“What do you mean?” Hagar whispered, frightened by the severe look on Abram’s face.
“I mean if I hear one complaint from anyone about your lack of respect toward my true wife, you will find yourself abandoned in the desert. Don’t make me have to say this again.” He turned and walked away, and Hagar got up, trembling. She was heavy with child now, and the thought of being abandoned frightened her worse than she had ever been frightened in her life. She stood there unable to move, and finally Sarai came back into the tent. Instantly Hagar said, “I’ve been wrong—”
“Shut up, Hagar! Close your mouth. Sit down.” Sarai’s voice was cold, and her eyes glittered. “You give me one excuse, and you’ll leave this camp forever.”
****
On the day that Abram’s son was born, he was happier than anyone had seen him for years. His face would not lose its smile, and Sarai tasted the bittersweet fruit of her own decision. She was happy to see Abram holding his son in his arms and saw the pride in his eyes. But she fought her bitterness toward Hagar, who now looked at her triumphantly. True enough, she had handed the child to Sarai and made the formal declaration that Ishmael, as the child was named, belonged to Sarai and not to her. But nonetheless there was triumph in her eyes, and Sarai could read her intentions.
She thinks I’ll die soon and that Abram will then have her for his true wife.
Sarai looked at Abram and saw the joy on his face, now seamed with age and weathered by a thousand suns. He’s happy now, she thought. He has a son, and he will be our son. She struggled with the thought, not able to keep her eyes away from Hagar, who was watching Abram slyly with triumph blazing from her eyes.
Part Six
The Promised Seed
Sarah became pregnant and bore a son to Abraham in his old age, at the very time God had promised him.
Genesis 21:2
Chapter 25
Abram never forgot any of the times that God had spoken to him, but the one that always was clearest in his mind was the occasion just before Ishmael’s thirteenth birthday. Abram had been praying for a long time, alone in the desert. He had built an altar and offered a sacrifice, and as the smoke rose, the presence of God fell on the place, and the voice of the Eternal One came to the old man clearly.
“I am God Almighty; walk before me and be blameless. I will confirm my covenant between me and you and will greatly increase your numbers. As for me, this is my covenant with you: You will be the father of many nations. No longer will you be called Abram; your name will be Abraham, for I have made you a father of many nations. I will make you very fruitful; I will make nations of you, and kings will come from you. I will establish my covenant as an everlasting covenant between me and you and your descendants after you for the generations to come, to be your God and the God of your descendants after you. The whole land of Canaan, where you are now an alien, I will give as an everlasting possession to you and your descendants after you; and I will be their God.
“As for you, you must keep my covenant, you and your descendants after you for the generations to come. This is my covenant with you and your descendants after you, the covenant you are to keep: Every male among you shall be circumcised. You are to undergo circumcision, and it will be the sign of the covenant between me and you. For the generations to come every male among you who is eight days old must be circumcised, including those born in your household or bought with money from a foreigner—those who are not your offspring. Whether born in your household or bought with your money, they must be circumcised. My covenant in your flesh is to be an everlasting covenant. Any uncircumcised male, who has not been circumcised in the flesh, will be cut off from his people; he has broken my covenant.
“As for Sarai your wife, you are no longer to call her Sarai; her name will be Sarah. I will bless her and will surely give you a son by her. I will bless her so that she will be the mother of nations; kings of peoples will come from her.”
Abraham began to tremble violently. He fell on his face, his fists clenched and his mind reeling, his thoughts tossed like a wind caught in a storm. He lost all sense of time, never knowing how long he bowed there. He straightened and looked upward, his face contorted. For so long he had considered Ishmael God’s answer to Sarai’s childlessness, and now he could not bring himself to think that he had been so wrong. In the back of his mind, he was crying out, Will a son be born to a man a hundred years old? Will Sarah bear a child at the age of ninety? Doubt assailed him like an armed man, and he knew the agony of losing his fondest dream. Loudly he cried out, “If only Ishmael might live under your blessing!”
But God’s voice came firmly: “Yes, but your wife Sarah will bear you a son, and you will call him Isaac. I will establish my covenant with him as an everlasting covenant for his descendants after him. And as for Ishmael, I have heard you: I will surely bless him; I will make him fruitful and will greatly increase his numbers. He will be the father of twelve rulers, and I will make him into a great nation. But my covenant I will establish with Isaac, whom Sarah will bear to you by this time next year.”
Abraham’s mind was filled with pain and confusion, but at that moment he remembered the words of King Melchizedek, which he had spoken after the battle of the four kings. “No matter how impossible the thing seems, Abram, you must believe the word of the Most High!”
And Abraham knew at that moment exactly what he had to do. Putting away all his hopes for Ishmael, he rose and turned his face toward his home. As he went, he made plans to obey God, but the thought of Sarah having a child filled him with wonder.
He thought of the names that he and his wife would bear. His given name, Abram, meant “high father,” but the new name, Abraham, meant “father of nations.” It was a name he would not have chosen for himself, and he knew it would bring mocking among many when he announced it as his new name.
The name of Sarai had always seemed wrong to Abraham, for it meant “she who argues.” It may have had some truth when she was very young, before they married, but since then, his wife had grown into a woman of great patience. The new name, Sarah, meant “princess,” and Abraham the Hebrew smiled as he thought of it. She had always been a princess to him, so her new name fit her exactly! Then the significance of his own new name sobered him, and he shook his head in wonder, whispering, “You know best, O God Most High!”
****
A fierce glow of pride rose in Abraham as he watched Ishmael move stealthily across the broken ground. Abraham had paused underneath the shade of a terebinth tree, out of breath after climbing the steep hill. Now as he leaned against the tree watching his son, he suddenly thought, Ninety-nine years I’ve been on this earth, and I’m still stronger than many men half my age. He thought of how difficult it had been for him to adjust to a new name—and how it had been even more difficult for his wife. He remembered her look of stunned amazement when he had told her, “Your name is now Sarah—and mine is Abraham.” It had taken some time for his family and tribe to adjust to the new ways, and even now occasionally Sarah would forget and call him Abram.
Abraham saw that Ishmael was not even breathing hard as he paused and turned to face his father, a smile on his bronzed face. He pantomimed a gesture, then drew an arrow from the quiver on his back.
The picture of Ishmael standing straight, half-turned, and drawing a bow that many grown men could not pull brought a warm glow to Abraham’s heart. Ishmael was only thirteen, but he had become the most proficient hunter in the tribe. He had been going out alone now for three years and almost never failed to bring back some game for the pot. Now as the youth drew his bow, Abraham admired the muscles of his son’s back and arms and thought quickly over the years that had passed.
His desire for a son had been fiercer than he had realized, and ever since the birth of Ishmael, he had thrown himself into making the boy into a strong, fine man. Physically this had not been difficult, for from the first, Ishmael had been strong and agile. He had walked long before most infants and had been extr
emely active through his early years. Abraham and Sarah had had some tense moments when the boy had wandered off. He once took a small bow with him that Abraham had made and stayed away all day. As the sun was setting he had returned triumphant, holding a bloody rabbit, his eyes alight with joy.
Abraham still remembered that day, and now as he watched Ishmael loose the arrow and then let out a cry of triumph, he moved forward. He was recovering his breath now, and when he reached Ishmael, the boy was removing an arrow from a large male antelope.
“That was a fine shot, my son.”
“Oh, it was easy.” Ishmael laughed, his white teeth flashing against his bronze face. He had his mother’s glossy black hair and for one so young was well muscled. He was tall and moved with an easy manner that Abraham could not help admiring.
“This will make a good meal for you, Father.”
“For all of us,” Abraham said, nodding.
“You carry my bow, and I’ll take the animal, Father.”
“Very well.” Abraham received the bow and the quiver and watched as the boy picked up the deer with ease and slung it over his shoulder. “The next time we go hunting, I’ll bring a donkey along to carry your kill back.”
“Or maybe two.”
“You’re proud of yourself, aren’t you?”
“I like to hunt.”
“You’ve become the best shot of any man in the clan,” Abraham said. “I’m proud of you, son.”
Ishmael smiled and started walking jauntily back toward camp. Abraham kept pace with him, but when they were halfway there his old legs gave out. “You need to take a rest.”
“Oh, I’m not tired, Father.”
Abraham laughed. “Well, I am.” He sat down in the shade of one of the scrub trees, and Ishmael tossed the animal down and sat on it, using the beast for a cushion. Abraham took the water bottle fastened over his shoulder by a thong, drank deeply, and handed the bottle to Ishmael, who drank his fill. He was smiling faintly. Abraham tried to read his thoughts but could not. Finally he said, “When we get back to camp we’ll build an altar and give thanks to God for your success.”
“All right, Father, if that’s what you’d like.”
“Wouldn’t you like it too?”
“Oh, I suppose so.”
Abraham shifted uneasily at Ishmael’s obvious indifference toward the Eternal One. He had spent many hours since the boy was barely able to walk telling him the stories of his people and how the Eternal One, the immortal Lord of heaven and earth, had spoken to them. These stories had thrilled Abraham when he had heard them from his grandfather, but they seemed to have little attraction for Ishmael. Neither did he seem to show an interest in the tremendous promises that Abraham had been given by the Eternal One. He listened, but Abraham could always tell that his mind was elsewhere. “You must learn, my son, that the almighty Creator is everywhere and knows everything. For years I’ve struggled to understand how the Eternal One could know what everyone on this earth is thinking at the same time. I can’t even know what one other person is thinking unless I look at his face, and even then I may be wrong. But the Eternal One knows all of the thoughts of our hearts. I think He knows we went hunting and that you killed this antelope. Isn’t that amazing?”
“Oh yes, it is,” Ishmael said absently. He took out his knife made of fine Damascus steel, which Abraham had purchased for him—an expensive item for a young man—and he ran his hand along the smooth blade, admiring the strength of the weapon.
Abraham sat silently, knowing that if he started to speak of hunting or the physical world, Ishmael would be all attention. Well, he’s young. He’ll change as he grows older. I suppose I didn’t think much about God myself when I was his age. He knew this was not true, but the rationalization gave him some comfort, and he finally said, “Well, let’s go home. It’s growing dark.”
****
As Eliezer passed by Hagar’s tent, he saw that she was talking to Jameel, one of the herdsmen. Jameel was a tall, strongly built man of thirty, who had two wives but was always interested in any other woman who put herself in his way. Eliezer had often been forced to speak to him about his attention to the wives of his fellows in the clan, so, for the most part, Jameel confined his attentions to women outside of the family of Abraham.
The two were engaged in conversation so deeply that they did not hear Eliezer approach. He saw Jameel reach out and run his hand down Hagar’s bare arm. She had never learned to dress modestly. Perhaps her days in Egypt had spoiled her forever, he thought. She was looking up into Jameel’s face, a provocative smile on her lips.
“Jameel, I think you’d better get back to the herd.”
Jameel, caught off guard, turned, and his face showed his shock as he saw Eliezer. He scowled then and said, “I’ve finished my work.”
“Then I’ll find some more for you to do. Go out and gather that herd we left over by the twin mounds. Bring them to the main herd.”
Jameel said resentfully, “It’s late and I’m tired.”
“You heard what I said. Now go!”
Hagar’s eyes flashed with anger as Eliezer turned to face her. “Why do you always have to interfere with me? What I do is none of your business.”
“Yes, it is,” Eliezer said.
Hagar laughed scornfully. “You had your chance with me. Now you’re jealous.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Eliezer said stiffly.
“Your face is easy to read. You still think about me.” Hagar moved closer, her eyes half closed. “I know you do. You watch me when you don’t think I know it.”
This was a bit too close to the truth for Eliezer. For years he had turned his back on Hagar after she became the mother of Ishmael, for she was, in a sense, Abraham’s second wife. He knew that Abraham had never touched her in all the years Ishmael was growing up, but he had seen Hagar try to tempt the father of her child into intimacies.
Hagar moved closer, so close that Eliezer could smell the strong perfume she always wore and was aware of the smoothness of her skin. “I know why you haven’t married all these years,” Hagar whispered. “You can’t get me out of your mind.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. All that was a long time ago. I’d forgotten it.”
“No, you think about me at night when you’re alone in the dark and your bed is empty. Well, you had your chance. Now, don’t try to tell me who I can talk to.”
Eliezer whirled and left. This was not the first time Hagar had taunted him. She was a strange woman. At times she ordered him about like a slave, and he tried to accommodate her whenever possible. When she became too demanding, he simply ignored her. At other times she would try her wiles on him, and this was more difficult to bear. As he hurried away from her, he thought, I wish that woman would behave herself, but she never will.
****
Eliezer was an introspective fellow. In fact, his inner life was much more active and varied than his outer life. His days were occupied with work, and as the years had passed, he had become so proficient that Abraham entrusted him with most of the decision making. While Abraham was preoccupied with raising his son, Eliezer was the one all the men looked to for decisions, such as when to change camps and where the wandering tribe would go next.
Inwardly, Eliezer lived an imaginative life. He loved to read the scrolls Abraham treasured so much. He studied them faithfully, and he and Abraham had long discussions about them. He loved the God that Abraham had introduced him to and had become a man of strong principle, second, perhaps, only to Abraham. He also wrote songs, for he had always loved to sing. He didn’t share them with anyone, for it seemed a frivolous occupation for a man of his station. He spent much time with the travelers they encountered, pumping them for stories of distant lands and the customs of other people. As a result he had an accurate concept of the geography of the region.
Despite this richness, Eliezer’s life was empty in other ways. He had never married, and he missed not having a family, for he loved children. He always paid
the babies and youngsters in the camp much attention, so that he was a great favorite. He supposed his lack of a wife was due to his many years serving Abraham, then caring for Zara. But Zara was a grown woman now, yet still he had not married.
A week after his conversation with Hagar, he kept remembering her accusation that he had not married because he still loved her. He had been disturbed by her words, and all week long a new thought had been growing within him. He got up after a fitful night and made his decision. A man must marry. Abraham and Sarah have been after me for a long time. Now I’m going to please them.
****
Zara was sitting beside a small stream, absently watching the flocks as they grazed in the distance. She had come out to fill a water pot but had sat down and listened to the pleasant music the stream made as it flowed over the rocks. She heard footsteps and turned to see Eliezer coming. When he got close enough, she said, “Good morning, Eliezer. Fine day.”
“Yes, it is.” Eliezer squatted beside her, picked up a stone, and flipped it into the small stream. “This is good water,” he said. “Not enough for all of our flocks, but it’s better than some places we’ve been.”
Zara studied Eliezer carefully. He looks even better now than he did when he was younger. She took in the strong form, the tanned face, and the thick, lustrous hair without a trace of gray. He had lines around the corners of his eyes from years of being out under the blazing sun, and his hands were strong, although the fingers were longer and more tapered than most men of his race.
Zara had loved Eliezer for most of her life. She could barely remember her life before he had saved her and promised her mother he would keep her. He had kept that promise, and a warmth came over her as she thought of how careful he had been with her. He could be exasperating, though, and at times thickheaded. Now she knew that something important was on his mind and waited quietly until he found the courage to tell her.
No Woman So Fair Page 29