Early the next morning Jacob took the stone that he had put under his head, set it up as a memorial stone, and poured oil on top of it. He called the site Bethel, whereas the former name of the town had been Luz.
If you have ever participated in the building of a new church, from the first dreams to the first collection to the grand opening, you remember the bishop pouring oil over the new altar. Oil is a sign of the Holy Spirit and of God's choice. We use it more often in the sacraments of Baptism, Confirmation and Ordination. During the consecration of a new church, we daub the altar and walls of the building as we invite the Lord to take possession of this place. Now it will be, in the words of Jacob, "...nothing else but an abode of God, and... the gateway to heaven!"
His words, "nothing else" remind us that this altar is not a mere table to hold things off the floor. It cannot second as a pedestal for statues, a display case for trophies, or a buffet table during parish functions. Nor should the consecrated church function as a gymnasium or public auditorium. In rare cases of necessity it might serve as a shelter from storms or a hostel for pilgrims, but on those occasions we try to respect the sacred presence. It is God's abode.
The church and altar remind us that God has chosen to live among us. His place is not the highest, most inaccessible heaven. It is our neighborhood and home.
Jacob's pouring oil over his stone pillow directs our attention specifically to the altar. As Jesus was anointed by the Holy Spirit, the altar is anointed by oil. This is why we bow toward the altar, and the priest reverently kisses it. It is a symbol of Christ. (Here is a link to an excellent, seven-thousand-word article about this if you're really, really interested!)
This story of Jacob recalls the prehistoric origins of our religion. Our memory of the patriarchs is vague; beyond the Bible there is no documentation of their existence. Babylonian clay tablets and Egyptian papyri tell us nothing of Abraham, Isaac, or Jacob. The history-recording scribes of that time, celebrating the power and majesty of their emperors and pharaohs, could not be bothered with nomadic merchants. They clearly preferred to forget about Moses, the Exodus, and the drowning of Pharaoh and his army. Many centuries would pass before Israelite historians would record family lore in the Torah. Only the Spirit of God could preserve such memories against the upheavals of the mid-eastern world.
When we gather around the altar during our weekday and Sunday masses, our prayers and rituals remember Jacob and his memorial stone. With each repetition of the ceremony we restore the memory and pass it along. For God resides also in our past and its memory. As he said,
"And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age.”
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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.
Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.
I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.
You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.