Mountain of Full Moons

by Irene Kessler

  “Oh, I almost forgot. I promise to listen for your guidance.”

  Four suns pass when just after dawn Sarah and I are watching Isaac in his cradle. She is doing her utmost to rock him to sleep. “Since birthing my son I have been thinking about creating.”

  I perk up. “We never talked about that.”

  “As females, we create life. Creating means a moving onward, a growth and the coming of something new and different. There is fulfillment in reaching a creative dream.”

  “That reminds me of composing a song.”

  Sarah smiles. “Exactly. It happens whether it is birthing a child, composing a song, a better way to purify the tent or cook a respectable meal. The soul is creative and helps us grow. If we do not honor our creativity, it will not develop. Then something inside withers away.”

  I put my arm around her. “You have birthed many things, but this child is your greatest accomplishment. Do you think achievements will come my way?”

  “I was born to teach by helping women with words, you with songs.”

  “Thank you, Sarah, sometimes I forget that. In Urusalim I had trouble composing.”

  “Why?”

  I get up and move away. “I am not sure. I think it was because I was filling myself with new learning.”

  “Why do you make up songs? Do you wish your songs to be sung, or for people to recognize your talent?”

  “Sandalphon asked me that a long time ago and I did not know the answer. I want to make up songs with Abraham’s teachings and your wisdom to teach others. Composing and singing make me happy, though some people say my songs are not good enough.”

  Sarah turns toward me. “Do not concern yourself with what others think. It is your soul that needs to be pleased. Your purpose is different from mine. For countless moons I did not know where Abraham and I were headed. My faith carried me. Enjoy having your faith do the same.”

  My soul and my music are connected like Sandalphon said. “Thank you for reminding me.”

  What I forgot to say to Sarah is that it is one thing to be with child. We have some understanding of how that happens. Where does the marvel of how it forms into a human being come from? And is the same true for my songs?

  The verses I write will begin with Abraham’s teachings and Sarah’s wisdom, and arrive as a poet would shape them. They will flow into my head in a flash like a panthera after his prey.

  If the women come for their group or Sarah is busy or tired, she gives Isaac to me. “Thank you, Elisha. I will not tolerate that woman, the Egyptian harlot, being near my child.” Playing and cooing with him is the best part. I tickle him or twirl him around and make him laugh. Those times are great fun, and when they are done, I go to my retreat and write more new songs.

  The encounters between Hagar and Sarah grow more and more bitter and come to a climax. Hagar chose to block the entrance to our tent and taunt the women as they arrived. Sarah sends me to ask Abraham to come to her as soon as he is complete with his business.

  Before Abram is fully in the tent, she speaks. “I am upset by Hagar’s actions toward me,” she begins. “They are more detestable than before. God declared nations will grow from your seed. The covenant with Isaac began on his eighth sun of life with the circumcision, though he had no understanding of it. Ishmael was circumcised at the age of thirteen aware of the meaning.”

  “He is also my son.”

  “Yes, and God said he would have a nation of his own. I demand the mother and son be sent away. Ishmael should not enjoy Isaac’s legacy.”

  “I feel much distress from your words but will take it into consideration.”

  Sarai still surprises me every time she lays out her needs to her husband with such firmness.

  Later in the evening, Abraham comes back to our tent. “I sought God’s instruction. He told me not to be tormented and to do as you wish. You are right, there are to be two nations, but the covenant is with Isaac. That is the promise the three men spoke of.”

  Isaac was growing into a strong boy able to run like a wild deer and shoot a straight arrow. Ishmael had also blossomed but was a wild animal, always on the move, preying with a need to conquer, destroying everything he touched, running away when called, and in trouble all the time. He and Isaac were true brothers, though the elder often took advantage and made the younger cry.

  Before dawn Abraham calls Hagar and Ishmael out of their tent. The entire community is present. “I hereby release Hagar and Ishmael from any form of slavery. I declare this to be right and true forever. All those within hearing are witnesses.” Abraham presents provisions for their journey. He is pained. His first-born son disappears from sight.

  The next dawn brings a dream message. It is time for me to approach Sarah. I find her in the tent preparing for her women’s meeting.

  “Sarah, I am called to go out and sing my songs for the people, if they will have me. I wish to travel and spread the teachings and join my family once more. Then I would be content.”

  “Elisha, I too have considered your need to go home. You have become a daughter to us, but we have kept you too long.”

  “No, Sarah, not too long. I would not be able to do this if I had not spent this time with you and Abraham. It was a blessing.”

  “Make yourself ready. I will inform Abraham on the morrow.”

  I am relieved she understands. “One more thing. I want to thank you for what you have given, all you taught me. Your caring ways made this possible.”

  “I do not know what I did, but I am happy for you.”

  The sun is barely up and we have not washed our faces when Abraham rushes into the tent. Sarah goes to him. “What is wrong?”

  “Isaac and I must leave before the next sunrise.” He runs away without explaining. Sarah runs after him and does not come back. She returns to the tent the next morning her face drawn. Did she shut her eyes?

  “What is happening, Sarah? I never saw Abraham like that. All the color in his face was gone.”

  “He was so unsettled that I went to him. I stood outside, not sure if he needed me. I knew by his stance that a voice spoke to him.”

  “A voice?”

  Sarah is pacing. “God came again. Abraham would not tell me what was said, but it had something to do with Isaac and he was frightened. I went into the tent and laid down next to my husband. His quivering arms held me tight.” She turns to me. “I asked what was wrong, and he lied to me for the first time. I knew it from the way he avoided looking at me. He claimed it was sadness.

  “I knew not to question and stayed there until dawn. He ordered two servants who would go with him to prepare the donkeys with provisions.” She grabs my shoulders. “Again I asked where he was going. He said he was given a ritual for Isaac to be carried through with haste. And he would be back before the Sabbath. He did not say ‘we’ would return.” Sarah throws her arms around me. “I was distraught and came back to our tent.”

  I hold Sarah through her numbness and tears. She lays her head on my shoulder. While Abraham arranges his preparations, we mindlessly watch the insects crawling and the sand shifting with the wind.

  “Sarah, do you remember the time we talked about a peace which comes with the connection to God. That it is unlike any other understanding. Being in safe hands. You thank God for what happens, what you receive, because you and He are walking the same path.”

  She moves away. “Why are you saying this now, during my great sorrow?”

  “Because of your sorrow. Are you walking the same path now? Why do you say you are not safe? Do you believe God would have harm come to Isaac? He is innocent. Oh, Sarah, I cannot imagine what you feel.”

  “I hear your wisdom, but right now I cannot receive it. I have not lost my faith or my trust, but I am just a person. My heart is torn open with dread and alarm. Your words were heard and I will ponder on them. But I am not able to do that now. I love you for trying to help but I must do what my heart tells me.”

  “You do not hear me or what I a
m saying. Those are your teachings. You say God takes care of everything. Your heart can be tranquil if you will let it. You are forsaking the Lord. I love you, Sarah.”

  “Abraham and Isaac are out of sight.” Sarah is trying to get my attention. “Let us prepare to leave.”

  Where are we going?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  We climb on the donkeys, signal away the servants who come to accompany us, and urge the animals forward. We stay out of Abraham’s notice, though he is so intent on his mission, he never looks. Two cycles of light and dark, and we are at the foot of a mountain. Isaac is tethered to an altar and Abraham is bending over him. As we watch Abraham straightens up. We see him reach to one side and remove a blade from its holder. He raises it over his head.

  Sarah is about to scream. I put my hand over her mouth and point to Abraham. “He stopped and is studying the distance. Something is changing.” I whisper. “Abraham is watching the trees. They refuse to bend in spite of a strong breeze.”

  “Elisha, something is strange.” Abraham’s donkey backs up and becomes as stiff as a walking pole. He is gazing at the sky. We see nothing there.

  The sky fills with a brilliant white light and silence spreads through the area. Abraham raises both arms. We cannot hear his words.

  “God,” Sarah murmurs. “You gave me the ability to conceive this child, how can you now take him away? Are you gnashing your teeth at me for banishing Ishmael? For Hagar? Do not make me lose my son. What have I done to displease you?”

  Her hand goes to her mouth. “Wait,” she whispers, “two angels are at Abraham’s arms. Raising them. Away from Isaac.” Chills run through me. Abraham drops to his knees and appears to praise God. “It is over,” she declares.

  We get back on the donkeys and urge them to go fast. Out of earshot, Sarah cries out, “Why, dear God, did you do this? A prank, a cruel punishment? For what? To tear my heart out? To bow down to Abraham? I do not understand.”

  We push the animals to get home quickly. Once in the tent I hold Sarah as she cries and screams at this injustice of God’s desires. We cannot sleep. We eat little. She is listless, and my heart goes out to her.

  Light turns to dark, and the second time it does, we hear noise. Isaac is running and yelling, “Ima, Elisha.” Behind him is Abraham’s servant, Doron, with the donkey.

  Isaac falls to his knees, grabs Sarah at the waist, pulls her close, buries his cheek into her stomach and cries. We exchange glances over his shoulder. Terror is in Sarah’s eyes.

  “Where is Abba?” she manages to ask.

  “He goes to Beersheba to plant a tree. His hope is that the number of people he brings into his way of thinking will grow as big as its many flowers.”

  “Take your servant and go to your father’s tent. Make yourself clean. We will do the same. Then we will listen to your story.”

  Isaac gives me a long hug and runs to his tent. We are past the tent poles when I take hold of Sarah and we dance around. “They are safe, they are safe,” we cry together, then rush to get a meal ready. “Please let Isaac tell his story. We cannot tell him we were there.”

  “I do not wish to lie.”

  “Just do not say anything.”

  Isaac repeats what we already know. “Please Ima, do not be afraid.”

  “You are here, my son. No need for worry.” She smiles. “I am sorry you were frightened.”

  “I tried not to be. I knew Abba would take care of me but drawing the knife . . .” He crawls to Sarah and throws his arms around her.

  We wake early. No work will be done. We will celebrate with singing and dancing and eat all the sweet cakes we can hold. Later, in the dark, Isaac goes to his tent. Sarah and I walk farther away to talk.

  “What do you make of the story, Sarah?”

  “It sounds as if Abraham received another message. This time not to kill Isaac. I do not understand what it was about.”

  “Abraham lied to Isaac and made him carry the tools for his own death.”

  “Otherwise Isaac might have suspected. Abraham did not know God would stop him.”

  I nod. “Why do you not trust it was a test? What else could it be?”

  “Perhaps it was meant to prove Abraham’s strength, his loyalty, or his willingness to do what is asked. I cannot assume to know what God wants.”

  “It is not a question to be answered. In all honesty, we must be thankful they are well.”

  “I hope Abraham comes back from Beersheba soon. Elisha. Please stay with me until he does.”

  “Of course, Sarah, I could not leave you now.”

  We never had answers to any of the questions.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Shortly after dawn, a few moons after Isaac’s return, I am in my corner. Now that Sarah can ask Isaac for help, I am free to hide and create. Satisfied my new songs are suitable, the first meal needs attention.

  When I finish that, baking the date cakes is next. While they cook I walk around the tent. There is nothing much to see until I get to the back. A glistening fluffy white cloud sits on the top. Its purple and green colors gently sway back and forth. Sometimes Sandalphon has those colors. I turn away, then back, to make sure I am not fooling myself and race back to rescue the cakes. Too late. They are burnt. Is Sandalphon an angel?

  Abraham does not return. Sarah’s face confirms her concern. Isaac is young and mends well. Sarah grows more despondent the longer she waits and does not mention my going home.

  She is on her mat outside the tent. “Sarah, we need to talk about Isaac. He is not happy sleeping in his father’s tent with the servant. He might be more comfortable if he could be close to you until Abraham comes back.”

  She is surprised. “You are right. I was thinking about my husband and not my son. If he comes into my tent, will you stay in Abraham’s?”

  “The call is growing stronger. I need to move on, sing my songs, and make for my village. I must try to get home before my mother passes.”

  Her arms are around me. “It is wrong of me to keep you, but I will miss you so, my daughter.”

  “As I will miss you.” We hold each other for a long time.

  “Begin your packing. I will arrange for a servant and a donkey to accompany you.”

  “Thank you for your generosity.”

  “What generosity when you have given me so much.”

  She called me daughter once before but this time she said my daughter. That makes me so happy I want to cry. They are so kind. They gave me the chance to find out who I really am. I must spread Abraham’s teachings and Sarah’s wisdom. I pray to be up to the task.

  How to tear myself from people I love. Three suns later, at dawn, Doron is loading provisions on the donkey. He will be my escort until the trip’s end. His name means the gift and is appropriate. I observed his caring and vigilance in his ministrations to Abraham and the animals, but this is the first time I notice how the sun makes yellow streaks in his light brown hair.

  “Doron, with the two of us and one donkey, the return to Urusalim should be quicker than the trip to Kiriath Arba. True?”

  “The journey should go with some swiftness,” Doron agrees.

  Our trek begins with a magnificent blue sky and light winds. Will Melchizedek help me with my plan or am I making the biggest mistake of my life? I want to chew on my hair and cannot with Doron so close. We do not go very far when without warning, a wall of dirt is upon us. The winds turned strong and there was no time to put up the shelter. Tree branches are tossed from side to side. In one moment brightness turned to blackened night.

  Doron pulls a cover from a bundle on the donkey and we lie down and use it as a shield over our heads. That makes it difficult to breathe. Doron’s presence keeps me calm, though sand and dust fill the air. We raise the shield to catch some air, but our nostrils fill with the rubble. Dust forces our eyes closed, makes them blink and sting as tears mix with the dirt and leave grimy streaks on our faces.

  Nostrils and ears are filled with flyi
ng sand. Like a fire from the driven sands any bareness burns our skin. When the storm is over, we are swathed in a crust of silt from head to foot. We wash as best we can and have a quick meal. I search the field for aloe to soothe the burns. Exhausted, we decide to sleep, hoping the morning will be more pleasant.

  The sunrise is especially glorious. With Doron standing guard, I wash in the nearby stream. The warmth of the sun and water brings relief and one of my songs to my lips.

  Doron is talkative while we are at the first meal. “My parents passed long ago and like you, I was born Hebrew. I chose to be in service to Abraham. I met the lady who became my wife.” His face changes. “We never had children.”

  “I am so sorry.”

  He tries to gain his composure. “My wife passed, and I did not marry again. That would not be fair. My life was devoted to Abraham’s needs.”

  “I understand.” Meals give us the chance to hear each other’s stories, we have no idea how long we will wander.

  “Elisha. I must ask this. Why do you write songs?”

  I look into eyes darker than my brother’s. “When I was a child my abba gave me a harp and the songs came to me. Now I want others to understand Abraham and Sarah’s words. Passing the knowledge on helps me believe I am accomplishing something.”

  He leans his head to one side. “What about your own words?” I do not answer. “How do you feel when you sing? What happens to you?”

  I get up to wash my hands in the stream. “I do not follow the questions.”

  “You change. Your face lights up and your body becomes fluid in its movements. You bloom like a flower. You are enchanting to view and the sound is healing.”