Blessing and Birthright

I had the chance to put together a Sunday-School-style class at our church in October. It was just a two-week course, which was a welcome warm-up for a different study starting this weekend. For the content, I had this idea about ‘blessing and birthright’ in Scripture, but I’d never tried to put it together into something cohesive. The course was an opportunity to do so, and better yet, to do so in community. I love that kind of thing! My notes from that class are adapted here:

Seeing Scripture Through the Lens of Blessing and Birthright

Growing up, I would play a game with friends called Outburst, where the goal was to get everyone to guess certain words on a hidden list. The lists were printed in red squiggles, making them nearly impossible to read until they were slotted into a special red window. Suddenly, what was once squiggly became crystal clear. This happens sometimes when I’m reading Scripture. I notice squiggles and try looking at the whole thing through a lens, a red window to see if there’s a cohesive theme worth notice. Lately, this window has been chosenness in the Bible - stories about who is chosen for blessing, who receives inheritance, and the tension between siblings that this often stirs up. It turns out that these stories aren’t just about family squabbles but point us toward something greater: Jesus, and what it means to be chosen for God’s purposes.

Sibling Rivalries in Scripture: A Thread We Can Follow

Think of some sibling sets in the Bible. Right from the beginning, the stories of Cain and Abel, Jacob and Esau, and Joseph and his brothers reveal a consistent theme: God’s blessing and birthright often go to the least expected candidate, challenging the norms of the oldest being favored.

The earliest sibling story, Cain and Abel, sets the tone. Yahweh favors Abel, and I’m left to wonder why - we have guesses, sure, but the text doesn’t explicitly spell it out. This feels uncomfortable to me. It leaves me wrestling with questions about God’s choices which Scripture doesn’t always clarify. Cain’s jealousy and anger lead to tragic consequences. Hostility, even violence, arises time and again when God chooses one sibling for blessing, and it shapes the lives of those involved.

As we journey through the Old Testament, this pattern of blessing and rivalry repeats itself. God selects specific individuals or groups to carry his promises forward, and his choices often upend human expectations. Abel, not Cain; Isaac, not Ishmael; Jacob, not Esau. Even among Jacob’s sons, the blessing flows through Judah rather than Reuben, the oldest, or Joseph, the one with a fancy jacket. David’s the youngest of eight. Solomon is child number ten. And it’s not that these “chosen” ones are morally superior. In fact, many fail spectacularly, but they become the carriers of God’s covenant, his unbreakable promises that zigzag through the Old Testament. (It’s worth noting that “blessing” nearly always means that the promises of God are carried forward. It’s not the #blessed of Instagram.)

Moses is another example. He is born into poverty, a third child, a stutterer, raised between two hostile cultures, and seems the least likely candidate to lead a nation out of slavery. Yahweh delivers him through the waters, mirroring Noah’s story, and appoints him to mediate between Yahweh and Israel.

These examples challenge our assumptions. Yahweh’s blessing isn’t tied to strength, seniority, or even moral uprightness. The chosen are often the weaker, younger, rougher, and in all human ways, less likely. It’s almost like Yahweh is doing this on purpose. It’s almost like he has a reason for it.

The Blessing and the Unchosen: What Becomes of the Rest?

What about the “unchosen” siblings? They often become heads of nations. Cain’s descendants become wanderers, but contribute to civilization. Ishmael’s sons become tribes, even princes, and Esau’s descendants form the nation of Edom. The unchosen ones are woven into the story with legacies of power, but unfavorably so. This makes me uncomfortable again. As a mom, I hate the idea of choosing one child over the other, and essentially writing off “the other” to a lifetime of hostility and aggression. It doesn’t sit right. Quite honestly, the example of this in Scripture that sits worst within me is Yahweh’s choosing of ancient Israel - a whole nation to be special and unique, to receive his favor and be defined as his own. Don’t other people matter to him too? Aren’t the other siblings made to be his image too?

Jesus: The Ultimate Firstborn

Where things crashed together for me on this theme was in seeing Jesus as the firstborn - a term used about him by four different New Testament writers. The prior stories see the younger sibling (the unworthy, the unexpected) receive the blessing and inheritance of the family, often at the cost of the firstborn, and the story of Jesus fulfills this pattern. This time, though, Jesus is both the sacrificed and the exalted firstborn. Everything that the Father has is his, and through his sacrifice he imbues it to the younger siblings, his followers. He extends his inheritance to all who follow him. Jesus opens the door for us to be “co-heirs” with him, sharing in both his suffering and his glory.

Jesus reframes the entire concept of blessing and birthright. He comes announcing a kingdom that’s counter to the world’s system - a kingdom where the weak are strong, the humble are exalted, and the outsiders are welcomed in. The amazing twist, which maybe shouldn’t surprise me by now, is that the “unchosen” or “left out” ones find themselves in the center of Jesus’ ministry. Jesus frequently reaches out to people who were considered outside of the Jewish promise - Samaritans, Greeks, Canaanites, Romans. He also favors the outsiders within Israel, those of lower status like women, children, leprous people, blind people, lame people, hemorrhaging people, tax collectors, prostitutes. It’s here that some of the red squiggly hints come into perfect clarity: Yahweh’s promises were never intended to be exclusive, but a blessing that would ultimately reach all people. Turns out, this was always expressed. It’s in the promises to Abraham in Genesis 12 and 17. It’s in the prophecies of Isaiah 2 and 49 and Amos 9 and Zechariah 8 and Zephaniah 3. It’s in the songs of Psalm 47, 67, 86. It was never really that hidden.

The one I was most uncomfortable with, the selection of ancient Israel, even points directly to this plan all along. You will be my kingdom of priests, Yahweh tells them. Priests? The ones whose job is to connect God-and-people? If the whole kingdom is meant to be priestly, the direct implication is that her purpose is to connect other (read: not-Israelite) people with God. Ancient Israel was specially chosen, yes - chosen to be the means of God’s invitation to the rest of the world.

Our Inheritance

The story of blessing and birthright carries forward to us today. In Jesus, we find that we are chosen and blessed, which we know means that we are invited to carry forward God’s promise. We aren’t chosen because of our merits but because of God’s love and wisdom. Jesus, the ultimate “firstborn,” willingly gives up his privileges, opening the way for us to inherit alongside him all that God has promised. And our inheritance is not land or power, but God’s own favor and the opportunity to share it with the world.

In God’s family, we’re all the younger siblings of Jesus, which means that it makes no sense for us to jostle for position. We are co-heirs with him and one another. In this light, sibling rivalry and competition dissolves. Instead of fighting for our place, we’re invited to embrace our role in God’s ongoing story - a story where, just as he has done throughout history, God delights in choosing the unexpected.