Signs and Wonders

by Bernard Evslin

  “Speak your wish.”

  “Put your hand under my thigh.”

  Eleazer placed his hand under the old man’s thigh. This was a token that a mighty oath was to be sworn.

  Abraham said: “I wish you to swear by the Lord God, maker of heaven and earth, that you will not allow my son Isaac to take a wife from among the daughters of Canaan.”

  “We have dwelt here many years,” said Eleazer. “You are a great man among the Canaanites.”

  “Nevertheless,” said Abraham, “I am not of their blood, nor is Isaac. And Isaac is the inheritor. It has been promised that he will father sons who will become a mighty nation, blessed of God. Therefore, I want him to take his wife from among the daughters of my kinsmen who dwell beyond these borders. You must journey there and choose a maiden strong and beautiful—like my beloved wife, Sarah—a daughter of our own people, to be the mother of nations.”

  Eleazer said: “Suppose the girl is unwilling to leave her family and come into a strange land. Shall I take Isaac back to her?”

  “You shall not. Isaac is not to leave Canaan. God has promised him this land, and his sons after him. You shall journey to where I was born to find a wife for my son, and God will send his angel before you to clear the way. If the maiden does not follow you back to Canaan, then she is unfit to be my son’s wife, and you must find another. Do you understand?”

  “I understand.”

  “Do you swear?”

  “I swear by the Almighty God to do as you wish.”

  Then Eleazer kissed Abraham’s hand, but Abraham arose and embraced him, for he knew he would never see his servant again.

  “Farewell,” said Abraham. “Choose carefully. And do not grieve that I must leave you. The Lord has blessed me and blessed my seed. I am ripe for death and He harvests my soul. And I am glad, for where I go Sarah waits.”

  Eleazer packed bales of silk and samite, and gold and diamonds enough to load ten camels, and departed in a rich caravan. He journeyed to a land bordering Ur, where Abraham’s brothers, the sons of Terah, dwelt, and their children and great-grandchildren. He did not enter the city but stopped before its gates, where there was a fountain of water and a deep well. It was evening, and women were coming through the gates to draw water. He made his camels kneel at the well, but did not allow them to drink.

  Eleazer lifted his face to the sky and said: “Lord, show me the way, that I may serve your servant, Abraham, according to his wish. Show me a sign. I shall stand at the well as the daughters of the city come to draw water. And I shall ask certain of these maidens to give me a drink, choosing only those who seem graceful and strong, and fit to be Isaac’s wife. And let this be the sign: The one who will say, ‘Drink, and I will draw water for your camels, also,’ that one I shall know to be the one you have chosen as Isaac’s wife.”

  No sooner had he stopped speaking than he saw a girl come through the gates who was so beautiful that, old man though he was, he felt the sap rise in his limbs. She was slender as a gazelle, with great black eyes and long black hair bound in a silver fillet. He heard her laugh among the maidens, and her laughter was like music to him. He watched her as she came to the fountain, and filled a heavy copper pitcher and lifted it to her shoulder in one easy motion. He walked to her slowly, and she watched him come, modest before a stranger but unafraid. He said: “Give me, I pray you, a little water from your pitcher.”

  “Drink, my lord,” she said, and swung the pitcher from her shoulder, tilting it for him to drink. Her fragrance was like the night-flowering jasmine.

  Oh, God, let her be the one, said Eleazer in his heart. Let her say the words I want to hear.

  He drank slowly to give her time. He drank until he thought he must burst. “Thank you, sweet maiden,” he said.

  “Are you a stranger, my lord?”

  “I come from afar.”

  “Do those camels belong to you?”

  “They do.”

  “May I draw water for them, also, and give them to drink?”

  “They are many, and they are thirsty.”

  “I shall be swift,” she said. She ran to the well and drew water, bucket after bucket, running back and forth with the heavy buckets until the camels had drunk their fill. And Eleazer stared in wonder.

  When she had finished she returned to him and said: “Your camels have drunk. They were very thirsty.”

  “What is your name, gentle maiden?”

  “Rebecca, my lord.”

  “You have been kind to a stranger, Rebecca. Will your father welcome us as well? Will he give us lodging in his house?”

  “He will. And lodging for your servants and straw for your camels.”

  “What is your father’s name?”

  “Bethuel.”

  “And his father?”

  “Nahor is his name.”

  “Nahor, son of Terah?”

  “The same, my lord.”

  “Nahor, whose brother was Abram?”

  “My grandfather tells us tales of his brother, who is called Abraham now and has become a mighty man in Canaan.”

  Eleazer bowed to the ground and said: “Blessed be the Lord who has showed me the way.” He arose and gave Rebecca a heavy gold bracelet and earrings of ruby and gold.

  “I cannot take such gifts from a stranger,” she said.

  “They are not from a stranger. They are from your grandfather’s brother, Abraham, who is my master, and whose servant I am.”

  Rebecca ran home. “Mother, Mother!” she cried. “A guest is coming. He came all the way from Canaan—from the tents of Abraham, who is my grandfather’s brother. Look what he gave me!”

  Rebecca had a brother, Laban, who knew the ways of the world. When he heard his sister’s words and saw the golden bracelet and the earrings of ruby and gold, he ran out of his house to the city gates and beyond them to the fountain. There he saw camels and many servants, and an old man with a long white beard.

  “Why do you stand here at the gates, blessed guest?” he cried. “I am Laban, brother of Rebecca, and I have come to show you the way to my father’s house, which you will honor by your visit.”

  Laban led Eleazer and his caravan through the city to his father’s house. He helped the drivers unpack the camels, feed them, and bed them down. Then he found food and quarters for those who had come with Eleazer. He led Eleazer into the house, where Rebecca and her mother were preparing a great feast.

  Water was sent for, and Eleazer’s feet were washed. All this time the old man said little, but sat observing the household and all in it. Food was set before him, and he said: “I will not eat until I have told my errand.”

  “Speak, honored guest,” said Laban. “We listen.”

  “I am Abraham’s servant,” said Eleazer. “The Lord has blessed Abraham and made him a mighty man in Canaan. Great flocks of sheep graze upon his land, and herds of fat cattle. He is served by shepherds and herdsmen and tillers of the soil, by body-servants and handmaids. He has heaped up gold and silver and precious stones; caravans of camels and donkeys carry his bales to market. He is a mighty man, and mighty among the mighty, for all seek his counsel. His wisdom has been ripened in the service of the Lord.

  “Now, Abraham has a son, Isaac, born of his wife Sarah when she was very old. This son will inherit all that his father has. The Lord also promises that the sons of Isaac shall, in their turn, inherit the entire land of Canaan.”

  All sat in the wavering torchlight listening to the words of the old man. Their food lay untouched before them.

  “Therefore,” said Eleazer, “my master said to me: ‘I am about to die, and I must find a wife for Isaac. She must not be a daughter of the Canaanites, who follow other gods and other ways. You, Eleazer, must go to the land where I was born and find a wife for Isaac among my kindred, who are also Sarah’s kindred. Only there will you find her who will be strong enough to bear God’s heavy favor, and fit to be the mother of nations.’

  “I said farewell to my master and j
ourneyed here from Canaan, and stood near the well beyond the gates of your city, and watched the women and maidens thronging through the gates to draw water. I was bewildered. How could I, a stranger, find a daughter of my master’s kindred among such multitudes? I begged God for a sign, saying, ‘I shall ask certain maidens for a drink, those who are comely and strong. And she who, giving me a drink, offers water also to my camels, that one I shall know has been chosen by you, O God of Abraham.’

  “And, lo! I was answered! No sooner had I raised my voice to heaven than I saw this maiden coming through the gates, carrying a pitcher of beaten copper upon her shoulder, and shining like a torch among the women at the well. When I asked her for a drink, she answered in the words that God had put in her mouth as the sign of His choice. And when I asked her name and her parentage, she told me what I hungered to hear, that she was the granddaughter of Abraham’s brother. Therefore I am here. O my hostess, wife to Bethuel, son of Nahor, Laban, son of Bethuel, son of Nahor who is brother to Abraham, son of Terah, and blessed of God, I ask for this maiden, Rebecca, on behalf of Abraham’s son, Isaac.”

  “How far is Canaan?”

  “Many days’ journey.”

  “How can it be that Isaac is the sole inheritor?” said Laban. “He has an elder brother.”

  “That one, Ishmael, is not the son of Abraham’s wife Sarah, but of Hagar, the Egyptian, Sarah’s handmaid. He has long since left Abraham’s tents and is disinherited. Do not doubt Abraham’s wealth or Isaac’s inheritance. Here are some small tokens.”

  He clapped his hands, summoning his servants, and told them to bring the camel packs from the stable. Bale upon bale of silk and samite were borne in and heaped about Rebecca and her mother.

  “Enough!” said Rebecca.

  “Treasure for treasure,” said Eleazer. “What I give is less than what I take.”

  “Truly, your words are fraught with wisdom,” said Laban.

  Eleazer heaped up bars of gold and silver, and small leather pouches that spilled diamonds and sapphires and rubies, until Laban was bursting with joy.

  “We may not tarry,” said Eleazer. “I was instructed to return straightaway to Canaan with the girl who was chosen.”

  “So soon?” said Rebecca’s mother. “I pray you, not so soon. She is my only daughter.”

  “She must leave you and go to her husband,” said Eleazer.

  “Canaan is so far. I do not know when I shall see her again. Stay ten days.”

  “Please, Mother,” said Laban. “The man knows what he is doing.”

  “Only ten days!”

  “Let us ask the girl,” said Eleazer. He turned to Rebecca, who had been sitting there, silent. “Will you follow me now, or must I seek another to be Isaac’s wife?”

  “I am ready,” said Rebecca.

  Isaac was walking on the plain, and he was full of sorrow. His father had just died and had been buried in the cave at Hebron beside Sarah. Now Isaac was alone. He went to sit in the portals of Sarah’s tent, which Abraham had never taken down, although she had been dead for many years. Sitting there, he seemed to see his mother again, and to hear her. He saw the brilliance of her eyes, felt her touch upon his hair, and heard her laughter. He bowed his head and wept.

  Then he saw a boiling of dust on the plain, as of a caravan coming, and went to meet it. From afar he recognized his father’s camels, which were his now. He saw the white beard of Eleazer and, riding a camel next to the old man, a maiden veiled against the dust. He stood watching.

  The camels came near. The girl raised her hand and flung back the veil. There in the dust and fiery shadows he saw his mother, Sarah, alive again, but young, younger than he had ever known her, young as his father’s memories and the tales of her beauty. For Rebecca’s great black eyes, her floating hair, the brilliance of her smile were very like Sarah’s, but also strange and for the first time.

  Isaac knelt in the dust. “Thank you, God, for what you have sent me,” he said. And he arose to claim his bride.

  Jacob and Esau

  Isaac was rich, possessing flocks and herds, gold and silver and precious stones, caravans of camels and donkeys, and many servants to do his bidding. Nor did he busy himself to increase his wealth, for Eleazer was his steward in all things, his man of business. And there was no man shrewder than Eleazer. Rebecca was Isaac’s sole occupation; he loved her beyond his own knowledge, and she returned his love. And they were all in all to each other—for they had no children.

  Isaac raised his voice to heaven. “God Almighty, God of Abraham, the one God, maker of heaven and earth, I am not the man my father was, and do not hold easy converse with you. But my wife, Rebecca, is barren. She grieves because we are childless. I do not understand how this can be, for you made a covenant with my father that my sons would inherit this land. That sign was cut into my flesh when I was eight days old. Have I misunderstood your intention, O Lord? If so, I pray, enlighten your servant.”

  God spoke: “Your mother was barren until she was ninety. She knew how to wait. Your father knew how to wait. Rebecca is young.”

  “She grieves, being childless.”

  “Go to her tonight.”

  That night Isaac planted a seed in Rebecca’s womb, and that seed quickened into life. She grew very big; her belly swelled to a size never seen, and she was in great pain.

  “Twins,” said the old midwife. “Perhaps more. And they are wrestling in there, causing you this pain.”

  Rebecca feared for her life and inquired of the Lord, who answered, “Two nations are in your womb, and two peoples shall be separated from your body. One people shall be stronger than the other. The elder shall serve the younger.”

  The struggling infants almost tore Rebecca apart, but she clenched her teeth and uttered few moans, for the Lord had told her she was to live, and she did not wish Isaac to know her pain. She labored a day and a night in great agony, and delivered twins. The first one came out with a pelt of red hair like a fox cub. And, holding onto his brother’s heel in a way never before seen came the second twin, all clean and unmarked. They called the first child Esau and the second one Jacob. And from the first sight of him Rebecca loved Jacob best. She tried to hide her feeling, but the thing was known.

  Esau grew into a hairy, merry young man, blazing with energy—a great hunter, a great meat eater, great in all his appetites. His brother, Jacob, was very different. Jacob was a quiet, reflective man, who tended his father’s herds. He learned about cattle from a master herdsman hired by Eleazer—an islander of the Inner Sea who had been shipwrecked on the shore of Canaan, a squat, sullen fellow who looked something like a bull himself and had knowledge beyond any man’s of bull and kine. Working with him, Jacob learned how to cull the herd of weaker stock, and he learned secret tricks of breeding to make cows drop certain kinds of calves. He also learned the best ways of pasturing and watering the herds and keeping them in health.

  Now, Isaac had become something of a glutton, and he loved Esau best because the lad brought him his kill, venison and wild boar. But Rebecca’s love for Jacob was as fresh as when he was at her breast, sucking less greedily than Esau.

  One evening Jacob was before his tent, boiling a pot of lentils over a fire of twigs. And Esau came in from the hunt, carrying a deer slung over his shoulders. He was ravenous, for it had been a long chase. Too hungry to wait until he had roasted the venison, he snatched the pot from the fire. But Jacob snatched it back and said: “It is mine.”

  “Brother, I want it,” cried Esau. “Let me eat the pottage, the red pottage, before I die of hunger!”

  “What will you give me for it?”

  “What do you want?”

  “Your birthright.”

  Now, birthright in those days meant all that the eldest son would inherit from his father by sole virtue of being firstborn. Its advantages were almost sacred. In rich families the firstborn son inherited wealth beyond the wealth of any of his brothers, not only flocks and herds, gold and silver, but po
ssession of any high office the father held, and of the father’s interest in lease and treaty.

  Jacob had long chafed at the idea that he, born two seconds after his brother, would inherit less. Now he saw his chance.

  “If you want my pot of lentils you must sell me your birthright.”

  “Take it! Give me the pottage. What good is a birthright if I starve to death?”

  “Not so fast,” said Jacob. “Swear first.”

  “I swear, I swear,” said Esau, seizing the pot and swallowing the red lentils in one gulp. Then he ate a loaf of bread, drank some wine, and went away.

  Beersheba

  There was famine in the land, and Isaac prepared to go down into Egypt, where there was food. He inquired of the Lord concerning this.

  God answered, “Do not leave this land, for I have given it to you and your sons forever.”

  “The land is stricken, O Lord,” said Isaac. “My flocks are wasted because no grass grows. The grass has perished because no rain falls, and the wells are dry.”

  “Do not go into Egypt,” said the Lord. “Your son’s sons will go into Egypt and abide there in bitter servitude, and come forth again—but the time is not yet. Send your men to dig.”

  “My men dig deep into the earth and find no water,” said Isaac.

  “Send your men to dig again where they have dug. Let them return to the southern plain, to the dry wells, and dig again. I am the Lord. My footfall is thunder, my frown is famine. Shall not fountains gush at my pleasure?”

  Isaac sent his herdsmen south. They grumbled, saying, “The earth is dry as stone there. Our master grows old, and his wits are enfeebled.”

  But Isaac rode with them, harrying them day and night, until they reached the dry wells. “Dig here,” said Isaac.

  “To what purpose?” said the chief herdsman. “Hearken. I drop a stone and you hear it rattling against the stones at the bottom.”