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Rachel’s death in childbirth—Genesis 35:16-20

I always hated scripts where somebody gets killed off and the writer gives you a petty reason not to feel too badly for them (I think of one movie where the victim was just vulgar, or another where she was just divorced, etc.). The very act of characterizing the person in some way makes them more identifiably human, and makes my heart go out to them more. (That may be one reason why I don’t watch many movies; when I do watch them I get into them too much.) Every life is precious, and most offenses are not capital (deathworthy) ones—or at least not any more than the sort that we all commit.

So in noting an irony or two surrounding Rachel’s death in Genesis, I am in no way suggesting that she merited her death. (By the time Genesis ends, everybody significant in the book except God has died anyway.) I am simply noting possible literary connections and trying to probe what they mean.

In 35:16-20, Rachel dies in childbirth. This person who dies in childbirth is the same person who earlier demanded of her husband, “Give me children or I will die!” (30:1). Possibly whatever biological issues that made it difficult for her to have children to begin with also led to her death in childbirth, though such death in childbirth was unfortunately common back then. But the narrative connection may also show us how important having children was to Rachel; she preferred death to not having children, and she ultimately did give her life in the process.

Another possible, though less clear connection, comes in ch. 31. Rachel steals her father’s teraphim, probably meaning idols and possibly connected with inheritance rights. Jacob, unaware that Rachel has stolen them, indignantly declares that if Laban finds his teraphim with anyone, that person would not live (31:32). In this case, therefore, Jacob deems this theft a potentially deathworthy offense. Concerned to avoid being detected as the thief, Rachel seats herself on her father’s teraphim, and avoids rising before her father by appealing to the “way of women” (31:35). This undoubtedly means menstruation; given ancient Near Eastern custom, Laban would not wish to touch her in this state, nor would he assume that in this condition she would be sitting on his gods!

But the language of women’s “way” might also evoke pregnancy. In her next pregnancy, Rachel would in fact die. The connection here is less clear, however, both because the “way of women” does not specify pregnancy and also because Rachel probably had recently already surrendered the teraphim when Jacob (presumably by now knowing of the theft) buried all the foreign gods among them (35:4).

A surer connection is simply an echo of the suffering attached to childbirth from the beginning. As Jacob had slaved in the fields for Laban (31:38-41), enduring the hard labor that became humanity’s lot after their inaugural disobedience (3:17-19), so Rachel died in the pangs of childbirth that had befallen humanity at the same time (3:16). That is, although we could identify some sins committed by Rachel or other characters in Genesis, we cannot assume that Rachel was more sinful than others or being punished for her personal sin. (We don’t read in Genesis about any painful death for Esau, for example.) As Jesus pointed out with regard to some recent particularly abrupt deaths, those victims were no worse than others, and all people will face a fate no less horrible if they do not repent (Luke 13:2-5).

What the irony may do is portend (for the hearer who knows the full story) and thus draw attention to her death, thereby increasing the pathos and inviting greater sympathy for this matriarch of Israel. Whatever the possible factors in her death, the account’s ancient Israelite audience would look on Rachel as the ancestor of two of their tribes (three if one counts Ephraim and Manasseh separately).

Clearly their ancestors in Genesis were imperfect humans, whether we think of Jacob or of Simeon and Levi or Judah. Yet God was with these imperfect people, and Rachel’s sacrifice helped make possible their existence as a people, thus qualifying her retroactively as a matriarch in Israel (cf. Ruth 4:11). This observation in turn reminded Genesis’s first audience, and reminds us as well, that God continues to work with imperfect people, so long as we are willing to be shaped by this perfect God. What God can make eternally of the sacrifices we offer in our often ordinary-looking lives is something that will be seen most fully from the vantage point of eternity. Yet God is trustworthy in making these offerings count as part of the larger story he is weaving in history.

(This study continues a series on Genesis. See e.g., God’s favor; Abraham’s promise; Babel.)

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The Risen movie

The acting, casting (with Jesus and his disciples actually looking Mediterranean rather than northern European), and cinematography were extraordinary. The buildings looked authentic (despite some questionable topography at times); the scene with the fleet was extraordinary, though for such a masterpiece the scene was amazingly—pardon the pun—fleeting (the ships’ design looked maybe earlier than first century, but I didn’t get a good look at them). Tribunes would be Pilate’s closest confidantes, and a tribune would be stationed in charge of the Jerusalem cohort. The realism of the early scene enabled me to visualize the advance of a Roman tortoise formation under significant attack in a way I had never imagined. Clearly an enormous amount of research went into the film. Establishing such images in the mind for a sense of and appreciation for the period would alone be worth the price of the movie, and this movie seems to take it to a new level.

Because my work is especially historical I should mention some historical quibbles, however; for example, Tiberius certainly did not visit Judea (he barely was willing to leave the island of Capri); had one changed him to the Syrian governor, however, we would have lost the extraordinary naval scene in Caesarea. The ascension scene should have occurred after the return to Judea, but another trip would have added more complexity (and put Clavius in danger). You don’t return to Judea from Galilee by boat (though perhaps they were crossing to a better port in Galilee for that purpose). Jesus revealed himself only to chosen witnesses (Acts 10:41), but technically he is appearing to the disciples rather than to the Roman soldier when in the movie the latter sees him. Soldiers stationed in Jerusalem were not Roman legionaries per se but auxiliaries, mostly from Syria (though tribunes would be Roman citizens). We don’t know that Mary Magdalene was actually a “woman of the street” and we do know that if she had been, her clientele probably would not have been in Jerusalem. Most of all, Peter would not have felt so comfortable with a Roman—much less a tribune—before Peter gets to Acts 10, when God had to reveal to him that he could associate with a centurion and his household (though the movie gets right Peter’s ultimate position). I do think that most of Jesus’s disciples, like most ancient disciples, were probably in their mid- to late teens.Some arguments from silence are stronger than others; would early Christians be silent about the conversion of a tribune? Indeed, the movie’s basic premise of the Roman military trying to stamp out belief in Jesus’s resurrection in the days after the event is not historically likely; although early Christians did not have reason to emphasize Roman persecution, one might have expected at least a hint of it in Acts, yet it does not appear there.

Nevertheless, it is intriguing, and once one accepts the premise, the depictions, the acting, and the casting were all extraordinary. No one expects the movie to be a historical documentary, but apart from what is necessary for the story line, it provides dramatic insight into the period and events. Although the story line surrounding the central character is fictitious, as just noted, the movie otherwise stays close to the biblical script. Anyone willing to learn from something partly fictitious (as anyone who reads fiction, watches movies or cartoons, or even likes Jesus’s parables) should find it edifying. This is similar to the 1980s miniseries A.D., which used a fictitious frame but communicated well the letter and spirit of much of the Book of Acts (though Clavius being single better fits our knowledge of the Roman military than Valerius’s marriage in that series). Risen, of course, reflects more recent standards for visual scope and coherent action.

Such films help us to explore more deeply the biblical stories with which we have sometimes become too familiar. Personally, these are the kinds of films I like best, because they invite our imaginations into the most important events of history.

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God’s favor matters most—Genesis 29

Have you ever felt discriminated against for matters outside your control? As Jacob’s parents showed favoritism toward particular sons, so Jacob showed favoritism toward a particular wife (29:30-31). Jacob was the younger brother of two and favored the younger sister of two, but God’s reversal of the birthright in some cases shows that God himself does not show favoritism based on birth order.

In loving Rachel, Jacob followed romance more than the culture’s expectations about childbearing and thus marrying off the eldest first. Because we do not share those cultural assumptions, it is easier for us than for some of Jacob’s contemporaries to understand his love for Rachel. Moreover, God did indeed have a special plan for Rachel’s children, especially Joseph.

But through no fault of either Rachel or Leah, Jacob ended up with one more wife than he wanted. Once they were married, there was no going back; again in view of the culture, it would be more difficult for her father to marry her off to another husband now that she was no longer a virgin.

Jacob’s favoritism may thus be understandable, but it was painful to Leah, who was an innocent victim of her father’s treachery. Yet even in such a situation, God remained sovereign. He ultimately had a plan for twelve tribes of Israel, not just two, and on a personal level God also took into account Leah’s suffering. In 29:31, God blessed Leah; he looks on our affliction and is near the broken (God also defends Jacob in his affliction, 31:42).

Leah praises God for a son, saying that he looked on her affliction (29:32). (Later, in 35:18, Rachel also experienced “affliction,” tragically giving her life to bear another son.) In 29:32 Reuben’s name communicates that God saw and in 29:33 Simeon’s name communicates that God heard. Even as the less preferred wife, Leah found favor with the God who hears the cries of the broken. Leah hoped that her childbearing would earn her husband’s love (or perhaps even preference; 29:32). Subsequent narratives indicate that Jacob still continued to honor Rachel first. But whether Leah saw it or not, Leah also received favor from the God who looked on her suffering.

Even when others do not treat us fairly, we can depend on the one who sees our hardship and can vindicate us. In the end, it is his opinion of us that matters most.

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The deceiver gets deceived—Genesis 29

What Jacob did to others, Jacob now endures from others—though in the long run—sometimes the very long run—God will bless Jacob and more than make up for his suffering.

As Jacob deceived his father and stole his elder brother’s role, so now Rachel’s father deceives Jacob and gives Rachel’s role to his elder daughter (29:23), protecting the right of the literal firstborn (here, Leah) that Jacob had taken had taken from the firstborn of his family of origin (there, Esau). The custom that the firstborn is married first (29:26) fits the birthright going to the first; Jacob got Esau’s birthright for lentils but now has to work an extra seven years for Rachel. In 29:25, Jacob protests that Laban “tricked” him—using the same Hebrew root that in 27:35 Jacob’s father used to describe what Jacob had done to Esau.

Moreover, Jacob finds that even when he has Laban’s daughters, he’s not able to leave town with them. From Laban’s perspective, he will soon learn, the daughters and their offspring remain Laban’s (31:43). Jacob had left father and mother and cleaved to his wife (cf. 2:24), but Laban didn’t intend to let his son-in-law leave him. One can understand Laban’s rationale without approving of it. Abraham’s servant wanted to take Rebekah as a wife for Isaac immediately (Gen 24:54-56), and after that Laban never saw his sister Rebekah again. It thus makes some psychological sense that he does not want his daughters to leave with Jacob (Gen 29:27; 30:27); once Jacob returns to Canaan, Laban will probably never see his daughters again (cf. 31:50, 52).

More than Laban’s love for his daughters was his love of the prosperity that Jacob brought. Laban also wanted Jacob’s continued service and he bought it for seven more years by giving him Rachel (29:26). The daughters knew that their father had “sold” them in return for Jacob’s prosperous service (31:15). Yet Laban didn’t treat Jacob like a son; he kept changing his wages, trying to get as much as possible from Jacob for as little as possible (31:7, 41).

Nevertheless, God would see Jacob’s affliction and help him (31:12, 42). Indeed, in the game of deception, Jacob would come out ahead (31:20), though only because God acted on his behalf (31:24). (This does not provide an ideal model for us today, but God worked on behalf of Jacob within the setting with which he lived.) Laban’s oppression may provide an extra incentive for Jacob to return to the land that God had promised him (cf. 31:2-3). But given Laban’s determination, only God can make that happen safely.