I have heard so many teachers
and pastors and lay ministry leaders claim that she was purposefully and
actively complicit in her father’s treachery against Jacob. But because the scriptures don’t say, I
wonder. Because, when researching of
late a full theology of beauty, I find that even the scriptures say Leah was not beautiful; and certainly not in
comparison to her sister, Rachel. What
stands behind this stark declaration is the fact that there is not a woman in
all of creation who wouldn’t have felt the weight of this truth – every single day
– as she grew, as she hoped for love, as she watched her younger sister capture
the heart of this stranger with her beauty.
Leah knew; she lived in this
truth: she was not beautiful. She was
not desired. Not wanted. Not good enough.
Thus, I can be compelled
to conclude that even if she were actively complicit in the plot to trick Jacob
into marrying her, her spirit had been so wounded, so abused, so crippled by
the knowledge that even her own father didn’t think she could be married off
without deception, her part in this scheme would have come from a desolate
place of wanting. Wanting what is the
crux of humanity – to be loved.
Yet another option
remains: that she was not an active participant in this plot. That she was forced, outside of her will, to enact
this ruse on her sister’s fiancé. It is
a cultural possibility; though again, not explicit in scripture, so we cannot
truly know. And if it were the case, one must add to the desperate feelings of
being so completely unwanted, the guilt of having to betray her beautiful
younger sister and deprive Rachel of the love she had found.
Either way, Leah was bound
to this marriage of great compromise; for there were no mechanisms for a woman
in this time to divorce herself of such abject un-love. So that Leah remains the sister who was forever
unwanted. Even after the marriage consummated
and the veil lifted, Jacob didn’t want her.
How that must have felt, after giving her body, herself, to this man –
whatever her hopes or guilt or dreams – to be publically declared unwanted. Branded as not good enough by her
now-husband, her father, her sister, her people; to finally have the label of
her lifelong pain spoken aloud.
Undesired. Unwanted. Unloved.
And all because she wasn’t
pretty enough.
Leah tried those seven
years that weren’t hers, to win Jacob’s heart.
But we know these few millennia later, what she didn’t: Jacob only had
eyes for Rachel. His Rachel – the woman
who was beautiful, the one who was wanted.
And yet, still Jacob lay
with Leah. She bore him children because
the Lord saw that Leah was unloved. Year after year, Leah made herself available
to Jacob; hoping to win just a portion of his love. Through sex, through bearing him sons,
through being the best wife she could be [ok, that last one’s a hermeneutical
leap]. But Jacob doggedly made it known
that Rachel was the one whom his heart desired.
And implicit in his constant proclamation was the over-and-over
annunciation that Leah was not.
Sadly, it was only after
Leah gave up hoping that Jacob could love her, she found peace in her
spirit. After all the sons, all the
striving, all the praying, all the never-ending rejection, she had her last son
and finally said, “This time, I will praise the Lord.” And she stopped having children.[1] What we don’t know is whether she was
thereafter unable to have children, or if she stopped sleeping with Jacob. Both are possible. Perhaps Leah finally gave up; quit trying to
win the love of a man, and instead became content with herself, her life, and
her Lord.
While Leah’s story isn’t a
romantic one, I find myself drawn to it as I ponder beauty and love. A combination with which so many are
infatuated even to this day. And I think
of all the women hurting themselves in the pursuit of both. Living lives out of the desperate loneliness
of not good enough and unloved. Being driven to sacrifice the best parts of
themselves on the altar of false hope and phantom promises.
If only I
were prettier/skinnier/smarter/younger.
If only he
loved me.
And all the myriad of
wishes that assault us, when we are empty of love.
This year, on Valentine’s
Day, I have decided to be mindful of Leah; to burn a candle for her, to buy her
flowers, and offer her just a bit of my day.
I will do this for the wife who was unloved; and for all the Leahs
since. Women who have wanted so very
desperately to be loved, of whom I could number my younger self. Women who have sought this love in the arms
of the wrong man; who have traded their bodies chasing after phantoms of love;
women who have sacrificed their time and great portions of their lives on the
altar of this false hope. Women who have
heard over and over and over again, that they are not enough.
I will buy them – us – flowers
because there is an unquenchable love that is as strong as death and as jealous
as the grave. We have only but to look
to Christ, for He loves each one of us so much that he would sell off all of
the universe just to ransom you. And
me. Regardless of the nights spent in
the arms of our Jacob, men who don’t want us.
Regardless of where these lonely paths have taken us. Regardless of what we have traded for the
hope of love. Because that is a love
more powerful and more beautiful than Jacob’s.
And through it, you and I, beloved, are made more lovely than Rachel;
and more content than Leah.
The love of Jesus Christ –
the only man who knows all that we’ve done while pursuing love, and cares only
for our hearts. The Son of God, who
loves each one of us, be we Rachel or Leah, anyway. 
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