“Here you shall dig,” said Isaac. “The Lord has promised that we will find water in the dry wells.”
“Our bones will whiten on these sands before we find water.”
“Then whiten they must. Shall not He who hung the sun and lit the stars and made man from a handful of dust—shall not He, the Almighty God, squeeze water from a rock if He wishes? Dispute me no more. Dig or die!”
The men began working without hope. Their shovels struck rock. The sun beat down on their heads, and they grew very weary. But Isaac stood above them, arms raised to the sky, beard bristling, eyes glittering, and made them dig without rest.
Deep in the hole, deeper than a well had ever been dug before, a man was digging. His shovel struck rock. And with his last strength, with all the rage of his thirst, and his hatred of Isaac, he struck again—and felt his burning head laved, as a fountain of living water sprang from the rock.
The men raised a great shout of joy and scooped up water in their hands, drinking and splashing and laughing. They dug a trough, which filled with cool water, and the cattle rushed to drink.
“Thank you, God,” said Isaac. And he named the place Beersheba, meaning “well of the vow.”
The Lord was pleased with Isaac, and famine was lifted from the land. Rain fell, grass grew, the flocks fed. Isaac prospered in all things. His herds increased. And he became a man of greater wealth than his father, Abraham.
The Hands of Esau
Esau was forty years old and took two wives. Both of them were daughters of the Hittites, who followed other gods and other ways. And these ways offended Isaac and Rebecca, whose hearts were filled with bitterness.
But Isaac still preferred the red-headed hunter, Esau, who brought him fresh meat for his table. Rebecca still loved best her other son, the quiet smooth Jacob. Now, Isaac had grown very old; he was feeble and almost blind. He called Esau to him and said: “I am grown old, Esau. The day of my death is coming swiftly, when I do not know. But before I die I want to eat once more of the savory venison you have always brought me—that I may feel nourished by your abundant love, O son of my heart. So take your bow and your quiver of sharp arrows and hunt. Kill me a deer and roast its haunch. I will feast upon it, and bless you.”
Now, Rebecca had been on her way to Isaac’s tent and heard voices inside. She stopped at the portal and listened. When she heard what Isaac said, she turned and hurried away. She went swiftly to Jacob’s tent and said: “Your father has sent Esau into the forest to hunt. When he returns with a deer and roasts it, he will be blessed by your father and receive his inheritance.”
“My father loves him best,” said Jacob.
“I love you best,” said Rebecca.
“I must be content with that,” said Jacob. “My father is the bestower of blessings and legacies.”
“It must not be!”
“It will be.”
“No, I say! No! The inheritance must be yours. That hairy glutton despised his birthright and sold it to you for a meal. He cannot regain it now. And he shall not, if you obey me.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Go among the flocks. Select two kids, the fattest and tenderest, and bring them to me. I shall roast them to a perfect savor, basting them in their own fat and spicing them with pepper and marjoram and wild thyme the way he loves. And you shall bring your father this meal and receive his blessing before Esau returns.”
“He will wait for what Esau brings.”
“He will get hungry, waiting, and the smell of the roasted meat will fuddle his wits. He will think you are Esau bringing venison.”
“His sight fails, but not his touch. He will caress me, thinking me Esau. But I am smooth and Esau is hairy, and so my father will know what is being done. He will not bless but curse me.”
“Let the curse fall on me,” said Rebecca. “Just do what I say and you will inherit.”
Jacob went into a field where goats were cropping grass and caught two fat kids. He cut their throats and brought them to his mother, who skinned and dressed them, then roasted them on a spit over an open fire, basting them in their own fat and spicing them with marjoram and wild thyme. She built her cooking fire upwind of Isaac’s tent so that the savory smoke drifted down to him. He was frantic with hunger by the time the meat was roasted.
While the meal was being cooked, Jacob went to Esau’s tent, and, as Rebecca had bidden, took Esau’s garments from a chest and dressed himself in his brother’s clothes. Then Rebecca took the hairy goatskins and covered Jacob’s arms and the backs of his hands, and wrapped one about his smooth neck. She gave him a platter of smoking meat and said: “Go to him, and do as I have told you.”
Isaac was sitting in his tent, seeking its cool shadows against the heat of the day as he waited for Esau to return. He knew it was too soon for Esau to have caught a deer, but his hunger made him impatient. Then he heard someone coming. He heard the portals of his tent being drawn aside. He heard a voice say, “Father.…”
“Here I am. Who are you?”
“I am Esau, your eldest son.”
“Are you Esau?”
“I have brought you what you wanted, a haunch of fresh-roasted venison. Come and eat … and bless me.”
“You killed quickly, very quickly.”
“He was a young buck, fair and prime, and very fleet of foot. But I knew how hungry you were, and God guided my arm. I felled him with my first arrow.… Why do you not eat? Are you not hungry?”
“Starved … and confused, my son. My eyes are dim, and I cannot see. Come close that I may touch you.”
Jacob came to his father and knelt before him. The old man strained his eyes; all he could see was a blur. But he smelled the odor of Esau’s garments, a special fragrance to him—of horse and woodsmoke, sunshine and crushed grass. His fingers groped slowly over the young man’s face and neck, down his arms. He grasped Jacob’s wrist and stroked the back of his hand.
“The voice is the voice of Jacob,” he said. “But the hands are the hands of Esau.”
“Shall I serve the meat, Father?”
“Are you truly the son of my heart?” he murmured. “Are you he, my brave one, my bowman, of red rage and golden laughter, master of the chase? Are you my son, my furry one, fragrant of woodsmoke, the wild red Esau?”
“I am he,” said Jacob.
“Bring me the meat,” said Isaac. “I shall eat. And when I have eaten I shall bless you.”
“Here is meat, Father. And wine. Eat, I pray you, and drink.”
Isaac ate heavily, and drank up the flagon of wine. “Come here and kiss me,” he said.
Jacob came and kissed him. Isaac touched the back of his hands again, stroking the hairy goatskin.
“I bless you, firstborn,” he said. “And bequeath to you the special favor that the Lord showed to my father, Abraham, and to me afterward. Keeper of the covenant you shall be, inheritor of this land and father of nations.”
“Do you bless me, Father?” murmured Jacob. “Do you bless him who kneels before you now?”
“I bless the son who kneels before me now. For the smell of him is the smell of a field that the Lord has blessed. May God give you of the dew of heaven and the fatness of earth, and plenty of corn and wine. People shall serve you and nations bow down to you. You shall be lord over your brothers, and your mother’s sons shall bow down to you. Cursed be the one who curses you, and blessed be he who blesses you.”
“Thank you, Father,” said Jacob.
He arose, took platter and flagon, left the tent, and went to his mother.
Isaac fell asleep but slept uneasily and dreamed. In his dream he heard the sound of a huntsman returning, the clamor of hounds, and the jingle of harness. It seemed to him that he heard the bawling, laughing voice of his son, Esau, shouting, “I am here, Father! Arise and eat!”
Isaac’s soul quaked within him, and he tried to sink deeper into sleep and change his dream. But the shouting came closer, “Father! Father!” It was Esau
’s laughing voice. Isaac heard running footsteps, and the latchets of his tent being thrust aside, and a voice crying, “Father!” He leaped from his couch and stood trembling, knowing it was no dream but Esau returned from the hunt.
“Father,” said the voice, “I am home from the hunt. I killed you a buck, fat and fine. Here is his haunch all roasted and hot. And a flagon of cool wine.”
“Who are you?” whispered Isaac.
“Who am I? I am Esau; who else could I be? Esau, your firstborn.”
“Are you Esau?” said Isaac. “Then who was it who brought me roasted meat and served it to me and poured out wine—and waited until I had eaten and drunk, and knelt before me and received my blessing? Who was it?”
“Not I,” said Esau. “I am just home from the wood.”
“Who was it?” cried Isaac angrily. “Who came wearing your clothes and feeling like you to the touch but speaking with Jacob’s voice? Who dared?”
“It was Jacob,” shouted Esau. “He tricked you.”
“Then I curse him!” cried Isaac. “No! I cannot! I blessed him before heaven, and swore the great oath, and bound him to God’s covenant. It is God’s own special favor, not bestowed by me, but passing through me. I cannot retract the blessing. Only God can do that. I have been deceived, Esau. And you have been tricked out of your inheritance.”
Esau beat himself upon the head and cried a loud and bitter cry. “Bless me, Father! Bless me, too!”
“How can I? Your brother came and took the blessing meant for you.”
“He has tricked me twice,” said Esau. “He took my birthright, and now he takes my blessing.”
“We both sold ourselves for a meal,” said Isaac. “Our appetite was his profit.”
“Did you give him all your blessing, Father? Did you keep nothing for me?”
“Behold,” said Isaac, “I have made him your master and have appointed his brothers to serve him. I have given him first call upon the rain of heaven and the crops of earth, grain for bread and grapes for wine. What shall I give you, Esau, beloved son?”
“Have you only one blessing. Father? Bless me! Bless me, too, for I cannot live without it.” And Esau wept.
Isaac said: “The wild places of earth shall be your dwelling, and the great spaces. Horses shall be yours, and swift camels, and a warrior’s heart and a hunter’s joy. You shall live by the sword, serving your brothers. But, one day, you shall break free and shake off the yoke. This is all I can give you now. Take it, Esau, and my entire love.”
The old man bowed his head and wept. Esau took him into his arms and they embraced. Isaac stood wrapped in the fragrance of horse and woodsmoke and sunshine and crushed grass, and wept bitterly for all that was lost.
JACOB
Jacob’s Ladder
NOW ESAU’S LAUGHTER WAS heard no more among the tents. He looked wrathfully upon Jacob and turned his face from his mother. It was reported to Rebecca that he had said: “Jacob shall not live to enjoy his inheritance. I will kill him with my own hands.”
Whereupon Rebecca sent for Jacob and said: “You must leave this place. Flee the land.”
“Why, Mother?”
“Esau has promised to kill you. And he is a man of his word. Go to my brother, Laban, and dwell in Haran.”
“How long must I stay?”
“Until your brother’s wrath has cooled. His rage is terrible, but he forgets. I shall send for you as soon as he has forgotten his grievance. But leave now, today!”
Then Rebecca went to Isaac and said: “I am sickened by the sight of those Hittite wives of Esau. If Jacob takes a daughter of Canaan, I shall want to die.”
“He must marry,” said Isaac.
“Let him do as you did. Let him go to Haran for his wife. My brother, Laban, has daughters.”
Isaac sent for Jacob, and said: “I do not wish you to take a wife from among the daughters of Canaan. Go to Haran, to the house of Laban, and take a wife there.”
“I shall do so,” said Jacob.
“God Almighty bless you and make you fruitful,” said Isaac. “May your seed multiply and inherit this land that was promised to Abraham.”
Jacob mounted his camel and departed. Rebecca watched him ride away across the sandy plain. She watched until he disappeared. She did not weep; her face was like stone.
Word came to Esau that his brother had gone north to find a wife among Rebecca’s kindred. Esau said to himself: “It is by my choice of wives that I have displeased my mother. Now I know how to please her. I, too, shall find a wife from among my kindred.”
He went into the desert, to a wild place, to the tents of Ishmael, who was Isaac’s brother, Abraham’s son by Hagar. Ishmael was a warrior, a rider of swift horses, a raider of caravans. There was love between the outlaw, Ishmael, and the wild red Esau. And Esau took one of Ishmael’s daughters to be his wife. But his parents were displeased by this, also. Jacob went northward from Beersheba toward Haran. The sun was setting. There were no trees; it was a barren place. He chose a stone to be his pillow and lay down to sleep. He dreamed. A ladder of fire was flung across the blackness; it reached from earth to sky. Its sidepieces were fire, its rungs were bars of fire, and it was taller than a mountain. A throng of bright angels were on the ladder, going up and down.
A voice spoke out of the sky: “I am the Lord, God of Abraham, and God of Isaac. The land you lie on I give to you and to your seed. And your seed shall be as the dust of the earth; you shall spread abroad to the west and to the east, and to the north and to the south, and in you and in your seed all the families of earth shall be blessed. Behold, I am with you, and will go with you and guard your way. And I will bring you again into this land, and will not leave you until I have done what I have said.” Jacob awakened and was filled with fear. “Was it God’s own ladder, and God’s own voice, or all just a dream?” he said to himself. “How do I know? How can I tell?” And he muttered to himself, “This is a dreadful place. Can this be God’s own house? Are these the gates of heaven?”
He took the stone he had used as a pillow and raised it upon its end, making it an altar. He poured oil on the altar stone.
“I will call this place Beth-el, ‘the house of God,’ ” he said. “And perhaps it is. The voice in the night promised many things We shall see. If God will go with me and guard my way, and give me food to eat and clothes to wear; if He will bring me back to my father’s house in safety, then I will take this God as my God. I will come back to this place and build a temple where the stone now stands. And a tenth, yes, a tenth part of all that God gives me, I will give back to him.”
Jacob mounted his camel and journeyed eastward into Haran.
Laban’s Daughters
Jacob rode eastward until he reached a grassy plain where cattle grazed. There was a well there; its mouth was covered by a large rock. Jacob spoke to the herdsmen: “Of what place are you?”
“We are of Haran.”
“Who is your master?”
“Laban is his name. This is his herd, and we are his herdsmen.”
“Does he not have sheep, as well?”
“He has a flock. His daughter drives it. She brings it here each day at noon. Rachel is her name. And who are you, young stranger, who come with questions?”
“I am Jacob, Laban’s kinsman from Canaan.”
Jacob waited in the field for Rachel. At last he saw a mass of jostling sheep being driven by a tall maiden brandishing a staff, whistling to the dogs. His heart turned over. For she was tall like the daughters of Terah, tall and free-striding and beautiful as the old tales of Sarah, beautiful as his first memory of Rebecca. When she came closer he saw that her eyes were not black like Rebecca’s, but the color of the gem called chrysoprase, which is a strange green, a living green, its blue flecking with yellow lights as you watch. And he was as delighted with the difference as with the resemblance.
He stood before her and said: “You are Rachel, daughter of Laban. I am Jacob, son of Isaac. My mother is Rebecca, you
r father’s sister.”
She laughed with pleasure and embraced him, crying, “We are kindred. Our house is yours.” And Jacob wept for joy.
He rolled the stone off the well and drew water for the sheep. Rachel worked with him, spilling the water into the trough that the animals might drink. Jacob saw that she was as graceful as a young tree and as strong as a shepherd lad. His mouth was parched and he drank deeply from the well. Still he felt a burning thirst. He knew that water could not quench his thirst; he burned for the girl.
Rachel ran home to tell her father the news, and he came out to meet Jacob. Laban embraced the young man and said: “You are my sister’s son, of my bone and my flesh. Enter, I pray you, and dwell in my house.”
Now, Laban had two daughters. Rachel was the younger; her sister was named Leah. And Leah, the elder sister, was less comely. She had squinted eyes and a timid manner. She looked upon Jacob secretly, and blushed and stammered when he spoke to her. But Jacob thought only of Rachel.
Jacob dwelt in Laban’s house for a month. He went to the fields each day to tend the herds, for he saw that they were slackly managed. Rachel went each day to the field at noon, driving her sheep, attended by dogs. Flock and herd grazed the same field under the burning sun, and Jacob and Rachel worked together, drawing water from the well and spilling it into the trough. Each day he fell more and more in love with the tall maiden. And she returned his love. Jacob took great pains with Laban’s cattle, calling upon all his special lore to improve the herd. After a month’s time the cattle had lost their scrawniness and grown sleek and fine—all of which Laban observed.
One day Jacob said to him: “I love Rachel. I want her for my wife.”
“She is my treasure,” said Laban. “And her beauty has not escaped notice, I assure you. Rich merchants have offered for her, and princes of the land. Gold and silver have they offered, and more besides. What can you offer?”
“My father is a prince in Canaan, and a man of great wealth. And I shall inherit.”
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