“We have found water. Plenty of water,” they shouted as they dipped their hands in it up to the elbows and stood laughing and dripping, waiting for Isaac’s approval.
Isaac reached out to his sons, and they in turn impulsively linked their arms with the men on each side of them until a great circle was formed of singing and dancing men. They stomped their feet to get the rhythm set and then were off pounding and whirling as they sang the age-old songs of their people. Such joy and excitement filled the air that everyone felt the troubles of the past were surely over and they were to have the very special blessing of Abraham’s God.
Such was the joy and exuberance among the men that none of them noticed that Esau was missing. He had slipped away to hurry up the goat trail that led to Kirjath-arba, where he intended to meet Judith. He had impulsively decided to have her under any conditions. If he didn’t act soon, someone else was likely to take her, and he didn’t want that to happen.
As it turned out, Esau did not marry Judith right away because of the opposition of his parents. “You are the son of the promise,” Isaac warned. “You must consider this before you decide to marry anyone.”
Rebekah was even more emphatic. “Her ways are very different from ours,” she said, “and there would be nothing but strife among our women.”
Though it was a tradition, recognized by everyone, that the young wife must be totally submissive to the mother in her new family, this was often not attained without difficulty. The mother was the one who taught the new wife. She was responsible for seeing that the young bride knew the manners, customs and traditions, likes and dislikes of her new family. If she met any resistance, she was expected to use force and even severe punishment to bring about the desired result. It made for many unpleasant situations.
If the new bride was from a similar background, everything went much more smoothly. Esau understood this since he had seen the problems that arose when some of his friends brought home women with foreign ways. However, he was optimistic that once Judith belonged to him and was brought into his mother’s tent, all would be well.
Rebekah tried to warn Isaac. “Esau is not one to give up easily, and you are the only one he will listen to.”
However, Isaac was so preoccupied with the success of his wells and irrigation schemes that he hardly heard what she was saying. Even more pressing were the headaches and failing eyesight he was experiencing. He found that riding out into the bright sunlight of the desert morning or afternoon was more and more difficult. Even to leave his tent in the early evening when the sun was low caused severe strain. With these problems occupying his mind, the fact that Esau was courting a girl from among the Hittites didn’t seem urgent.
At the same time that Isaac was being apathetic, Beeri, the father of Judith, encouraged Esau. “I was forced to give my daughter to be a priestess in the temple of Anat because of the famine. I couldn’t feed my family and she was just a girl. She has done well there, but for a price you can buy her back,” he said.
“What price would they ask?”
“You have herds of goats and sheep. The next new moon, give them five goats for their sacrifice.”
“And I can have her for five goats?”
“And, of course, for myself there must be some small payment.”
“Five goats too,” Esau said eagerly.
“No, no, I am the father. It cost me much in food and clothes until she went to the temple.”
“But the temple paid you …”
“A small bit of silver that was soon gone. No, I must have five sheep and three lambs.”
Esau was surprised that the whole deal could be settled so simply. He didn’t even take time to haggle and bargain as Beeri had expected. “I will have one of the shepherds deliver them just before the time of the new moon,” he said with growing excitement.
Beeri was obviously elated that he had made such a good bargain. “You must be very rich,” he said, as he followed Esau to the door. “You didn’t even try to bring the price down. Perhaps I should have asked for more.”
Esau paused. “And I would have probably paid it. When I want something I usually find a way of getting it.”
This disturbed Beeri, but when he went to the temple and told the high priestess of his bargain and saw that she was favorably impressed, he was satisfied that he had done quite well.
Esau told Isaac and Rebekah very little. He didn’t mention that Judith was one of the young priestesses in the temple of Anat. He simply told Isaac that he had met a young woman in the city of Kirjath-arba that he was attracted to and that he had already bargained for her. “I will need a few goats and some sheep,” he said.
Esau insisted he could not live without this young woman, and so Isaac agreed to give him whatever was needed.
When Esau went to tell his mother, he had a harder time explaining. She wanted to know all the details, and she was not impressed with the few facts Esau gave. “Her hair is loose and thick and her eyes are like the eyes of one of the gazelles,” he said. “She is slender like a rush growing up in the Besor.”
“And can she cook and weave? Does she know how to take wool, dye it, and using the spindle make it into fine twined threads?”
“Mother,” Esau smirked, “I would hope we could have servants to do such things.”
“And what will she do with her time if she knows none of these things?”
Esau shrugged. “She’ll play her stringed harp and charm us with her flute.”
“I can see that I’ll have to teach her everything. I don’t understand. Where is the girl’s mother?”
“She is from one of the prominent Hittite families. They have suffered much from the famine.”
When he had gone, Rebekah ran to Isaac’s tent and confronted him. “Have you given permission for this marriage?” she demanded.
Isaac reached out for her hand as he could no longer make out her features. “It seems to be all arranged. Esau did it himself. He probably realized I can’t go up to Kirjath-arba to make the settlement.”
“But she is a Hittite,” Rebekah almost screamed, pulling her hand away.
“I wasn’t told that. The Hittites are strangers here in this land much as we are.”
“That isn’t the point. Don’t you remember Esau is the firstborn? You have said he is to have the birthright and the blessing. Can it be that he can marry a Hittite without your protesting?”
“Rebekah, you can see how difficult everything is since this trouble with my eyes. Perhaps I’ll be better soon and then I can manage to find him a more suitable wife.”
“And … for now, it doesn’t matter that he marries a Hittite?”
“Esau is a creature of strong and lusty temperament. He needs a wife to help him settle down.”
“But not just any wife.”
“He can take other, more suitable, wives later. This is what he wants and he is determined. If we oppose him there’ll be no peace.”
“And if he brings a Hittite into our family, there’ll be no peace.”
Isaac took her two hands in his and leaning forward spoke confidently. “Oh my dear,” he said, “you are clever, I’m sure you’ll find a way. I have every confidence that you can teach this young girl all she needs to know to be a good wife to our son.”
Rebekah pulled her hands away and turned to go. “Then you are not going to oppose him?”
“You know very well it’s not my way to draw lines, make rules, and confront people. I prefer peaceful solutions. I want us all to live in peace.”
Rebekah stood and looked at Isaac with tears in her eyes. She could see it was hopeless to press the point further. “It’s obvious,” she said finally, “that you have no idea of the trouble this will cause.”
“Trouble comes and goes,” he said. “We seldom have much control over it.”
She poured some goat’s milk and handed it to him. Without waiting to see that he drank it, she turned and hurried from his tent.
* * *
&
nbsp; By the time Esau informed his mother that he was bringing his bride home at the time of the new moon, she had become resigned to its inevitability. She reluctantly ordered the bridal tent erected. They would stay in the tent for a month, and during that time the girl could come to her during the day and receive instructions. She knew very little of the ways of the Hittites, so Rebekah called her nurse, Deborah, to come and help her make plans.
Deborah told her all that she had heard. “The girl has been in training in the temple of Anat,” she said. “Because of the famine her family was forced to sell her to the temple priestess.”
Rebekah was horrified. She immediately went to report this new bit of news to Isaac.
Isaac refused to be disturbed. “I trust the lad,” he said. “He has been reminded of his responsibility and I’m sure he has thought this through.”
“But she is not just a Hittite with Hittite ways but has also been in training in the temple. Who knows what that means!”
“Of course it is not good,” Isaac said, frowning, “but we must make the best of it. I’m sure you can help the girl adjust to our ways. Perhaps she is unhappy there and Esau sees himself as rescuing her.”
Rebekah buried her head in her hands; she could see it was hopeless to try to reason with him. He had always been a man who sought peace, and now with his growing blindness he seemed to have retreated into a corner where he refused to face any reality if it would cause conflict.
She went back to her tent and told Deborah, “He’ll not confront Esau. It’s hopeless. It’s obvious I can no longer depend on him to make difficult decisions.”
“He doesn’t understand; he thinks you can manage everything,” Deborah said. “He doesn’t realize that if you are stern and harsh, most women will obey, but there will be a price to pay. They don’t forget.”
“Deborah, you must help me,” Rebekah insisted. “Esau will have his way and we must deal with the problems as best we can.”
* * *
Esau went up to Kirjath-arba at the feast of the new moon and was gone for a week. When he returned he brought with him not only his new bride but also two young slaves. Her belongings were all packed into a few finely woven reed baskets.
It was Deborah who reported to Rebekah that Judith carefully carried one of these baskets herself and warned that no one must touch it. “Inside the basket,” Deborah said, “is supposed to be a large, coiled snake.”
Rebekah drew back in horror. “Do you suppose she means to keep it?”
“I’m sure she does. Esau has bragged to some of the men that she has tamed it. He is proud of her accomplishment.”
Rebekah sank down among the cushions and pulled Deborah down beside her. “I can’t tell Isaac. What shall I do?”
“There may be very little to do at first. She has a young boy who must catch small rodents to feed the snake and this, plus her new husband, will occupy her for at least a month. By the end of the month she’ll undoubtedly be pregnant.”
Rebekah let out a cry. “And this, this Hittite is to be the first of my grandchildren.”
“And if it is a boy …” Deborah said.
“It will inherit the birthright and the blessing of Abraham!” Rebekah whispered the words in horror, and the two women looked at each other with tears in their eyes.
* * *
It was indeed as Deborah had predicted; Judith was pregnant by the time the first month was up and Esau was elated. “She is strong. The child will undoubtedly be a boy.”
Judith was soon nauseated and dizzy. She clung to the snake as a familiar creature that gave her comfort. “She even talks to the snake,” one of Judith’s women reported.
At first Rebekah refused to have her moved into her tent as long as the snake must come too. However, within a fortnight, a situation arose that forced Rebekah to take the girl even with the snake.
Since his new wife was pregnant and needed the care of his mother, Esau was again free to wander up to Kirjath-arba. He was now welcomed among the Hittites as one of them, and it was not long before a Hittite named Elon encouraged him to take his daughter as a second wife.
“She has been one of Judith’s friends,” her father said, “and the two can be company for each other. My Bashemath can cook the food we are used to and she can help when the baby comes.”
Thus Esau brought home another new bride who stayed with him in the bridal tent while Rebekah took care of Judith. To her surprise Judith was not unhappy with the turn of events. She spent many of her days sitting with Bashemath at the tent door and eating the familiar food that Bashemath cooked. When she returned to Rebekah’s tent for the night, she was sullen and demanding. “I’m not used to living like this,” she said, motioning around the tent with a look of scorn. “I’m used to the city.”
When Judith went into labor, Hittite women came down from the city and took over the birthing tent with their strange herbs, chants, and good luck charms. The birth was difficult, and when the child finally came, the women saw with dismay that it was only a girl. They rubbed her with salt and wrapped her in the prepared swaddling clothes and then brought her in for Judith to see. She thought the baby was ugly. She turned her face to the wall and insisted that she wanted nothing to do with the baby. “See,” she said, “it’s not strong. It was not meant to live.” With that she refused to nurse the baby.
The midwife brought the child to Rebekah and thrust it into her arms. “It’s just a girl and a poorly one at that,” she said. “It’s not worth saving.”
Rebekah took the little bundle in her arms and rushed to Deborah’s tent. “We must have some warm goat’s milk,” she said. “The foolish girl refuses to nurse the child.”
“That’s the way of many of the women of the city. If it were a boy and strong, they would be more than willing to care for it. To have a girl doesn’t bring them gifts and praise from their husband, nor does it make other women envious.”
Rebekah wept for the small, helpless little form. She couldn’t speak but sat pulling the warm milk up into a small reed and letting it flow drop by drop into the little mouth. The child cried a weak, mewling cry that was more like that of a small animal. At the end of a week it was evident the child would not live and Rebekah was frantic. She had spent so many years wanting a child, any child, that she could not bear to see this little one die.
All this time Judith resented Rebekah’s efforts. “The child is mine and I should be able to do with it as I please,” she said with an angry toss of her head.
When the child finally died, Judith packed up her belongings, gathered her servants, and followed the midwives back to the city. Within a week she was back in the temple, refusing to see Esau or take any message sent from him.
It was not long until Bashemath disappeared, and when Esau went up to the city, he found that she had returned home. Her father, Elon, was embarrassed. “I can’t give you back the lambs, but I do have another daughter who will be glad to come in her place. Her name is Adah and she has envied her sister. She will make you a good wife.”
Esau shook his head. “This has been a painful experience. My mother is very upset and my father disappointed.”
“Come, see if you are not impressed. Adah is not beautiful but she will be cheerful and is sure to give you sons.”
They walked over to the edge of the parapet and looked down into the courtyard. They could see Adah and Bashemath baking bread. It was obvious that Adah was not beautiful but she moved quickly and only smiled when Bashemath snatched the first rounded loaf of bread and started to eat it instead of helping.
Esau liked what he saw. He wanted desperately to please his mother, and he could see that this girl would not be as offensive as either her sister or Judith. It also looked as though she knew how to bake bread and did it well. He was about to agree to the arrangement when Elon motioned him to come sit under the awning; he had something further to say.
When they were settled, Elon edged up on the subject cautiously. “My daughter Bashema
th tells me that if the child recently born to Judith had been a boy, you would have had him cut. Is this true?”
It took Esau a few moments to understand and then he realized he was referring to their tradition of circumcising. “Yes,” he said. “It is a covenant with our God.”
Elon frowned and nervously pulled at a loose thread in the hem of his robe. “You know, this is not our custom and my daughter would be very disturbed to have this done to any child she might have. I will have to insist this not be done for any of the sons she might bear.”
Esau frowned. “Then it is impossible. This is important to my people.”
Elon coughed and adjusted his headpiece. “Well, well, I suppose Adah can get used to new ways. It just seems rather cruel to us.”
Esau was about to challenge him on the idea of cruelty. It had seemed very cruel that Judith refused to nurse her child and yet that was completely accepted. He was about to turn away when he realized that Elon now owed him a wife, and he didn’t want to go back home alone.
“I’ll have to have three more lambs for Adah,” Elon said, leaning back and studying Esau with half-closed eyes.
“I’m not about to pay three more lambs when she may very well run back home like her sister.”
“No, no, don’t be afraid,” Elon said. “I’ll tell her that if she tries to come home, I’ll beat her. She won’t come back. I can promise you that.”
With this promise Esau took Adah back with him to the camp. He saw that she was not beautiful and he did not feel any great attraction to her, but he was satisfied when at the end of a year she had borne him a son. She said nothing when he was circumcised, and she let Isaac give him the name of Reuel, meaning “God’s friend.”
Esau was still restless, and while Adah was pregnant, he had made friends with a man named Zibeon, a Hivite who also lived in Kirjath-arba. They went hunting together, and it came about quite naturally that eventually Zibeon urged Esau to marry his daughter Aholibamah. She was young and seemed to be attracted to Esau.
The Sons of Isaac Page 19
