The Red Stew Worldview Text: Genesis 25:27-34
Introduction: Two Kinds of Men
Every story, if you trace it back far enough, is a story about a choice between two ways of living in the world. Scripture is filled with these choices, these rivalries between brothers that represent two rival worldviews. We have Cain and Abel, Ishmael and Isaac, and here, in our text, we have the foundational story of Jacob and Esau. This is not simply a family squabble over inheritance. This is a clash of civilizations in miniature. This is a collision between the man of faith and the man of sight, between the covenant man and the carnal man, between the man who lives for the future promise and the man who lives for the immediate gratification of his belly.
Our secular age is an Esau age. It is an entire civilization built on the principle of the red stew. Our politics, our entertainment, our education, our economics, it is all geared toward satisfying the immediate, growling appetite. "I want it now." "If it feels good, do it." "You only live once." This is the wisdom of Esau. It is the philosophy of the famished man who can see nothing beyond his hunger. And because this is the air we breathe, we are frequently tempted to think that Esau is the more relatable of the two, the more honest. He is the rough, straightforward, manly man, while Jacob is the scheming, quiet, mama's boy. We are tempted to sympathize with Esau.
But the Holy Spirit, speaking through the author of Hebrews, gives us a different assessment. He warns us to look diligently, "lest there be any fornicator or profane person like Esau, who for one morsel of food sold his birthright" (Hebrews 12:16). Esau is presented to us not as a victim, but as a profane man. The word profane means common, outside the temple, belonging to the dirt. To be profane is to treat holy things as if they are common, to trample on sacred gifts. Esau's sin was not that he was hungry. His sin was that his hunger was his god. He valued a temporary sensation in his stomach more than the covenant promises of the living God. And in this, he is the father of all materialists, all secularists, all who trade the eternal for the temporary.
This story, then, is a diagnostic tool. It reveals what kind of man you are. It forces you to ask the question: what is your red stew? What is that immediate, carnal thing that you are tempted to trade your birthright for? Because we all have a birthright in Christ, an inheritance incorruptible and undefiled. And the devil, like a cunning Jacob, is always there with a bowl of something steaming and savory, offering to trade you for it.
The Text
And the boys grew up; Esau became a skillful hunter, a man of the field, but Jacob was a peaceful man, living in tents. Isaac loved Esau because he had an appetite for hunted game, but Rebekah loved Jacob.
And Jacob had cooked stew. And Esau came in from the field, and he was famished. Then Esau said to Jacob, "Please give me a swallow from the red stuff this red stuff, for I am famished." Therefore his name was called Edom. But Jacob said, "First sell me your birthright." And Esau said, "Behold, I am about to die; so of what use then is the birthright to me?" And Jacob said, "First swear to me"; so he swore to him and sold his birthright to Jacob. So Jacob gave Esau bread and lentil stew; and he ate and drank and rose and went away. Thus Esau despised his birthright.
(Genesis 25:27-34 LSB)
Two Sons, Two Worlds (v. 27-28)
We begin with the description of the two boys and their parents' divided affections.
"And the boys grew up; Esau became a skillful hunter, a man of the field, but Jacob was a peaceful man, living in tents. Isaac loved Esau because he had an appetite for hunted game, but Rebekah loved Jacob." (Genesis 25:27-28)
Here we have the setup for the entire conflict. Esau is the outdoorsman, the man of action, living by his strength and skill in the wild places. He is a man of the field, which in Scripture often represents the world, outside the covenant community. Jacob, in contrast, is a "peaceful" or "plain" man, living in tents. This doesn't mean he was a weakling. It means his domain was the home, the camp, the place of the covenant. He was where the promises of God were remembered and passed down. He was near the hearth, while Esau was out on the horizon.
And the parental favoritism is telling. "Isaac loved Esau because he had an appetite for hunted game." Notice the reason. Isaac, the man of faith, the child of promise, loved his son for a carnal reason. He loved him for what he could put on his plate. His affection was tied to his appetite. This is a sad picture of a patriarch whose spiritual senses have been dulled. He should have been evaluating his sons based on their covenantal faithfulness, but instead, he evaluated them based on their culinary contributions. This is a warning to all fathers. Do not favor the son who is merely successful in the world's eyes, the star athlete or the shrewd businessman. Favor the son who loves the Lord's tents.
Rebekah, on the other hand, loved Jacob. The text does not give a carnal reason for her love. We know from earlier in the chapter that God had told her, "the older shall serve the younger" (Gen. 25:23). Rebekah's love was aligned with God's revealed, prophetic word. She was not perfect, and she would later resort to deception, but her fundamental orientation was correct. She saw, as Isaac did not, that God's purposes ran through the quiet man in the tent, not the profane man of the field.
The Transaction of Worldviews (v. 29-31)
Now we come to the central event, the fateful bargain.
"And Jacob had cooked stew. And Esau came in from the field, and he was famished. Then Esau said to Jacob, 'Please give me a swallow from the red stuff this red stuff, for I am famished.' Therefore his name was called Edom. But Jacob said, 'First sell me your birthright.'" (Genesis 25:29-31 LSB)
The scene is perfectly set. Esau comes in from the field, representing the world, and he is empty. The world will always leave you empty and famished. He has been hunting, exerting his own strength and skill, and has come back with nothing. Jacob, the man of the tents, has food. The blessings of the covenant are always found within the camp, not outside it.
Esau's words are a torrent of pure appetite. "Give me a swallow from the red stuff this red stuff." He doesn't even know what it is. He just knows its color and that he wants it. His desire is primal, immediate, and overwhelming. This is why his name was called Edom, which means "red." He is the red man, the earthy man, defined by his fleshly appetites. He is Adam, unredeemed.
Jacob's response is, of course, opportunistic and carnal in its own way. "First sell me your birthright." Jacob wants the right thing, the birthright, but he tries to get it in the wrong way. He is a schemer. He sees his brother's weakness and he exploits it. God had already promised that the birthright would be his, but Jacob, like so many of us, decided he needed to help God out with a little bit of sinful maneuvering. He should have fed his brother freely and trusted God to bring about His promise in His own time. But let us not miss the central point. As flawed as Jacob is, he values the right thing. He values the birthright. He understands that the covenant promises of God are the most valuable things in the world. Esau sees a bowl of soup. Jacob sees a dynasty, a priesthood, and the line of the Messiah.
The Profane Calculation (v. 32-34)
Esau's response reveals the absolute profanity of his heart.
"And Esau said, 'Behold, I am about to die; so of what use then is the birthright to me?' And Jacob said, 'First swear to me'; so he swore to him and sold his birthright to Jacob. So Jacob gave Esau bread and lentil stew; and he ate and drank and rose and went away. Thus Esau despised his birthright." (Genesis 25:32-34 LSB)
Esau's reasoning is the cry of every materialist. "Behold, I am about to die." This is a gross exaggeration born of self-pity. He was famished, not at death's door. But this is how the flesh always argues. It magnifies the present discomfort to eclipse all future glory. "Of what use then is the birthright to me?" This is the key. The birthright was a spiritual inheritance. It included a double portion of the inheritance, the leadership of the family, and most importantly, the privilege of being the next link in the chain leading to the Messiah. It was about the future. It was about God's promise. But for a man who lives only for the now, for the belly, the future is an irrelevant abstraction.
Jacob presses his advantage and makes Esau swear an oath. This makes the transaction binding. Esau, without a second thought, swears away his covenantal inheritance. And then we see the sad, pathetic conclusion. "He ate and drank and rose and went away." The satisfaction was brief, animalistic, and empty. He filled his stomach, and that was it. The narrative rhythm is quick and dismissive. It's over. He got what he wanted, and it was nothing.
And then the divine commentary, the final verdict from the Holy Spirit: "Thus Esau despised his birthright." To despise something is to attach little to no value to it. He looked at the glorious promises of God, the promise of the seed who would crush the serpent's head, the promise of a people as numerous as the stars, and he looked at a bowl of lentil stew, and in his heart, he said the stew was more valuable. This is the essence of profanity. It is a failure of valuation. It is spiritual insanity.
Conclusion: Despising Our Birthright
We must not read this story as ancient history about two dysfunctional brothers. We must read it as a present and pressing warning. We are all born into a world that offers us red stew on every corner. The world wants you to be an Esau. It wants you to live for the weekend, for the next paycheck, for the next meal, for the next fleeting pleasure. It wants you to believe that you are "about to die" of boredom, or loneliness, or lack, and that the only cure is a swallow of its red stuff.
And what is our birthright? In Christ, we are the firstborn. We have been given an inheritance that is "imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you" (1 Peter 1:4). We have been made priests and kings to our God (Rev. 1:6). We are heirs of the world (Rom. 4:13). The promises made to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob are ours. This is the treasure of infinite worth.
To despise this birthright is to trade it for anything less. When you trade the joy of communion with God for a few moments of illicit pleasure, you are Esau. When you trade the duty of raising your children in the fear and admonition of the Lord for a quiet evening in front of the television, you are Esau. When you trade the glory of gathering with the saints on the Lord's Day for a day at the lake or on the golf course, you are Esau. When you trade your integrity for a business deal, your purity for a glance, your faithfulness for a feeling, you are holding your birthright cheap. You are saying the red stew is better.
The good news is that we serve the God of Jacob. We serve the God who takes schemers, sinners, and failures and, by His grace, makes them into princes of God. Jacob's life was one long process of being disciplined out of his scheming ways, culminating in him wrestling with God and being renamed Israel. God is in the business of sanctifying His people, teaching us to value what He values.
Therefore, let us not be profane persons like Esau. Let us ask God for the grace to see the world as it is, a field that leaves you famished, and to see Christ and His promises as they are, the only food that satisfies. Let us be men and women of the tents, who value the covenant, who look to the future, and who would rather starve than sell the glorious inheritance that was purchased for us, not with a bowl of stew, but with the precious blood of the Lamb.