The Gate of Heaven (29 page)

When the search was over, Jacob came to stand before his father-in-law. “Now, old man, you know we are not thieves here. You have behaved as usual, pursuing me and calling me a thief. For years I have worked like a slave for you, and you've changed my wages time after time. If the God of my father, the God of Abraham, and the fear of Isaac had not been with me, you would surely have sent me away empty-handed. But God has seen my hardship and the toil of my hands and has rebuked you.”

Laban stared at Jacob and knew that he was beaten. “Let us make a covenant that will be a witness between you and me.”

Jacob was familiar with the custom. He began to search for a stone and commanded his sons to bring stones until they finally made a heap.

When the stone pillar was done, Laban said, “May the Lord keep watch between you and me when we are away from each other. If you mistreat my daughters or if you take any wives besides my daughters, even though no one is with us, remember that God is a witness between you and me.”

Jacob nodded. “So be it.” He hesitated, then said, “Let us not part enemies. We will feed you tonight. You will sleep, and you can get a fresh start in the morning.”

Among the men gathered, the tension flowed out of them at hearing this agreement, for most of them had been expecting trouble.

Jacob went to Rachel as her father and his men were being fed. He put his arm around her and said, “All will be well now.” He shook his head. “That crazy old man accused us of stealing his gods.”

Rachel wanted to weep. She hated to hide anything from Jacob, but it was too early to tell him yet. What frightened her were Jacob's words earlier:
“Whoever has stolen your gods, let him not live.”
She believed that curses were terrible things, and the fear that was planted with those words of Jacob went with her from that day forward.

The next morning Laban rose early. He came and kissed his daughters and his grandsons, and with one last despairing look, he mounted his beast and rode away, his men trailing after him.

Jacob waited until they had become small in the distance, and then he put up his hands and gave a cry. “At last we're free! Come, we will go to the land of my fathers!”

The worst part of the journey, the barren desert, was behind Jacob. Still he could not shake off the sense of disaster that seemed to hover over him. The long line of cattle and sheep and goats and pack animals and ox carts seemed to crawl along like a worm in the dust, and he expected each moment to hear that Esau was approaching. If it had not been for this, he would have been excited, for he was approaching the land that he had loved in his youth. The bluish heights in the east, Moab and Ammon, were the lands of the children of Lot. Far off to the south glimmered Edom and Seir; ahead of him, the land of Gilead brought back memories of the day so long ago that he had fled his brother, Esau.

Jacob was so preoccupied with his dark thoughts that he did not hear Reuben, who approached and spoke to him.

“Father, did you hear me?”

Jacob started, turned, and saw Reuben standing to his right.

“Don't you think we should stop for the night?” Reuben asked.

Jacob had to collect his thoughts. “Yes, I think so.”

“Is something wrong, Father?”

Jacob felt the need to talk to his firstborn. He loved Reuben, who was good-hearted and the largest and strongest of his sons, but somehow the two had never really been as close as Jacob had hoped. Still, Reuben was the firstborn, and gnawing on his lower lip for a moment, Jacob finally blurted out, “I'm worried about my brother, Esau.”

“But he's your brother,” Reuben said. “Brothers shouldn't have fears of each other.”

The guilt that Jacob had felt for years had been rising like a flood within him ever since he had left Paddan Aram. “You are a good-hearted man, my son, and like to see the best in everyone. You don't realize what a bad young man I was when I was your age.”

“I can't believe that!”

“I wish I were as good as you think I am, but in all truth, I was not.” The words boiled out of Jacob's mouth, and he began telling the whole story, as if by confessing it to another the guilt would leave. Finally he shook his head. “I robbed my brother, thinking only of myself.”

Reuben stood silently. This side of his father he would never understand. He had always revered Jacob, held him high in love and esteem, but as Jacob told his story, it was as if he were speaking of someone else. Finally Reuben suggested, “Maybe we could go someplace else.”

“No, we've got to go back to my home. That's what the Lord has told me to do.”

“Well,” Reuben said slowly, “if God has told you to do it, then it must be that no harm will come to us.”

Jacob's eyes lit up for a moment. “Why, perhaps that's the way it will be,” he said hopefully.

“God wouldn't deliberately hurt you, Father.”

Jacob patted Reuben on the shoulder. “You're a good man, my son. Let's pause here for the night.”

“All right. I'll put up the tent for the women.”

Reuben turned and left his father. The conversation troubled him, and as he went about the business of getting everyone settled in for the night, he mulled over his father's words. He had great difficulty believing that his father had cheated his own brother. It went against everything he knew of Jacob.

Dan and Simeon helped him set up the women's tent, and when the tent was up, those two left.

“Thank you, Reuben.”

Reuben turned to Bilhah, who had come to smile at him.

“Why, you're welcome.”

“You always look out after us.”

Reuben had always felt close to Bilhah. She was as simple as he himself was. Neither of them were deep thinkers, and many times they had talked together about the simpler things of life, the things that they knew—the herds, the flocks, the equipment. He had always felt comfortable with her.

Looking across to Leah, who was unpacking the vessels for cooking the evening meal, Rachel asked, “What sort of a life do you think we will lead when we get into Canaan, Leah?”

Leah was in a bad humor. “We may all be dead,” she said sharply. She threw a pot out on the ground and began to search for the flour she had brought. “I'm going to bake some bread tonight somehow.”

“What do you mean we might all be dead?”

“I mean from what I hear about Esau, he's not a man to forget an injury. He might kill Jacob right off. Then what will happen to us?”

“Don't talk that way!” Rachel said sharply.

“Talk is that Esau's not a forgiving man.”

“Maybe his parents will be able to reason with him—it's been such a long time.”

The two women were arguing when Jacob came. Rachel took one look at him and saw the trouble in his face. “Sit down, Jacob, and rest. You're not sleeping enough.”

Jacob slumped to the ground, and both women could tell from his face that he was preoccupied.

“Don't worry about Esau,” Rachel said. “I'm sure he's forgiven you for what you did to him.”

“I'm not sure at all about that,” Leah said sharply. “A man never gets away from what he does—nor a woman, for that matter.”

“That's right,” Jacob said heavily. “A man's sins have a way of catching up with him.”

Leah and Rachel exchanged glances. They had never seen Jacob so depressed, and Leah finally said, “Lots of people do bad things and never get punished. You know that. You've seen it.”

“I think maybe they do,” Jacob said. He lifted his eyes, which were full of misery, and said, “Maybe we don't see it, but somehow people have to pay. Maybe after they're dead.”

Leah shifted uncomfortably. She did not like such talk. “It was a long time ago, Jacob.”

“God has a long memory, I think,” Jacob said. He sat there, a forlorn and dejected figure, and the two women were completely unable to cheer him up.

A simple evening meal was quickly prepared with the olives and raisins they had brought. Two of the sheep were killed, so there was plenty of good meat. When the meal was over, a tall man—one of Jacob's most trusted servants—came stumbling into camp.

“Where has Abez been?” Rachel asked.

Jacob hesitated. “I sent him ahead to try to find Esau and see how he feels.”

Abez came in covered with dust and exhausted. One look at his face and Jacob knew that the news was not good. He had sent Abez with a message to Esau that he had hoped would soften the heart of the man. “Did you find my brother, Esau?”

“Yes, master, I found him,” Abez said. He shifted his feet for a moment and could not meet Jacob's eyes. “He's coming to meet you.”

“You mean alone?”

Abez shook his head, and there was fear in his eyes. “No, he's bringing a band of armed men with him.”

A murmur of voices arose, and Jacob felt the cold clutch of fear in his heart. He shook himself, and his voice was tense with strain as he said, “Don't be afraid. God will be with us.” But as soon as he had said it, he turned and walked away.

Rachel stared at Judah, who had come to stand beside her.

“It doesn't sound good,” Judah said. “Maybe we should leave.”

“It's too late for that.” Rachel sighed heavily. “We can't go back.”

Jacob stood under the skies and saw that night was coming on. The words of Abez had shaken him—the news that Esau was coming with an armed band. He fell down on his knees and said, “O God of my father Abraham, God of my father Isaac, O Lord, who said to me, ‘Go back to your country and your relatives, and I will make you prosper,' I am unworthy of all the kindness and faithfulness you have shown your servant. I had only my staff when I crossed this Jordan, but now I have become two groups.”

He began to weep and pray earnestly, and finally he said, “Save me, I pray, from the hand of my brother, Esau, for I am afraid he will come and attack me, and also the mothers with their children. But you have said, ‘I will surely make you prosper and will make your descendants like the sand of the sea, which cannot be counted.'”