by Brian Godawa
Abram must die.
Chapter 32
Twenty-five years passed since the confusion of tongues at the tower of Babel and the dispersion of the peoples. The world changed drastically. The people of many tongues spread out over all the earth and returned to their communities of homogenous language. The tower of one world governance collapsed into seventy different nations whose divided tongues heralded a variety of diverse cultures, many of them at war with one another.
Unfortunately for Abram, twenty-five years had passed and nothing eventful had happened to him. His brother Nahor and the rest of his family eventually moved up to be with them and Haran became the family home, but nothing dramatic had occurred. He had been waiting for God’s direction, but it never came. He felt he was being hung out to dry like a piece of laundry. Why would El Shaddai do those fantastic spectacular things in Babylon, and promise me he was going to tell me where to go, and then never contact me again? I thought I was his Chosen Seed.
And that made the irony even worse, because in order to bear seed, one must be fertile. Unfortunately, that was not something El Shaddai saw fit to bestow upon Sarai.
She had been barren these twenty-five years. Abram was now seventy-five, and Sarai, sixty-five.
Was all of it just an hallucination? Even the events of the past were fading from his memory.
That overweening confidence of his was cracking.
Sarai had told him that was probably the point of it. That he needed to have less faith in himself and more faith in El Shaddai before he would accomplish his purpose.
But that was not comforting when you were already seventy-five years old, living an anonymous life in a small out of the way town in the middle of nowhere, with no children and no inheritance.
His father Terah had found his way up to Haran after the Babel incident. When the earthquake had hit, Terah was right in the middle of the avalanche of brickwork from the Tower. He had survived it, but when he removed himself from the rubble he discovered his entire army of Stone Ones had been decimated. He knew that this was the main reason he was protected from Nimrod’s wrath all those years; because they were bidden by the sorcery to obey Terah, not the king.
But now with the Stone Ones gone, there was nothing holding Nimrod back from punishing Terah for all his foolish errors through the years. He knew his future was not hopeful if he stayed around. So he immediately left before Nimrod pulled himself from the rubble.
Nimrod had assumed exactly what Terah had hoped, that he was missing because he was buried in the avalanche of earth from the Tower or fallen in the crevice created by the earthquake. There were many bodies missing from that day of terror.
Terah left for the desert with only the tattered clothes on his back and a sword in his hand. But it was freedom. Shackles were released from his soul. Terah was finally freed from slavery to Nimrod and Babylon.
When he found his son and family in Haran, he repented and converted to El Shaddai.
• • • • •
“Where is my beauty queen?” said Abram as he pranced around the house. The family was in the fields working, and Terah was playing with the children in the courtyard. Abram and Sarai had the house to themselves. And whenever that happened, Sarai knew exactly what Abram would be thinking.
“My beauty beauteaous. Beautifulicious, beauticious.”
He stopped to listen. He heard crying in their bedroom.
He opened the door, “What is wrong, beautiful?”
Sarai was on the bed softly crying again. “Must you constantly use that word? Can you not think of a different one to use?”
Even at sixty, she was a gorgeous woman who turned the heads of younger men. Abram thought she was quite possibly El Shaddai’s greatest miracle. He was so absorbed by her beauty; he could not stop telling her through the years. It would come blurting out of him as he watched her cook or clean, or play with the family’s children.
“But you are beautilumptious,” he said.
“Do not call me that! I am ugly!”
Abram’s joyful countenance turned compassionate. He went and held her on the bed.
She said between her tears, “I have no children. I am useless!”
He held her tighter. “Do not say that, Sarai. You are my heart and soul. You are everything to me.”
She would have these episodes every once in a while. Her barrenness would overwhelm her and her feelings of inadequacy would rise up. And when they did, Abram’s use of the word “beautiful” became like a sick joke needling her instead of a compliment encouraging her. She knew he meant nothing but admiration and love for her, but the tragic irony was too much to face in those moments. To her, beauty meant nothing; it was children that gave life and meaning. A family was what she cared about, not her looks. Was this El Shaddai taunting her?
“I am afraid,” she whimpered.
“Of what?”
“That you will grow weary of me,” she said, “and you will find a concubine to fulfill El Shaddai’s promise of an heir.”
Abram sat back, finally getting to the heart of the issue. It was customary law in Mesopotamia that if a woman was barren, a man could legally find a concubine to sire children to maintain the family lineage.
“So that is what this is about,” he said. “You are worried that I might desire another woman.”
“Well, do you?” she sniffled.
“Of course not,” he said with a touch of anger. “Where is your faith, Sarai? El Shaddai has promised us a son.”
“He promised you a son,” she retorted. “He may have no use for me.”
Abram said, “Are you saying that El Shaddai is a bad creator? That he created you useless?”
“No.” She sounded like a scolded child.
“So you want me to take our future in my own hands and not trust that El Shaddai will provide as he promised?”
She stopped her crying and was only sniffling now. It was almost instantaneous. She knew he was right.
His words became firm and adoring, “Even if your stunning beauty was all you had, you would not be useless. There is nothing in this world more valuable to me than you.”
She so appreciated his solid strength in her change of life. She knew he had great patience with her dramatic mood swings and hot flashes. Some nights, she would completely kick off all the covers in bed because she was burning up. Which would make him freezing, so he would wake up, politely cover himself, and give her a kiss on her cheek.
He was such a loving strong man. She knew his overuse of the word “beautiful” came from genuine adoration of her and it encouraged her every time she heard it.
And she knew what was coming next.
His hands began to grope her. “I know of some use you can be to your husband right now, for instance.”
She giggled. He began kissing her face in a special way that amused her. He would press his lips against her cheek and give very speedy tiny little kisses so fast it made a funny little noise. He claimed he could give a hundred kisses in thirty seconds.
She smiled and turned to kiss him properly. Passionately.
Hello, there he is again, she thought to herself as he pressed himself against her.
When they first discovered Sarai was not getting pregnant in their early years, Abram would use that as an excuse to have more sex. “Well, honey, that is why we need to have sex every night,” he would tease. “Sometimes, twice a night. God just wants us to try more often.”
He is a horny little toad, she would think. She did not really have the drive he had. In fact, she did not seem to have any drive at all, which bothered her because she loved him so truly and deeply. She thought maybe something was wrong with her. But she loved to make him happy, and she knew it took so little of her time and effort that it would be foolish to deprive him. It would be like kicking a dog. But instead, she drew comfort from the oneness she would feel when he was inside her. And so instead, she had a happy little puppy that would do anything for her, and was always
trying to lick her.
After a few years, when they realized she was barren, he would try to comfort her, “If we have more sex, it gives El Shaddai more chances to perform his miracle.” That one was a little silly, but she patronized him just the same.
But he always had a way of surprising her. She would be completely without interest in anything sexual. He would start wooing her. She would respond for his sake, and suddenly out of nowhere, his elegant wonderful hands would sweep over her body, caress her erogenous zones, and before she knew it, she was flying above the heavens and the earth in delirious pleasure. He always thought of her first and would often tell her, “Half of my pleasure is hearing your pleasure.”
As the years went on, his drive decreased somewhat with age. Down from every day to every other day, to every three days. Now, he could go for as long as a week. But eventually, she would see his beady little eyes gleaming at her like a hungry wolf. And she knew, It is loving time.
She knew it was a man’s way of knowing he was loved. They were so simple, so predictable, so basic. Which was why withholding it was cruelty and abuse. She never did. And he always respected her wishes, when sick or truly too tired. He would never use her compliance for selfish exploitation.
She, on the other hand, was a woman, and had so many changing needs and particularities even she lost track of how complex she was. But she gave him kudos for his efforts at trying.
But they were so tight because the only thing they had in the whole wide world was each other. True, they had El Shaddai, but even El Shaddai himself said that he was not enough for humanity’s need for community. We needed each other. When Adam was without sin and with El Shaddai in the Garden, they walked in perfect communion. But even in that perfect pastoral paradise, El Shaddai said, “It is not good for man to be alone.” One would think that El Shaddai would not consider the man to be alone if he was with his Creator. But he did. And that is why he made the woman out of his side, to be his helper equal to him.
Sarai knew that Adam was thinking of a lot more than “bone of my bone” when he first saw the luscious naked form of his wife Eve.
“Uhhh,” she groaned in surprise pleasure. He had done it again. Abram had brought her out of her melancholy thoughts into his sensual experience of love.
She wrapped her legs around him and they became one again before their Maker.
And suddenly, their Maker was standing above them.
“Abram.”
Sarai screamed. Abram jumped off her and she pulled the sheets to cover herself.
Abram looked up at the figure in the room and knew immediately who it was.
“Mal’ak Yahweh,” he blurted out. The Angel of Yahweh. It was the same figure Abram had met in Babel. It was El Shaddai in earthly form.
Abram now covered himself up.
El Shaddai chuckled. “You are not Adam and Eve, you know. No need to be ‘naked and ashamed’ before me. You think I have not seen every lovemaking session you have ever had? I created sex.”
Abram’s head tilted. I guess he is right.
Sarai calmed down. Cannot argue with your Maker.
“My Lord and God, forgive us,” said Abram. “You just gave us a shock with your — unconventional choice of timing.”
“There is a closer link to sexuality and spirituality than you may realize,” said El Shaddai. “But you are right, I have kept you in the dark a bit.”
“Why are you here now, Lord?”
He said to Abram, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. And I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and him who dishonors you I will curse, and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.”
Sarai was still staring with her mouth agape and eyes of shock. A million things were running through her mind, not the least of which was how on earth a nation could come from her barren womb, especially since she was already entering her change of life for women.
“Forgive me, my Lord,” said Abram, “but where would that land be?”
“The land of Canaan.”
“But where in the land of Canaan? That is a big country.”
“You will figure it out,” said El Shaddai.
Abram and Sarai looked at each other, trying to figure it out. And when they looked back, El Shaddai was gone.
They sat there in a moment of silence.
Then Abram announced like a victor in battle, “I have my calling!”
Sarai rolled her eyes and patted him patronizingly on the back. Men, and their need to accomplish great tasks.
She stopped and stared ponderously out into nowhere. “How do you think you will become a nation? I am still barren.”
Abram thought for a moment. “Well, my nearest kin is Lot. I have treated him as my own. Maybe he will inherit.”
Abram considered for a moment. Then added, “I sure wish El Shaddai would give us more details. He keeps us guessing in confusion.”
“You mean trusting in faith,” said Sarai with a smirk.
The two of them began plotting in their heads their next four hundred and fifty mile trek into the distant and dangerous exotic land of Canaan.
“You know,” said Sarai, “the Amorites of our city have an established trade route to Canaan. We can join one of their caravans. And we speak their language easy enough.”
Abram snapped his fingers and said, “Zimri-Sin, the tanner, has a cousin down there in the middle of the country. It is the perfect location. He is always boasting about Mamre and his brothers, Eshcol and Aner, and Mamre’s mighty oak grove just outside Kiriath-Arba.”
Zimri-Sin was a close friend of Abram. But like every relationship, it had its straining points, and Zimri-Sin would often get on Abram’s nerves with his boasting in other’s achievements to make up for his own lack of initiative. And he boasted plenty about Mamre. He had a tendency to exaggerate to make the stories sound more adventurous and the land more exotic and perilous.
“Is not Kiriath-Arba a village of giants?” said Sarai fearfully. Mamre would talk of the mighty Arba, a giant who settled in that region.
“I am never too sure just what is fact and fiction with Zimri-Sin. But you can be sure he exaggerates everything, so do not fret yourself.”
She scoffed, “You mean the giants are only ten feet tall, not twelve feet tall?”
“Sarai, we serve a living God a million feet tall. And that is understating it.”
“Yes, my lord,” she said. “We better get packing, so we can be on our way to Giant Land.”
Abram chuckled. She always had such a spry sense of humor.
He looked at her.
Looked at her lips.
Looked her up and down.
His eyes narrowed like a predator again.
Uh oh, she thought. He is back on the hunt. Mr. One Track Mind.
He said, “I do believe we started something that requires finishing, my beauty queen.”
She smiled. “I do believe you speak the will of El Shaddai, my lordly king.”
“Let us give El Shaddai another opportunity for a miracle.”
He kissed her.
She said, “Or an audience. Either way, I am game.”
And they performed a symphony of love for El Shaddai, their Creator.
Chapter 33
When Nimrod came out of the debris of the Babel cataclysm twenty-five years earlier, he was a disgraced and demoralized creature. Fifty of his royal offspring, giants born of his union with the daughters of Uruk, survived with him. They traveled eleven miles southwest to Borsippa, to start anew.
He had lost an empire, but he was determined to crawl back up out of the muck to become a mighty ruler again.
But it would not be easy. It would take time. He had lost his sorcerers and magi, his invincible army was crushed into rubble, his indomitable guardian god abandoned him, and his kingdom of power and fear w
as demolished.
He had many enemies who made several attempts on his life over the years. But he survived them all and began his obsessive pursuit of regaining dominion. He was driven by pure undefiled revenge against the God who cursed him and his vile Chosen Seed, Abram of Haran.
But he was becoming a shriveled version of his former self. A skeletal soul of bitterness and rage. He did not eat or sleep, he seethed. His once bright blue eyes became darkened pools of deadness. His face was gaunt and his back stooped over. He was paranoid of death threats and surrounded himself with a personal guard of his finest warriors. Only one thing about his character grew stronger: His desire to kill.
After these many years, he finally felt that he had a hand on the region again. He built up his army, and by pillaging and plundering the dispersed tribes, he regained some wealth and reputation as a marauder to be feared.
When Nimrod sent a raiding party up to Haran to find Abram, he was infuriated to learn that Abram was gone, left for Canaan, and Terah was dead.
Lucky for Terah, thought Nimrod. I would have skinned him alive and eaten his organs.
Terah had been the source of both Nimrod’s rise and fall, with his power over the golem army as well as his fathering of Abram, this “Chosen Seed.” It was a bitter irony that enraged Nimrod.
But he could not go after Abram now.
Canaan was wild and rough with a completely different environment than Nimrod was familiar with, and it was allegedly crawling with warring clans that had giants. He was not battle ready for that kind of foray yet, so instead he commissioned two pairs of bounty hunters to find Abram in Canaan and bring him back alive. That would allow Nimrod the time to reestablish himself as king of Shinar, his old land of Babylon.
The obvious choice would have been to use his finest Gibborim warriors from his offspring. They were giants, but such beings were a growing presence in Canaan, so they would not stand out as much for their size. On the other hand, their foreign presence would be far too obvious as mercenaries and would draw too much attention. Abram would most likely catch wind of their pursuit in advance.