The Sons of Isaac (38 page)

Jacob had fallen on his face at the first sound of the voice. He was aware of a great and blazing light and was not surprised that the being identified Himself as El Shaddai. This was the glorious God of Abraham and Isaac his father. The same God who had spoken to them was speaking to him. He knew he would never forget one word that had been spoken, but most of all he would remember he was to be called Israel, meaning God’s Prince. He really was to have a new name and the name was a wonderful name. “Israel,” he repeated over and over, with a great joy welling up in his heart.

He was awake the rest of the night, trying to grasp the meaning of what had happened to him. With the first streaks of dawn rising over the mountains of the Jordan, he woke the whole camp to tell them what had happened. He led them back to the hallowed spot and challenged them to build a pillar of the stones to make a memorial. “Such a wonderful happening must never be forgotten,” he said.

*  *  *

While they were busy constructing the pillar, someone shouted that a strange caravan was approaching from the south. The lead camel bore a litter on its back that was plain but well made and suggested the passenger inside might be a lady who was not well. To everyone’s surprise the small caravan did not go on past. Instead it paused while the curtains of the litter were drawn back, and a very old lady leaned out and looked around. “Is this the camp of a prince called Jacob? I was told I could find him here,” she said.

The small children ran giggling and laughing to tell Jacob that someone wanted to see him.

Jacob approached the caravan with great suspicion. He could not imagine who would know to look for him here. “Can I help you?” he asked hesitantly.

The old lady leaned out farther and stared at him and then past him as though searching for a familiar face. She frowned and ordered the boy to have the camel kneel so she could alight. With amazing agility for one so obviously old, she clambered down from the nest of skins she had been lying in. “I must see Jacob,” she said.

Jacob had stood puzzling over the strange sight. The woman was vaguely familiar. She clung to the young camel boy as though she was in pain, but her head was held high and her eyes, kind and gentle, moved over the small gathering as though she was looking for someone. “I must see Jacob,” she said. “I have an important message for him.”

At that Jacob recognized her and ran forward. “Deborah,” he said, choking back the tears. “You are Deborah, my mother’s nurse.”

*  *  *

It was indeed the Deborah who had not only been his mother’s nurse but had also taken care of him when he was a baby. He wanted to take her to his tent and see that she had all the attention and special care she might need. He could see that she was not well.

“No, no,” she said gently smiling. “I’m tired of being closed in with the odor of unguents and ointments and goatskins. Let me sit under that lovely oak tree and get a look at your family, and then I must talk to you. I have much to tell you.”

The oak tree turned out to be a very good choice. A rug was thrown down and quickly a mat with back piece and armrests was placed under the tree, and she was led to this shaded bower by Jacob himself. When she was settled and had been plied with cool melons, fresh figs, and some pomegranate wine, Jacob suggested that she rest.

“No,” she said leaning forward and clutching his sleeve with her thin fingers. “I must see your wives and your children and then I must talk with you. My time may be short and I have much to tell you.”

Jacob could see that she was serious, so he had Leah and Rachel come and sit with them. He then told Bilhah and Zilpah to bring his children so she could meet them. To each one she had something special to say, some unique blessing in the name of Rebekah their grandmother and Isaac their grandfather. It was obvious that she saw the sons as wonderfully handsome young men and Dinah as lovely as her grandmother. Jacob could see the surprise in his sons’ eyes as they realized that she saw only the potential and knew nothing of the reality.

When the children had gone, Deborah turned to Rachel who was sitting next to her. “My dear,” she said, “I can see you aren’t well. It’s not easy to carry a child under these circumstances.”

Rachel smiled. “To one who has been childless for so long, it is no trouble.” Deborah gave her a strange, sad look and patted her hand.

“The young boy with the curling hair and the questioning, intelligent look who brought me the pomegranate wine was your son?” she asked.

“Yes, he is Joseph,” Rachel said proudly. Then a bit shyly she added, “I have only the one, while my sister, Leah, has so many.”

Deborah seemed to notice Leah for the first time. “Her blessing is obvious,” she said smiling, “while yours is all contained in one special lad.”

Leah beamed and Rachel felt comforted.

It was only after they had left that Deborah turned to Jacob. “I know you think I should rest, but I have much to tell you and I must do that first.”

Jacob protested but he could see that she was determined. He found himself fearing what she might have to tell him. He dreaded hearing of his mother’s disappointment when he didn’t get home before she died, and he was sure Esau had been critical of him. What his father was thinking he could not imagine. He almost expected her to tell him that he was no longer welcome in his father’s tent.

Somehow, being a wise old woman, she was able to see all these conflicting emotions and thoughts without Jacob’s telling her anything. “Don’t be afraid, Jacob,” she said, laying her hand on his arm and looking at him with a sharp intensity. “I am bringing you good news.”

“How can it be good news when my mother has died?” he asked with a catch in his voice, turning away so she could not see the tears that welled in his eyes.

“Your mother was concerned about that, and she made me promise that I would come and help you understand.”

“Understand what? It’s quite obvious that I broke her heart and wasn’t there when she needed me.”

“No, no, you don’t understand. She had peace about her going because she could see that everything was working out. It was almost as though she had to go for you to come home and work things out with your father and Esau.”

This surprised Jacob. He couldn’t even imagine what she meant. “My mother was at peace about her going?” he asked.

“I know it must be hard to believe but it’s true. While you have been gone, Esau has had time to discover that he does not find enough challenge and excitement in managing sheep and shepherds. He has often wished you would come home and free him from the burden of his father’s wells and herds.”

“What does he want to do?”

“Well, you remember just as you left he went off to marry one of Ishmael’s daughters. It was Ishmael who first gave him the idea of becoming a partner with him.”

“A partner?”

“Yes, you see Ishmael is not only a clever trader but also has bands of men and outposts manned by his sons to protect the pharaoh’s trade routes. He has wanted Esau to control Mount Seir and make the trade route safe in that whole area.”

“I understand. That is the shortest route north to Damascus and Carchemish. The King’s Highway, it’s been called.”

“Esau has been impatiently riding over to this area. He has driven out the Horites who had terrorized the caravans, and now he wants to move there with his family.”

Jacob could hardly believe what he was hearing. “Then you think he really wants me to come home?”

“He wants to move to a natural fortress in the mountain of Seir; Petra, it’s called. He would still keep some herds but only for his own use.”

“And my mother wanted you to come and tell me this?”

“Yes, and more than that, she wanted you to know that everything had worked out for the best. Esau never did want the burden of the birthright or the blessing.”

Jacob ran his hands through his hair, tugged at his short beard and smiled, then laughed. “Then I really can go home and find a welcome.”

Deborah smiled. “Esau will feel relieved. He can then leave his father and his father’s herds in your hands. At the same time, your father will feel greatly blessed to have so many strong young men to take care of his burdensome wealth.”

“It’ll take awhile to get everything ready to leave. As you saw, my wife, my dear and beloved Rachel, is great with child and not at all well.”

Once more Deborah reached out and touched his arm. “There are many hard things that must be endured, but that is the only way we become strong. Your own mother learned that. It was not easy losing you and dealing every day with Isaac’s blindness and the willful wives Esau married.”

“But she died without ever seeing me again or my children.”

“That was another heartache, but she had come to see that in some ways it was her own fault.”

“Her own fault?”

“She often told me that if she had trusted Isaac’s God to work things out and not tried to manage everything, you probably would never have had to leave.”

“She must have suffered terribly.”

“She felt guilty that you had to leave and that Esau harbored such hatred. She blamed herself for everything.”

“She shouldn’t have. Without Esau’s threat I probably would never have gone to Haran. I would never have married Rachel. How poor my life would have been without my children and my wives.”

“Perhaps she did have a hint of this. Just before she died, she called me to her side and said, ‘I have to trust that things have not gone too badly for my Jacob.’”

Deborah studied his face to see his response.

He smiled. “I wish I could have come in time to reassure her.”

“What would you have told her?” Deborah pressed on relentlessly.

“I would have told her,” Jacob said, “that from the very first night I spent alone, here in this very place, the God of my father and grandfather made Himself known to me and directed my path. I went out with only a walking stick and have come back with wives, children, and servants. My wealth exceeds that of either my father or my grandfather. But most important, Elohim Himself has given me a new name. A wonderful name.”

“And what is the new name?”

“Israel, he called me Israel.”

“Then you have found blessing even in the difficult way you were forced to take.”

“That is true.”

They sat silently watching a hawk dip and soar over the valley before them as they contemplated all that had happened to both of them. Finally Deborah spoke, “As you may have noticed, I am not well. I have prayed only that I might have strength to come and give you the message your dear mother entrusted to me. Now that I have done that, I can depart in peace.”

Jacob gave her a startled glance. “No, you mustn’t think that …”

Deborah patted his arm. “When I am gone,” she said, “I would like to be buried under this tree.”

Jacob could not bring himself to speak. He was too emotionally moved, but he nodded and reached out to press her fragile, long fingers.

During the weeks that followed, Jacob, his wives, and his children became better acquainted with this wise old woman. She told them many stories of their grandmother Rebekah. Their favorite was always the story of how she came from Haran to marry Abraham’s son Isaac. “Isaac loved her the moment he saw her,” she would say, “and she thought he was more handsome than she had even imagined.”

She would usually end her stories by telling them, “Isaac was the son chosen by Elohim and his father for the birthright and the blessing. Isaac always thought Rebekah was his blessing, and he never fretted over the providence that gave them only two sons, your father and his twin brother, Esau. He has lived longer than his father, and in all this time he has had only the one wife and the two sons.”

It never failed that one of Jacob’s sons would look around at his brothers and then ask, “And who has the blessing now?”

Deborah would lean back and study them with a piercing, searching gaze as though she were trying to search out which one of them might inherit the blessing. “Now your father has both the birthright and the blessing,” she would say.

*  *  *

Some weeks passed as Jacob prepared his family to ride down the ridge to meet his father, who was camped under the great oaks of Mamre. This period of preparation was a happy time of expectation and celebration. Jacob and Rachel were looking forward to the birth of the new baby; Leah was once again busy seeing that all the practical matters of their family went smoothly. Dinah was silent and withdrawn but found some sense of peace in helping her mother. All was going so well, and then once again tragedy struck and the happy times came to an abrupt halt.

The first of the hardships was the death of Deborah. Even though they had expected it, they were all surprised at how much she meant to them. As was the custom, they wrapped her in a covering of woven reeds and buried her that evening beneath the oak tree she had grown to love.

Jacob grieved openly with his wives and their children joining him. Until this time no one in their family had died, and so they wept not only for their loss but in the sudden realization of life’s frailty. “We will call this the oak of weeping,” Jacob said as they were all packed and ready to move on.

With the death of Deborah, a nagging fear settled over Jacob. Rachel’s pregnancy was not going smoothly. She was in a great deal of pain.
What would I do, how could I live if Rachel should be taken from me? She never complains. She wants this child so badly
.

It hurt him to think that part of her wanting was tangled with her constant need to compete with her sister for his love and approval. It was all so nebulous. So unreachable. He had loved her and only her from the moment he first saw her.

He watched her closely now and saw how pale and weak she was. At times she clung to him as though she were afraid of something. Often at night she would wake up in a cold sweat and cling to him. “Jacob, you must promise me,” she would say, “when I am gone you must protect my son. Leah’s sons are jealous of him. They are capable of great cruelty.”

Jacob was startled by her choice of words, not “if” but “when,” she had said. Jacob would hold her and reassure her that he would watch out for Joseph. “But nothing can harm our son,” he would tell her. “Elohim will watch over him and preserve him from evil.”