He found his sons were too ashamed to face him. Neither did they want to go back to the village and see the devastation they had brought about, but Jacob made them go. They saw the broken wine jugs, the scattered grain, broken grindstones, and torn cushions and mats. Worst of all were the bodies of the men lying just where they had fallen. “You must dig graves for them,” Jacob commanded.
When these things were accomplished, Jacob called them all together. “We can never go back to the innocence of yesterday. We must go on. We must somehow go up to Bethel where I first encountered the God of Abraham and Isaac, but we cannot go as we are. We have found that each of us has failed. Elohim has seen all the evil we have done, even the thoughts that are hidden, and He is not pleased.”
Suddenly there was a shrill cry as Leah covered her face and wept bitterly. Dinah hurried to her mother and tried to comfort her, while her sons one after the other found their eyes stinging with tears. “It is me and my sons, my sons that I was so proud of, and my beautiful daughter who have brought this disgrace to our family. I cannot bear it. It is too much,” Leah wailed, rocking back and forth in her grief.
Jacob was moved as he saw the pride of Leah crumble. She had never thought of herself and her children as being anything but perfect. What a blow it was to her. How difficult to see her dreams of glory crushed by her own children.
He glanced at Rachel and saw that she was astonished to see her sister so humbled. His dear, beautiful Rachel with her one son was the only untarnished part of his family. Joseph would never be guilty of such unbridled cruelty. “Could it be,” he wondered, “that after all I am the guilty one? I have never loved Leah or her children.”
* * *
“What can we do with these?” Jacob had been so engrossed in his own thoughts that he had not realized Rachel had left the group. Now here she stood with the hated idols gathered up in her mantle. She was holding them out and pleading with him to rid her of them. “I have not trusted in Elohim,” she said. “I can’t go to your Bethel and face Him with these.”
“Father,” Joseph said, “we must bury them under the great tree and then we will be ready to go to Bethel.”
That was what they finally did. Each person brought out the strange gods, charms, stones of divination, and even the earrings and jewelry they had purchased at fairs from temple craftsmen. They piled them all up in a heap and then stood back and watched as Leah’s sons dug a pit and shoveled them in. Some of them had precious jewels, and Rachel’s idols had been crafted by Terah in Ur and were family treasures. Once the ground was level and the grass again placed over the spot, they felt somehow lighter, less burdened. They had done all they could think to do and were now ready to go up to Bethel.
That night Rachel wept, thinking that now she would never have another son. The fertility idols were gone and Elohim never seemed to listen to her prayers. When Jacob came, he found her crying. “I had so hoped to have another child,” she said.
Jacob had been deeply touched by her sacrifice of the idols. He knew what it had cost her to give them up. She had never heard the voice of Elohim and she had wanted only one thing, to have children, and that had been denied her except for Joseph.
With a great feeling of tenderness for her, he stayed with her, and it was from that night she counted her pregnancy.
* * *
They could not leave immediately. There were too many decisions to make, too much to do. The flocks were not ready to travel with the young lambs, and the barley they had planted must be harvested. However, the day finally came when they were ready to go. Each one looked around at the valley that had seemed so peaceful until they had arrived, and they regretted having to leave.
Jacob stopped by the well and lowered a jar for water. “We will never find sweeter water,” he said reluctantly. As he drank he thought of the great mystery of a well. They would leave the valley and never return, but the well would be here giving water to multitudes of people he would never see. To dig a well was a great and good thing. Perhaps it was the only bit of lasting good they had done during their stay.
He watched as the women watered the animals for the last time, then filled their water jars and skins in preparation for the journey to Bethel. They were silent with bitter memories of all that had happened here. Sadly, each one turned and joined the column that was already headed out on the southern trail that would lead them to Bethel. They hoped to find peace at Bethel, but they would never again think of themselves as deserving Abraham’s blessing.
From Shechem to Bethel is not a great distance, but Jacob’s company was large and cumbersome. To add to the many other complications, Rachel was nauseated because of her pregnancy. She would often be faint and dizzy, begging them to stop for a few days so she could rest. Others insisted on moving slowly because they were fearful of what they might encounter in the cities they had to pass along the ridge. To their dismay, the news of Shechem’s tragedy had gone on before them, and the people in the villages were afraid of them.
When they had to stop near a well for water, they found the women and children backing away, then running from them shrieking in terror. When Jacob and his sons approached men sitting at the town gate, the men would stand up, push back their stools, and hurry inside. The gates would be forcefully closed and locked. No more friendly advances were made to them, as had been made at Shechem. It was obvious that everyone wanted them to pass by as quickly as possible.
When they finally came near the city of Luz, Jacob sent gifts to their king and finally messengers explaining that they wished only to camp close by and to worship their God.
It was evening when he received word from the elders in the city of Luz that he and his family would be welcome. They could use the well and graze their herds on the open hillside.
He did not know whether the welcome was extended because of the gifts or out of fear, but he was determined not to let anything spoil his return.
“Tomorrow we will come to Bethel,” he announced with great excitement. “It is the very doorway to the house of our God.” He seemed not to notice that most of them were frightened.
“How are we to come to this place?” one of them asked. “Is it with tears and weeping?”
“No, no,” Jacob said. “We will come with singing and dancing and celebration, for all the promises made to me when I fled from home have been abundantly kept. Most of all, we will come with thanksgiving and praise to the God who has been faithful.”
While the men and boys were setting up the tents, Jacob walked off by himself. He wanted to ponder all that had happened to him so long ago. It was here he had stopped for the night as he fled from home, and it was here that he had seen the steps with the angels ascending and descending. Most important, it was in this place Elohim, God of his father and of his grandfather, had given him encouragement and a promise of protection. Then he had not imagined it would be so many years before he would return.
Now he could see the hillside was barren and windswept. If one looked to the east, it was almost possible to see the deep depression of the Jordan and to the west vineyards and olive trees clinging to their terraced plots. The open area where he had stopped was still covered with stones. Some were outcroppings from the ground, but others lay scattered aimlessly about. It would be easy to build an altar. He remembered the stone he had used as a pillow and how he had set it upright and anointed it with olive oil. To his surprise the stone was still there, only it had been tipped on its side as though it was used for some shepherd’s seat.
“We’ll build the altar here,” he said to himself. “We’ll offer sacrifices unto our God and seek forgiveness for all the wrong we have done. We have cast out the false gods and have put on clean clothes; now we must cleanse our minds and our hearts so we can be worthy of the blessing.”
Everything worked out as he had planned. The altar was built and the sacrifices made. He could tell by the expressions on their faces that each one had entered into the spirit of the occasion. He was pl
eased to see that Simeon and Levi were especially moved by the whole experience. He felt greatly encouraged. In fact, as his sons gathered around him, he reached out to them with tears in his eyes and said, “You are indeed becoming the sons of blessing and promise.”
At that moment he felt that each one had been cleansed of the evil impulse that had so often controlled them in the past. Now he hoped they could move on to see his father, Isaac, with no dark secrets.
Only one thing bothered him. He was not sure that he still merited the new name given him by the secret wrestler at the Jabbok. He did not feel that he deserved to be called “God’s Prince.” Maybe, after all, he was still Jacob, the manipulator, the grabber.
Since Rachel was having more difficulty, he found that reason enough to stay right where they were for a while. They were in no hurry. He remembered that when he had been instructed to return to Bethel, he had also been told to settle there. This suited him well for the present. His sons found plenty of game in the thickets of the Jordan, and their herds grazed freely along the barren hillsides.
He knew at some time he would have to go see his father and settle things with Esau. There were many things he didn’t know and didn’t understand. It seemed best if, for the present, he camped right where he was.
Often he would go out in the evening and look down the road that led past the small towns on the way to Kirjath-arba where his father was living. It wasn’t far, for he knew the road went straight as a hawk might fly. He could picture himself going down the road and coming to his father’s tent, but there the whole dream came to an end. What did his father think of him now? Would his father only remember him as Jacob the cheater, the manipulator? For a brief time after his experience at the Jabbok, he had felt that the old Jacob no longer existed. He was a new creature; he was Israel. But after Shechem he was no longer so sure.
On this special night he walked out from the camp alone and sat under an olive tree. He felt exhausted with the struggle to deem himself worthy of meeting his father. The problem had been ticking relentlessly at the back of his mind ever since he had decided to leave Haran. He had gone over and over every bit of the deception he had engaged in. He cringed remembering his blind father’s questioning and finally accepting that he was indeed Esau.
Then he also had to think of how he had cheated his brother. He had felt so justified at the time. There had been his mother’s assurance that she had heard it from Elohim. That made it seem right. Now he must also face the crushing news that his mother was no longer alive. He must go home and face his father and his brother without his mother’s support.
In the end he came to the conclusion that if he could be sure it was Elohim that had chosen him for the birthright and the blessing, then he would be free of this torment. Since living in Haran, he had become acutely aware of the Laban-like craftiness in his own nature. His father, Isaac, and even his brother, Esau, had never resorted to such underhanded deceptions. Since he had seen himself in this light, he could not believe that he could possibly be chosen by the God of his father for the blessing.
Gradually, in the midst of these dark admissions, a strange and wonderful thought began to emerge. First at the edges of his mind and then in a sunburst of revelation. If he could ever be sure it was Elohim’s choice for him to have the birthright and the blessing, could he not also believe there was also a good plan for Esau? Esau was very different. He wanted different things, had different goals. He was a man who judged his success in physical terms: his land, his wives, his herds, and the chance to amass a fortune.
Jacob was so excited he jumped up and paced back and forth. All these years he had felt such guilt. Of course he had been wrong to go about it in such an unscrupulous way. But what if Elohim knew that the blessing wouldn’t fit Esau? Esau was not a man who would ponder the ways of his God or bother to build altars. He plunged into life with full assurance that he would succeed. If he made mistakes, he didn’t mull over them; he just altered his course.
It was late but Jacob could hardly contain his excitement. He sat down on an outcropping of rock and leaned back on his elbows so he could look at the stars. His father, Isaac, had set great store by the stars. With only the two sons, he still believed his descendants would be as the stars in number and as the grains of sand. Of course both Abraham and Isaac had envisioned these descendants being perfect. What would they have thought of Dinah’s willingness to give herself to a man who wasn’t her husband, his sons’ ugly slaughter at Shechem, and the many idols he had found among his own family? Esau too had disappointed his father with his idol-worshiping wives.
Jacob felt a great stillness settle over him. It was beyond remorse or guilt. He no longer excused himself, nor did he try to hide from ugly truths. He had nothing to offer Elohim but himself, and now he had to admit that if he were Elohim, he would not place even one bet on him. At the Jabbok when the stranger had wrestled with him and then called him Israel, the full extent of his unworthiness had not become evident. Now he was sure the wrestler would never call him Israel.
Jacob realized it was late and that he should return to his tent, but he was strangely hesitant. He was vaguely aware that all their campfires had been extinguished; the pinprick of light from clay lamps no longer glistened through the rough camel hair of the tents stretched out below him. The distant, muffled murmur of voices had died down and even the bleating of the lambs had ceased. The full moon rode high over the distant mountains above the Jordan.
A slight breeze began to blow. The sand at his feet rose in small clouds; the olive tree at his back came alive at the wind’s movement. Clouds scudded across the sky and covered the moon. He tried to stand but felt the growing tug of the wind pulling at his cloak, dislodging his headpiece, and pushing him back onto the stone seat. There was something almost human about the wind’s attack. He felt a powerful presence hovering over and around him. He cringed, covered his face with his hands.
Just as suddenly as it had begun, the wind ceased and a strange calm surrounded him. Then out of the midst of the silence, he heard the familiar voice. “You shall no longer be called Jacob the grabber,” the voice said, “but you shall be called Israel, one who prevails with God.” Jacob began to weep. He could hardly believe what he was hearing. “I am El Shaddai, the Almighty God,” the voice continued. “I will cause you to become a great nation, even many nations. Kings will be among your descendants. I will give to you and your descendants the land I gave to Abraham and Isaac.”
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.”
The Sons of Isaac Page 28