The Sons of Isaac

by Roberta Kells Dorr

  To Rachel’s delight the girl became pregnant two times and both times produced sons.

  When the first little boy was placed in her arms, Rachel wept for joy. “I’m going to name him Dan,” she said. When Jacob asked what the name meant to her, she said, “Dan means justice. God has heard my plea for a son and at last He has given me justice.”

  The second son born to her, through Bilhah, she named Naphtali, or wrestling. When asked why she named him this, she quickly answered, “I am in a fierce contest with my sister and I am winning.”

  Jacob felt that with these two births the conflict would be finally settled. Leah had four sons and now Rachel had two that she had adopted as her own. He was content when Leah no longer became pregnant.

  It was well into the tenth year of Jacob’s work to pay for Rachel that he decided to move. There were too many children to fit comfortably into Laban’s house. There was too much noise and confusion. Laban himself facilitated the move by giving him a house nearby that had belonged to Nazzim.

  It had been a long time since anyone had lived there, and though it was of sturdy stone, built around a generous courtyard, it was badly in need of repair. The beams of the roof were still strong but the reed mats, thorny wood covering, and clay mortar had all given way during the rainy seasons. The roof would have to be completely redone.

  Inside, the rooms were knee-deep in debris that had fallen from the roof. There were cobwebs and field mice, and the courtyard was cluttered with odd bits of broken yokes, plows, bows, and several clay ovens that were cracked and useless. Since it was Leah who had the children who needed more space, and since she was the one who wanted everything clean and orderly, it became her lot to see that the house was made livable.

  Leah and her children were to have the two rooms on the left of the courtyard and Rachel, though she had only the two sons by Bilhah, insisted on the same number of rooms on the right. In the middle was a long room that was used for any formal entertaining and sometimes eating when it was raining outside. Most of the time everyone would spend their days outside in the courtyard or on the roof, where Leah planned to keep her loom.

  When the roof was finished, Jacob chose to have a room built for himself up there, where he could have peace and quiet. From time to time, he would call one of the women to join him or entertain his close friends, leaving the rest of the house to his wives and children. “Men don’t need to be bothered with the children and the household activities” was the thinking of most people in Haran.

  * * *

  In the new house things went along much as usual, except that Leah found that she was no longer able to get pregnant. In the midst of great frustration, she determined to do as her sister had done and give her maid, Zilpah, to Jacob. Zilpah readily agreed and it was not long before she was pregnant. When Leah heard the news, she was delirious with joy. She insisted that Zilpah be given the freshest fruit, the choice bits of meat, and be relieved of all work. “It’s important that you have a son,” she said. “Even my sister, Rachel, is taunting me.”

  “Taunting you?” Zilpah asked.

  “Yes, she says my lucky days are over. I’ll have no more children. I must prove her wrong.”

  Zilpah didn’t take her seriously, but when the child was born, she understood. Leah named him Gad, meaning “my luck has turned.” When Jacob heard of the turn his wives’ rivalry had taken, he was in despair.

  It seemed to him that one could not put a foot down anyplace inside the courtyard without stumbling over a child. He had not imagined that he, coming from a family of few children, could possibly produce so many children. After years of earnest prayer, his grandfather Abraham had only been able to have Isaac with Sarah. His own father had produced only twins. He was not prepared for this blossoming. He remembered Elohim’s promise to his grandfather that his seed would be as the sand or as the stars, and he began to fear that he alone was about to fulfill that prophecy.

  He could not understand Leah’s obsession. She never stopped planning how she could get more children. “Sleep with Zilpah again,” she urged Jacob. “Let’s see if my luck has truly taken a turn for the better.”

  Jacob found Zilpah a pleasant change from Leah. She was young and eager to please. Most of all she was quiet and never came with some hidden motive. So it was easy for him to let Zilpah take Leah’s turn. To his surprise once again she became pregnant. Leah was overjoyed. She named the child Asher, meaning “happy.” “What amazing luck is mine,” she said. “How the other women will envy me. I am truly happy.”

  Now there was constant tension intensified by Rachel’s decision to make their courtyard more attractive. “I want it to be both pleasant and restful,” she said.

  For a whole month she worked planting herbs and flowers in the narrow plot against the far wall. She brought in servants to chop up the hard-packed earth and dig pits for a grapevine and finally a fig tree. Last of all she bought reed cages for pigeons and small songbirds. It took time and a great deal of work, but it totally transformed the humble courtyard.

  It was not to last long. Leah’s rowdy sons tumbled and tussled, roughly breaking off the tender twigs of the fig tree to swat at each other, then wrestled in the flower plot totally crushing the small plants. Finally, they climbed up and opened the cages just to see the birds fly out.

  Rachel was at first crushed and then furious. “If Bilhah and I can manage our boys, surely you can do as well,” she chided Leah.

  “They meant no harm,” Leah said. “There are just so many of them.” She seemed almost proud that her sons were so boisterous and unruly.

  Relief finally came when it was decided that the older sons of Leah could help with the wheat harvest. They were young, but many tasks could be easily done by the boys. Jacob was proud to have sons who could help him in the field. They could not wield the heavy flint sickle, but they could follow the reapers and gather the stray stalks.

  The boys had watched with interest as Jacob had taken an old sickle loaned to him by Laban and repaired it. He had found some of the matched pieces of flint missing around the edge and had carefully reshaped new bits of flint to take their place. He then had melted the pitch and glued them in place. When he was finished he had a sickle that was better than the new ones that he had seen in the market.

  Every part of the harvest was of interest to the boys. They had energy enough not only to glean every stray stalk of wheat but also to explore and make discoveries that were quite unrelated to the harvest. They found old bird nests, strangely shaped stones, hedgehogs, and small mice to collect and take home.

  It was Leah’s oldest son, Reuben, who made the choicest discovery. He was running after one of his brothers when suddenly, right at his feet, he saw a strange plant with ovate green leaves and whitish flowers. He stopped abruptly and bent down to look at it more closely. He was sure it was the plant his mother prized above all others. He took a stick and dug around the base until he had totally loosened it. Then, with a tug, the plant came free in his hand. He saw the strange human shape and knew it was indeed a mandrake.

  He didn’t stop to tell anyone where he was going but ran as fast as he could back to the house. He sprang into the courtyard with a bound and came face-to-face with Rachel. “What have you there?” she said.

  “I think it’s one of those plants my mother treasures. They give a woman the children she wants.”

  Rachel looked at it more closely and saw that it was a mandrake and immediately wanted it. “Where are you going with it?” she asked.

  “I’m taking it to my mother.” He held it behind his back and edged toward the door to his mother’s room.

  Rachel followed him. “Your son has found these mandrakes,” she announced to Leah. “Of course you have no need of them.”

  Leah quickly snatched the mandrakes from her son and turned to Rachel. “So,” she said, “it’s not enough that you have stolen my husband, but now you are about to steal my son’s mandrakes.”

  “No, no,”
Rachel said. “I am ready to bargain. Give me the mandrakes and you can sleep with Jacob tonight.”

  Leah hesitated only a moment, and then she thrust the mandrakes into Rachel’s hands. “I accept the bargain. I get Jacob tonight and you get the mandrakes.”

  * * *

  Leah wasted no time. As soon as the door was shut, she hurried to change her clothes, twine gold threads through her hair, and outline her eyes with dark kohl. She snatched up a head covering and was soon hurrying across the courtyard and out the gate. She wanted to meet Jacob and make sure he knew that he was to spend the night with her.

  To everyone’s surprise she became pregnant, and when another son was born, she named him Issachar, or “wages.” She wanted to remember that she had bargained for Jacob and had been given this son.

  She was to have one more son, and this one she named Zebulun, or “gifts.” “God has given me many gifts for my husband. Now he will surely love me, for I have given him six sons.” By this time Leah was sure that Rachel could never catch up with her. “She will never have a child of her own,” Leah said. “Surely I have won in the conflict with my sister.”

  When a baby girl was born to Leah, she decided to relax in the knowledge that she had given Jacob a whole quiver full of children. “What can my sister do to equal what I have already done?” Leah reasoned to herself. “Surely he will love me now more than he loves her.”

  * * *

  When the mandrakes failed to produce the desired result, Rachel gave up all hope of ever having her own child. She had done everything possible, even trusting the small fertility goddess tucked into the fold of her waistband. “Year after year I have gone to consult the women of magic and spells and have done all that they have advised,” she told Jacob at last. “There is nothing more to be done.”

  Jacob was surprised. He knew that women had, from the beginning of time, resorted to various methods to get what they wanted, but it seemed obvious to him that only Elohim could give children. “Has your sister, Leah, gone to all this effort?” he asked, taking the small image she handed him and studying its harsh features.

  “No, she was so angry at the old goat-man for not making you love her that she’s refused to have anything to do with any of them,” Rachel said.

  “Have you asked Elohim for a child?” Jacob questioned.

  “Not really. I thought you would deal with Him. How can you ask anything of someone you can’t see?”

  Jacob didn’t answer right away. He was deep in thought. It had been at Bethel he had first experienced the reality of his God. “Rachel,” he said finally, “put all these charms and potions away. Forget everything you have been told by the old women who deal in magic. When you have done all these things, sit down by yourself and just talk to Elohim as you are talking to me. Tell Him you want a child and see what happens.”

  “The charms work for others,” Rachel said. “Why won’t they work for me? I know many friends who have gotten pregnant after eating a mandrake root.”

  This puzzled Jacob. There were mysteries he didn’t understand. However, he was beginning to see a vague pattern in situations his father would call “the ways of Elohim.”

  “Perhaps,” he said at last, “this child is to be a very special child and you must know that he is a gift to you from Elohim.”

  That surprised Rachel. “You sound as though you already know I will have a child.”

  Jacob laughed. “I’m not sure of anything. However, from what you yourself have told me, I can see that you bargained to get the mandrake from Leah. You ate the mandrake and she didn’t, but she got pregnant.”

  Rachel looked at him in amazement. “That’s right,” she said. “Perhaps it really is Elohim who gives children.”

  “I can see how it seems logical that a little fertility goddess would be the one to give a woman a child. But don’t you see, this is only made of clay.”

  “I know the clay itself has no strength, but there seems to be some magical power that works through this little idol.”

  “It may be that power is from the evil jinn. In our family we trust in Elohim, the supreme, creator God. Ask Him for a child and see what happens.”

  Rachel didn’t answer, but when he handed the small idol back to her, she took it and held it for a few moments. “Here,” she said. “You keep it and I’ll do as you say. If I become pregnant, you can destroy the little image.”

  To Rachel’s great surprise and joy, within the fortnight she was actually pregnant. She did not dare tell Leah until she felt the child moving when she placed her hand on the growing mound of her belly. “I’m pregnant,” she said. “I really am going to have a child.” She cried and laughed and hugged Leah and Bilhah and Zilpah in her excitement. They could not believe her at first.

  “Don’t celebrate too soon,” they warned. “It could be just a knot or a stone.”

  “A stone that kicks and jumps?” she countered. “No, it’s a child and I’m going to enjoy every moment.”

  “Enjoy!” they exclaimed. “There’s nothing to enjoy until the child is safely here.”

  “You don’t understand,” Rachel said. “For you this is all so easy. It isn’t wonderful and exciting, but for me it’s a miracle.”

  Leah was annoyed. A woman wasn’t supposed to enjoy the process of being pregnant and giving birth. It was a time when most of them complained and called attention to their aches and pains. “Well,” she sputtered finally, “if you really are pregnant, you’ll soon find it isn’t as pleasant as you’re thinking.”

  It was on a sunny day in early spring when Rachel went into labor. Outside the storks were flying north and several dropped down into the courtyard to peck at some grain. “It is a good omen,” some of the old midwives announced. “This child will be a special child. He’ll do amazing things and go places we can’t even imagine.”

  Leah heard them and scoffed. “It’s the business of old women to please new mothers with such predictions.” Nevertheless she could not hide a bit of compassion for her sister when she saw her sweat-streaked face, her hair hanging in damp curls around her cheeks, and her joy.

  Rachel had insisted on bathing the baby and rubbing him with salt, and she was struggling to wrap him in the swaddling clothes. “See how perfect he is,” she said and beamed.

  Leah only saw that he was small and very red with an astonishing shock of black hair. He was not as plump and pretty as her babies had been, but impulsively she squatted beside Rachel to help her. “Here, let me show you,” Leah said.

  She took the long strip of cloth and starting at the neck neatly wound the cloth so the child’s arms and then little legs were held firmly in place. As she wrapped she instructed her sister. “It’s important to keep the wrapping on until the tender bones become strong enough to move about.” She then placed the baby in a leather cradle suspended from one of the rafters.

  Rachel reached out to take the child from the cradle but Leah stopped her. “It’s best to leave the child in its bed and gently move the cradle with this cord.” She demonstrated by tugging on a hempen cord. “Both night and day you have to hold on to the cord,” she said.

  “There,” she said, as she tied a few shells for good luck to the hempen cord. “I hope you’re giving proper credit to the mandrake I let you have.”

  Rachel looked up at her sister in amazement. “No, that was a long time ago. It didn’t work. It’s Elohim of my husband who at last saw my plight. He’s the One who has removed the dark slur against my name and has given me this child.”

  “So,” Leah said, “what have you named him?” She hoped in this way to find just what her sister’s plans were for the child.

  “I’ve named him Joseph, for I want Elohim to give me another son.”

  “Joseph,” Leah repeated. “‘May I also have another.’ What a strange name for a child. If the old midwives are right, this child is special and there’ll never be another quite like him.”

  “I know he’s special,” Rachel said withou
t looking up to see her sister’s amusement.

  Word spread quickly among Leah’s sons that the midwives had pronounced great things for this child and that Jacob, their father, was delighted with him. They crowded in to see him while grimacing and winking to each other as they covenanted to stick together. “It’s all of us against him. We’ll see how special he can be,” they said and smirked. From that moment on, they were determined to see that this new brother would get no special treatment from them.

  * * *

  The fourteen years were soon up, and Jacob was eager to return home. He had mentioned this several times to Laban when they were out in the fields and had gotten no response. A great fear began to take possession of him. He could see that Laban was mulling over the situation and hatching some plot to keep him and his family in Haran.

  At last, when they were sitting together under the grape arbor on Laban’s roof watching for the new moon, Laban spoke. “You must agree that these have been good years. My daughters have blessed you with sons and I have seen that you have had a house and food.”

  “And you have grown rich with my labor. Now the fourteen years we agreed on are up. It’s time for me to take my wives and children back to my own family and home.”

  Laban shifted uneasily. It was obvious that he had been expecting this very thing. He knew he must handle it carefully. “Of course I don’t want you to leave.”

  Jacob quickly interrupted. “When I came I did not expect to remain here such a long time. I’ve stayed the fourteen years you asked of me, and now my wives and my children belong to me.”

  Laban frowned and coughed nervously. “I admit all that you say is true. I’ll even admit that since you have been here, I’ve prospered beyond anything I could have imagined. I checked with a fortune-teller in the market and she agrees, the blessings I’ve received are because of you. You are like a lucky stone. You bring people luck who have none in themselves.”

  Jacob grew impatient. He ignored Laban’s fine words and interrupted him to say, “I must return home. Surely you can understand; I’ve not seen my mother or father for all these years.”