Crispëhness of Biblical Proportions: Esau

Distant Shores Media/Sweet Publishing, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons.

So the kiddo, a.k.a. Dabbing Devil, is listening to a Bible-in-a-Year podcast with me. We started on New Year's Day, and if we can see it through, we'll have tackled the whole big weird book by the end of 2024. Dabber is homeschooled, and one of my roles is to be her religious-education teacher. So this is sort of a religious-studies project. I think anyone who lives in the Western world needs to be conversant with the holy writings on which our civilization was largely based. We assert that we have inherent value as human beings because those who came before us believed that we were created in the image of the divine, just as the Bible says.

Now, I've read through the Bible a couple of times, but it's been many, many years. And the one thing that strikes me as we near the end of Genesis is just how weird and messed-up all these people were. I mean, like, completely dysfunctional. You have parents playing favorites, old men getting drunk and passing out naked, daughters getting their dad drunk for Alabama-type purposes, and on and on. 

Then there's Jacob. He is a thoroughly unlikable character. He's a schemer, a swindler, and a cheat. He's deceitful and self-serving. And yet somehow this is the chosen, favored son of the God of the Old Testament, the one he chooses to become the father of an entire nation. I'm sure there's some lesson in the story about how ol' Yahweh doesn't just pick the upright and the perfect to carry out his will, that he'll mess with everyone's expectations and sometimes select the biggest screw-ups imaginable for whatever job he wants carried out. But that sure doesn't make me warm up to the characters at all. 

In fact, out of everyone we've met so far in Genesis, I think my two favorite people aren't even main characters: Leah and Esau. 

I feel bad for Leah because she's a plain-Jane homely girl who just wants hubby Jacob to love her, while Jacob gives all his attention to her sister, Rachel, who's a hottie but also a jealous drama queen. Rachel is also a thief and a liar, but then that's par for the course among Old Testament characters.

Then there's poor old Esau, Jacob's twin. Esau is the firstborn of the two, but his conniving younger brother finds every opportunity he can to take advantage of him. Jacob, you see, is portrayed as the smarter and more cultured of the two. Esau, in contrast, is rugged, hairy, and ruddy. He's a hunter. He's a manly man. And he also seems, well, kind of simple-minded -- and, therefore, easy to take advantage of.

Jacob knows this about his brother, and he uses it to his advantage. First, he exploits Esau when the great outdoorsman comes home hungry from a day of hunting. (Evidently, it was an unsuccessful hunt.) Jacob is cooking up some grub, and Esau asks him for some. 

"First, grant me your birthright," Jacob says. 

"Whatever," Esau says. "I'm starving."

Jacob yanks away the yummy-smelling bowl of beans. "Swear it first."

"Fine, dude, take it. It's not like it's gonna fill my belly."

"Enjoy your beans," Jacob grins, sliding the bowl across the table. 

Now, I think you're supposed to see Esau as the bad guy here. Who would be so stupid and shortsighted that he'd throw away his inheritance rights as the firstborn son, just because he was hungry? Me, I just see a crook taking advantage of someone with a lesser intellect.  

Later, we see Jacob teaming up with his equally scheming snake of a mother, Rebekah, to dress up as Esau and steal his blessing from their father, Isaac. Now, Isaac is an old man and nearly blind, so he has no idea he's being duped. He can tell that Esau's voice sounds suspiciously like Jacob's, but because Jacob threw on an animal skin to complete the ruse, Isaac can feel that the son before him is hairy and smells like outdoors. Esau is hairy and no doubt smells like outdoors. So Isaac offers "Esau" his blessing and sends him on his way. Only later, when the real Esau shows up, do Esau and Isaac both realize they've been conned. 

"But don't you have another blessing to spare?" Esau asks.

"Sorry, Son," Isaac said. "I can't undo what's been done." 

Esau is so mad that he vows to kill his brother. Can't really say I blame him. I'd be cheesed off, too. But he never gets the chance, because their stupid mother tells Jacob to go hide out at her brother's house. 

Esau is basically left with nothing. He becomes, more or less, the patriarch of the Edomite people, who end up in constant conflict with the Israelites over the course of biblical history. They're consistently painted as the bad guys and are forever being conquered and subjugated. Possibly the best-known person to rise from the Edomite peoples was King Herod, the villain of the Gospels who ordered the slaughter of all boys under age 2 after the Magi told him there was a new king in town. 

Eventually, the Edomites faded from history, while Jacob's people went on to thrive. What lesson are we supposed to draw from all this, but that lying and cheating will get you ahead? That God has bad taste in the people he chooses to like? That good guys finish last?

Seriously. I feel bad for Esau. He got the raw end of the deal through no fault of his own.

But that's not why Esau is Crispëh.

Have you ever seen Gravity Falls? The cartoon series about a weird little town in the sticks of Oregon where lots of mysterious and seemingly supernatural events take place? There's a hilarious character in there named Manly Dan. He's the stereotypical man's man, hairy and musclebound, wrestling bears and punching through trees and fishing with his bare hands. You know the type. 

That's pretty much Esau.

And yes, Esau is indeed quite Crispëh.

As ever, I can't tell you exactly why, because the essence of Crispëhness transcends mere words. But his simple, rugged earthiness definitely has something to do with it. The dude smelled like outside. That's kind of awesome. He was so manly and outdoorsy that he probably farted wood chips. 

Plus, he was an underdog, and that definitely counts for something in the Crispëh department.

Basically, if you haven't figured it out already, Crispëh is just something you are. Either you have it or you don't. Esau has it. In fact, he practically oozes it. 

Or farts it. Or something.