Abraham Allegiant (Chronicles of the Nephilim Book 4) (11 page)

That evening, Abram cornered Sarai as she was sweeping the outside mat to the house entrance.

“The outside mat?” he teased.

She jumped in shock. Then smiled when she saw who it was.

“Is there no end to the lengths which you will go to slavishly serve your family?”

“Do not praise me,” she said. “It is not out of goodness that I do this. I truly enjoy cleaning. So, it is really rather selfish.”

“Well, that is even worse,” he chuckled. “Come for a walk with me, Sarai.”

She hesitated. She did not know what to say.

“I promise you,” he injected, “I will come up with some way for you to serve me. But in the mean time, let us just talk.”

She smiled, and nodded humbly. She set the broom aside and called in the home for Lot.

“What are you doing?” he said.

“We will need a chaperone,” she said.

“To go for a walk?”

“Did not Noah teach you propriety in relation to women?”

Lot barged out of the door, “Yes, auntie?”

“Would you mind chaperoning our walk this evening?”

“Sure!”

Lot was lean and wiry and fast approaching twenty years of age. Abram liked his spunkiness, but was not sure it would fit well with his attempt to court Sarai.

They started to walk, and sure enough, Lot was virtually on top of them. He might as well have joined in the conversation.

Abram turned and said to him, “Would you give us a little room? Some privacy, please.”

“Sure, uncle,” said Lot, who winked at him and backed off just enough to satisfy Abram and not disappoint Sarai.

As they walked through the cool evening of Ur, the streets were mostly empty as families were settling down for the evening to sleep, make love, and entertain themselves with games and amusements.

“Sarai is a lovely name,” said Abram.

“It means ‘princess,’” she said.

Abram was about to say, “How appropriate,” but before he could, she added, “And do not call me ‘princess.’ I get teased enough about it.”

“I would not dream of it,” said Abram. He thought,
You are not a princess; you are a queen of glory and honor.

She continued, “It is the name of the wife of the moon god Sin, our patron deity in Ur.”

That made sense, since Terah had always been deeply and devotedly religious.

“How old are you?” asked Abram.

“Forty,” she said.

“Forgive me, Sarai, but I am utterly perplexed at how such a stunningly beautiful woman with such a servant’s heart is not married. It does not make sense to me.”

“You obviously do not know me, then,” she said. “And please do not call me beautiful. I am not beautiful.”

He looked at her shocked. But he could tell by now, that there was no guile in this woman, she meant what she said, as bizarre as it sounded.

“Sarai, please. I appreciate your modesty, but it is an objective truth that you are perhaps the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen, even more than women half your age.”

“Pshaaw!” she sniffed. “You obviously only saw sheep and goats out there in the wilderness. Now, please let us talk about
something else. Are you nervous about your first meeting with father? Are you afraid he will reject you?”

Abram was quickly picking up why Sarai was so undesirable to other men. She had such a low view of herself that she did not consider herself worthy of anyone. This negativity bled into everything she said. Maybe her love of serving others was because she saw herself as an unworthy slave. He wondered if her illegitimate birth made her think she did not belong anywhere.

Well, she is not going to get rid of me,
he thought.

“I do not care what father thinks of me,” said Abram. “I am known and am loved by El Shaddai, and he has big plans for my life.”

“Who is El Shaddai?” she asked.

“He is the god I serve, our Creator, God Almighty,” he said.

“I have never heard of him before,” she said. “Is he new to the pantheon?”

Abram chuckled. “He
created
the pantheon. And they rebelled against him, and united with mankind until every intention of the thought of mankind’s heart is only evil continually. The gods are not who you think they are, Sarai.”

“Well, this El Shaddai certainly gives you confidence,” she said.

She was drawn to this blunt and boisterous man. She had never met anyone like him before. He was someone who had little going for him by way of the normal cares of life, yet he had a certainty of vision and purpose.

“So, what are these big plans he has for you?” she asked.

“Well, I do not exactly know,” he said. It was a bit embarrassing for him to admit. “But he is the god of Enoch and Noah, and Noah told me I am to wait upon El Shaddai and he will some day tell me what to do.”

“Tell me more of your god,” she said, amused with his passion.

Abram took the rest of the walk to explain to Sarai the story his Grandpappy Noah told him many times. The story of Eden, and the Seed of Eve versus the Seed of Nachash, the Titanomachy, the Gigantomachy, the war on Eden, and the Great Flood. He told her of El Shaddai’s way of providing a way for his people who worshipped him. How the gods of men were false gods who stole divine worship away from the Creator, and how El Shaddai was going to bring a seed into the world that would bring redemption, and defeat the Seed of Nachash, the Serpent. He told her of the curse on Ham and the blessing on Shem and Japheth, and how he was in the line of Shem.

They were near the end of their walk when she turned to him and said, “So, if what you say is true about this El Shaddai, then our entire livelihood is idolatry? The worship of false gods?”

“I am afraid so,” he said. Abram did not want to make her feel bad, but he would not deny the truth.

“And that means we should all turn away from these gods to worship El Shaddai alone?”

“Yes,” he said simply.

“That is quite extreme,” she concluded. But he could see she was thinking it through with her righteous heart.

“I think we should say goodnight, Abram. We are more different than I first realized.”

They were back at the house. But she was saying goodbye forever. He knew he should not have spoken so freely. He should have eased her into it. Now he blurted out too much too quickly and pushed her away.

She rushed inside to get away from him, and left him standing dumbfounded and sad. He wished he was not so direct, so uncouth. He remembered how Emzara used to ease him into the things he had a hard time accepting. She made the truth desirable. But he just seemed to make it distasteful and offensive.

Suddenly something jumped on his back and grabbed him around the neck. It was Lot. He had totally forgotten Lot following them.

“Hey, uncle, what would El Shaddai give me if I turned away from the gods and worshipped him?”

“You
were
listening to us!” Abram yelped. “You little squirrel.”

Abram roughhoused with Lot and wrestled him to the ground, pinning him.

“I am serious,” shouted Lot. “I do not want to make stupid teraphim statues for the rest of my life. I want to get out of Ur, see the world, experience life. Can I travel with you?”

Abram looked at Lot with affection. The kid had passion.

“I do not know where El Shaddai is calling me,” said Abram.

“So what,” said Lot. “Anywhere is better than here.”

“On one condition,” said Abram.

“What is that?” asked Lot.

“You must endure the spittle torture,” said Abram.

And then a long goober of spit began to hang out of Abram’s mouth, as Lot squirmed to get away from underneath him. Abram would then suck up the spit before it would drop on Lot, and start the process all over again. Lot was writhing, trying to get free before the spit would break loose from Abram’s lips and hit him.

But Abram was an expert. He could get the spittle almost touching Lot’s face before he slurped it back up.

They both laughed in unison until Abram let him go because he was laughing so hard, he could not hold him any longer.

The next day, the men left for work, but Abram stayed behind. He wanted to talk to Sarai. But during his breakfast of bread cakes and figs, she ignored him and cleaned up without giving him a look.

He watched her and waited until everyone else had left the dining area.

He decided not to say anything. He just wanted to see if she would even give him one glance.

But she did not. She looked very bothered, even agitated by his presence. But she finished up and left him alone in the room.

Have I ruined my one chance for pure happiness?
he wondered as a melancholy overcame him.
Was I a hardheaded pig, insensitive to her emotions? Did I give her the false impression that El Shaddai is a despotic deity? An arrogant self-important person who thinks the world revolves around him — like me?

Later in the day, he walked past the women and girls washing clothes and hanging them to dry. Everyone said hello to Abram – except the one person he wanted to hear it from, Sarai. She just hung her clothes with a distant disturbed look.

Abram went for a walk through the city to clear his head and pray. On his walk, he saw the idolatry of the city with its shrines to the various gods of the pantheon, as well as the houses of sacred prostitution. And the huge ziggurat temple, Etemennigur, at the center of the city was awe-inspiring. He had never seen one before, but Noah and Emzara had told him all about them. As he stood gazing up at it, he thought it was indeed a terror, a stairway not to the true heaven, but to evil and slavery of the soul.

When he ate dinner that evening, Sarai was once again quiet and avoided his look. To the others, it was normal, but for Abram, it was unbearably cruel. Why would she hate him so? If they worshipped so
many gods, why would she be so offended that he worshipped yet another one? What could he have possibly said that would have disturbed the heart of such a sweet and sensitive woman as this? It had to be his fault because he already believed her to be more pure than he could ever be. Or maybe she really was not. Maybe her devotion to these diabolical deities brought out the true evil of her heart when confronted by El Shaddai. Maybe her external beauty covered a heart full of rancid idolatry of this moon god consort she was named after.

Haran interrupted Abram’s thoughts, “You should come with us to the market tomorrow, Abram. We could show you our idol making shop.”

“I do not think that would be a good idea,” said Abram, still watching Sarai, like a hawk. He could see her agitation growing as she got up to clean up the dishes.

“Why?” asked Nahor. “We could teach you the craft rather easily.”

Abram sighed and began to explain to them everything he had told Sarai the night before. As Sarai came in an out of the room, cleaning up after everyone, Abram tried his best to be fair and tolerant in his interaction with them, but the truth of it still stung like a hornet. The family went silent. He was telling them that their entire life was a lie of worshipping a lie.

The silence became tense, but Lot finally broke it with his irreverent tone, “Grandfather Terah is not going to dance with joy when he hears this.”

“To say the least,” added Nahor.

“Maybe I should just go on my way,” said Abram. “I can see I have hurt Sarai last night, and now I have insulted your family idols while imbibing your hospitality.”

Now for the very first time all day and night, Sarai looked straight at Abram and her eyes were filled will angry tears. Abram froze in confusion. It seemed that any gesture from her could affect his very soul.

She threw down the plates in her hands and ran out.

“What is wrong with her?” asked Haran.

Abram jumped up and ran after her.

“Leave them be,” said Eliana. She had an idea of what was going on. The women always did.

Abram found Sarai in the small garden at the back of their walled in property. She was weeping softly into her hands.

Abram approached her. He did not know what to say.

So he said what he was thinking, “What is wrong, Sarai? What have I done to offend you? I am sorry for being so aggressive about El Shaddai. I should have just…”

“It is not you, you blockhead,” she interrupted him.

“What is it?” he probed. He wanted nothing but to bring her solace, to calm her heart.

“You have done nothing wrong. You have done everything right.”

“I have?” he asked.

“The moment I heard you tell the story of El Shaddai, I knew in my soul it was the truth that I had been looking for my whole life.”

“But why were you angry?” he said.

“I was angry at my family for raising me with lies. And I was angry at you because… because…” She was afraid to tell him.

“Why?” he reiterated, “Why were you angry with me?”

“Because something inside me was changing, and you made it so difficult to know if I was changing my mind for the truth, or because…”

Again, she was too afraid to admit it.

Abram knew exactly what it was. This pure heart before him was so virtuous that she embraced the truth as soon as she heard it. But even then she questioned her own motives because…

“Because of me,” he said finishing her sentence. “Because you did not want your devotion to the Creator to be based on the selfish motive of attraction to the man that is going to marry you.”

She looked at him with shock. It took her a second to make sure she heard what she thought she heard.

Even Abram was a bit surprised he said it. He was thinking it. But he would normally not be so hasty or impulsive. It was as if El Shaddai himself was hurrying them along.

And then she burst out in new tears. But this time, they were tears of joy.

Abram held her and they cried together as one.

“What in Sheol?” barked Haran. “You have been here two days and you want to marry your half-sister? Are you two crazy?”

Abram and Sarai had gone back to the dinner table and were now standing before the family with their news.

Sarai complained, “Most of the marriages in this family are arranged anyway and spouses do not know each other until they are betrothed. So why are you barking so loud?”

Haran’s eyes went wide with astonishment. Everyone’s eyes did. She never talked back like that before.

Nahor butted in, “Well, you certainly have had an immediate affect on our sister with your bare-faced brazenness, Abram.”

“Consider it an arranged marriage,” said Abram, “only the arranger is our Creator, instead of you rock heads.”

Abram had a big grin at the last words. His humor disarmed them. Haran and Nahor tried to suppress a smile.

Nahor tried to speak through a breakout chuckle, “Okay, okay, so you are telling us, Sarai, that you have converted to this god El Shaddai, and now you want to leave us high and dry?”

Nahor’s wife Milcah finally spoke up. “You are just concerned about your own welfare no longer being served by your sister, Nahor. Grow up.”

Nahor could not deny it. Everyone knew Milcah was right.

“Do not worry,” said Abram, “I intend to do everything properly. We will have the customary betrothal for negotiations of bride price and dowry.”

“For Sin’s sake,” said Haran, “She is not a twelve year old. She carries her own weight in this household,
and
the weight of the rest of us.”

Nahor jumped in again, “She
is past child bearing age, Abram.”

Milcah scolded him, “Nahor.” And he shut up with a shrug.

“I do not care,” said Abram. “I am no spring quail, myself, you know. El Shaddai will provide.”

Haran quipped, “El Shaddai is providing you with the best cooking, cleaning, and hygiene in the kingdom of Ur!”

Everyone laughed. Especially Sarai, as she could not wait to clean up Abram’s scruffy and unkempt appearance.
Underneath that gruff was quite a handsome man
, she thought.

Haran lifted up a cup of wine to Abram. “Here is a toast and a prayer to, what is his name again?”

“El Shaddai,” answered Abram.

“El Shaddai it is,” said Haran. “I only hope father is as willing to give his blessing as your god is.”

Everyone agreed, and drank the wine.