Signs and Wonders (8 page)

“I said farewell to my master and journeyed here from Canaan, and stood near the well beyond the gates of your city, and watched the women and maidens thronging through the gates to draw water. I was bewildered. How could I, a stranger, find a daughter of my master’s kindred among such multitudes? I begged God for a sign, saying, ‘I shall ask certain maidens for a drink, those who are comely and strong. And she who, giving me a drink, offers water also to my camels, that one I shall know has been chosen by you, O God of Abraham.’

“And, lo! I was answered! No sooner had I raised my voice to heaven than I saw this maiden coming through the gates, carrying a pitcher of beaten copper upon her shoulder, and shining like a torch among the women at the well. When I asked her for a drink, she answered in the words that God had put in her mouth as the sign of His choice. And when I asked her name and her parentage, she told me what I hungered to hear, that she was the granddaughter of Abraham’s brother. Therefore I am here. O my hostess, wife to Bethuel, son of Nahor, Laban, son of Bethuel, son of Nahor who is brother to Abraham, son of Terah, and blessed of God, I ask for this maiden, Rebecca, on behalf of Abraham’s son, Isaac.”

“How far is Canaan?”

“Many days’ journey.”

“How can it be that Isaac is the sole inheritor?” said Laban. “He has an elder brother.”

“That one, Ishmael, is not the son of Abraham’s wife Sarah, but of Hagar, the Egyptian, Sarah’s handmaid. He has long since left Abraham’s tents and is disinherited. Do not doubt Abraham’s wealth or Isaac’s inheritance. Here are some small tokens.”

He clapped his hands, summoning his servants, and told them to bring the camel packs from the stable. Bale upon bale of silk and samite were borne in and heaped about Rebecca and her mother.

“Enough!” said Rebecca.

“Treasure for treasure,” said Eleazer. “What I give is less than what I take.”

“Truly, your words are fraught with wisdom,” said Laban.

Eleazer heaped up bars of gold and silver, and small leather pouches that spilled diamonds and sapphires and rubies, until Laban was bursting with joy.

“We may not tarry,” said Eleazer. “I was instructed to return straightaway to Canaan with the girl who was chosen.”

“So soon?” said Rebecca’s mother. “I pray you, not so soon. She is my only daughter.”

“She must leave you and go to her husband,” said Eleazer.

“Canaan is so far. I do not know when I shall see her again. Stay ten days.”

“Please, Mother,” said Laban. “The man knows what he is doing.”

“Only ten days!”

“Let us ask the girl,” said Eleazer. He turned to Rebecca, who had been sitting there, silent. “Will you follow me now, or must I seek another to be Isaac’s wife?”

“I am ready,” said Rebecca.

Isaac was walking on the plain, and he was full of sorrow. His father had just died and had been buried in the cave at Hebron beside Sarah. Now Isaac was alone. He went to sit in the portals of Sarah’s tent, which Abraham had never taken down, although she had been dead for many years. Sitting there, he seemed to see his mother again, and to hear her. He saw the brilliance of her eyes, felt her touch upon his hair, and heard her laughter. He bowed his head and wept.

Then he saw a boiling of dust on the plain, as of a caravan coming, and went to meet it. From afar he recognized his father’s camels, which were his now. He saw the white beard of Eleazer and, riding a camel next to the old man, a maiden veiled against the dust. He stood watching.

The camels came near. The girl raised her hand and flung back the veil. There in the dust and fiery shadows he saw his mother, Sarah, alive again, but young, younger than he had ever known her, young as his father’s memories and the tales of her beauty. For Rebecca’s great black eyes, her floating hair, the brilliance of her smile were very like Sarah’s, but also strange and for the first time.

Isaac knelt in the dust. “Thank you, God, for what you have sent me,” he said. And he arose to claim his bride.

Jacob and Esau

Isaac was rich, possessing flocks and herds, gold and silver and precious stones, caravans of camels and donkeys, and many servants to do his bidding. Nor did he busy himself to increase his wealth, for Eleazer was his steward in all things, his man of business. And there was no man shrewder than Eleazer. Rebecca was Isaac’s sole occupation; he loved her beyond his own knowledge, and she returned his love. And they were all in all to each other—for they had no children.

Isaac raised his voice to heaven. “God Almighty, God of Abraham, the one God, maker of heaven and earth, I am not the man my father was, and do not hold easy converse with you. But my wife, Rebecca, is barren. She grieves because we are childless. I do not understand how this can be, for you made a covenant with my father that my sons would inherit this land. That sign was cut into my flesh when I was eight days old. Have I misunderstood your intention, O Lord? If so, I pray, enlighten your servant.”

God spoke: “Your mother was barren until she was ninety. She knew how to wait. Your father knew how to wait. Rebecca is young.”

“She grieves, being childless.”

“Go to her tonight.”

That night Isaac planted a seed in Rebecca’s womb, and that seed quickened into life. She grew very big; her belly swelled to a size never seen, and she was in great pain.

“Twins,” said the old midwife. “Perhaps more. And they are wrestling in there, causing you this pain.”

Rebecca feared for her life and inquired of the Lord, who answered, “Two nations are in your womb, and two peoples shall be separated from your body. One people shall be stronger than the other. The elder shall serve the younger.”

The struggling infants almost tore Rebecca apart, but she clenched her teeth and uttered few moans, for the Lord had told her she was to live, and she did not wish Isaac to know her pain. She labored a day and a night in great agony, and delivered twins. The first one came out with a pelt of red hair like a fox cub. And, holding onto his brother’s heel in a way never before seen came the second twin, all clean and unmarked. They called the first child Esau and the second one Jacob. And from the first sight of him Rebecca loved Jacob best. She tried to hide her feeling, but the thing was known.

Esau grew into a hairy, merry young man, blazing with energy—a great hunter, a great meat eater, great in all his appetites. His brother, Jacob, was very different. Jacob was a quiet, reflective man, who tended his father’s herds. He learned about cattle from a master herdsman hired by Eleazer—an islander of the Inner Sea who had been shipwrecked on the shore of Canaan, a squat, sullen fellow who looked something like a bull himself and had knowledge beyond any man’s of bull and kine. Working with him, Jacob learned how to cull the herd of weaker stock, and he learned secret tricks of breeding to make cows drop certain kinds of calves. He also learned the best ways of pasturing and watering the herds and keeping them in health.

Now, Isaac had become something of a glutton, and he loved Esau best because the lad brought him his kill, venison and wild boar. But Rebecca’s love for Jacob was as fresh as when he was at her breast, sucking less greedily than Esau.

One evening Jacob was before his tent, boiling a pot of lentils over a fire of twigs. And Esau came in from the hunt, carrying a deer slung over his shoulders. He was ravenous, for it had been a long chase. Too hungry to wait until he had roasted the venison, he snatched the pot from the fire. But Jacob snatched it back and said: “It is mine.”

“Brother, I want it,” cried Esau. “Let me eat the pottage, the red pottage, before I die of hunger!”

“What will you give me for it?”

“What do you want?”

“Your birthright.”

Now, birthright in those days meant all that the eldest son would inherit from his father by sole virtue of being firstborn. Its advantages were almost sacred. In rich families the firstborn son inherited wealth beyond the wealth of any of his brothers, not only flocks and herds, gold and silver, but possession of any high office the father held, and of the father’s interest in lease and treaty.

Jacob had long chafed at the idea that he, born two seconds after his brother, would inherit less. Now he saw his chance.

“If you want my pot of lentils you must sell me your birthright.”

“Take it! Give me the pottage. What good is a birthright if I starve to death?”

“Not so fast,” said Jacob. “Swear first.”

“I swear, I swear,” said Esau, seizing the pot and swallowing the red lentils in one gulp. Then he ate a loaf of bread, drank some wine, and went away.

Beersheba

There was famine in the land, and Isaac prepared to go down into Egypt, where there was food. He inquired of the Lord concerning this.

God answered, “Do not leave this land, for I have given it to you and your sons forever.”

“The land is stricken, O Lord,” said Isaac. “My flocks are wasted because no grass grows. The grass has perished because no rain falls, and the wells are dry.”

“Do not go into Egypt,” said the Lord. “Your son’s sons will go into Egypt and abide there in bitter servitude, and come forth again—but the time is not yet. Send your men to dig.”

“My men dig deep into the earth and find no water,” said Isaac.

“Send your men to dig again where they have dug. Let them return to the southern plain, to the dry wells, and dig again. I am the Lord. My footfall is thunder, my frown is famine. Shall not fountains gush at my pleasure?”

Isaac sent his herdsmen south. They grumbled, saying, “The earth is dry as stone there. Our master grows old, and his wits are enfeebled.”

But Isaac rode with them, harrying them day and night, until they reached the dry wells. “Dig here,” said Isaac.

“To what purpose?” said the chief herdsman. “Hearken. I drop a stone and you hear it rattling against the stones at the bottom.”

“Here you shall dig,” said Isaac. “The Lord has promised that we will find water in the dry wells.”

“Our bones will whiten on these sands before we find water.”

“Then whiten they must. Shall not He who hung the sun and lit the stars and made man from a handful of dust—shall not He, the Almighty God, squeeze water from a rock if He wishes? Dispute me no more. Dig or die!”

The men began working without hope. Their shovels struck rock. The sun beat down on their heads, and they grew very weary. But Isaac stood above them, arms raised to the sky, beard bristling, eyes glittering, and made them dig without rest.

Deep in the hole, deeper than a well had ever been dug before, a man was digging. His shovel struck rock. And with his last strength, with all the rage of his thirst, and his hatred of Isaac, he struck again—and felt his burning head laved, as a fountain of living water sprang from the rock.

The men raised a great shout of joy and scooped up water in their hands, drinking and splashing and laughing. They dug a trough, which filled with cool water, and the cattle rushed to drink.

“Thank you, God,” said Isaac. And he named the place Beersheba, meaning “well of the vow.”

The Lord was pleased with Isaac, and famine was lifted from the land. Rain fell, grass grew, the flocks fed. Isaac prospered in all things. His herds increased. And he became a man of greater wealth than his father, Abraham.

The Hands of Esau

Esau was forty years old and took two wives. Both of them were daughters of the Hittites, who followed other gods and other ways. And these ways offended Isaac and Rebecca, whose hearts were filled with bitterness.

But Isaac still preferred the red-headed hunter, Esau, who brought him fresh meat for his table. Rebecca still loved best her other son, the quiet smooth Jacob. Now, Isaac had grown very old; he was feeble and almost blind. He called Esau to him and said: “I am grown old, Esau. The day of my death is coming swiftly, when I do not know. But before I die I want to eat once more of the savory venison you have always brought me—that I may feel nourished by your abundant love, O son of my heart. So take your bow and your quiver of sharp arrows and hunt. Kill me a deer and roast its haunch. I will feast upon it, and bless you.”

Now, Rebecca had been on her way to Isaac’s tent and heard voices inside. She stopped at the portal and listened. When she heard what Isaac said, she turned and hurried away. She went swiftly to Jacob’s tent and said: “Your father has sent Esau into the forest to hunt. When he returns with a deer and roasts it, he will be blessed by your father and receive his inheritance.”

“My father loves him best,” said Jacob.

“I love you best,” said Rebecca.

“I must be content with that,” said Jacob. “My father is the bestower of blessings and legacies.”

“It must not be!”

“It will be.”

“No, I say! No! The inheritance must be yours. That hairy glutton despised his birthright and sold it to you for a meal. He cannot regain it now. And he shall not, if you obey me.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Go among the flocks. Select two kids, the fattest and tenderest, and bring them to me. I shall roast them to a perfect savor, basting them in their own fat and spicing them with pepper and marjoram and wild thyme the way he loves. And you shall bring your father this meal and receive his blessing before Esau returns.”

“He will wait for what Esau brings.”

“He will get hungry, waiting, and the smell of the roasted meat will fuddle his wits. He will think you are Esau bringing venison.”

“His sight fails, but not his touch. He will caress me, thinking me Esau. But I am smooth and Esau is hairy, and so my father will know what is being done. He will not bless but curse me.”

“Let the curse fall on me,” said Rebecca. “Just do what I say and you will inherit.”

Jacob went into a field where goats were cropping grass and caught two fat kids. He cut their throats and brought them to his mother, who skinned and dressed them, then roasted them on a spit over an open fire, basting them in their own fat and spicing them with marjoram and wild thyme. She built her cooking fire upwind of Isaac’s tent so that the savory smoke drifted down to him. He was frantic with hunger by the time the meat was roasted.