The Gate of Heaven (25 page)

Finally the hour arrived for Rachel to deliver, and Jacob was beside himself. The labor pains seemed to go on forever, and Rachel cried out so pitifully that Jacob covered his ears as he sat outside the tent. No one could be of any comfort to him.

Finally he felt a touch on his shoulder and looked up to see Lamah, the ancient midwife, along with Bilhah, whose face was beaming.

“You have a son!” Bilhah cried out. “Come and see.”

Jacob stepped into the tent and stopped, for Rachel looked almost dead. His heart nearly ceased beating, but then she opened her eyes and managed a smile. He ran forward, fell on his knees beside her, and held her.

“Your son,” Rachel whispered. “Is he not perfect?”

Jacob turned and took the baby from Bilhah. He examined him carefully. It was as if he had never had a son before. Somehow this one was…
different
. He knew with one part of himself that it was so because this was the child of Rachel, whom he truly loved, whom he had always loved more than anything in life. Now as he held the baby, he wanted to crush it to his breast, but he held it tenderly instead. He put the boy down beside Rachel and said, “I've never seen such a beautiful boy.”

“He's going to be a very special child, isn't he, husband?”

“Yes, he is.”

Leah had by now entered the tent and heard the conversation. Displeased, she said sharply, “He needs to rest now.” When Jacob rose, she went on, “I suppose you'll forget all your other sons now.”

Jacob looked at her with irritation. “Don't be foolish, Leah! Of course I won't. I love all my sons and always will.”

Leah stared at him and whispered something he did not catch. She walked out of the tent, and Jacob followed her. “What did you say?”

“I said this one will take all of your love.”

“You're a foolish woman, Leah,” Jacob said. She had spoiled his happiness momentarily, but as soon as she left, he began walking around, too excited to do anything else. Many friends came to him and congratulated him, and the warmth over the birth of this baby grew in him. He stayed up all night by Rachel's side simply watching her sleep, and many times he would reach out and touch the child. He would often pick him up and hold him, walking around the tent, quietly looking down into the infant's peaceful face.

Finally he sat down beside Rachel and began speaking to God. “Oh, God,” he said, “I thank you for this child. I thank you for this wife. For all that you have given me. Lord, now I must leave Laban's house, and I ask that you will make the way.”

Soon after this he saw that Rachel had awakened. “Did I wake you with my praying?” he asked.

“Yes, but it was good to hear.”

“We'll have to leave this place sooner or later. I want this son to be free from all of this.”

Rachel stretched out her hand, and when he took it and kissed it, she smiled. “Anywhere with you. That's where I want to be.”

Jacob leaned down and kissed her gently. “Then we will ask God to deliver us from the bondage your father holds us in!”

Rachel looked up from her task and watched the two children playing a game with Jacob. “Joseph is growing quickly,” she said to Leah. “He's caught up with Dinah and passed her.” As the trio's screams of pleasure rose above the babble of voices in the camp, Rachel shook her head. “Jacob's like another child when he's with them, isn't he?”

“He makes a fool of himself over them,” Leah said sharply. She was shoving a bone awl through a piece of leather, and looking up, she accidentally pierced her finger. “Ow!” She sucked at her finger and said sourly, “He's spoiling those two, just as I knew he would.”

“I think it's good for all three of them.”

Rachel was making a bowl on a simple potter's wheel. It consisted of a flat stone set in the ground with a hole in the top. Another stone carved with a protrusion on it was fitted into the hole of the stone below so that it could be rotated. Rachel had placed a lump of clay on the top and, while sitting on a low bench, began pushing the top stone with her big toe. It began to revolve, and with both hands she carefully shaped the clay. It was a slow method, but Rachel enjoyed it. Sometimes she used different colors of clay to make intricate designs.

As the top stone rotated, her fingers dug into the clay, and from time to time, she would reach down and dip her hand into a basin of water, sprinkling it on the work. Everyone in the tribe treasured Rachel's creations, and she found pleasure in the simple task. Finally Jacob walked over to where the two women worked. Sweat was running down his face. The afternoon sun was warm, but all of the summer scorch had gone out of it. Now the deep haze of summer had lightened, and the tawny land stretched into the distance. Far away the land smoldered with the tan and ash colors of fresh sunlight.

Jacob threw himself down, panting, then glanced back to where Joseph and Dinah were still running and throwing the ball. “They never get tired, those two.” He laughed, and his eyes crinkled at the sides. “Makes me feel like an old man.”

“You
are
an old man!” Leah grunted. “You're going to kill yourself wrestling with those two.”

“No, I won't do that,” Jacob said, smiling at her. “I didn't know a daughter could be so much fun. All I ever had was boys.” He looked back and saw Dinah snatch the ball from Joseph and dash madly away. He laughed when Joseph caught her, and the two wrestled, shouting at the top of their lungs. Sighing deeply, he shook his head. “I wish I had their energy.”

“They're a handful,” Rachel said. She took her eyes off of the vessel that was taking shape and smiled at Jacob. “I was just telling Leah that it's like three children were out there playing. I never saw a man play with children like you do.”

“I hate to see children grow up. I can remember when I played with Reuben like that. You remember that, Leah?”

“Yes, I do. You were always good with small children,” Leah said. She smiled and shook her head. “Women have all the trouble of bringing babies into the world and then men have all the fun of playing with them. If it were the other way around, the race would die out, I suppose.”

“You're probably right,” Jacob agreed. He leaned back against a tree and studied the vessel Rachel was molding. “That's going to be a pretty piece,” he said.

“If I had a better kiln, my pots would be stronger. But as soon as we get one built, we have to move away and leave it.” This was indeed true. Jacob and some of the menservants had made her several kilns out of clay so that a fire could heat the interior. But they were too fragile to move, and Rachel always grieved when they had to be left behind.

Jacob shrugged. “We live by the animals and must move to find water and grass.”

“I know it. I'm not complaining,” Rachel said quickly. She touched her finger on the inside of the dish and took pleasure in seeing the clay form at her touch. She had developed a callous on her right toe as she turned the potter's wheel. She had become so adept at it that the rock turned smoothly.

Jacob studied her for a time, pausing once to get a drink of water out of the water bag that hung on a low limb. As she finished the job, smoothing it, he observed, “You do that so easily.”

“It's not hard.”

“It would be for me. I tried it once and just made a mess.” He turned his head to one side and studied the deep dish. “It would be nice if it were as easy to mold people as it is for you to mold that clay.”

Leah stared at him. He often made statements that irritated her. “That's a foolish thing to say. People are people and pottery is pottery.”

“Well, I think in a way they're alike. They both have makers. Rachel made that dish and God made her.” He winked over at Rachel and said, “I'm talking foolishly, aren't I?”

“Why, no, I don't think so. It's true enough.”

“It
is
foolishness!” Leah snapped. She got to her feet and stalked off. She began calling out to Dinah, ordering her to leave her game. “Come with me!” she said sharply.

Dinah protested, and Jacob and Rachel watched as Leah dragged her away.

“I can never please her,” Jacob said, shrugging, “no matter how hard I try.”

Joseph came running over and said, “Come on, Father, play with me.”

“I'm worn out, son.”

“No you're not. You're more fun to play with than anyone.”

Joseph was a sturdy boy and tall for his age. He had begun to talk at a younger age than any child Rachel or Jacob had ever seen. He had an abundance of chestnut hair exactly like Jacob's, and there was a faint resemblance in his features, but it was obvious that he would be a larger man than his father. He pulled at Jacob, saying, “Come on! Just a little bit.”

Jacob groaned but got to his feet. “You're going to kill your old father.”

Rachel laughed. “Go on and play with him. It's what you want to do anyway.”

Jacob reached down and tousled Joseph's hair. “All right, son. You'll have your own way as you always do.”

Joseph looked up and laughed. His warm brown almond-shaped eyes revealed his cheerful, even pixyish, spirit. “Let me ride on your back,” he said.

Jacob laughed. “All right. Get on.” He bent over, and Joseph leaped up and settled himself. He leaned forward and said, “Father, when I get big you can ride on my back.”

“What a thing to say!” Jacob laughed. “Wouldn't that be a sight.” He trotted off, shaking Joseph while the lad yelled with enjoyment. Rachel watched them go, and she remembered then what Jacob had said the night she told him she was with child.
“He's going to be a very special child.”

She thought of Jacob's words about molding people, and she knew that the thought was deep. Leah had completely missed it, but Rachel had not. “It's true. We're molded by something,” she said, “and it has to be God. The trouble is we won't let ourselves be molded. Now, you take this clay—” She gave the pot another spin and then paused the wheel to admire her work. “It doesn't argue back. It never disobeys my hands.”

She looked over again to where Joseph and Jacob were careening around wildly, raising a cloud of dust.
The problem is that people aren't like clay. They refuse to let God mold them
. The thought troubled her, and she sat for a long time watching her husband and her son enjoying themselves.
It would be nice,
she thought,
if Joseph could always be small like this. It's when children grow up that they begin to cause trouble
.

Laban had drunk enough wine that the hard, sharp edges of his world had softened. He sat slumped with his elbows on the rough wooden table, listening as Lomach and Benzar argued over something. The three of them had come into the village and made straight for the house of an innkeeper named Rohazi. She was a fat woman with a round face and sharp eyes and had lost whatever beauty she had once had. She drew her trade from the dregs of the village and from visitors that came through from time to time. She kept two younger women—ostensibly to serve in the inn, but one look at them revealed their true profession.

Taking another long drink of the sour wine, Laban passed his hand over his face and began to listen to what his sons were arguing about. He studied them as through a fog and thought,
They're not much, but they're all I've got
. A feeling of self-pity washed through him, and when he heard Benzar say something about Jacob, he shook his head to clear it and listened more carefully.

“…and he's going to demand everything we've got one of these days. You see if it's not true! Rohazi, more wine over here.” Benzar was younger than his brother and somewhat sharper. He held out his cup, and the woman poured it full. He reached out and pinched her, and she slapped at his hand. “None of that, now,” she said.

Benzar laughed and drank deeply, then put down the cup and shook his head. “I've said he's a crook all along. There's nothing he won't do.” There was little basis for this accusation, but both men nodded as if Benzar had made some profound remark.