By Sirisha Chen

W

hen I first read about Jacob and his uncle Laban in Genesis, I did not see Laban as anything but a villain. But now, years later, as I reflect on my South Asian culture and the culture of Jacob’s time, I find that I have questions about who Laban is.

Did Rebekah’s family love her?

As my church recently preached, Laban’s characterization starts long before Jacob, in Genesis 24, with his involvement in the story of his sister Rebekah, the one in Isaac’s generation to follow God’s call and leave her homeland.

When Abraham’s servant first brings the proposal to Laban and his father, they agree to let Rebekah go to marry Isaac. Yet right as the servant is about to take her to Isaac, Rebekah’s mother and Laban say, “‘Let the young woman remain with us ten days or so; then you may go’” (Gen. 24:55, NIV).

When Abraham’s servant protests, Rebekah’s family suggests they ask Rebekah what she wants to do. Now, the American part of me is thinking, “They should have asked if she wanted to accept the proposal first!” My church leaders would point out that the gifts Abraham’s servant brought to Rebekah’s family probably played a role. But my South Asian background sees the following too:

In a culture and history that does not value women, Rebekah’s mother and brother ask Rebekah what she wants.
Rebekah’s family wants her to stay a little longer.

Whenever I come home to visit, my mother and father also do their best to extend the length of my stay.

“Don’t leave after lunch; stay for dinner too.”

“It’s already late, why don’t you stay the night?”

“We’re meeting so-and-so this weekend; why don’t you come?”

“When will you come next?”

This is the way of South Asian parents.

Therefore, Rebekah’s family’s sudden hesitation to let their daughter go does not feel strange but familiar, a struggle through transition and grief that the family will not always be together.

I know my parents love me without a doubt. Do we know that Rebekah’s family was motivated by feelings of love? No. But when I think of how noteworthy it is in South Asian culture to ask what a daughter wants and what a familiar display of love it is for South Asian parents to ask a child to stay longer, I conclude that love was at least one motivation for Rebekah’s family. I don’t agree with the traditional characterization of Laban that he and his family are motivated solely by greed for Abraham’s wealth.

This is strangely comforting, as real-life situations with real human beings involve a bundle of mixed motivations, and not all good. Yet God uses this confusing context to spotlight Rebekah’s faith, parallelling Abraham’s, to leave her family and home and go where God calls her.

“So they called Rebekah and asked her, ‘Will you go with this man?’ ‘I will go,’ she said” (Gen. 24:58).

We cannot know how Rebekah’s family felt at this response. But as a South Asian American, I wonder if Rebekah’s parents felt betrayed, if anyone cried, and how this may have influenced Laban.

Did Laban love his daughters?

Laban is traditionally considered a one-note villain; but the Bible includes a lot of detail about Laban’s conflicting actions, allowing us to see how morally muddled he was and hearkening to the fact that God does not just know what Laban did, but also why.

We often interpret biblical characters as being one-dimensional, like characters in a story. But these are people in historical accounts. Since no regular human is all good or all bad, it is reasonable to see Laban display inconsistencies in his character.

First, Laban tricks Jacob into marrying his eldest daughter. But he also states that it is customary that the older daughter marries first, before the younger daughter (Gen. 29:26). While Laban’s trickery makes his explanation hard to believe, my cultural context makes it easier to believe. This is a custom in parts of South Asia as well; it is said to dishonor the older daughter for the younger to be married first.

Since Leah is characterized as unwanted, it could also be said that Laban was loving Leah in securing her future with a husband. To Western culture, this is tasteless. To my culture though, I have seen the weight well-meaning parents feel to ensure their daughters will be taken care of before they pass away. Even though I was living and working independently before marriage, my mother said to me, “Only once you were married, we felt our work was done.”

Isaac showed favoritism to one son over the other. This turned out terribly. But Laban treated both his daughters the same, giving each to be married to the same man and each the same number of attendants (one). Was this comparatively better? Was Laban more loving than Isaac? In the end, we see Esau and Jacob’s relationship and Jacob, Leah, and Rachel’s relationship grow increasingly toxic—competitive and transactional—because of circumstances exacerbated by their parents. This reminds me that the judgment of parents’ and elders’ actions has always been tricky.

Second, Laban uses both his daughters’ marriages to get Jacob to stay for longer. Jacob says his wages were changed and his working conditions were not good during his time with Laban (Gen. 31:38 - 41). Taking advantage of one’s son-in-law is clearly wrong. Yet the overall motive for children to stay longer could be similar to the motive discussed in Rebekah’s time as well.

Finally, Jacob is scared enough of Laban to think Laban is going to take away Jacob’s wives if they leave, so Jacob’s whole clan steals away without notice. But later, this same Laban says he chased Jacob seven days at least in part because he lamented not being able to send off his daughters and grandchildren properly. Again, my cultural context makes this explanation easier to believe. In South Asian culture, throwing a party for key milestones is seen as part of parental love, even when the child themselves may not want it or feel loved by it. Laban is reluctant to give Jacob the freedom that Jacob truly desires. But Laban also desires to celebrate Jacob’s children and wives as an expression of love. Laban’s reluctance coupled with his desire paint a familiarly confusing picture of familial love, one that I have often wrestled with in my culture.

When God warns Laban to say neither good nor bad to Jacob (Gen. 31:24), this is traditionally thought to be a way God protects Jacob, leading Laban not to harm his nephew. I am not surprised that Laban heeds the warning from God since earlier in Gen. 20, Abimelech of Gerar also heeds a warning from God not to touch Sarah. However, I am surprised that Laban goes a step further to make a covenant with Jacob, in the name of the God he does not even know personally, evident from how he refers to God as “the God of Nahor” (Gen. 31:53, NIV). I am even more surprised that this covenant includes the protection of his daughters from mistreatment (Gen. 31:50), seeming again to show real concern for his family.

The last surprising action of Laban is to follow through on his stated reason for pursuing Jacob: he kisses his children and grandchildren goodbye, and he goes home as promised without a fight (Gen. 31:55).

Were Jacob’s fears of his father-in-law unfounded then? Was Laban, along with being deceitful and cunning, also trying to be a responsible father? With two cunning characters, what are we to make of their accusations of each other?

Was Laban only a villain?

As I was discerning how to interpret Laban’s inconsistent behavior, my father-in-law reminded me that it is both true that Genesis is a historical account and that Genesis is passed on to focus on the developing relationship between God and his chosen people. This story is foremost about Jacob’s relationship with God.

If anyone had reason to find morality hard to understand, it would be Jacob.

He grew up with a mother who convinced him to deceive his father and steal his older brother’s blessing. Jacob’s grandfather and father both pretended their wives were their sisters to save their skin.

Yet even amidst these morally confusing instances, the story is written to showcase how Israel’s faith is built up. The history of Jacob’s family, from great-grandparents to parents, is full of unaddressed sin. He has no reason to know faithful from unfaithful in this community. Yet he is still able to be built up by God to become Israel.

After Laban backs off, Jacob views deliverance from his uncle Laban as God’s continued provision from his enemy. This leads to the epic moment when Jacob, in the face of his oldest enemy, his older twin brother Esau, cries out to God, finally claiming his father’s God as his own God. Jacob wrestles with God till dawn and at dawn is given a new name. In what can only be described as a miraculous change, the two brothers embrace, have a civil conversation, and later bury their father together.

The lens of Jacob’s faith journey provides a foundational principle to understand Laban.

The story of God’s protection would not be as meaningful if Jacob’s fear of Laban was all in his head and this side character was actually a reasonable man. So trying to discern Laban’s intent apart from Jacob’s story-arc of faith is confusing. We have no way to know for certain that Laban’s intentions were all evil. But after considering Laban in context, we can conclude there is reason to believe Laban would have harmed Jacob without God’s warning even if some of Laban’s choices seemed motivated by good.

I take comfort that Laban’s words to Jacob in Gen. 31:53 are included in the Bible, “May the God of Abraham and the God of Nahor, the God of their father, judge between us” (NIV).

We can encounter such situations in real life—messy relationships where the snarls of admirable intent, hurt, and unaddressed sin may never be combed out in this life. I run into this conundrum often in South Asian culture with my elders, such as parents, relatives, or “aunties” and “uncles.” Sometimes they hurt us as much as they love us. But these words give me permission to let God judge.

Not only does he know all the details, God knows what is in Laban’s heart and can be trusted to judge mercifully and rightly, just as I can trust God to make sense of the morally grey situations in my life. He can lead us through the knots just as he led Jacob to faith that was able to make peace with his brother. That is the hope of the gospel—that relationships can be repaired. Starting with our relationship with God.

Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash‍ ‍

Sirisha Chen was born in India, grew up in Michigan with her parents and sister, and now lives in Ann Arbor with her husband. She studied business and computer science at the University of Michigan and works as a consultant, helping clients think big picture and prioritize. In her free time, she helps at a friend's English as a Second Language class, listens to the stories of older Christians, and distills her learning into reflective essays, poetry, allegorical fantasy, and spirited discussions. She attends the local Acts29-affiliated church, Mosaic.

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