The Sons of Isaac

by Roberta Kells Dorr

  “She’s not shy like some,” Nahor said. “She knows what she wants, and if she doesn’t want to go, she won’t. She probably won’t want to go, especially not in such a hurry.”

  Laban resumed his most crafty look, usually reserved for dealings in the market. “You must see how brilliant this is,” he said. “If she decides to go, we’ll blame it all on her, and by the time Nazzim hears about it, she’ll at least be a day’s journey away.”

  There was a soft knock on the door, and when Laban opened it he saw his mother standing with his sister in the shadows. Laban drew himself up, and with a voice that suddenly sounded unusually kind and conciliatory, he welcomed them into the small reception room.

  Rebekah stood looking around the room with amazing composure. In just these few hours she had gone from the carefree, fun-loving daughter to a confident young woman who could make difficult decisions.

  Laban closed the door. Turning to his mother, he said, “Have you explained to her what Eleazar has proposed? Does she understand what may happen if we do not go along with his plan?”

  To his surprise it was Rebekah who answered with a slight lifting of her chin and a note of disgust in her voice. “Of course I understand. I’ll never marry that terrible old man your ugly god picked out for me.”

  “We must not speak against the old goat-man,” Laban admonished. “He can wreak terrible revenge.”

  To everyone’s surprise, Rebekah grinned. “He’s not very strong if Nazzim is the best he can produce.”

  “You have to admit he’s rich and probably would not have lived very long. Two very good recommendations for any husband.” Laban was stern and defensive.

  “There’s no need to argue,” Rebekah assured them. “I’ll go with this messenger from my uncle and marry the young man who has been so obviously chosen for me by his God.”

  Laban stood studying her for a moment. He knew his sister very well. Often she was sweet and obliging, but there were times when she asserted herself in what he considered a stubborn and even manipulative way. He nervously pulled at his short beard as he admitted to himself how often his whole family had been known for their ability to bend and twist even difficult situations to attain their own ends.

  He shrugged and walked to the door. “Wait in here,” he said, “and I’ll bring Eleazar so we can discuss this more thoroughly.”

  * * *

  Eleazar had asked to meet with Rebekah, her nurse, Deborah, her handmaidens, and her immediate family. When they were all assembled, old Nahor rose with difficulty and with a quavering voice confronted Rebekah. He voiced the question for the last time. “You are the light of this house, the joy of my old age. Will you choose to leave all of us and your life here to go with this messenger of my brother?”

  “It’s best that I go, Grandfather,” she said, looking at him sadly but not moving to embrace him as she normally would have done.

  “But my dear child, you know the story of how my brother, Abram, who’s now Abraham, left us, broke up the family to follow this God of his. Now he wants to take the very apple of my eye for his son. It’s too much. He asks too much.”

  Laban began to be concerned that the old man would persuade her to stay, so he broke in, “It’s quite simple, Rebekah. We’ll abide by your decision. Will you go with this man and marry the young son of our uncle, yes or no?”

  Rebekah looked around at all of them and then focused her gaze on Eleazar, who had been sitting silently in the seat of honor. “I intend to go with this man and marry my cousin.”

  As she said that, her mother gave a cry and ran to embrace her. Nahor turned his face away and wiped at his eyes, while only Laban looked relaxed and pleased.

  “My father,” Bethuel said at last to Nahor, “will you give her the family’s blessing before we send her away?” Nahor frowned and coughed and motioned for Bethuel to pronounce the blessing. He had not forgiven his brother, Abram, for leaving, and he could not bless this taking of his favorite granddaughter. It gave too much the look of compliance.

  Bethuel, without hesitation, called for Rebekah to come kneel before him. As was the custom he placed his outer, fringed garment over her head and lifting up his eyes, he said, “Thou art my much loved daughter. Be thou the mother of thousands of millions and let thy seed possess the gate of those that hate them.” He had remembered that she would be traveling to a strange country and her children would no doubt need strength and courage to face those who would hate them just because they were different.

  The camels were ready, and her handmaidens were gathering up their things and the belongings Rebekah had said she would take. It was important to leave before the sun mounted too high in the sky and it became hot and uncomfortable to travel. Even more important was the necessity of being well on their way before Nazzim discovered he had been robbed of his bride.

  While her handmaidens were busy, Rebekah’s mother took her to one side. Usually a prospective bride had hours of instruction. Rebekah’s mother was frustrated with the turn of events that gave her no time to give much advice. “Aye, aye,” she moaned, clutching her mantle across her trembling mouth. “If I had known how it would be, I would have been wiser. How you will manage I don’t know.”

  “Mother, I’ll manage very well. I’ll be quiet and demure, the perfect young bride.”

  The mother held her at arm’s length. “You are too young, too impulsive. How will you manage?”

  Rebekah saw the tears beginning to gather in her mother’s eyes. “So you wish I were marrying that old man Laban chose for me?”

  “Ayeeeee,” her mother objected, throwing her hands in the air. “I would rather see you dead than married to such a one.”

  “Eleazar says my young cousin is handsome, very rich, and generous.” Rebekah held her arm out and twisted the bracelets back and forth with obvious delight.

  “His mother, our Sarah, died. Who will show you what to do? How will you manage?”

  Rebekah shrugged and looked at her mother with amusement. “Look, I’ll show you.” With that she pulled her mantle around to cover her face so only her eyes were showing. She lowered her head and took small mincing steps as she had seen the local brides do so often. “I’ll be the perfect bride. You needn’t worry. I’ll be shy and quiet.” She spoke the words in a low, diffident manner that surprised her mother.

  “There, that is right,” her mother said, smiling. “That is the way. A bride must remember these things are important.”

  Rebekah stopped and looked with delight at her mother. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she reached out and hugged her. “I will do everything right until they are used to me and then … I may surprise them with my true self.” Here she flung back the mantle and with quick springing steps danced across the room.

  “Too much freedom. I gave you too much freedom,” her mother cried as she sank down among the colorful bedrolls all neatly stacked in the corner of the room.

  Rebekah saw that her mother was really disturbed and she felt remorseful that she had caused her so much concern. “Come, Mother,” she said. “I promise I’ll be shy, quiet, and modest just as you would wish.”

  “You’ll keep your face covered …”

  “I promise. I’ll do everything just the way everyone expects.”

  With that her mother struggled to her feet and brushed her gown to straighten it, adjusted her mantle, and then with one long, fond look at her daughter, said, “There’s one consolation, you’re going to close relatives. You’ll be safe—no talk of divorce, beatings, or turning you out.” She sighed and wiped two large tears from her cheeks, then in a burst of emotion she embraced Rebekah and clung to her sobbing.

  There was the sound of running, then voices low and insistent. Slowly her mother released her as she whispered, “It’s time to go. It’s bad luck to keep men waiting.”

  With that, the two went out to join the others in the courtyard.

  * * *

  At the very last moment Rebekah’s mother called Deb
orah, Rebekah’s old nurse, aside. “Here,” she said, handing her a small, tightly wrapped bundle. “These are the swaddling clothes I wove with my own hands for my daughter’s first child.”

  Deborah took the soft, flaxen bundle and was about to put it in with her things when she felt something hard slightly protruding from the cloth. She gave the mother a questioning glance.

  “It is nothing, nothing to concern you,” the mother said as she looked around furtively. She nervously pulled Deborah aside to where none of the others could hear what she said. “You understand. I will not be there to help her. She may need this.” She reached out and pulled at the soft cloth until it covered the hard, dark object completely.

  “A small goddess?” Deborah asked.

  The mother nodded and whispered, “One made by old Terah in Ur.”

  “But …” Deborah knew she would be severely punished if it were discovered that she was leaving with one of the household fertility gods. The ones from Ur that had been made by Terah’s workmen were especially prized.

  “They are expecting many children,” the mother said, giving Deborah a knowing look. When she saw that Deborah didn’t quite understand, she leaned forward and whispered, “God forbid but she may be like our kinswoman, Sarah.” With that she drew the mantle across her mouth to stifle a sob.

  Deborah was immediately filled with compassion. She tucked the package into the small bundle of her belongings. “Don’t be afraid,” she said. “I’ll be there to take care of her.”

  With that the mother impulsively grabbed both of Deborah’s hands and kissed them. “You must care for her in my place.”

  “I swear by the gods of Ur, she will lack nothing.” The two women exchanged a long, meaningful look and then went together out into the busy courtyard.

  It was immediately obvious that Laban was nervous and impatient. He, more than the others, was well aware of the conflict that could result if Rebekah did not get away as quickly as possible. He was frantically urging, cajoling, and insisting that they hurry. As a result it was within the hour that Rebekah mounted her camel and was ready to follow Eleazar and his men out the city gate and down past the well where she had met him such a short time ago.

  Her mother and the servants ran along beside the camels until they came to the well, and then they stood weeping and waving as long as they could see them.

  Rebekah had a moment of sadness as she realized that she was actually leaving her family and everything that was familiar. She turned to look back again and again; the familiar faces were all the more dear as they gradually faded from sight. Even more touching had been her old grandfather standing at the door of the courtyard with Bethuel. He was too old and feeble to follow them to the well. She would always remember that just before she mounted her camel he had reached out to her and whispered, “Abraham’s God has won again, and perhaps it’s for the best.”

  * * *

  Rebekah was flushed with the thrill of adventure and young enough to spend very little time grieving over leaving her family. It never occurred to her that it would be very difficult, even impossible, for her to repeat this trip and come to see them.

  As she and her handmaidens rode along, they sang and from time to time called to each other remarking on the emerging wonders around them. Eleazar was thoughtful enough to ride back and explain many things about the landscape they were passing or the customs of the people they were about to meet. The camping in the early evening was the favorite time for everyone. They loved to sit around the campfire enjoying the snap and crackle of the burning twigs while watching for the rising moon. Then, long before daybreak they were up and mounted ready to ride again. They must make the most of the cool hours before the sun rose.

  Rebekah asked many questions and Eleazar was able and willing to answer as many as possible. She was curious about the reason her uncle had chosen to leave the rest of the family. She wanted to know why they were living in tents away from the cities. She knew very little of her cousin Isaac, and of course she was most curious about him.

  “Isaac is very handsome,” Eleazar told her. “Perhaps his most outstanding quality is a special charm that makes it easy for him to make friends. If someone doesn’t like him, it bothers him. He’s not content until he has managed to make that man his friend. He admires his half-brother Ishmael because he is a rather rough fellow who hunts and fights and is good at besting any opponent, but I find Isaac easier to live with.”

  When they retired to their own tents, the talking didn’t stop. Each one came with new questions and some came with answers. One of the handmaidens, Tesha, had the news from her camel boy that Isaac had never gotten over his mother’s death. Rebekah fingered the bracelets she was wearing and thought about what it must have meant for Isaac to have sent her such dear treasures. Just wearing the bracelets made her feel a special kinship with her aunt Sarah.

  She was learning many things about her aunt and each revelation made her more real. She knew that Sarah had been barren for many years. She could just imagine how difficult that would have been for her. Everyone believed only evil women or women under some terrible curse from the earth goddess were barren.

  Rebekah spent some time thinking about blessings and cursings. Words had real power. Even a powerful curse written on a small bit of parchment and buried in a secret place could make someone ill.

  Blessings could be just as powerful and would help a person overcome any difficulty. A blessing given by a parent or a priest was very strong. Usually only the sons in the family, and especially the firstborn son, received any blessing from their father. How amazing it was that her father had given her his blessing. It was more precious to her than great riches.

  She was to be the mother of many. There would be no barrenness for her. She would give her husband strong children. She had been given that promise in the blessing of her father.

  Then the strange blessing. What did it mean? “Let thy seed possess the gate of them that hate them.” She pondered on this a good deal. She knew very well that whoever controlled the gate of a city was in charge. So she finally decided it meant that even though the people within a city hated her descendants, her descendants would be in control of things. What an amazing, wonderful blessing.

  She was elated with the blessing until she began to ponder on why the people of any city would hate her descendants. This was a great puzzle. It was only much later that she began to glimpse the larger meaning of the strange blessing.

  She had a small brass mirror, which she looked in from time to time. The handmaids were always borrowing it. It was blurred and shaky but you could get some idea of how you looked. She had heard all her life that her aunt Sarah was the most beautiful woman in Ur and she worried that Isaac would think her too plain and ordinary to take her place. Maybe he would be sorry he sent his mother’s gold jewelry to her. She wondered if she would ever be to him what his mother had been, and how would she know.

  Then she would think of Nazzim and how strange it was that only a short time before she had no hope but to marry him. The God of Abraham was indeed strong, and He obviously paid attention when even a maid prayed earnestly to Him. She felt a warm glow, a happy feeling of discovery. This God, who seemed to be known only to the men of her family, cared about her and had rescued her. She determined to give Him first place among the gods and to discover as much as possible about Him from the family of her uncle Abraham.

  * * *

  Though Eleazar pushed his caravan as fast as he thought wise, he indulged in considerable restraint for the sake of the young bride and her maidservants. As it developed, it was almost a month before they neared the area where Abraham was camped for the summer. Now when they pitched their tents for the night and sat around the fire waiting for the moon to rise or looking for the star clusters they called the seven sisters, Rebekah began to ask specific questions about Isaac. Eleazar had waited for just such a time to tell her the things he thought she should know about her bridegroom.

 
One night he told her how Abraham had taken Isaac up on Moriah to sacrifice him. Rebekah’s eyes grew round and questioning. “He would have sacrificed his only son, the son he and my aunt had waited so long for?”

  “Abraham will withhold nothing from his God,” Eleazar explained.

  “But my aunt, what did she say?” Rebekah was obviously puzzled. Usually it was the pagan Canaanites who sacrificed their children. It had never occurred to Nahor or Bethuel to sacrifice a child to the old goat-man. They didn’t really believe in his powers that much.

  Eleazar was silent for what seemed a long time. He poked at the fire and studied the stars as though he didn’t intend to answer. Finally turning to her, he said, “She didn’t like it. She didn’t like it at all. There was a terrible scene as you can imagine. I must say I couldn’t blame her. All of us in the camp thought it was too much.”

  Rebekah was leaning forward eagerly waiting to hear the outcome. Her maids—who had been preparing her bed and setting out her toiletries on the smooth, cool sand—stood motionless, quite shamelessly waiting to hear what happened next.

  “And my cousin Isaac, what did he say?”

  “I was not there to see it. I have only heard what happened, but the lad trusted his father.”

  “And my uncle found he could not do such a thing. He could not sacrifice the son given so miraculously.” Rebekah could not wait for Eleazar to tell the story. She wanted Abraham to rescue his son even at the last moment.

  “No, that is not what happened,” Eleazar said rather sharply. “It was an angel sent by Elohim that rescued him.” There was a gasp and rustling sound as the handmaids left their work and came closer so they could hear this strange tale.

  “Abraham had tied the boy to the altar and was raising the knife …”

  With a cry of horror Rebekah hid her face in her hands and turned away, not being able to bear what she was sure would come next.

  At this Eleazar rushed ahead to relieve the tension. “It was an angel of Abraham’s God that saved the boy. He cried out and told Abraham not to harm his son. ‘For now I know that you fear God,’ he said. Then a strange thing happened, Abraham looked and to his surprise saw a ram caught in a thicket. He freed Isaac and sacrificed the ram in his place.”