Esau had noticed how she leaned over the parapet to watch him when he sat with her father or hurried to open the door to the courtyard when she knew he was coming. She had large, dark eyes and a slow, seductive smile. It wasn’t long until Esau had cut a sharp bargain with her father and taken her home with him.
He had not realized that since she was of a Hivite background and tradition, she would be in constant conflict with Adah, whose family was Hittite. There was a steady round of bickering and hurt feelings, which only annoyed Esau. He would go off hunting and leave the problem for his mother to solve.
* * *
As time passed, things did not get better. Esau’s two wives were constantly fighting and their children were quarrelsome and ill-mannered. Rebekah was continually annoyed and irritated. The grandchildren she had hoped to enjoy were like a passel of wild cubs. They fought and screamed. Their little faces were always wet with sweat and streaked with dirt. They paid no attention to their mothers and hardly were aware of their grandmother. Only Esau could manage them, and this he did with a few good-natured cuffs to their ears.
Gradually Rebekah left the care of Esau’s children to his wives and the servants while she retreated as often as possible to Isaac’s tent. Here it was usually peaceful and quiet, since he was now almost totally blind and saw only those who came on urgent business. He was feeling old and useless. “Surely a man in my situation cannot live long,” he kept saying.
As she had feared, he began to think about passing on his responsibilities and turning everything over to Esau as his firstborn. Rebekah now shamelessly listened whenever Esau visited his father, and it was on one such occasion that she heard the conversation she had been dreading.
“You see, my son,” she heard Isaac say, “I have grown old and sightless. I will soon be feeble and could die at any time. I would like you to take your quiver and your bow and go out into the field and get a young deer. When you have made that savory dish I love, bring it to me and I will eat and then give you the blessing I have promised.”
Rebekah’s hand flew to her mouth to stifle a startled cry. It was evident that Isaac had paid no attention to her reports of Esau’s many and irresponsible marriages. She shuddered to think that it would be Esau’s sons who would have the blessing of father Abraham. If she and Isaac had not insisted, Eliphaz and Reuel would not have been circumcised. Esau was more like her brother Laban, who could worship many gods and saw little benefit in limiting one’s chance of good luck to only one god.
She was behind the curtain that divided Isaac’s tent, and she must at all costs be quiet. It was against their tradition and custom for a woman, even a wife and mother, to eavesdrop on her husband’s private conversation. To appear uninvited on his side of the tent and interrupt a conversation was unthinkable. She quietly rose and nervously adjusted her headpiece and fingered the brass beads at her throat. Something must be done and quickly, but what? Isaac would not listen to her and Esau was determined to do as he pleased.
For a brief moment she toyed with the idea of trusting Elohim to work things out. It was so obvious that Jacob was the one to have the blessing. At the same time, she had to admit that even Jacob was not very interested in building altars or spending much time worshiping Elohim.
“At least he’s not encumbered with pagan wives and quarrelsome children,” she muttered as she impulsively decided to act. If Elohim had entrusted her with the message that it was Jacob who was to have the blessing, then surely He expected her to help bring it about.
Quickly she tiptoed out of the tent and sent a young boy to find Jacob. While she was waiting for him, she ordered a fire built and water brought. All the time she was gathering her spices, she was mulling over just what could be done.
By the time Jacob came, she was ready to explain everything. She first told him what she had heard. Then clutching his sleeve and searching his face with narrowed eyes, she said, “Now is the time to act. There’s no time for discussion. It’s obvious that you must pose as Esau. You will bring me two young kids from our herd, and I will quickly prepare the dish your father loves.”
When he had gone she hurried back to the simmering pot and, squatting down beside it began to think of anything that might possibly go wrong. Esau was hairy and Jacob was smooth. If Isaac suspected anything, he was sure to reach out and touch Jacob. He would embrace him and would surely notice the smell of fresh fields and dried herbs was missing. She must have Deborah bring one of the rough, hairy garments belonging to Esau. That still left the problem of his arms and neck being smooth without the bushy feel of Esau.
When Jacob came, he told Rebekah that he too had been thinking of all the difficulties. He saw no solutions. “My father can tell by my voice I am not Esau,” he said. “Now that he can’t see, he depends on how things feel, and he will notice right away that I am not hairy like Esau. He will judge me as a deceiver of the worst kind and instead of a blessing I’ll be cursed.”
Now Rebekah stood up, holding the stirring stick in one hand and brushing the damp strands of hair back with the other. Her voice was low and urgent. “Upon me and me alone be your curse,” she said. “Now go and prepare the goats and also bring me the skins. We must be quick about this business if we are to succeed.”
With that Jacob stumbled out of the tent strengthened by his mother’s fierce insistence. He captured the goats and prepared them in a trance. His mother would somehow come up with a plan, and he must go along or everything would be spoiled.
By the time the goats were simmering in the broth, Rebekah had formed a plan by which she could disguise Jacob. She sent Deborah to find one of Esau’s cloaks while she busied herself over the skins. The short, soft underskin of each goat’s belly was just right for her purpose. She scraped them clean and then told Jacob to hold out his arm. When he saw what she was going to do, he again objected. “This won’t work,” he said. “My father will know right away that we have tried to deceive him.”
All the time that he was complaining, Rebekah was working to fit a strip snugly around his neck and then two others to cover his arms. When they were firmly in place, she leaned back and studied the effect, then reached out and felt of it. She smiled. “It will do,” she said.
Jacob was still nervous. “People will see me,” he said, holding out his arms awkwardly. “I can’t go to my father’s tent without being observed.”
“Don’t worry, Deborah has sent the children away and given everyone else orders to keep away from Isaac’s tent so he can have quiet. There is nothing to fear, but you must hurry.”
With that she felt of Jacob’s arms once more and then, with a nod of satisfaction, handed him the bowl of fragrant stew and some bread and ushered him out of the tent.
The entrance flap to his father’s tent was raised, which was a sign that his father was waiting for someone. Jacob felt a slight twinge of fear and guilt as he realized that it was Esau he was expecting. Then remembering all the hurts and slights he had received in Esau’s shadow, he stiffened and entered the tent. In the dim light he could see Isaac sitting among the cushions; his legs were crossed and his hands on his knees. “My father,” he said.
Isaac immediately became attentive. “Here I am,” he said. “Who are you?”
“I am Esau, your firstborn.” He paused a moment, fearing that his voice may have already betrayed him. “I have done as you commanded,” he said, “and here is the venison.”
Isaac seemed to hesitate and Jacob urged, “Come and eat, so that you can bless me.”
Isaac still hesitated. “How have you found it so quickly?”
Jacob was temporarily paralyzed with fear. He frowned and then hurried to assure him. “Because,” he said, “the Lord, your God, brought it to me.”
Again Isaac hesitated, paying no attention to the fragrant stew Jacob had placed before him. “Come closer so that I can feel whether you are really Esau or not.”
Sweat broke out on Jacob’s brow. His anxiety mounted until he remembered his
mother was standing just outside the tent listening. Quickly he put out his arm and guided Isaac’s hand to feel the rough, hairy skin.
“The voice is Jacob’s but the hands and arms are Esau’s,” Isaac said. “Are you truly my son Esau?” he asked directly.
“I am,” Jacob said with as much conviction as he could muster.
“Bring me the venison that I may eat before I bless you,” Isaac said, and Jacob knew this was going to be another test. If the dish his mother had prepared was not quite right, his father would immediately sense the deception and all would be lost. Jacob handed him the dish and then sat where he could watch as his father dipped the bread in the warm broth and ate. At first he was hesitant as though testing to see if it was really the dish he was waiting for, and then to Jacob’s relief he ate hungrily. When the dish was finished, Jacob brought him wine and stood watching him drink. He had begun to feel more relaxed. Then just as he was sure the ordeal was almost over, his father stretched out his arms. “Come near now and kiss me, my son,” he said. Jacob knew this was the final test. His father was still suspicious.
Jacob helped him to his feet and felt his arms around him, his fingers digging into Esau’s cloak, his face buried in its rough folds. He kissed him, then held him at arm’s length. “Yes,” Isaac cried, with tears running down from the sightless eyes. “This is the smell of a field that the Lord has blessed. It is the smell of my son Esau.”
Jacob knelt and Isaac placed his hands on his head and blessed him. “May the Lord give you of the dew of heaven and the fatness of the earth with plenty of corn and wine.
“Let the people serve you, and nations bow down to you, and cursed be everyone that curses you and blessed be everyone that blesses you.”
Jacob rose and stumbled toward the door of the tent. He did not want to risk saying anything that might give his act away. He had the blessing and now he wanted only to escape.
* * *
He did not want to wait where he would see Esau coming in with the venison and then patiently building the fire and boiling the water. He rushed to his mother’s tent and let Deborah and his mother pull the skin from around his neck and his arms. He flung Esau’s cloak from him and sneezed at the earthy odor. He plunged his arms, again and again, into the basin of water Deborah brought. He scrubbed them until they were red and raw trying to get the odor and the dried blood off. His mother was elated and kept praising him for managing everything so well.
He could feel none of the elation. He felt soiled and disappointed. It wasn’t at all what he had thought it would be. What he had gotten was not something he had earned or deserved but something he had been forced to cheat to gain. He rushed out and sat under an overhanging projection of rock where he could think. It occurred to him that maybe he didn’t really have the blessing at all. If it was Elohim who had to approve and agree, it was doubtful that He would approve such deceit.
He decided not to share these fears with his mother. She wouldn’t understand. He loved her for wanting him to have the blessing. It would be a terrible blow to her if she ever thought that in spite of all her plans, Elohim had not approved of what they had done.
It was dark when he returned home and went directly to his mother’s tent. He had expected to find his mother smiling and joyful; instead he found her pacing back and forth, now clutching the tent pole, then sinking her fingers into her flying hair, her eyes fierce and her jaw thrust out as though in defiance. “We must go immediately to your father’s tent.” The words sprang at him like sharp nettles. “Esau has come,” she said, “and they are demanding an explanation.”
At the last moment Rebekah decided that she should go alone to face Isaac and Esau. “It may be dangerous for you to come while Esau is still with his father,” she said.
“Perhaps I should agree to give him back the birthright and the blessing,” Jacob said.
“No, no, it’s impossible. That’s why Esau’s so angry. It can never be taken back.”
“Then I must go and try to make it right.”
Rebekah was hurriedly twisting her long hair into a knot and thrusting in a wooden pin to hold it in place. “There’s nothing you can do that will make it right in his eyes,” she said.
She snatched up her head cloth and going to the brass mirror on the tent pole quickly wound it into place covering her hair. She broke off a sprig of blossoming basil from a clay pot and thrust it into a fold. Leaning closer into the mirror to survey the effect, she moistened her lips, wet her finger, and nudged the hairs of her eyebrows into a curved line. Then smoothing down her robe with a swift, agitated movement, she looked long and pensively at Jacob.
With a stifled sob she reached out and grasped Jacob’s arm. Her fingers dug into the soft folds of his robe as she whispered, “You saw how disturbed I was when you arrived,” she said quietly. “Deborah had just told me she heard your brother means to kill you. If not now, then when your father dies.”
Jacob staggered back with a look of horror on his face as the full meaning of her words sank in. “And … what am I to do?”
“You are to do nothing. I’ll go and see what can be done.”
With that she hurried out and down the path toward Isaac’s tent. As she approached she could hear a terrible wailing. It rose and fell on the air like that of a wounded animal. She quickened her steps and rounding a corner came face-to-face with Esau. He seemed not to recognize her at first, but then with a sudden lunge and a face contorted with rage, he clawed at her. “You, you are the one. You have always favored my brother.” He was quickly steadied by two friends who struggled to hold him back.
In spite of his friends’ efforts, he again lunged forward and spat at her. With that and some wild curses, he turned and let his friends lead him off toward his own tents.
Rebekah was badly shaken as she lifted the tent flap and faced Isaac. She could see that he had heard everything. She saw the bowl of venison sitting to one side untouched and the bread strewn randomly beside it, and she was grieved for the pain of her elder son.
“Why, why did you let him do it?” Isaac asked, his face lifted and his sightless eyes glazed and cold.
Impulsively she knelt before him and bent to kiss the hem of his robe in respect, then leaning back on her heels, she spoke quietly and firmly. “You have forgotten the message given me by Elohim before the twins were born. You yourself told me to go and inquire of Him.”
Isaac was suddenly quiet and thoughtful. “I do remember something like that, but it was so long ago,” he said. “What happened?”
“The answer came to me quite clearly. ‘You are to give birth to twins,’ He said, ‘and the younger will serve the elder and rule over him.’”
“And you told me this?”
“Of course, but you never paid any attention to the prediction. From the moment they were born, you assumed Esau was to have the blessing and the birthright.”
Isaac buried his face in his hands and moaned. “You are right; what you say is right. I remember, I remember everything. Why didn’t you remind me? Why did you think you had to trick me?”
“Men don’t listen to women, especially if they are saying something that doesn’t sound logical.”
“Yes,” he said, lifting his head and turning toward her. “Yes, that was the problem; it wasn’t logical.”
“So you didn’t think Elohim would give a woman a message that wasn’t logical.”
“I should have known. That’s the way it’s always seemed. He isn’t logical. His ways are mysterious.”
“Esau blames me.”
“It’s my fault, all my fault,” he groaned. “I encouraged him even when I knew he’d sold his birthright to his brother. I just assumed since he was the eldest …”
“He is the eldest, but he knows nothing of your father’s God and has encumbered himself with the daughters of Heth. His wives and their children are obnoxious, a constant burden.”
“Even I have sensed disruption and turmoil,” Isaac said. “Why didn�
��t you come and tell me?”
“You’ve not been well …”
Even though he could not see, Isaac was aware that she had settled herself on a cushion beside him.
“And what else have you been keeping from me?” he questioned.
“It’s Jacob,” she said, taking out the sprig of basil from her headpiece and running her fingers over the delicate leaves. “If he takes a wife, as Esau has done, from the daughters of Heth, it will be impossible to bear.”
“So … ?”
“Perhaps we should send him to my brother in Haran. He has many wives and must have some daughters.”
They talked awhile longer, and when she rose to go, Isaac told her to send Jacob to him for a final blessing. “It’s right that he not take a wife from our neighbors. I’ve let Esau do as he pleased and it’s not been good. I must do better by Jacob.”
* * *
As Rebekah hurried from his tent, she realized that she had not told him of Esau’s threat. Actually it didn’t matter since he had given his permission for Jacob to leave.
Knowing how violent Esau could be when he was opposed, she hurried Jacob over to Isaac’s tent. She didn’t trust him to go alone lest something go wrong. She would wait just inside the tent where she could quickly see anyone approaching. If Esau had any idea of what was to happen, he would be dangerous.
She couldn’t hear what Isaac said, but she saw that he embraced Jacob with real feeling. When she saw Jacob kneel and Isaac place his hands on his head, she knew that at last everything was right and as it should be. He was giving Jacob the blessing again, and this time knowing that it was Jacob whom he blessed. She didn’t know what he said but that didn’t matter; it was the blessing she wanted for Jacob.
Jacob would have to flee feeling his brother’s hatred, but he would know that at last, after all these years, he had his father’s love and blessing.
* * *
It was growing dark as Rebekah said a hurried goodbye to her son. “You will find plenty of relatives and there will be some young beauty for you to marry. I’ll send for you when this trouble dies down. Esau can’t be angry for long.”
The Sons of Isaac Page 20
