This parsha is notable for (among other things) its inclusion of the well-known story of Jacob’s ladder on which a lively ensemble of angels is moving. In this story, we’ll see that God makes an extraordinary promise to Jacob, which will come to pass in an unexpected way.
Here is the passage:
Jacob left Beersheba and went toward Haran. And he came to a certain place and stayed there that night, because the sun had set. Taking one of the stones of the place, he put it under his head and lay down in that place to sleep. And he dreamed, and behold, there was a ladder set up on the earth, and the top of it reached to heaven. And behold, the angels of God were ascending and descending on it!
And behold, the LORD stood above it and said, “I am the LORD, the God of Abraham your father and the God of Isaac. The land on which you lie I will give to you and to your offspring. Your offspring shall be like the dust of the earth, and you shall spread abroad to the west and to the east and to the north and to the south, and in you and your offspring shall all the families of the earth be blessed. Behold, I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land. For I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.”
Then Jacob awoke from his sleep and said, “Surely the LORD is in this place, and I did not know it.” And he was afraid and said, “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.”
So early in the morning Jacob took the stone that he had put under his head and set it up for a pillar and poured oil on the top of it. He called the name of that place Bethel, but the name of the city was Luz at the first.
(Genesis 28:10–19)
It was none other than Marc Chagall, the famous twentieth-century Russian-French Jewish painter, who depicted Jacob’s ladder numerous times. (For one example, see his 1973 “Jacob’s Ladder.” It seems to depict a kind of bridge between earth and heaven, because we have God himself standing “above” the ladder. And what does God have to say? He reiterates his promises to Jacob’s grandfather and father, Abraham and Isaac. Here we again hear the promise of the land, many descendants and especially a promise of God’s presence and protection. “For I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.”
But all is not as it seems. God had already ominously told Abraham many years earlier:
Then the LORD said to Abram, “Know for certain that your offspring will be sojourners in a land that is not theirs and will be servants there, and they will be afflicted for four hundred years. But I will bring judgment on the nation that they serve, and afterward they shall come out with great possessions. As for you, you shall go to your fathers in peace; you shall be buried in a good old age. And they shall come back here in the fourth generation, for the iniquity of the Amorites is not yet complete.”
(Genesis 15:13–16)
In the midst of many promises of blessings comes a word about four hundred years of slavery in Egypt. And in Jacob’s time, slavery still remained in their future. But if Jacob’s descendants were to be slaves, how can God say, “I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you”?
This is not the only time in Scripture when a promise of blessing seems to be derailed by events. David, the eventual king of Israel, is anointed by Samuel to be future king even as the rejected king Saul is still ruling:
Then Samuel took the horn of oil and anointed him [David] in the midst of his brothers. And the Spirit of the LORD rushed upon David from that day forward.
(1 Samuel 16:13)
Not only is David anointed with oil, but God’s Spirit comes upon him. Surely this is a promising start to his career! But reality intervenes, and David spends several years fleeing from Saul who, in his jealousy and madness, is desperately trying to kill him.
How can this be? Why do God’s promises again seem to be derailed? Doesn’t the King of the Universe know how to protect the future king of Israel?
Let us fast forward about one thousand years to Jesus of Nazareth, also known as Yeshua. Here, like in Chagall’s paintings, we find another kind of portrait of Jacob’s ladder. Yeshua is in conversation with one of his first followers, a man named Nathanael. On that occasion, Yeshua says to him:
Truly, truly, I say to you, you will see heaven opened, and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man.
(John 1:51)
“Son of Man” is Yeshua’s preferred way to refer to himself in his role as Messiah (see Daniel chapter 7). But more important here is the clear reference to Jacob’s ladder. Only now the angels are ascending and descending not on a ladder but on Yeshua himself. The implication seems to be that Yeshua himself is the bridge between heaven and earth.
In that case, we should expect miracles! Deliverance! The entrance of the World to Come! Nevertheless, reality once again intervenes. God’s promises to Jacob had traversed a path that included four hundred years of bitter slavery. Before David could realize his destiny as king, he first had to spend time as a fugitive living in dank caves and escaping the murderous hands of Saul. And Yeshua? Before he could deliver Israel, he first had to experience suffering and death by crucifixion.
Eventually, Israel was redeemed miraculously from slavery. Eventually, Saul died, and David became king. Eventually, Yeshua, dying as an atonement, was resurrected from the dead—thereby bringing life to those who trusted in him.
Sometimes life takes us down hard paths before God’s promises find their fulfillment. If that was true of Jacob, David, and Yeshua, how much more of us? Pain is part of life. But the ladder between earth and heaven is there—and will remain when pain is just a distant memory.