The story in church was about twins. I was delighted to be sitting between my own girls that morning, and enjoyed the enactment of the conflict between Jacob and Esau. Their tussle started in the womb, and did not wane in adulthood. The brothers wrestled for dominance their whole lives.

 

Esau was impulsive, and his emotions showed up in his actions. Jacob had a more measured temperament, and could be called sneaky. Their father Isaac loved Esau while Rebecca, their mother, favored Jacob. 

 

Years ago I attended a lecture about the development of babies in the womb. What stays with me is the spinning. Early on the heart is above the head. Later in the pregnancy they switch. Then they swivel again a few times until labor when, ideally, the heart is again above the head. 

 

For me it mirrored the tug of war between knowing what is true and doing what is good. It has been a scuffle, as I lean between holding the line and reaching out to someone I care about. There has been uncertainty, and the pain of contractions. Clench and release. Submit and expand. 

 

The minister explained that Esau represents what we love, and our desire to act on it. Jacob symbolizes that part of us that learns how. He gave the example of how he wanted to play the piano as a child. But the steps of practicing and learning scales sometimes bordered on drudgery. The desire to make music is how it began, but took a back seat to plodding through the primer. In the end, his talent has emerged as a source of joy. Amazingly, there is enough gladness to go around. In fact I am listening to him now. 

 

It happens that I put that story to music thirty years ago. It is not a well known hit, but the musicians performed it. As I sat there, a twin on each side, singing together I knew that the struggle is worth it. More than.