I am reminded whenever I think of the story about Jacob and Esau in Genesis 25:29-34 of a student in Romania who said that Esau sold his birthright for a bowl of tripe soup (ciorba de burta). That’s a popular delicacy, much more appealing to some tastes than “pottage” – especially when it is said to be a “mess”.
John Hobbins’ recent comment about “giving up one’s birthright for a mess of unitarian pottage” got me thinking, since this image is a particularly potent one for me. I had a dream once, as a teenager, in which someone who passed by me told me to “remember Esau”. I took it as a reminder not to “sell my birthright for a mess of pottage”. But in the much more complicated worldview I inhabit these days, it strikes me that both pottage and a birthright, whether it is what you are being offered or what you already have, can be harder to recognize than might first seem to be the case.
On the one hand, there is an inate human tendency to value what we already have – the views, the opinions, the beliefs, the convictions – and to assume that those who are suggesting that things might be otherwise must be wrong. We assume that all they have is pottage, and that they are trying to rob us of our birthright. They, on the other hand, assume that they are offering us a delicacy in exchange for the “mess” we have and inexplicably cherish.
In times of difficulty, things can be reversed. When our worldview begins to crumble, or our circumstances become dire, we reach out for help, sometimes to whoever or whatever comes along. We welcome a feeling of kindness and caring, and that isn’t inappropriate, if it is being offered with genuine goodwill. If “whoever offers a cup of water in my name shall not lose his reward”, how much more someone who offers a bowl of soup? But because of their dire circumstances, the recipient may mistake the water for living water, the tripe (soup) we share with them for a birthright of inestimable value.
What’s more, Jesus called people to leave their birthrights and follow him, relying on hospitality so that sometimes the disciples got a literal mess of pottage, sometimes more and sometimes less.
Philip Kitcher has applied the image of the “mess of pottage” to what secularism and science offer to a religious worldview. He acknowledges that, unless there is a secular equivalent to the community and support often found among the religious, one might well be giving up something of great value for something that, however intellectually satisfying, may leave one feeling a strong sense of loss in other areas of life.
In short, it seems to me that the danger of selling one’s birthright for a mess of pottage remains a serious one. But so does the danger of mistaking one’s mess of pottage for a birthright. And the only solution I can think of is to critically examine and reflect on both what we have and what we are offered. Yet ironically, it is that critical reflection, which has challenged the simplistic certainties I once had, that some would consider to constitute selling one’s birthright.
But I’m fairly confident that I know what I now have, and what it cost me, and that it is worth it. Because I’ve learned the importance of reading the label on the can.
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