a premium bride price is usually the consequence. The Old Testament law anticipates such possibilities and gives rulings.1

In other words, the incident described here may not be simply an act of wanton violence; there may be a strategy behind it. Dinah’s role in the act is not clarified by the terms used in the text. The word the NIV translates as “violated” is not used only for rape situations where the girl is simply a victim, though it does imply that the man takes the initiative. In Deuteronomy 22:24 this verb is used for a case of intercourse within the city confines where the girl is considered equally culpable because she does not cry out. Nevertheless, the same verb is often used in rape contexts where the woman is clearly unwilling (e.g., 2 Sam. 13:12–14).

In the remainder of Genesis 34, the word that the offended brothers use accuses Shechem of making Dinah unclean (NIV “defiled”; 34:13, 27). At the end of the chapter, when they seek to explain their violence against the men of Shechem, they accuse the prince of treating their sister like a prostitute. While the analogy to a prostitute potentially suggests that she was not unwilling, the allusion may only indicate that she has been treated like a prostitute because Shechem’s intention was to use and then pay—that is, that she was “for hire.”

In cases such as this one, the daughter does not need to be consulted for her opinion regarding subsequent marriage arrangements. In our culture, a rapist is the last person a father would consider marrying off his daughter to, and though customs were quite different in the ancient world, it is difficult to imagine that parents would be any less sensitive to the welfare of a daughter. If this were the old Jacob, we might wonder whether he was willing to look past his daughter’s welfare in light of the prospect of economic advantage being offered by the union. But if the events of Genesis 32 have truly transformed Jacob’s character, it is more difficult to see the new Jacob being so motivated (though sometimes change comes slowly).

In the end, however, the text does not need to clarify the role of Dinah, because the focus of the account is not the relationship between Dinah and Shechem. That is just a setup for the violence of Simeon and Levi, which is the author’s real focus. We will investigate this further in Bridging Contexts.

It is intriguing that Dinah’s brothers are outraged because such “a disgraceful thing [is not done] in Israel.” There was no territory named Israel either in the time of the patriarchs or in the time when the Israelites were in the desert, though during the latter period it would not be unusual to say that something is not done among the people of Israel. This stands as a good example of the author’s use of anachronism.

Regardless, it should also be noted that it was not just in post-Sinai Israel that such behavior became unacceptable. A number of law collections from the ancient Near East that predate Sinai contain prescriptions against illicit or violent sexual relationships. This is therefore not a case of Jacob’s sons holding their neighbors responsible for a higher standard of conduct than they would have maintained in their own community. All ancient cultures considered it important to protect the honor and integrity of the family, the dignity of the individual, and security within society. How much more should this be the case in Israel’s family.

Though neither Dinah nor Jacob’s motivations are explained in the text, the motivations of the other parties are evident. Jacob’s sons are motivated by the prospect for revenge in the name of the family honor. In addition to the personal impact on Dinah, Shechem’s act is disrespectful to the family and has taken something of value from them. Shechem himself is motivated by infatuation (34:11–12, 19), while his father and the rest of the town are motivated by economic prospects (34:21–23). The situation is ripe for deceit, and it is attributed to Jacob’s sons rather than to Jacob. It comes in the form of a prerequisite of circumcision before the marriage takes place. As discussed in Genesis 17, circumcision was practiced widely in the ancient Near East as a rite of puberty, fertility, or marriage but was not practiced by all peoples. The procedure was painful and would virtually debilitate the adult male population for several days.

The decision by the men of Shechem takes place at the city gate. This was the common place of assembly for legal and business transactions or public meetings to occur. Cities and villages in the ancient world rarely benefited from any town planning. As a result the houses tended to be close together and the streets narrow. The area of the gate was therefore the only public area with room enough for larger gatherings. That the men of the town agree to the proposal set before them demonstrates how eager they are to reap the economic benefit of intermarriage even though that which is required of them involves a degree of pain.

Bridging Contexts

THE NARRATIVE CONTINUES to be governed by those elements that have characterized it since the beginning of the accounts of the patriarchs: obstacles arise and are overcome, and the covenant advances. God therefore continues to be seen both as One who is determined to fulfill the promises that continue to be made and moved along from generation to generation and as One who can overcome whatever obstacles may arise. Two centuries have come and gone since Genesis 12 and, remarkably, the family of Abraham is growing, thriving, and still in the land.

A new twist presents itself in the obstacles that arise in this chapter. We have already discovered that God was able to continue establishing the covenant despite the character flaws of Jacob and Esau. What was limited to petty swindling by Jacob has blossomed into full-fledged violence and brutality in his sons (setting the stage of how they will act toward Joseph). How can anything be salvaged from such depraved behavior? Thus begins the text’s case that God is able to bring good out of evil. This will eventually be summarized in Joseph’s comment to his brothers in 50:20, but it begins here.

Good through evil. What begins as a personal tragedy in Jacob’s family (the violation of Dinah) turns into serious jeopardy to the entire covenant promise. This jeopardy is articulated in 34:9–10, where the offer is put forth for Jacob’s family to intermarry with the Hivites and to merge their families and societies. While the short-term gains may be economically and socially attractive, the long-term result would be assimilation of the family of Abraham and the loss of their distinct identity. The covenant hangs in the balance as this proposal is considered. It is unacceptable to say that Simeon and Levi’s massacre of the Shechemites “saves the day,” for they are responding to an entirely different problem, and their solution is entirely unacceptable.

Nevertheless, as it turns out in the providence of God, the reprehensible and inexcusable behavior of Simeon and Levi accomplishes something that was in harmony with God’s will. That is, the horrific behavior of the sons to avenge their family honor results in assimilation being avoided. We often think of providence as a fortunate turn of events, but here, and in subsequent chapters, providence more often than not operates in the context of sinful behavior. If God can only work through godly behavior, there is little he can do in our sinful world. He does not, of course, guide Jacob’s sons to act as they do. His sovereignty in these cases is demonstrated not by overriding the free, wicked choices that people make but by dovetailing those acts of wickedness into his own plan. We will have much more to say about this in the next few chapters.

Just as we see the continuation of obstacles and the jeopardy they pose, we also see the continuation of the element of reversal4 as well as the echo effects as patterns of Jacob’s behavior in his former life now repeat themselves in how his sons treat him and others. The deceit of Jacob’s sons (34:13), for instance, shows them following in the footprints of their father. More precisely, their behavior is closest to that of Laban, which had been a reversal on Jacob in its own right. Just as Laban promised Rachel in return for Jacob’s labor, then double-crossed him, Jacob’s sons promised Dinah in return for Shechem’s circumcision, then double-cross him. Even as they follow this pattern, they also escalate it far beyond what we see in Jacob and Laban as they resort to violence and bloodshed. Even as the obstacle of assimilation is removed, the behavior of Simeon and Levi creates yet another level of jeopardy expressed in Jacob’s fears of retaliation (34:30). Again the chosen family is in danger of being exterminated and is only spared by divine intervention (35:5).

The above paragraph gives good reason for the narrator to include Genesis 34 in the covenant record, but is there a reason why he places it here and situates it literarily as he has? Of course, chronologically it belongs here, but that does not mean that we can afford to neglect the literary elements that tie it to the surrounding sections. Since chapter 35 duplicates some of the material from chapter 32, and since the brothers’ question (“Should he have treated our sister like a prostitute?” 34:31) is left hanging in the air at the end of chapter 34, there is good cause to seek out a literary function for this chapter.

Turning the brothers’ question into a statement results in: “They had no right to treat our sister as someone whose favors were for sale!” What an intriguing statement to transition into the account of Jacob’s paying his vow to God for all of his favor. The juxtaposition of the question left hanging in the air with the account of the paying of the tithe in chapter 35 invites the question as to whether Jacob and his family are treating God like a prostitute. They get what they want from him (in accordance with Jacob’s earlier vow: protection, provision, and return to the land), then they pay the price (the tithe) and go their way. Like Shechem, they are willing to pay their bride price and undergo circumcision (= the tithe) to reap the benefits of this relationship.

This makes especially cogent sense in light of the fact that chapter 35 opens with Jacob’s instructing his family to get rid of their foreign gods. In later Israelite literature, the prophetic warning against using foreign gods accuses Israel of playing the harlot to those gods. We realize how serious this becomes when we remember that in the Jacob narratives God establishes a modus operandi of subjecting people to the same kind of treatment they give others. Does Genesis 35 then carry a veiled threat that if God is treated like a prostitute, the Israelites can expect no more favorable treatment than the Shechemites received at the hands of Simeon and Levi? Is there the hint that if the Israelites’ circumcision is not sincere but only an inconvenience leading to long-term gains, they can expect their greed will get them slaughtered rather than favor with God? The curses pronounced for failure to keep the covenant in Deuteronomy 28:15–68 make what was done to the Shechemites pale in comparison. Jacob should beware lest he treats God as someone whose favors are for sale.

Confirmation at Bethel. Genesis 35 draws the Jacob narrative to its climax. What is the state of the covenant? (1) Jacob has returned to the land. (2) He has disposed of other gods, suggesting a commitment of allegiance to Yahweh. (3) Yahweh has exerted his authority over Jacob by changing his name to Israel and has reiterated the covenant blessings to him. (4) Jacob has established two more foundations in the land (the altar and pillar at Bethel and Rachel’s tomb). (5) The family has continued to expand and can now be considered as a recognizable clan, independent and settled (despite the serious threat from the Hivites that nearly scuttled it).

Sometimes progress is so slow and hampered that we can fail to notice the gradual progress being made. Genesis 35 provides an opportunity for the reader to take stock of how far the ancestors have come. Two hundred years and twenty-three chapters into this covenant experience find everything still intact, though there has been no shortage of scrapes and bruises along the way. A dozen times the covenant has dangled by a single thread, but God is faithful and sovereign and his grace is sufficient.

Personally, Jacob has emerged to take his rightful place among his forefathers as a man of faith. Regardless of what spiritual shortcomings may have been exposed in his vow and regardless of the dangers that accompany the vow, Jacob has fulfilled it, and the vow stands as a testimony to his commitment to Yahweh. God’s patient work in his life has resulted in a transformation of character that may have seemed beyond reach in the earlier chapters.

Appetite or ambition? An odd and somewhat isolated comment in 35:22 warrants brief comment. If Reuben’s sexual encounter with Bilhah were simply a case of fulfilled lust, it probably would not have merited notice. But it must be recalled that slaves, servants, and concubines were considered part of the inheritance passed on from father to son. The oldest son (Reuben) would have the birthright (the additional share) and would inherit the human members of the household, including the concubines. When inheritance is laid hold of prior to a father’s death, it constitutes usurpation of the father’s role (cf. Absalom’s public taking of David’s concubines in 2 Sam. 16:21–22). This single isolated sentence, therefore, stands as the first indication that the jeopardy in the next generation will again concern birthright, inheritance, and favoritism. For Reuben, the attempt to bolster his position of authority in the family ends up compromising it.

Contemporary Significance

ONE OF THE major lessons of this section concerns how God is able to use the evil that people do, bringing about positive results (though in the process not necessarily eliminating the negative results). This idea continues as a major theme throughout the remainder of the book and will be treated directly in future chapters, so I will not pursue it now. A second major lesson concerns God’s ability to overcome obstacles, but that has been a recurring theme throughout the patriarchal narratives, one we have discussed on numerous occasions. The remaining major lesson concerns the issue of buying God’s favors, the subject to which we now turn.

Are God’s favors for sale? When the rich young ruler came to Jesus seeking eternal life, he was ultimately told to sell all that he had and give it to the poor (Luke 18:18–30). This does not suggest that the kingdom can be bought. Rather, it indicates that this man’s wealth poses an obstacle to his entry into the kingdom. In fact, when Simon the sorcerer (Acts 8:18–24) became so impressed with the apostles that he tried to buy the gift of the Holy Spirit as a commodity, he was soundly rebuked. God cannot be bought!

This is the same lesson that the Israelites must learn when they are inclined to adopt the typical thinking of the ancient world that God has needs and that his worshipers fill those needs. God must remind him that their sacrificial gifts do not buy his favor (Ps. 50:9–15). Yet he rebukes them for not bringing their tithes, for in their neglect they are robbing him of what rightfully belongs to him (Mal. 3:8–12).

A slender but distinct line exists between enjoying God’s favor when we give him his due and seeking to procure his favor as if we are purchasing goods. There is a difference between subsidizing a program and buying its benefits. That difference is in what one is owed for his or her patronage. When we make a contribution to our community orchestra, we are subsidizing the arts and helping to provide for a culturally rich environment. We are contributing to something that we consider worthwhile. When we pay our taxes, by contrast, we have every right to expect community services in return.

God owes us nothing, and nothing he has to give can be bought from him. That is one of the issues that provoked the Protestant Reformation. Martin Luther’s ninety-five theses targeted the sale of indulgences. The indulgence system that operated under the auspices of the Roman Catholic Church endorsed the idea that forgiveness could be bought. The system was entirely corrupt and preyed on the people’s fear of eternal damnation. Though today’s permutations may not be as obvious, they are just as tragic. The most crippling aspect is not to be found in the fact that attempts to buy God’s favors do not work; it is rather found in the decrepit view of God that such attempts expose. God is not offended by our money (or whatever else we try to use to buy his favor); he is offended by our supposition that he can be bought.

In our society the courts have forced us to put a price tag on everything. How much should be paid in damages to someone who has been deprived of a mother? What is a mother’s love worth? Whatever figure that might be, let me ask: What would happen if you wrote out a check and tried to give it to your mother? “Here, Mom,” you might say, “this is to pay for all the laundry, cooking, sewing, packed lunches, shuttling, room-mothering, prayers, hugs, love, and so on that you did over the years.” You can imagine the crestfallen look on your mother’s face. Well, magnify that by thousands and you begin to get the sense of God’s feelings when we think his blessing is for sale.

The Beatles had a hit song in the 1960s called “Can’t Buy Me Love,” and we continue to prove that true. In a much-publicized game show in 2000 that offered the chance to marry a millionaire, several girls competed for the guest millionaire to choose her as his bride. When the man chose one of them, the marriage took place right on the air. In the days that followed the news was full of the girl’s disappointment and regret that she had done such a foolish thing as to reduce marriage to something so trivial. All of the millionaire’s money could not buy the girl’s love, and neither can we buy God’s. God’s care for us is not mercenary.

Consider for a moment the two portraits of the German industrialist Oscar Schindler, whose story of protection of hundreds of Jews during the Holocaust was the subject of the Stephen Spielberg film Schindler’s List. Schindler had established a reputation as a womanizer, gambler, and operator in the black market. When the Nazis overran Poland, Schindler saw an opportunity to make money. He devised a scheme whereby Jews invested their money in his factory and then worked in it, receiving payment in the goods that the factory produced. The factory was allowed by the Germans partly because it supplied the army with goods necessary for the war effort, but mostly because of Schindler’s extensive bribery of corrupt German officials.

His work began purely as a mercenary effort—he wanted to make money. His prosperity depended on his workers being available and healthy, and he therefore used his connections to protect those who worked in his factory. This is the first portrait of Schindler, and one that some claim is the only portrait. In this view everything he did was for his own profit and to advance his own position, and if some Jews got spared from the Germans in the process, lucky for them.

The second portrait is presented in the film. It begins the same way, for Schindler’s lifestyle is well-documented and undeniable. But in this view Schindler became troubled by the way the Jews were treated as they were first driven to the ghetto and then driven from the ghetto into concentration camps. Knowing he could not stop the mayhem and at first partly to preserve his labor force, he began to protect his workers. The film depicts the transformation of Schindler as he came to care about the welfare of the Jews that were in his employ and beyond them to those who were suffering. Consequently, when the work camp his Jews inhabited was emptied into the concentration camps, he began to use his fortune (in the end, an estimated four million German marks) to buy as many of his employees as possible so that they could be spared from the gas chambers. In the end over twelve hundred lives were saved; he ended up with nothing, and still he was distressed that he could not save more.

These are two very different perspectives of Schindler. It is not important for us to decide which is correct, though the Jews whose lives he saved and who were firsthand witnesses unanimously adopt the second. The value of the illustration is that it helps us to see that there are also two ways that people view God. Too many treat God as though he has the mentality of the early Schindler, when in reality it is the later Schindler that takes us in the right direction.

As a side note it is worth mentioning that we can make a similar mistake going on the other side of the coin. Besides sometimes thinking we can pay God for his favors, we sometimes also think that we should get rewarded for our righteousness—that God should be expected to pay for our “favors.” This suffers from the same fallacy as the first. It reduces our relationship with God to a business transaction.

How do we demonstrate to God that we are not treating him simply as a mercenary? Certainly that goal is not achieved by withholding all gifts lest they be misconstrued as pay for hire. There may be many subtle factors needed to establish the distinction, but three come immediately to mind: attitude, expectations, and accountability.

Attitude. There is a difference in our attitude when we are giving something as an expression of love. A gift freely given is not treated as an obligation. Our attitude should view any gifts given to God as a response to who he is. There may be some sense of giving to him because of all that he has given to and for us, but even then we must be careful not to adopt the perspective that we owe God. Certainly it is true that we owe God everything—our possessions and our lives. But there is a difference between giving out of a sense of debt and giving out of a sense of love. The former by itself risks that the gift may be given reluctantly or begrudgingly. Combined with the latter, however, it becomes an act of worship.

Expectations. Such gifts as those we give to God are related to the love of the giver, not to the service of the recipient. That is, there are no expectations connected to the gift—no strings attached. In work-for-hire situations, there is always some sort of agreement concerning what is expected in return for the pay, whether this is bound by formal agreement (a contract) or informal agreement (a handshake). There is no agreement attached to our gifts to God.

Current U.S. tax laws protect the integrity of charitable deductions by asking for information concerning what, if any, benefits are returned to the contributor (if the donation is large enough). The same posture is applicable to what we give to God. When Jacob made his vow in 28:20–22, he delineated precisely what his expectations of God were and then outlined what he was prepared to do in response. This is the kind of approach we must avoid. Giving to God cannot be viewed as a way of getting him to give us more in return.

Accountability. When an individual is being paid for something he or she is expected to do, a system of accountability is generally set up to make sure

that the job is done and that it is done adequately. One of the ways we can demonstrate to God that we are not treating him as a mercenary is to specifically avoid setting up a system of accountability for him. God is not subject to our performance reviews. We do not set goals for God or give him raises or promotions. God does not have to prove himself or answer to anyone.

Though it is not inappropriate to feel ourselves to be in God’s debt, we should never think that we can put him in our debt. What we give to him should be associated with an expression of love rather than an expectation or return on investment. We will be able to achieve that when we realize that nothing we can possibly begin to pay is enough to merit even the smallest part of what God has done for us. The debt can never be paid; we can never afford his blessing. We can only give tokens of love.

God’s patience in transformation. God’s patient work in Jacob’s life offers a lesson as we assess how God can bring us each along step by step in the process of spiritual maturity. Sometimes we may look back with shame or embarrassment at things we did in the past that at the time we considered spiritual. At these times hindsight may allow us to recognize those actions as in reality naive, shallow, or self-serving. Other times we may look back and think of all the wasted time and opportunities. But we do not please God by wallowing in regret. Instead, we should thank God for his patience in bringing us along and move forward in faith, commitment, and service.

Finally, we may at times look at where we are in our spiritual walk and feel as if we haven’t gotten anywhere. We can feel overwhelmed by our failures and our inability to master the Christian life. Those are the times when we need to pause and look back so that we can gain an appreciation of how far God has brought us. When my Hebrew students experience frustration near the end of the first semester over their struggles with the language, I have only to remind them that three months earlier even the alphabet looked like chicken-scratch. It helps for them to see how far they have come. As is evident in his dealings with Jacob, God does not demand instant perfection, but he leads us little by little, making inroads into our self-centeredness and doing his work in our lives one step at a time.

Original Meaning

Dinah and Shechem (34:1–24)

IN CULTURES WHERE parent-arranged marriage is the norm, there are always reasons and means to bypass the system. If it is considered unlikely that a marriage will be arranged by the parents, one or both of the parties can take matters into their own hands. For example, if the man is seduced or the woman raped, or if the couple engages in intercourse by mutual consent, the question of whether arrangements can be made is largely preempted. Once the girl has been deflowered, the chances of making a suitable arrangement with a different family are significantly reduced. In such a situation, arrangements often follow for the couple to be married, though a premium bride price is usually the consequence. The Old Testament law anticipates such possibilities and gives rulings.1

In other words, the incident described here may not be simply an act of wanton violence; there may be a strategy behind it. Dinah’s role in the act is not clarified by the terms used in the text. The word the NIV translates as “violated” is not used only for rape situations where the girl is simply a victim, though it does imply that the man takes the initiative. In Deuteronomy 22:24 this verb is used for a case of intercourse within the city confines where the girl is considered equally culpable because she does not cry out. Nevertheless, the same verb is often used in rape contexts where the woman is clearly unwilling (e.g., 2 Sam. 13:12–14).

In the remainder of Genesis 34, the word that the offended brothers use accuses Shechem of making Dinah unclean (NIV “defiled”; 34:13, 27). At the end of the chapter, when they seek to explain their violence against the men of Shechem, they accuse the prince of treating their sister like a prostitute. While the analogy to a prostitute potentially suggests that she was not unwilling, the allusion may only indicate that she has been treated like a prostitute because Shechem’s intention was to use and then pay—that is, that she was “for hire.”

In cases such as this one, the daughter does not need to be consulted for her opinion regarding subsequent marriage arrangements. In our culture, a rapist is the last person a father would consider marrying off his daughter to, and though customs were quite different in the ancient world, it is difficult to imagine that parents would be any less sensitive to the welfare of a daughter. If this were the old Jacob, we might wonder whether he was willing to look past his daughter’s welfare in light of the prospect of economic advantage being offered by the union. But if the events of Genesis 32 have truly transformed Jacob’s character, it is more difficult to see the new Jacob being so motivated (though sometimes change comes slowly).

In the end, however, the text does not need to clarify the role of Dinah, because the focus of the account is not the relationship between Dinah and Shechem. That is just a setup for the violence of Simeon and Levi, which is the author’s real focus. We will investigate this further in Bridging Contexts.

It is intriguing that Dinah’s brothers are outraged because such “a disgraceful thing [is not done] in Israel.” There was no territory named Israel either in the time of the patriarchs or in the time when the Israelites were in the desert, though during the latter period it would not be unusual to say that something is not done among the people of Israel. This stands as a good example of the author’s use of anachronism.

Regardless, it should also be noted that it was not just in post-Sinai Israel that such behavior became unacceptable. A number of law collections from the ancient Near East that predate Sinai contain prescriptions against illicit or violent sexual relationships. This is therefore not a case of Jacob’s sons holding their neighbors responsible for a higher standard of conduct than they would have maintained in their own community. All ancient cultures considered it important to protect the honor and integrity of the family, the dignity of the individual, and security within society. How much more should this be the case in Israel’s family.

Though neither Dinah nor Jacob’s motivations are explained in the text, the motivations of the other parties are evident. Jacob’s sons are motivated by the prospect for revenge in the name of the family honor. In addition to the personal impact on Dinah, Shechem’s act is disrespectful to the family and has taken something of value from them. Shechem himself is motivated by infatuation (34:11–12, 19), while his father and the rest of the town are motivated by economic prospects (34:21–23). The situation is ripe for deceit, and it is attributed to Jacob’s sons rather than to Jacob. It comes in the form of a prerequisite of circumcision before the marriage takes place. As discussed in Genesis 17, circumcision was practiced widely in the ancient Near East as a rite of puberty, fertility, or marriage but was not practiced by all peoples. The procedure was painful and would virtually debilitate the adult male population for several days.

The decision by the men of Shechem takes place at the city gate. This was the common place of assembly for legal and business transactions or public meetings to occur. Cities and villages in the ancient world rarely benefited from any town planning. As a result the houses tended to be close together and the streets narrow. The area of the gate was therefore the only public area with room enough for larger gatherings. That the men of the town agree to the proposal set before them demonstrates how eager they are to reap the economic benefit of intermarriage even though that which is required of them involves a degree of pain.

Bridging Contexts

THE NARRATIVE CONTINUES to be governed by those elements that have characterized it since the beginning of the accounts of the patriarchs: obstacles arise and are overcome, and the covenant advances. God therefore continues to be seen both as One who is determined to fulfill the promises that continue to be made and moved along from generation to generation and as One who can overcome whatever obstacles may arise. Two centuries have come and gone since Genesis 12 and, remarkably, the family of Abraham is growing, thriving, and still in the land.

A new twist presents itself in the obstacles that arise in this chapter. We have already discovered that God was able to continue establishing the covenant despite the character flaws of Jacob and Esau. What was limited to petty swindling by Jacob has blossomed into full-fledged violence and brutality in his sons (setting the stage of how they will act toward Joseph). How can anything be salvaged from such depraved behavior? Thus begins the text’s case that God is able to bring good out of evil. This will eventually be summarized in Joseph’s comment to his brothers in 50:20, but it begins here.

Good through evil. What begins as a personal tragedy in Jacob’s family (the violation of Dinah) turns into serious jeopardy to the entire covenant promise. This jeopardy is articulated in 34:9–10, where the offer is put forth for Jacob’s family to intermarry with the Hivites and to merge their families and societies. While the short-term gains may be economically and socially attractive, the long-term result would be assimilation of the family of Abraham and the loss of their distinct identity. The covenant hangs in the balance as this proposal is considered. It is unacceptable to say that Simeon and Levi’s massacre of the Shechemites “saves the day,” for they are responding to an entirely different problem, and their solution is entirely unacceptable.

Nevertheless, as it turns out in the providence of God, the reprehensible and inexcusable behavior of Simeon and Levi accomplishes something that was in harmony with God’s will. That is, the horrific behavior of the sons to avenge their family honor results in assimilation being avoided. We often think of providence as a fortunate turn of events, but here, and in subsequent chapters, providence more often than not operates in the context of sinful behavior. If God can only work through godly behavior, there is little he can do in our sinful world. He does not, of course, guide Jacob’s sons to act as they do. His sovereignty in these cases is demonstrated not by overriding the free, wicked choices that people make but by dovetailing those acts of wickedness into his own plan. We will have much more to say about this in the next few chapters.

Just as we see the continuation of obstacles and the jeopardy they pose, we also see the continuation of the element of reversal4 as well as the echo effects as patterns of Jacob’s behavior in his former life now repeat themselves in how his sons treat him and others. The deceit of Jacob’s sons (34:13), for instance, shows them following in the footprints of their father. More precisely, their behavior is closest to that of Laban, which had been a reversal on Jacob in its own right. Just as Laban promised Rachel in return for Jacob’s labor, then double-crossed him, Jacob’s sons promised Dinah in return for Shechem’s circumcision, then double-cross him. Even as they follow this pattern, they also escalate it far beyond what we see in Jacob and Laban as they resort to violence and bloodshed. Even as the obstacle of assimilation is removed, the behavior of Simeon and Levi creates yet another level of jeopardy expressed in Jacob’s fears of retaliation (34:30). Again the chosen family is in danger of being exterminated and is only spared by divine intervention (35:5).

The above paragraph gives good reason for the narrator to include Genesis 34 in the covenant record, but is there a reason why he places it here and situates it literarily as he has? Of course, chronologically it belongs here, but that does not mean that we can afford to neglect the literary elements that tie it to the surrounding sections. Since chapter 35 duplicates some of the material from chapter 32, and since the brothers’ question (“Should he have treated our sister like a prostitute?” 34:31) is left hanging in the air at the end of chapter 34, there is good cause to seek out a literary function for this chapter.

Turning the brothers’ question into a statement results in: “They had no right to treat our sister as someone whose favors were for sale!” What an intriguing statement to transition into the account of Jacob’s paying his vow to God for all of his favor. The juxtaposition of the question left hanging in the air with the account of the paying of the tithe in chapter 35 invites the question as to whether Jacob and his family are treating God like a prostitute. They get what they want from him (in accordance with Jacob’s earlier vow: protection, provision, and return to the land), then they pay the price (the tithe) and go their way. Like Shechem, they are willing to pay their bride price and undergo circumcision (= the tithe) to reap the benefits of this relationship.

This makes especially cogent sense in light of the fact that chapter 35 opens with Jacob’s instructing his family to get rid of their foreign gods. In later Israelite literature, the prophetic warning against using foreign gods accuses Israel of playing the harlot to those gods. We realize how serious this becomes when we remember that in the Jacob narratives God establishes a modus operandi of subjecting people to the same kind of treatment they give others. Does Genesis 35 then carry a veiled threat that if God is treated like a prostitute, the Israelites can expect no more favorable treatment than the Shechemites received at the hands of Simeon and Levi? Is there the hint that if the Israelites’ circumcision is not sincere but only an inconvenience leading to long-term gains, they can expect their greed will get them slaughtered rather than favor with God? The curses pronounced for failure to keep the covenant in Deuteronomy 28:15–68 make what was done to the Shechemites pale in comparison. Jacob should beware lest he treats God as someone whose favors are for sale.

Confirmation at Bethel. Genesis 35 draws the Jacob narrative to its climax. What is the state of the covenant? (1) Jacob has returned to the land. (2) He has disposed of other gods, suggesting a commitment of allegiance to Yahweh. (3) Yahweh has exerted his authority over Jacob by changing his name to Israel and has reiterated the covenant blessings to him. (4) Jacob has established two more foundations in the land (the altar and pillar at Bethel and Rachel’s tomb). (5) The family has continued to expand and can now be considered as a recognizable clan, independent and settled (despite the serious threat from the Hivites that nearly scuttled it).

Sometimes progress is so slow and hampered that we can fail to notice the gradual progress being made. Genesis 35 provides an opportunity for the reader to take stock of how far the ancestors have come. Two hundred years and twenty-three chapters into this covenant experience find everything still intact, though there has been no shortage of scrapes and bruises along the way. A dozen times the covenant has dangled by a single thread, but God is faithful and sovereign and his grace is sufficient.

Personally, Jacob has emerged to take his rightful place among his forefathers as a man of faith. Regardless of what spiritual shortcomings may have been exposed in his vow and regardless of the dangers that accompany the vow, Jacob has fulfilled it, and the vow stands as a testimony to his commitment to Yahweh. God’s patient work in his life has resulted in a transformation of character that may have seemed beyond reach in the earlier chapters.

Appetite or ambition? An odd and somewhat isolated comment in 35:22 warrants brief comment. If Reuben’s sexual encounter with Bilhah were simply a case of fulfilled lust, it probably would not have merited notice. But it must be recalled that slaves, servants, and concubines were considered part of the inheritance passed on from father to son. The oldest son (Reuben) would have the birthright (the additional share) and would inherit the human members of the household, including the concubines. When inheritance is laid hold of prior to a father’s death, it constitutes usurpation of the father’s role (cf. Absalom’s public taking of David’s concubines in 2 Sam. 16:21–22). This single isolated sentence, therefore, stands as the first indication that the jeopardy in the next generation will again concern birthright, inheritance, and favoritism. For Reuben, the attempt to bolster his position of authority in the family ends up compromising it.

Contemporary Significance

ONE OF THE major lessons of this section concerns how God is able to use the evil that people do, bringing about positive results (though in the process not necessarily eliminating the negative results). This idea continues as a major theme throughout the remainder of the book and will be treated directly in future chapters, so I will not pursue it now. A second major lesson concerns God’s ability to overcome obstacles, but that has been a recurring theme throughout the patriarchal narratives, one we have discussed on numerous occasions. The remaining major lesson concerns the issue of buying God’s favors, the subject to which we now turn.

Are God’s favors for sale? When the rich young ruler came to Jesus seeking eternal life, he was ultimately told to sell all that he had and give it to the poor (Luke 18:18–30). This does not suggest that the kingdom can be bought. Rather, it indicates that this man’s wealth poses an obstacle to his entry into the kingdom. In fact, when Simon the sorcerer (Acts 8:18–24) became so impressed with the apostles that he tried to buy the gift of the Holy Spirit as a commodity, he was soundly rebuked. God cannot be bought!

This is the same lesson that the Israelites must learn when they are inclined to adopt the typical thinking of the ancient world that God has needs and that his worshipers fill those needs. God must remind him that their sacrificial gifts do not buy his favor (Ps. 50:9–15). Yet he rebukes them for not bringing their tithes, for in their neglect they are robbing him of what rightfully belongs to him (Mal. 3:8–12).

A slender but distinct line exists between enjoying God’s favor when we give him his due and seeking to procure his favor as if we are purchasing goods. There is a difference between subsidizing a program and buying its benefits. That difference is in what one is owed for his or her patronage. When we make a contribution to our community orchestra, we are subsidizing the arts and helping to provide for a culturally rich environment. We are contributing to something that we consider worthwhile. When we pay our taxes, by contrast, we have every right to expect community services in return.

God owes us nothing, and nothing he has to give can be bought from him. That is one of the issues that provoked the Protestant Reformation. Martin Luther’s ninety-five theses targeted the sale of indulgences. The indulgence system that operated under the auspices of the Roman Catholic Church endorsed the idea that forgiveness could be bought. The system was entirely corrupt and preyed on the people’s fear of eternal damnation. Though today’s permutations may not be as obvious, they are just as tragic. The most crippling aspect is not to be found in the fact that attempts to buy God’s favors do not work; it is rather found in the decrepit view of God that such attempts expose. God is not offended by our money (or whatever else we try to use to buy his favor); he is offended by our supposition that he can be bought.

In our society the courts have forced us to put a price tag on everything. How much should be paid in damages to someone who has been deprived of a mother? What is a mother’s love worth? Whatever figure that might be, let me ask: What would happen if you wrote out a check and tried to give it to your mother? “Here, Mom,” you might say, “this is to pay for all the laundry, cooking, sewing, packed lunches, shuttling, room-mothering, prayers, hugs, love, and so on that you did over the years.” You can imagine the crestfallen look on your mother’s face. Well, magnify that by thousands and you begin to get the sense of God’s feelings when we think his blessing is for sale.

The Beatles had a hit song in the 1960s called “Can’t Buy Me Love,” and we continue to prove that true. In a much-publicized game show in 2000 that offered the chance to marry a millionaire, several girls competed for the guest millionaire to choose her as his bride. When the man chose one of them, the marriage took place right on the air. In the days that followed the news was full of the girl’s disappointment and regret that she had done such a foolish thing as to reduce marriage to something so trivial. All of the millionaire’s money could not buy the girl’s love, and neither can we buy God’s. God’s care for us is not mercenary.

Consider for a moment the two portraits of the German industrialist Oscar Schindler, whose story of protection of hundreds of Jews during the Holocaust was the subject of the Stephen Spielberg film Schindler’s List. Schindler had established a reputation as a womanizer, gambler, and operator in the black market. When the Nazis overran Poland, Schindler saw an opportunity to make money. He devised a scheme whereby Jews invested their money in his factory and then worked in it, receiving payment in the goods that the factory produced. The factory was allowed by the Germans partly because it supplied the army with goods necessary for the war effort, but mostly because of Schindler’s extensive bribery of corrupt German officials.

His work began purely as a mercenary effort—he wanted to make money. His prosperity depended on his workers being available and healthy, and he therefore used his connections to protect those who worked in his factory. This is the first portrait of Schindler, and one that some claim is the only portrait. In this view everything he did was for his own profit and to advance his own position, and if some Jews got spared from the Germans in the process, lucky for them.

The second portrait is presented in the film. It begins the same way, for Schindler’s lifestyle is well-documented and undeniable. But in this view Schindler became troubled by the way the Jews were treated as they were first driven to the ghetto and then driven from the ghetto into concentration camps. Knowing he could not stop the mayhem and at first partly to preserve his labor force, he began to protect his workers. The film depicts the transformation of Schindler as he came to care about the welfare of the Jews that were in his employ and beyond them to those who were suffering. Consequently, when the work camp his Jews inhabited was emptied into the concentration camps, he began to use his fortune (in the end, an estimated four million German marks) to buy as many of his employees as possible so that they could be spared from the gas chambers. In the end over twelve hundred lives were saved; he ended up with nothing, and still he was distressed that he could not save more.

These are two very different perspectives of Schindler. It is not important for us to decide which is correct, though the Jews whose lives he saved and who were firsthand witnesses unanimously adopt the second. The value of the illustration is that it helps us to see that there are also two ways that people view God. Too many treat God as though he has the mentality of the early Schindler, when in reality it is the later Schindler that takes us in the right direction.

As a side note it is worth mentioning that we can make a similar mistake going on the other side of the coin. Besides sometimes thinking we can pay God for his favors, we sometimes also think that we should get rewarded for our righteousness—that God should be expected to pay for our “favors.” This suffers from the same fallacy as the first. It reduces our relationship with God to a business transaction.

How do we demonstrate to God that we are not treating him simply as a mercenary? Certainly that goal is not achieved by withholding all gifts lest they be misconstrued as pay for hire. There may be many subtle factors needed to establish the distinction, but three come immediately to mind: attitude, expectations, and accountability.

Attitude. There is a difference in our attitude when we are giving something as an expression of love. A gift freely given is not treated as an obligation. Our attitude should view any gifts given to God as a response to who he is. There may be some sense of giving to him because of all that he has given to and for us, but even then we must be careful not to adopt the perspective that we owe God. Certainly it is true that we owe God everything—our possessions and our lives. But there is a difference between giving out of a sense of debt and giving out of a sense of love. The former by itself risks that the gift may be given reluctantly or begrudgingly. Combined with the latter, however, it becomes an act of worship.

Expectations. Such gifts as those we give to God are related to the love of the giver, not to the service of the recipient. That is, there are no expectations connected to the gift—no strings attached. In work-for-hire situations, there is always some sort of agreement concerning what is expected in return for the pay, whether this is bound by formal agreement (a contract) or informal agreement (a handshake). There is no agreement attached to our gifts to God.

Current U.S. tax laws protect the integrity of charitable deductions by asking for information concerning what, if any, benefits are returned to the contributor (if the donation is large enough). The same posture is applicable to what we give to God. When Jacob made his vow in 28:20–22, he delineated precisely what his expectations of God were and then outlined what he was prepared to do in response. This is the kind of approach we must avoid. Giving to God cannot be viewed as a way of getting him to give us more in return.

Accountability. When an individual is being paid for something he or she is expected to do, a system of accountability is generally set up to make sure

that the job is done and that it is done adequately. One of the ways we can demonstrate to God that we are not treating him as a mercenary is to specifically avoid setting up a system of accountability for him. God is not subject to our performance reviews. We do not set goals for God or give him raises or promotions. God does not have to prove himself or answer to anyone.

Though it is not inappropriate to feel ourselves to be in God’s debt, we should never think that we can put him in our debt. What we give to him should be associated with an expression of love rather than an expectation or return on investment. We will be able to achieve that when we realize that nothing we can possibly begin to pay is enough to merit even the smallest part of what God has done for us. The debt can never be paid; we can never afford his blessing. We can only give tokens of love.

God’s patience in transformation. God’s patient work in Jacob’s life offers a lesson as we assess how God can bring us each along step by step in the process of spiritual maturity. Sometimes we may look back with shame or embarrassment at things we did in the past that at the time we considered spiritual. At these times hindsight may allow us to recognize those actions as in reality naive, shallow, or self-serving. Other times we may look back and think of all the wasted time and opportunities. But we do not please God by wallowing in regret. Instead, we should thank God for his patience in bringing us along and move forward in faith, commitment, and service.

Finally, we may at times look at where we are in our spiritual walk and feel as if we haven’t gotten anywhere. We can feel overwhelmed by our failures and our inability to master the Christian life. Those are the times when we need to pause and look back so that we can gain an appreciation of how far God has brought us. When my Hebrew students experience frustration near the end of the first semester over their struggles with the language, I have only to remind them that three months earlier even the alphabet looked like chicken-scratch. It helps for them to see how far they have come. As is evident in his dealings with Jacob, God does not demand instant perfection, but he leads us little by little, making inroads into our self-centeredness and doing his work in our lives one step at a time.

Original Meaning

Simeon and Levi (34:25–31)

ARCHAEOLOGICAL EXCAVATIONS have identified Shechem as having been resettled (after a break of more than a millennium) in about 1900 B.C. This is about the same time of Jacob’s return to Canaan by the earliest chronology. In this early stage of resettlement no walls or gates have been located (though much of this level was obliterated for later building). By the eighteenth century B.C. walls and gates were built to make Shechem an imposing, fortified city. These walls enclosed a city of about six acres and therefore was probably occupied by between five hundred and a thousand people. Even given a smaller, early settlement, the presence of a gate suggests sufficient size that it seems incredulous that two men could wipe out all of the male population by themselves. Alternatively, we may assume that Simeon and Levi recruited a band of servants to go with them.

Beyond the slaughter of the entire male population, the brothers take all the women and children as well as all the goods in the city as plunder. Presumably the brothers rationalize their conduct by insisting that such is the mandated bride price for the violation of their sister. Nevertheless, the level of brutality is incomprehensible and far exceeds any justifiable retribution for the crime of the city’s prince. The text says nothing of what became of these women and children, so we are left to assume that they were somehow absorbed into the camp of Jacob. In the aftermath of what they experienced at the hands of Jacob’s sons, any pretensions to godliness in Jacob’s family would certainly seem to them farcical and hypocritical. But such a discussion is outside the purview of the author.

Bridging Contexts

THE NARRATIVE CONTINUES to be governed by those elements that have characterized it since the beginning of the accounts of the patriarchs: obstacles arise and are overcome, and the covenant advances. God therefore continues to be seen both as One who is determined to fulfill the promises that continue to be made and moved along from generation to generation and as One who can overcome whatever obstacles may arise. Two centuries have come and gone since Genesis 12 and, remarkably, the family of Abraham is growing, thriving, and still in the land.

A new twist presents itself in the obstacles that arise in this chapter. We have already discovered that God was able to continue establishing the covenant despite the character flaws of Jacob and Esau. What was limited to petty swindling by Jacob has blossomed into full-fledged violence and brutality in his sons (setting the stage of how they will act toward Joseph). How can anything be salvaged from such depraved behavior? Thus begins the text’s case that God is able to bring good out of evil. This will eventually be summarized in Joseph’s comment to his brothers in 50:20, but it begins here.

Good through evil. What begins as a personal tragedy in Jacob’s family (the violation of Dinah) turns into serious jeopardy to the entire covenant promise. This jeopardy is articulated in 34:9–10, where the offer is put forth for Jacob’s family to intermarry with the Hivites and to merge their families and societies. While the short-term gains may be economically and socially attractive, the long-term result would be assimilation of the family of Abraham and the loss of their distinct identity. The covenant hangs in the balance as this proposal is considered. It is unacceptable to say that Simeon and Levi’s massacre of the Shechemites “saves the day,” for they are responding to an entirely different problem, and their solution is entirely unacceptable.

Nevertheless, as it turns out in the providence of God, the reprehensible and inexcusable behavior of Simeon and Levi accomplishes something that was in harmony with God’s will. That is, the horrific behavior of the sons to avenge their family honor results in assimilation being avoided. We often think of providence as a fortunate turn of events, but here, and in subsequent chapters, providence more often than not operates in the context of sinful behavior. If God can only work through godly behavior, there is little he can do in our sinful world. He does not, of course, guide Jacob’s sons to act as they do. His sovereignty in these cases is demonstrated not by overriding the free, wicked choices that people make but by dovetailing those acts of wickedness into his own plan. We will have much more to say about this in the next few chapters.

Just as we see the continuation of obstacles and the jeopardy they pose, we also see the continuation of the element of reversal4 as well as the echo effects as patterns of Jacob’s behavior in his former life now repeat themselves in how his sons treat him and others. The deceit of Jacob’s sons (34:13), for instance, shows them following in the footprints of their father. More precisely, their behavior is closest to that of Laban, which had been a reversal on Jacob in its own right. Just as Laban promised Rachel in return for Jacob’s labor, then double-crossed him, Jacob’s sons promised Dinah in return for Shechem’s circumcision, then double-cross him. Even as they follow this pattern, they also escalate it far beyond what we see in Jacob and Laban as they resort to violence and bloodshed. Even as the obstacle of assimilation is removed, the behavior of Simeon and Levi creates yet another level of jeopardy expressed in Jacob’s fears of retaliation (34:30). Again the chosen family is in danger of being exterminated and is only spared by divine intervention (35:5).

The above paragraph gives good reason for the narrator to include Genesis 34 in the covenant record, but is there a reason why he places it here and situates it literarily as he has? Of course, chronologically it belongs here, but that does not mean that we can afford to neglect the literary elements that tie it to the surrounding sections. Since chapter 35 duplicates some of the material from chapter 32, and since the brothers’ question (“Should he have treated our sister like a prostitute?” 34:31) is left hanging in the air at the end of chapter 34, there is good cause to seek out a literary function for this chapter.

Turning the brothers’ question into a statement results in: “They had no right to treat our sister as someone whose favors were for sale!” What an intriguing statement to transition into the account of Jacob’s paying his vow to God for all of his favor. The juxtaposition of the question left hanging in the air with the account of the paying of the tithe in chapter 35 invites the question as to whether Jacob and his family are treating God like a prostitute. They get what they want from him (in accordance with Jacob’s earlier vow: protection, provision, and return to the land), then they pay the price (the tithe) and go their way. Like Shechem, they are willing to pay their bride price and undergo circumcision (= the tithe) to reap the benefits of this relationship.

This makes especially cogent sense in light of the fact that chapter 35 opens with Jacob’s instructing his family to get rid of their foreign gods. In later Israelite literature, the prophetic warning against using foreign gods accuses Israel of playing the harlot to those gods. We realize how serious this becomes when we remember that in the Jacob narratives God establishes a modus operandi of subjecting people to the same kind of treatment they give others. Does Genesis 35 then carry a veiled threat that if God is treated like a prostitute, the Israelites can expect no more favorable treatment than the Shechemites received at the hands of Simeon and Levi? Is there the hint that if the Israelites’ circumcision is not sincere but only an inconvenience leading to long-term gains, they can expect their greed will get them slaughtered rather than favor with God? The curses pronounced for failure to keep the covenant in Deuteronomy 28:15–68 make what was done to the Shechemites pale in comparison. Jacob should beware lest he treats God as someone whose favors are for sale.

Confirmation at Bethel. Genesis 35 draws the Jacob narrative to its climax. What is the state of the covenant? (1) Jacob has returned to the land. (2) He has disposed of other gods, suggesting a commitment of allegiance to Yahweh. (3) Yahweh has exerted his authority over Jacob by changing his name to Israel and has reiterated the covenant blessings to him. (4) Jacob has established two more foundations in the land (the altar and pillar at Bethel and Rachel’s tomb). (5) The family has continued to expand and can now be considered as a recognizable clan, independent and settled (despite the serious threat from the Hivites that nearly scuttled it).

Sometimes progress is so slow and hampered that we can fail to notice the gradual progress being made. Genesis 35 provides an opportunity for the reader to take stock of how far the ancestors have come. Two hundred years and twenty-three chapters into this covenant experience find everything still intact, though there has been no shortage of scrapes and bruises along the way. A dozen times the covenant has dangled by a single thread, but God is faithful and sovereign and his grace is sufficient.

Personally, Jacob has emerged to take his rightful place among his forefathers as a man of faith. Regardless of what spiritual shortcomings may have been exposed in his vow and regardless of the dangers that accompany the vow, Jacob has fulfilled it, and the vow stands as a testimony to his commitment to Yahweh. God’s patient work in his life has resulted in a transformation of character that may have seemed beyond reach in the earlier chapters.

Appetite or ambition? An odd and somewhat isolated comment in 35:22 warrants brief comment. If Reuben’s sexual encounter with Bilhah were simply a case of fulfilled lust, it probably would not have merited notice. But it must be recalled that slaves, servants, and concubines were considered part of the inheritance passed on from father to son. The oldest son (Reuben) would have the birthright (the additional share) and would inherit the human members of the household, including the concubines. When inheritance is laid hold of prior to a father’s death, it constitutes usurpation of the father’s role (cf. Absalom’s public taking of David’s concubines in 2 Sam. 16:21–22). This single isolated sentence, therefore, stands as the first indication that the jeopardy in the next generation will again concern birthright, inheritance, and favoritism. For Reuben, the attempt to bolster his position of authority in the family ends up compromising it.

Contemporary Significance

ONE OF THE major lessons of this section concerns how God is able to use the evil that people do, bringing about positive results (though in the process not necessarily eliminating the negative results). This idea continues as a major theme throughout the remainder of the book and will be treated directly in future chapters, so I will not pursue it now. A second major lesson concerns God’s ability to overcome obstacles, but that has been a recurring theme throughout the patriarchal narratives, one we have discussed on numerous occasions. The remaining major lesson concerns the issue of buying God’s favors, the subject to which we now turn.

Are God’s favors for sale? When the rich young ruler came to Jesus seeking eternal life, he was ultimately told to sell all that he had and give it to the poor (Luke 18:18–30). This does not suggest that the kingdom can be bought. Rather, it indicates that this man’s wealth poses an obstacle to his entry into the kingdom. In fact, when Simon the sorcerer (Acts 8:18–24) became so impressed with the apostles that he tried to buy the gift of the Holy Spirit as a commodity, he was soundly rebuked. God cannot be bought!

This is the same lesson that the Israelites must learn when they are inclined to adopt the typical thinking of the ancient world that God has needs and that his worshipers fill those needs. God must remind him that their sacrificial gifts do not buy his favor (Ps. 50:9–15). Yet he rebukes them for not bringing their tithes, for in their neglect they are robbing him of what rightfully belongs to him (Mal. 3:8–12).

A slender but distinct line exists between enjoying God’s favor when we give him his due and seeking to procure his favor as if we are purchasing goods. There is a difference between subsidizing a program and buying its benefits. That difference is in what one is owed for his or her patronage. When we make a contribution to our community orchestra, we are subsidizing the arts and helping to provide for a culturally rich environment. We are contributing to something that we consider worthwhile. When we pay our taxes, by contrast, we have every right to expect community services in return.

God owes us nothing, and nothing he has to give can be bought from him. That is one of the issues that provoked the Protestant Reformation. Martin Luther’s ninety-five theses targeted the sale of indulgences. The indulgence system that operated under the auspices of the Roman Catholic Church endorsed the idea that forgiveness could be bought. The system was entirely corrupt and preyed on the people’s fear of eternal damnation. Though today’s permutations may not be as obvious, they are just as tragic. The most crippling aspect is not to be found in the fact that attempts to buy God’s favors do not work; it is rather found in the decrepit view of God that such attempts expose. God is not offended by our money (or whatever else we try to use to buy his favor); he is offended by our supposition that he can be bought.

In our society the courts have forced us to put a price tag on everything. How much should be paid in damages to someone who has been deprived of a mother? What is a mother’s love worth? Whatever figure that might be, let me ask: What would happen if you wrote out a check and tried to give it to your mother? “Here, Mom,” you might say, “this is to pay for all the laundry, cooking, sewing, packed lunches, shuttling, room-mothering, prayers, hugs, love, and so on that you did over the years.” You can imagine the crestfallen look on your mother’s face. Well, magnify that by thousands and you begin to get the sense of God’s feelings when we think his blessing is for sale.

The Beatles had a hit song in the 1960s called “Can’t Buy Me Love,” and we continue to prove that true. In a much-publicized game show in 2000 that offered the chance to marry a millionaire, several girls competed for the guest millionaire to choose her as his bride. When the man chose one of them, the marriage took place right on the air. In the days that followed the news was full of the girl’s disappointment and regret that she had done such a foolish thing as to reduce marriage to something so trivial. All of the millionaire’s money could not buy the girl’s love, and neither can we buy God’s. God’s care for us is not mercenary.

Consider for a moment the two portraits of the German industrialist Oscar Schindler, whose story of protection of hundreds of Jews during the Holocaust was the subject of the Stephen Spielberg film Schindler’s List. Schindler had established a reputation as a womanizer, gambler, and operator in the black market. When the Nazis overran Poland, Schindler saw an opportunity to make money. He devised a scheme whereby Jews invested their money in his factory and then worked in it, receiving payment in the goods that the factory produced. The factory was allowed by the Germans partly because it supplied the army with goods necessary for the war effort, but mostly because of Schindler’s extensive bribery of corrupt German officials.

His work began purely as a mercenary effort—he wanted to make money. His prosperity depended on his workers being available and healthy, and he therefore used his connections to protect those who worked in his factory. This is the first portrait of Schindler, and one that some claim is the only portrait. In this view everything he did was for his own profit and to advance his own position, and if some Jews got spared from the Germans in the process, lucky for them.

The second portrait is presented in the film. It begins the same way, for Schindler’s lifestyle is well-documented and undeniable. But in this view Schindler became troubled by the way the Jews were treated as they were first driven to the ghetto and then driven from the ghetto into concentration camps. Knowing he could not stop the mayhem and at first partly to preserve his labor force, he began to protect his workers. The film depicts the transformation of Schindler as he came to care about the welfare of the Jews that were in his employ and beyond them to those who were suffering. Consequently, when the work camp his Jews inhabited was emptied into the concentration camps, he began to use his fortune (in the end, an estimated four million German marks) to buy as many of his employees as possible so that they could be spared from the gas chambers. In the end over twelve hundred lives were saved; he ended up with nothing, and still he was distressed that he could not save more.

These are two very different perspectives of Schindler. It is not important for us to decide which is correct, though the Jews whose lives he saved and who were firsthand witnesses unanimously adopt the second. The value of the illustration is that it helps us to see that there are also two ways that people view God. Too many treat God as though he has the mentality of the early Schindler, when in reality it is the later Schindler that takes us in the right direction.

As a side note it is worth mentioning that we can make a similar mistake going on the other side of the coin. Besides sometimes thinking we can pay God for his favors, we sometimes also think that we should get rewarded for our righteousness—that God should be expected to pay for our “favors.” This suffers from the same fallacy as the first. It reduces our relationship with God to a business transaction.

How do we demonstrate to God that we are not treating him simply as a mercenary? Certainly that goal is not achieved by withholding all gifts lest they be misconstrued as pay for hire. There may be many subtle factors needed to establish the distinction, but three come immediately to mind: attitude, expectations, and accountability.

Attitude. There is a difference in our attitude when we are giving something as an expression of love. A gift freely given is not treated as an obligation. Our attitude should view any gifts given to God as a response to who he is. There may be some sense of giving to him because of all that he has given to and for us, but even then we must be careful not to adopt the perspective that we owe God. Certainly it is true that we owe God everything—our possessions and our lives. But there is a difference between giving out of a sense of debt and giving out of a sense of love. The former by itself risks that the gift may be given reluctantly or begrudgingly. Combined with the latter, however, it becomes an act of worship.

Expectations. Such gifts as those we give to God are related to the love of the giver, not to the service of the recipient. That is, there are no expectations connected to the gift—no strings attached. In work-for-hire situations, there is always some sort of agreement concerning what is expected in return for the pay, whether this is bound by formal agreement (a contract) or informal agreement (a handshake). There is no agreement attached to our gifts to God.

Current U.S. tax laws protect the integrity of charitable deductions by asking for information concerning what, if any, benefits are returned to the contributor (if the donation is large enough). The same posture is applicable to what we give to God. When Jacob made his vow in 28:20–22, he delineated precisely what his expectations of God were and then outlined what he was prepared to do in response. This is the kind of approach we must avoid. Giving to God cannot be viewed as a way of getting him to give us more in return.

Accountability. When an individual is being paid for something he or she is expected to do, a system of accountability is generally set up to make sure

that the job is done and that it is done adequately. One of the ways we can demonstrate to God that we are not treating him as a mercenary is to specifically avoid setting up a system of accountability for him. God is not subject to our performance reviews. We do not set goals for God or give him raises or promotions. God does not have to prove himself or answer to anyone.

Though it is not inappropriate to feel ourselves to be in God’s debt, we should never think that we can put him in our debt. What we give to him should be associated with an expression of love rather than an expectation or return on investment. We will be able to achieve that when we realize that nothing we can possibly begin to pay is enough to merit even the smallest part of what God has done for us. The debt can never be paid; we can never afford his blessing. We can only give tokens of love.

God’s patience in transformation. God’s patient work in Jacob’s life offers a lesson as we assess how God can bring us each along step by step in the process of spiritual maturity. Sometimes we may look back with shame or embarrassment at things we did in the past that at the time we considered spiritual. At these times hindsight may allow us to recognize those actions as in reality naive, shallow, or self-serving. Other times we may look back and think of all the wasted time and opportunities. But we do not please God by wallowing in regret. Instead, we should thank God for his patience in bringing us along and move forward in faith, commitment, and service.

Finally, we may at times look at where we are in our spiritual walk and feel as if we haven’t gotten anywhere. We can feel overwhelmed by our failures and our inability to master the Christian life. Those are the times when we need to pause and look back so that we can gain an appreciation of how far God has brought us. When my Hebrew students experience frustration near the end of the first semester over their struggles with the language, I have only to remind them that three months earlier even the alphabet looked like chicken-scratch. It helps for them to see how far they have come. As is evident in his dealings with Jacob, God does not demand instant perfection, but he leads us little by little, making inroads into our self-centeredness and doing his work in our lives one step at a time.