The Sons of Isaac (19 page)

Now he saw things differently. He knew he would not live much longer, and after he was gone, where would this struggle and competition lead them? There were six sons of Keturah and Isaac only had two. Keturah was encouraging her sons to edge out those of Isaac, if not for the blessing then for the birthright. He had even known instances where the sons of a concubine had murdered the sons of the legitimate wife just for the advantage.

It was evident he must move quickly, make some hard decisions. Isaac was the immediate concern. He must not be displaced, but after him what would happen? Esau, Isaac’s firstborn, seemed only concerned with practical matters, while Jacob was just the opposite. Why hadn’t there been just one son for Isaac with these two qualities perfectly blended, he wondered.

He held tightly to the tent pole as he lowered himself to the sandy floor. He must settle this in his mind before daylight, and then he must act. He could already feel his strength ebbing, his voice getting softer, and his eyes dimming. Who could guess how long he had before he would be gathered to his people in the great and strange land of the dead.

He tried to go back over the years that had gone so quickly. He wanted to remember each of the sons of Keturah so he could deal justly with them. He realized that as he had grown older they all tended to blur together without separate identities.

There was Zimran, meaning celebrated. Abraham was always embarrassed to think how he had almost forgotten Isaac in his joy at this son’s birth. During the twenty years that Rebekah had been barren, Keturah had been having children. Jokshan, the fowler, came next then Medan, judgment. Keturah had insisted on the name because she had pressed him to make a judgment in favor of her son as opposed to Isaac’s claim on the birthright.

Some time had passed after that before she had presented him with Midian and then Ishbak. The last son she had named Shuah, depression, because he had been born at the same time as Isaac’s twins. With Isaac’s twins everything changed. He had heirs and her sons could no longer be considered. Keturah had grown depressed and even bitter.

As much as he loved the boys, it was evident that he must send them away. He would give them each a generous settlement and send them with their mother back to her father, their grandfather. They would be more than welcome there as the old man had produced only daughters. He determined to do it quickly while he was still of sound judgment and in control of things. There was not much time left and things must be in order so there would be no conflict after he was gone.

He knew it would not be easy. Keturah would cry and the boys would complain among themselves. They would not dare to openly come against him. However, if things were not settled now, once he was gone and Isaac was in charge, there would be constant trouble.

He thought of Isaac, and as happened so often these days, he was reminded of their trip to Mount Moriah. Layers and layers of meaning kept coming to him in these years since it had all happened. There was nothing unusual in his taking his son to sacrifice him. This was done quite often by his Canaanite neighbors for seemingly trivial reasons. A child or young person might be sacrificed for the success of a trading venture, the erection of a house, or even to clear a man’s conscience before his household gods.

One of the things that made their sacrifice so different from his was that they usually had many sons and he had only the one special son of the promise. Ishmael, his firstborn, was not even considered. It was obviously a test of some sort. He had realized at first that in presuming to be a friend of his God, it was to be expected that at some time that obedience would need to be weighed and evaluated. Mount Moriah may have been that evaluation.

It was also different because he had been told to go to a specific place, Mount Moriah, to make the sacrifice. The usual procedure was for the sacrifice to be made close to the man’s home. Friends and relatives would be notified and a feast would be prepared and served once the ritual was over. None of these things were part of his instructions.

Of course the final difference was that the boy was not sacrificed after all. If he shut his eyes, he could still see his son’s trusting gaze, feel the raised knife in his right hand, the place marked with his thumb where the knife would fall. There had been the sudden rigidity in his raised hand and the voice telling him not to harm his son. Then the miracle of seeing the ram in the thicket.

He remembered telling Isaac when he had asked about the lamb for the sacrifice, “The Lord will provide.” Of course there had been no lamb and he had tied his son, placed him on the altar, and raised the knife before the ram had appeared. The usual procedure would have been for the sacrifice to be carried out regardless of what he heard or felt. He’d never heard of anyone untying and releasing the sacrifice. If he hadn’t been used to listening for Elohim’s voice, he would have gone ahead and sacrificed his son. He buried his head in his hands and wept. Even as an old man the memory moved him deeply. His son’s trust, Elohim’s faithfulness, and then the realization that his God did not want His people to sacrifice their children.

Very slowly the memory faded and he was again aware of the night sounds, the dark sky punctured with bright stars, the smells of damp earth and growing things, and finally the fresh breeze that toyed with the tent flaps and lifted the sand at his feet.
Yes, I must send Keturah and her sons away. Isaac would not have the strength to do it. He would give in to their pleading, might even give them his birthright.

With great effort he raised himself, dusted the sand from his robes, and turned back into his tent. He rolled his shawl into a pillow and eased himself down onto his mat and was soon fast asleep.

The next day he woke with a new feeling of urgency. He had to accomplish all that needed to be done. He must make his announcements soon and carry out his decision quickly. Keturah and her sons must be sent away as soon as possible. First, he would have to tell Keturah. Then he would have to make an announcement to his immediate family and close tribesmen.

Before he took any action, he called Eleazar and conferred with him. He must not offend his friend who was Keturah’s father, and he did not want his sons to feel that he had been unfair.

When Eleazar came, Abraham did not ask his advice as he often had done in the past; instead he simply told him his plan. “You must take several trusted men and ride as quickly as possible to my old friend, Keturah’s father. You will tell him that I am soon to be gathered to my people and I must leave my camp in order.”

Eleazar started to object but was silenced by Abraham’s stern look and upraised hand. “You will tell him,” Abraham continued, “that while I have a son to manage my affairs when I am gone, I know that he has none. He gave Keturah to me at a time when I needed her; now I am ready to return her with her six sons and such of my wealth as they will need. They are good sons and grandsons and will bless him in his old age.”

Eleazar was gone for a fortnight, and when he returned he had nothing but good news to impart. “The old prince welcomed me as though I were a brother,” he said, “and when I told him your decision, he wept.” His daughters were all married and gone and both his trading business and his herds were being managed by hired strangers. He was being raided and terrorized by robbers and he expected at any time to be taken prisoner and have all his wealth snatched from him.

Now when Abraham called Keturah and told her of his decision and the problems her father was having, she didn’t object. She had quickly seen that it would be to her sons’ advantage to be in a secure position. However, Abraham was amused to see how shrewd she was in bargaining with him. “She makes decisions like a man,” he confided to Isaac.

There was much discussion and argument among Keturah’s sons until they finally concluded that in all that was planned, they would be the winners. In the end they were impatient to leave and actually resisted the effort of their father to send them off with dancing and singing and huge feasts. They bragged and strutted about with a new sense of their importance.

Esau welcomed their leaving, but Jacob had a different reaction. For the first time he fully understood the importance of being the firstborn, of inheriting the birthright and the blessing. These were things he valued all the more since he felt they could be denied him.

Many times he had heard his mother telling of his birth and the word she had received from the Lord. To her it was all settled—he, Jacob, was to have the blessing and the birthright. However, he knew that his father had paid no attention to anything his mother had said. He was assuming that Esau would have both the birthright and the blessing.

To make his situation even more bitter, now both Zimran and Jokshan taunted him, saying, “It’s your brother, Esau, who will inherit everything. You will only prosper in his shadow.” At this they would nudge each other and smirk. He noticed with growing frustration that they treated Esau very differently. Since he was to receive the blessing and the birthright, they wanted him as their friend.

He understood quite well why the sons of Keturah were being sent off to their grandfather. This was how things were done. The firstborn son must have no competition. He wondered how long it would be before a choice would have to be made between himself and his twin brother. What would happen when his mother and father at last confronted their very different ideas of what should take place? Of course nothing would happen until Abraham died. When he died, everything would eventually be brought out into the open, and there could be some terrible conflicts.

J
acob watched Keturah and her sons leave with a feeling of relief. The last few days had been filled with feasting and packing, some crying, and more advice given back and forth. At the last, Keturah was concerned for Abraham’s care. He was not strong now and would need constant attention. “He must have warm broth on waking in the morning and fruit in season,” she told Rebekah. “Perhaps you could have Jacob tend to these things. He is the only one who doesn’t have something important to do.”

Rebekah was ready to give a quick retort and then thought better of it. The suggestion was good even though the snide remark was not. In this simple way it came about that Jacob was chosen to spend time with his grandfather and to minister to his needs.

Several days before Keturah was to leave, Jacob was brought to his grandfather’s tent. Abraham had only been told that one of the twins would stay with him and would take care of any needs he might have. He had obviously assumed it would be Esau. He had muttered something about having envisioned “feasting on some of the boy’s venison.” More than that, it was obvious that he had looked forward to spending time making sure Esau was grounded in the basic beliefs and history of their family.

When Jacob appeared, Abraham could not help but show his disappointment. He even spoke to Isaac about it, but nothing could be done. Esau was not only absent on hunting trips but had begun to spend time courting a young Hittite maiden who lived in the city of Kiriath-arba (also called Hebron). “We are not pleased that he is so interested in a Hittite, but there is no one else for our sons here,” Isaac explained.

Before Keturah left, she took Jacob and showed him all that he would be responsible for in caring for his grandfather. She was concerned that Abraham not only have the proper food but that it be cut in pieces easy to chew; the sauces for dipping his bread should be seasoned with mint and basil; while for his stomach’s sake he must have cardamom in warm camel’s milk. At night Jacob must warm a stone to put at his feet.

The instructions went on endlessly until Jacob was afraid he could not remember everything and begged to be released from the responsibility. He went first to Rebekah, who was preparing some birds for their dinner. He begged her to make some other arrangement. “No, no,” she said. “This is a good time for you to learn everything you must know if you are to have the birthright and the blessing.”

“But Esau said …” he began.

“We are not listening to Esau or anyone else,” his mother retorted. “It was Elohim Himself who spoke and told me the younger was to rule the older. That should be enough for you. Don’t listen to all these people who didn’t hear the voice.”

“But my father …” Jacob said.

Now Rebekah stood up. The bird she had been plucking dangled from one hand, and with the back of the other, she pushed away a stray curl that had crept from the tightly wound head cloth. For a moment she just stood looking at Jacob, and then she frowned. “I’m going to tell you something you must never forget,” she said. “You are the chosen one. You are the one who will receive the blessing and the birthright. I don’t know how it will come about or when, but that’s what’s going to happen.”

She pulled off a few more feathers, then handed the bird to one of the serving girls. “Come,” she said. “I, myself, am taking you to your grandfather. You must listen to all he has to say. You must remember everything. He’ll not live long and these things he knows must not be forgotten.”