Leah didn’t even look at him but kept helping Rachel get as comfortable as possible. “That’s right,” she said. “This child is on its way and it is not going to be easy.”
Rachel didn’t seem to hear her, but Jacob did. He grabbed Leah’s arm and pulled her away, demanding, “What do you mean? She can’t have a child out here by the road.”
Leah impatiently tried to pull away. “We can’t control that,” she sputtered. “We can only make the best of things.”
Jacob pulled her around so he could look at her directly. “Is she … is she in any trouble?” he asked, cringing as Rachel gave a piercing cry.
Leah whirled to look at her sister and pulled away from Jacob. “The child’s not positioned right, and that means plenty of trouble.”
Jacob lunged forward in a desperate effort to help Rachel, but Leah pushed him back. “There’s nothing you can do but pray and see that the boys get water and build a fire. Now, go! We’ll do the best we can.”
As Leah turned away, Jacob saw red blood spurting like a fountain and he fled a short distance away and sank down on an outcropping of rock. He was far enough away that he could barely see what was happening and could not hear what was being said. “Oh, God of my fathers, take pity on Rachel,” he cried over and over again. Then burying his head in his hands, he pled, “Don’t be angry that she carried off the idols. She doesn’t understand. She wants a child, that’s all she wants. She just wants a child.”
Time passed and he grew more anxious. Something was wrong. In desperation he cried, “Why Rachel? You can have Leah or Bilhah or Zilpah, but not Rachel, not my only love Rachel. Don’t take Rachel. Rachel’s my joy, my life. Take anything I have, but not Rachel,” he pled desperately.
It seemed that hours had passed when Leah motioned for him to come. He hurried down and knelt beside Rachel. He tried to hide the shock of seeing her so pale and weak. He searched her face and then looked at Leah and the women, seeking reassurance that she was all right.
He felt a gentle tug on his sleeve and saw that Rachel wanted him to see the child. For the first time he looked at the bundle she held. He had seen so many round, red faces with tufts of curling, black hair; he didn’t expect to feel anything unusual. “I’m calling him Ben-oni, son of my sorrow,” she whispered with difficulty as she studied his face to see if he understood.
“Ben-oni,” he repeated puzzled.
“I’ll not be here to enjoy him,” she said with a catch in her voice. She bent her head and with a terrible tenderness kissed the dark curls.
Seeing how much she treasured this tiny token of their love, Jacob looked again and was surprised at the surge of emotion that choked him so he couldn’t speak.
They called Joseph and he came and knelt beside his mother, all the time struggling to keep from crying. Rachel was now too weak to speak, but she moved Jacob’s hand so that it covered Joseph’s, then with tears dropping onto the dark curls of the sleeping child, her head fell forward, her hand loosened, and they knew she was gone.
Even though they had been aware of her weakness, none of them had imagined she could leave them so quickly. Jacob’s other wives had all survived having children and no one had thought such disaster could strike so suddenly and at such an unlikely time and place.
Only Leah had the presence of mind to lift the baby from Rachel’s arms. She handed him to Jacob. He was already in swaddling clothes and wrapped in Rachel’s mantle. Jacob buried his head in the folds of the white homespun, and smelling the lavender of Rachel’s garments, he wept.
Everyone knew she must be buried before sundown and they wondered how it could be managed. To their surprise Jacob handed the new arrival to Leah and then took charge. He first took the cloak Rachel had woven for him and, removing it from his own shoulders, gently wrapped her in it. Joseph brought a wreath of sand lilies and black iris to place on her head. This reminded Jacob of the floral wreath she had worn when he had first seen her at the well in Haran. It moved him so deeply he had to turn away until he could regain his composure.
With a heartrending sob, Jacob placed her in the cave. Then with feverish activity, he encouraged his sons to join him in gathering stones to build a monument to mark the site.
When it was finished, he sought out Leah. Taking the baby from her, he announced, “I intend to call him Benjamin, son of my right hand.”
* * *
The next day they pressed on to camp beyond the tower of Eber. The plan was to stay there briefly while preparing themselves for their arrival at Isaac’s camp beside the Oaks of Mamre.
Jacob was so consumed with his grief and pity for his two motherless sons that he was totally unaware of the growing resentment of his other wives and their sons. Reuben, the eldest, was the most affected. He saw the love his father had for Joseph and this new child, and a great fear and resentment rose within him.
It was as though Jacob suddenly had no children but these two children of Rachel. Reuben had been able to endure his preference of Rachel over his own mother, but now his obvious favoritism of Rachel’s sons was too painful.
When he tried to talk to his father, it was as though Jacob didn’t even hear what he was saying. When Reuben thoughtfully and patiently waited on him, Jacob took it for granted. Finally, when Reuben sought his father out to discuss his future, Jacob didn’t have enough time. Reuben had been led to believe that he, as the eldest, was the one to receive the birthright and the blessing. Now he strongly suspected that his father would choose Joseph. Then there was the matter of his marriage. If he, Reuben, was to receive the birthright, some thought should be given to his marriage.
All these concerns had been pushed aside for the greater matter of Rachel and her children. Jacob seemed consumed with their welfare. He had for some time openly favored Joseph, and now they had all seen him rename this new child “son of my right hand.” What could that mean but that he was thinking of giving Benjamin the birthright or the blessing?
Others felt equally left out. Bilhah had always depended on Rachel’s friendship to make her feel needed and loved. Now that was gone. Leah had found a wet nurse for the new baby, and Bilhah was left to grieve and mull over her new situation. She had always shared Rachel’s tent, and now that tent had temporarily become her own. It was filled with Rachel’s belongings; in the future, when Joseph married, it would become his wife’s tent.
Bilhah was still young. She had borne two sons with little or no attention from Jacob. Gradually as she had seen the love and concern he had lavished on Rachel and Rachel’s sons, she had become resentful. She felt cheated. She had at last become resigned to the fact that no matter what she did, Jacob would never love her.
With these feelings it was quite natural that she should also be very aware of Reuben’s frustration. He was a proud and sensitive young man and would never think of complaining to any of his brothers or even his father. It didn’t seem as threatening to come to Bilhah’s tent, where he could talk over his situation and find a sympathetic ear.
“My father has never come out and said that I am the one to receive the birthright and the blessing, but I am the oldest,” he confided one evening as he sat eating the honey cakes she had baked.
“But this need not concern you now,” she said.
“But don’t you see, I should have taken a wife long ago.”
“I don’t understand.”
“If I am to have the blessing of my father, I can’t marry just anyone.”
“And …”
“When I mention this to my father, he never answers. He is only concerned with his two favorites.” He said this with such an air of bitterness that Bilhah was immediately pleased.
“And if you talk to your mother …”
“She can only warn me to wait. ‘If you marry the wrong person,’ she says, ‘you could lose the blessing.’”
“Then you want this blessing that much?”
“It means everything to me.”
In this way an understanding grew be
tween Reuben and Bilhah. She who had been given to Jacob to bear him sons had no claim on his affections. Now suddenly, she was flattered to find this young, handsome man interested in her. It was not long until the exchange of mutual grievances grew into a bond, and then into a forbidden sexual intimacy.
Joseph was the one to discover their secret. One evening, coming to his mother’s tent looking for Bilhah, he discovered the two together. They were so engrossed in each other that they neither heard nor saw him. He staggered back, letting the tent flap fall quietly in place. He was careful not to make any noise. Then, while struggling to control the choking, tearing waves of shock, he hurried to a secluded place under the wide limbs of an ancient fig tree.
Dark clouds of loneliness engulfed him. Reuben had been his friend and Bilhah an important part of his world. Now to the grief over his mother’s death was added the burden of this terrible revelation. He saw it as an affront to his father. Young as he was, he knew that to lie with the wife of a tribal leader was to lay claim to his position. Reuben, his friend and big brother, was not just committing a great sin but was challenging his father’s leadership.
He was also aware of his father’s continuing grief. Jacob, now called Israel, moved among them in a daze. He didn’t eat and there were dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. What would the knowledge of this treachery do to his beloved father?
At first he determined to shield his father from the knowledge. Then he changed his mind. If Reuben, by this action, was trying to displace his father, then his father must be warned.
That night, when Jacob was alone, Joseph crept into his tent and as gently as possible told him what he had seen. It was dark, with just a small oil lamp burning, so Joseph could not see his father’s face but heard the groan. He felt his father’s hand stiffen then withdraw from his shoulder. He heard him mutter, “It is too much. First Simeon, then Levi, and now Reuben. Where will it all end? Who will be worthy of my father’s blessing?”
Joseph was surprised that his father made no move against Reuben. The subject was never mentioned, but Reuben, who must have felt his father’s displeasure, made no more trips to Bilhah’s tent. Instead Joseph noticed that his father set his face, now hard as flint, toward the Oaks of Mamre and Isaac’s camp.
* * *
Though Jacob was numb with grief and disturbed by the actions of his sons, he managed to observe the expected niceties of one coming home. He sent runners with rich gifts and shepherds with some of his prize goats. Remembering his father was blind and could not read, he singled out a young boy who had the talent of chanting poetry suited to the occasion. The boy was quick to size up the situation and weave gracious, rhyming phrases in honor of the dignitary chosen.
As Jacob approached the oak grove, he had to stiffen his resolve to return to his father. He was not at all sure of his reception. So much had gone wrong and he felt he could not endure one more disappointment.
He had thought everything would be easy after wrestling with the stranger at the Jabbok and getting the new name. He had bought the land at Shechem, dug the well, and was ready to build a new life for himself and his family. He had been so sure that nothing but blessing was about to be heaped upon him.
Then there had been the tragedy of Shechem, their burying the idols, and then going up to Bethel. Once again at Bethel, everything had felt so right. The dark stain of Shechem could never be wiped away, but they had settled things with Elohim. Building the altar and making the sacrifice had made it possible for them to make a fresh start and try to forget their dark and devious mistakes. They had feasted and sung the old songs, put on the new garments; they were all ready to start over again. Everything was going to be right from that time on.
As he left Bethel with his new name firmly in place and a glow of excitement for the expected blessings he now felt worthy to receive, he was suddenly confronted with the greatest trial of his life. In one terrible blow Rachel was taken from him and his firstborn son had committed the terrible, unthinkable sin that would forever cut him off from the blessing.
Now he fully expected some terrible disaster to await him at the Oaks of Mamre. Perhaps Esau would regret their reconciliation. Maybe his father would renounce him for the old deception, turn him out, take away the birthright and the blessing.
To come home and find it was no longer the home he had imagined could be devastating. What could home possibly be like without his mother? There would be a sting in remembering her loving touch and fond acceptance of her sons. He did not know how he could endure it. So much had happened, so many disappointments, such tricks played on him. He was a different Jacob coming home than the young man who had left. Who was left to understand him now that both Rachel and his mother were gone?
As it turned out, Jacob-Israel’s homecoming was far more wonderful than he could ever have imagined. Since his father had been told that he was coming, Jacob found him sitting on cushions brought to the door of his tent. The seat of honor was reserved for him on his father’s right hand, while Esau sat on the left. Isaac was too feeble to rise, but he reached out and pulled Jacob down to him with a great sob. “My son, my long-lost son,” he kept repeating over and over.
Jacob was so overcome with emotion someone had to nudge and remind him to introduce his wives and his children. As Jacob did this he realized how astonishing it must seem to his father, who with great difficulty produced only two children. “I have been greatly blessed,” he said. “I have wives and children, sheep and goats, servants, and stores of precious metals.”
When he finished showing his father his entire family, he hurried on to recount all that had befallen him since he had left home. He did not hesitate to tell his story truthfully, recounting both the good and the bad. When he told of Rachel’s death, his father wept, saying, “I know, I know my son. I lost your mother not too long ago. Now I have only waited for your coming before joining her.”
Jacob realized how welcome he was when Esau pointed out that his father had ordered ten sheep slaughtered and roasted, one hundred loaves of bread baked, and the best wine brought out and served.
After they had all finished eating, there was singing and dancing and recounting various stories of their family’s past. Esau’s family viewed their new cousins with interest and were not pleased when Esau told them they would be staying only until his brother was comfortably settled.
The next morning Esau took Jacob aside and explained. “I have only waited for your coming to join our uncle Ishmael in a new trading venture. We have driven the Horite giants out of Mount Seir and their stronghold called Petra. I, with my sons and servants, will protect the pharaoh’s trade route going north to Damascus. Of course I will extract payment for this protection. It is much more to my liking than herding sheep and digging wells.”
“And Ishmael? How did this come about with our uncle?”
“You forget I’m married to his daughter.”
“And he can trust you.”
“I suppose.”
“When will you leave?”
“I will stay only long enough to help you get adjusted. It may be that our father will not live much longer. He has said he only wanted to live long enough to see your safe return.”
Jacob was deeply moved by this bit of information. He had not imagined his coming or going meant that much to his father. “You think he will not live much longer?”
“He’s very weak. He talks more and more about his death. It seems to comfort him that he will be buried in the cave with Rebekah. He moved to the Oaks of Mamre so he could be closer to the cave where she was buried.”
“I would appreciate your staying until he goes,” Jacob said. “Mount Seir is a long way off.”
* * *
It so happened that Isaac died a short time after Jacob’s return. He had lived long enough to take joy in Jacob’s recounting of his many encounters with Elohim. Most of all he loved to hear how Elohim had given him the new name. “Israel, He called you Israel,” he said wit
h a slight smile. “What a splendid name it is.”
He died with both his sons at his side and his many grandchildren gathered around. There was a great look of contentment about him as they wrapped him in the finely woven shroud. He had lived long and well and had loved with none of the complications of either his father or his sons.
As Jacob-Israel stood waiting for the great stone to be rolled in place over the tomb’s opening, he pondered all the times the family had gathered here in their sorrow to bury someone they loved. He briefly wondered if he himself would be buried here, and would it be Leah who would be placed here beside him? He wondered about Esau and all their children. He wondered if they would all be gathered here in this final resting place or would they, like Rachel, be buried along some lonely road on their way home.
He said goodbye to Esau, knowing he would not see him often but knowing that they were both at peace. Esau had his kind of blessing with his large family and his chance for wealth and position. Jacob, on the other hand, treasured above all else the excitement of getting to know Elohim, even in a limited sense, and being a part of His purposes.
Epilogue
Jacob’s troubles were not over. Jealousy and hatred led the brothers to sell Joseph to some traders going down to Egypt. Jacob was told he had been killed. This was the final cruel trick that was played on Jacob.
In an amazing turnaround, Joseph was richly blessed in Egypt and saved his whole family from starvation. We read that he brought his father down to Egypt, where he was presented to the pharaoh and where he actually pronounced a blessing on the pharaoh.
Jacob gave each of his sons a word of blessing before he died, and as Joseph requested, gave a special blessing to Joseph’s two sons, Ephraim and Manasseh. Ephraim was the younger, and when Jacob placed his right hand on his head, Joseph thought he was mistaken. “No,” Jacob said, “I know what I am doing. Manasseh too shall become a great nation but Ephraim, the younger, shall become greater.”
The Sons of Isaac Page 30
