Then as so many abusers do, Laban accused Jacob of stealing his gods. He needed some pretense for hotly pursuing Jacob, so here it was. Through the entire preceding tirade of Laban, Jacob was quiet. But when he was accused and shamed, he responded. And he responded with an admission of his feelings--and this again, is so often what the abused do. It occurs because they think that if they can just be honest and vulnerable in some way, then the abuser will reply in kind. Or they may be scared and feel guilty because of the accusations about their character. So they make comments that work against them.
You were scared that I'd take your wives by force? Laban never responds to this concern. Obviously, he would have done this, had it not been for God's instruction to Laban to the contrary, in a dream. Jacob must have been quite rattled, facing this man with all of his children, wives, and belongings standing behind him. And on the other side stood Laban with "all his relatives," the Bible tells us. I don't know how many people that was, but it could have been quite a crowd. What more, they did not have the dream from God and they had pursued with the intent of bringing Jacob back home. So they probably didn't have the most pleasant expressions on their faces.
One of the challenges of women in abusive marriages, is that their abuser often goes to relatives to get them to prevail upon the wives to return home. They say things to their mother-in-law or sister-in-laws like, "I just couldn't live without that woman! Won't you please tell her that I'm dying here without her?" And family members get suckered into acting at the behest of the abuser, to fulfill his best interests. Most times it is not the best interest of the woman to go back to him. But there they are: the woman standing at one side and her husband, his family and her family, all standing on the other side asking her to go back. And we wonder why it takes an abused woman about six to ten goes to get away from an abuser...
Finally, Jacob seems to regain his wits. He invites Laban to search through his belongings for his missing household gods--and to do it while there are witnesses present. I really dislike the image of Laban that emerges here. Rather than sending off his daughters with a celebration and best wishes--even giving them his household gods for good measure--he begins a search, tent by tent, looking for these idols. Now it is the principle of the matter for Laban. He wants to prove that Jacob has done wrong by him and therefore his need to flee, his belongings, his dignity are of little consequence. So he goes through everyone's things, looking for these gods.
When Laban got to Rachel's tent and she said that she couldn't stand up in his presence because she was menstrating, Jacob finally found his voice and his anger. There are times in the lives of abuse victims when they can't clearly see what is happening to them because they lack distance from their situation. But when abuse occurs to someone they love and feel protective of, they can act decisively. Research on abuse victims tells us that this point for a number of women occurs when their children are abused by their abuser.
So here Jacob sees Laban intruding on Rachel--his favored wife whom he loved enough to work 14 years. And he becomes very angry and his anger finds words:
"What is my crime?" he asked Laban. "What sin have I committed that you hunt me down? Now that you have searched through all my goods, what have you found that belongs to your household? Put it here in front of your relatives and mine, and let them judge between the two of us.
"I have been with you for twenty years now. Your sheep and goats have not miscarried, nor have I eaten rams from your flocks. I did not bring you animals torn by wild beasts; I bore the loss myself. And you demanded payment from me for whatever was stolen by day or night. This was my situation: The heat consumed me in the daytime and the cold at night, and sleep fled from my eyes. It was like this for the twenty years I was in your household. I worked for you fourteen years for your two daughters and six years for your flocks, and you changed my wages ten times. If the God of my father, the God of Abraham and the Fear of Isaac, had not been with me, you would surely have sent me away empty-handed. But God has seen my hardship and the toil of my hands, and last night he rebuked you."
Laban doesn't respond to this, although it's true. At this point, he must have had some sense of embarassment to hear this in front of his relatives whom he incited to pursue his renegade nephew. Jacob was right--God had rebuked Laban. Jacob had worked hard and perhaps the relatives present didn't know just how hard he had worked or what he had done for Laban. But Laban didn't admit to any wrongdoing. He couldn't.
Abusers are fragile souls. They have what we therapists call a "very weak ego system." Many abusers are all or nothing, black and white thinkers. They are unable to admit to anything unsavory because if they do say they have done bad, then they reason, they are bad. And if they say they have done something bad, then they are unable to think of themselves as good in any way. So one wrong, if admitted, means that they are 100% bad. If they sit with this knowledge, they are overwhelmed and want to die. Suicide and homicide are common bedfellows on this point. This is true of most criminals and abusers, but not necessarily about the antisocial criminals (psychopaths).
Think about it: how many criminals who are interviewed on television ever admit to their deeds or the badness of the deeds? They deny their guilt to their last breath. Prison wardens will tell you that jails are filled with "innocent" people! I worked with a woman who had systematically tortured her child and who had been imprisoned several years for the crime. Not once in six months could I ever get her to admit that she had done anything to her child. Because if she did admit it, then it would be proof that she was bad, all bad, not good, all bad. And she would have felt unfit to live. Few people realize the fragility of people who have abused others, or that the degree of intensity they use to fight and control represents the degree of desperation they feel about maintaining their fragile ego, intact.
So Laban is just like this, too. Rather than admitting that he was dishonest and that he had no cause for his aggression toward Jacob and the family, he states ownership over all that Jacob has: "The women are my daughters, the children are my children, and the flocks are my flocks. All you see is mine." This, in the face of Jacob's explanation of how he came to have his flocks and herds, not to mention, his wives. Laban can't back down. He does (again), what so many abusers do when they can't argue a point and win. He takes control and suggests an activity they can do together to prove that they have good will between them. It's something that suggests, "Let's just put this all behind us and move forward as though nothing ever happened." And since the abused want to move ahead and forget what happened, they often comply.
So a pillar and heap of stones are set up as a memorial of this agreement between the two men. They eat nearby, all together. Then comes time for the pronouncements to solemnify this gesture. It's the Mizpah prayer--the prayer of the watchtower, as it is known. It is also what we used to stand by our desks and say aloud every afternoon before we were allowed to leave school:
"May the Lord watch between me and thee,
While we are absent, one from another. Amen."
Laban gets a lick in when he charges Jacob not to marry any other women than his daughters, or to mistreat them. This, after his own surly behavior. I doubt that Laban really cared that much about his daughter's wellbeing. He was flexing his muscles in threatening Jacob, and also making it seem that he (Laban) was a good father. That is something that abusers come unglued about: accusations about their integrity or capabilities. Any chink in their armor means that they are all useless, incapable, worthless, all un-good. So they make a play of being attentive and caring. But it is for the wrong reason. Laban did this here once again. Perhaps it was for the benefit of his relatives, with whom he would have to live when he returned to his own land. Maybe it was for his self esteem that he said this. It also may be that he realized that he had no grounds for pressing Jacob and he (Laban) was dangerously close to losing face.
Laban states, "Here is the pillar and the heap that I have set up." Even though in verses 45-46 it says that Jacob set up the pillar and asked his relatives to gather stones for the heap of rocks. Now he says that this heap of rocks has become a boundary so that Laban will not go past it "to harm you." Odd statement this, from a man who had just tried to make his pursuit of the family be about his care for his daughters and grandchildren. If he was a loving, good-hearted father, why does harm even come into the picture? The first time I read this I found this word jarring. It just doesn't fit with the Mizpah prayer cited above. Perhaps Laban was beginning to feel his age and fear for his safety, should Jacob ever become vindictive for all that Laban had done against him these years. So he added, "...you will not go past this heap and pillar to my side to harm me." If Jacob had wanted to harm Laban, he had ample time to do it before now.
When all else fails, abusers may resort to calling on God to witness the supposed integrity and selfless motivation in their abusive acts. And Laban does this here: "May the God of Abraham and the God of Nahor, the God of their father, judge between us." Judge? Judge who is guilty and who is innocent? Decide who is right and wrong? It was an odd oath from a man who purported to be concerned about the wellbeing of his daughters.
Jacob must have felt some resolution and strength in this. He then took the lead by preparing a meal and serving his relatives that night. The Bible says they ate that night, spent time together, and the next morning Laban kissed his grandchildren and daughters and returned home. End of story.
Or was it?
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