Look! Adonai rains on Sodom and Gomorrah fire and brimstone, from Adonai out of heaven. He has overthrown those cities, and all the inhabitants of the cities, and that which grew upon the ground.
Look! The man Abraham gets himself up early in the morning, and stands afar off on the hill where he spoke face to face with Elohim. It is the place where Lot looked out and saw a land that was well watered everywhere, like the very garden of God. Now Abrham looks out, and his gaze is toward all that same land of the plain, and, see! The smoke of the country goes up as the smoke of a furnace. And the smoke of their torment goes up forever and ever as a memorial before Adonai, and their worm does not die, and their fire is not quenched.
But Elohim remembers Abraham, as he remembered Noach, and he sends Lot out of the midst of the overthrow of those cities in which he dwelt.
Praise be to Adonai, the possessor of heaven and earth. Praise him in his mighty heavens. Praise him for his acts of power; praise him for his surpassing greatness. praise him with the clash of cymbals, praise him with resounding cymbals. Let everything that has breath praise Adonai.
Thursday, December 19, 2024
Chapter 49: Lot
Setting: Genesis 19:12-26
Extra-biblical Sources: Sefer ha-Yashar, Vayera 8
They asked me, “have you any here besides these? Any sons-in-law, and your sons, and your daughters, and whoever else is yours in this city, bring them out of here, for we will destroy this place, for the cry of the victims of this place is great before the face of Adonai, and Adonai has sent us to destroy it."
How sweet to hear the name of Adonai on the lips of others in our city, but how bitter to hear that this place was designated to destruction.
I confess that I had already drank too much wine, and in my bewilderment I drank still more as I walked out the back of our house and across the large courtyard of our family compound, to the households of Warad and Niqmaddu.
“Up!” I said, “get yourselves out of this place; for the Lord will destroy this city!” They laughed and slapped me on the back and told me that I was drunk with sweet wine. It seemed the more I pleaded the more they saw it as a jest, and I left in shame, knowing that my wife and my sons-in-law did not fear me, nor Adonai.
When I awoke, the first hint of a pink dawn was creeping across the horizon and the cold of night was just beginning to ease. I was lying on my back in the middle of the courtyard. The men of God stood over me and I cannot remember what they said, but there was great urgency in their tone.
I drowsily got to my feet and went to my house so that my wife might serve me breakfast. They followed, insisting that we must leave this city at once. What for? I thought to myself. To spend my days huddled in some cave with my heathen wife and sons-in-law, and the daughters I nearly sold into prostitution? Better perhaps to die in the city we called home.
At some point, they grabbed us by the hands; one grabbed my right and Adith’s left, and the other seized the hands of my daughters , and by the mercy of Adonai, they more or less dragged us from the city, and sent us on our way into the desert to be pilgrims.
“Escape for your life,” said the man who led me forth, “and look not behind you nor stay in all the plain; escape to the mountain, lest you be consumed.”
I am not a man of the wilderness. I am a man who loves the company of others. Outwardly I spoke to these men but in my heart I spoke to God: “Oh Adonai, please, not this! Look now, your servant has found grace in your eyes, and you have magnified your mercy, which you have demonstrated in saving my life. But I cannot escape to the mountain, lest evil overtake me, and I die. Look now, this city is near to flee to, and it is a little one: Oh, let me escape there, is it not a little one? and my soul shall live.”
And I perceived that they were not just prophets, but angelic beings, for they answered me, it seemed, in God’s behalf: “See, I have accepted you concerning this matter also, that I will not overthrow this city, for the which you have spoken. Hurry yourself and escape there, for I cannot do anything till you arrive there.”
So we came to the little, insignificant city. And we named it thus, Zoar. And the sun was fully above the horizon as we entered into Zoar. Even so, the fire of Adonai which fell from heaven upon the cities was so bright that our shadows were cast toward the sun. And Adith looked back at the cities, and she gawked at the spectacle rather than hurrying inside the walls of Zoar, and I told her not to, for the men of God had told us plainly that we must not look back or stay in the plain, lest we be destroyed. But she would not listen, for she felt compassion for her friends, and she became a pillar of salt.
When I look out from my cave, which is not often, I see her still to this day. Maleb tells me that the oxen which stand in that place daily lick up the salt of her hands and feet so that she is deformed, and yet in the morning she is whole again, and they again lick it up day by day.
Sunday, December 15, 2024
Chapter 48: Michael
Setting: Genesis 19:4-11
At least, that was the report that had come to us, and we were sent by Adonai to see if these things were so.
We came to the gates of Sodom as the sun was setting below the horizon, and there was Lot, sitting in the gate. We revealed ourselves to him not as angels, but as mere men, yet he still looked about uneasily and rose quickly and nervously to meet us. He motioned for us to come no closer but instead he left the gates and came to meet us a stone’s throw outside the city.
He bowed himself with his face toward the ground and said to us, “My lords, turn in, I pray you, into your servant's house, and stay the entire night. Wash your feet, and then you may rise up early tomorrow morning, and go on your way.”
We said to him, “No, let us not be a burden to you, but we will spend the entire night sleeping in the street.” For we intended to see how the men of the city would treat us, and this we could not do if we were sequestered in the house of Lot.
But he pressed upon us greatly, and insisted that we come and meet his wife Adith, and his daughters Maleb and Qetanah, and his son’s-in-law Warad and Niqmaddu, and that we feast with his family and drink his best wine with him until our hearts were merry. We did not try to explain to him that angel’s hearts are not made merry with wine in the same way that the hearts of men are (though indeed, all food and all drink makes us merry in a way that no man can quite imagine.)
Lot left us no choice but to turn in to him, and we entered into his house; and Adith made us a feast, with lentil stew, and unleavened bread, and with oil and curds and honey, and we ate and we drank and we were merry.
Adith was making our beds when sounds of jeering became audible outside the house. Indeed, disturbing sounds could be heard from one side of the house as well as the other, for all of a sudden, the place was surrounded by the men of Sodom, both old and young, from every quarter.
They called out to Lot and said to him, “Where are the men which came in to you this night? Bring them out to us at once, that we may know them.”
Lot stepped out into the cool night air, and he shut and barred the door behind him, placing himself and his door between the crowd and those of use who remained inside.
Though muffled, we could hear his words through the door as we breathed quietly in the darkness and waited to see what would happen, and if the report of these wicked men was accurate.
“I beseech you, brothers,” Lot pleaded, “do not act so wickedly against Adonai and harm these men who have come under my protection. Look! I have two virgin daughters who have not known a man; let me, I beg of you, bring them out to you, and do to them whatever is good in your eyes: only unto these men do nothing; for they have come under the shadow of my roof.”
One among the men demanded firmly of Lot, “Stand aside!”
There was no sound for a moment and I imagine that the two men were staring at each other as two animals stare at each other when deciding whether or not to attack one another.
Another voice rang out, “This one is himself a sojourner, and will he make himself our judge? Now will we deal worse with you, Oh Lot, than with the men in your house.” At once there was the sound of bodies pressing against the door, and the man Lot cried out in pain, whether from being crushed against the door, or struck, or stabbed, or mistreated in some other manner we were not sure. But the commotion and the jarring of the door was such that we feared they would break down the door.
By the power given to me by Adonai, I put forth my hand, and pulled Lot into the house, and shut the door. Then Gabriel smote the men at the door of the house with blindness, both small and great, and they wearied themselves in a pitiful stupor trying to find the door.
Friday, December 13, 2024
Chapter 47: Adith
Setting: Genesis 19:1-3
Extra-biblical Sources:
It was after dark when Lot came home from his sitting in the gates. I heard his knock at the door and I left a pot of red lentil stew on the fire to go and unlatch the door. I gasped at once, for there was not one man, but three, waiting behind the door.
In the dim light of the moon I saw my husband's cheekbones and the wrinkles on his brow and I knew that it was he, but who were these men with him?
“Is it well?” I whispered to him, having regained some of my composure. I knew that it was not well, but I did not know what else to say or do.
“It is well,” he said softly, “and I want you to meet my esteemed guests, Gabriel and Michael, they are sojourners passing through on their way to distant lands. They are good men, as anyone can clearly see.”
My head spun. How could he be so nonchalant about this danger that he would invite into our midst? Having lost a daughter due to such hospitality, I was not about to lose a husband as well.
I felt the anger swelling within me at this stupid, stupid man. In my fury I berated him, trying to keep my voice low, “don’t you know the kind of danger this brings to our whole family?”
Lot placed his hands on me and started to shove me out of the doorway, and in my shock I struck him on his cheek and attempted to close the door in his face. But he forced his way in and I was filled with guilt and shame and anger and all manner of negative feelings.
I fetched a rope and stretched it out across the house. “I will not have these men in my house,” I said, “if you want to receive them, do so in your part,” and gestured to indicate in which half of the house he might conduct his own affairs, so that I might have no part in it. I would not have my daughters in any way associated with these sojourners. God knows what they do to sojourners here.
My husband proceeded to boss me around. "Adith, since your half of the house contains the kitchen, as is only fitting, would you please prepare my guests a meal? I’m afraid my half doesn’t have a kitchen in which to cook, and Adonai will not tolerate the hunger of our guests when it is in our power to feed them."
I brought them the stew, thinking this would be the best way to prevent the flaring of tensions. I knew that at any moment he could burst into a rage himself, especially once the alcohol began to flow.
“Adith,” said he again, “this stew needs salt. Michael and Gabriel cannot eat such a distasteful soup. Bring them some salt.”
I glared at him as if I might burn a hole right through him with my eyes. Michael or Gabriel or whoever it was must have seen the precariousness of our argument, and he turned to Lot and said, “it’s quite alright, good sir,” and, looking back to me with a polite nod, “the stew is good my lady.”
“No,” said Lot, “we will have salt.”
“We do not have any salt,” I said. This may have been a lie but I was tired of his immature demands.
I could not believe what he said next, “then ask it of Mararet.”
“And what reason, pray tell, will I give her for needing salt at this hour?”
“Why Adith,” he said, “because we have esteemed guests.”
I don’t know what finally broke in me at that moment, but some bitter, spiteful part of me raised its fist to the gods and I decided that if my husband told me to spread the news of our guests in the town of Sodom, then that was what I would do.
I told Mararet the truth.
Chapter 46: Abraham
Setting: Genesis 18:23-33
Extra-biblical Sources: Bereishit Rabbah 49:8,9
I feared greatly for Lot and Adith, Maleb and Qetanah, and I drew near to Adonai, so that I might entreat him earnestly on this matter. I spoke boldly, yes, but I do not think I spoke rashly, for I knew that El Elyon is a righteous God, and that he does not destroy the righteous with the wicked. I did not waste time searching for the perfect words of eloquence. I simply said exactly this:“Would you destroy the righteous with the wicked? Is Your anger like a she-bear ravaging its prey, which, finding no other beast to destroy, destroys her own young? Is your anger a scythe which cuts down thorns, but finding no more cuts down roses?”
He looked at me without saying a word and I judged that now was not the time to grow timid but rather to step out in faith.
“If You desire the world to endure,” I reasoned, “there cannot be an absolutely strict judgment, for if you desire absolutely strict judgment, the world cannot endure. Would You, blessed Lord, hold the cord by both ends, desiring both the world and absolute judgment? Unless you forbear a little, the world cannot endure.”
Still he gave no answer.
“Suppose,” I said, “there be fifty righteous within the city: would you destroy, and not spare the place, for the fifty righteous therein? That is far from You, to act in this manner, to slay the righteous with the wicked. And that the righteous should be as the wicked, that is far from you. Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?”
You will call me overbold. But have I not said already, that I know he does not destroy the righteous with the wicked? I was certain that my nephew and his family must be righteous, so how could Adonai destroy them?
Adonai said to me, “if I find in Sodom fifty righteous within the city, then I will spare the whole place for their sakes.”
I did not feel the fear within me lessen. Rather, I felt with sudden panic that there must not be fifty righteous in the city, for I confess that the news of that place was always of great wickedness.
“Behold now,”, said I, “I have taken upon me to speak to the Lord, who am dust and ashes. Suppose there shall lack five of the fifty righteous: would You destroy all the city for lacking five?”
And he said to me “if I find there forty and five, I will not destroy.”
I was no more certain that there were forty and five righteous in the city than that there were fifty. I hoped to talk my God down little by little till He should spare the city even for the sake of Lot alone. So I spoke to him yet again, and said, “Suppose there shall be forty found there.”
And He said, “I will not do it for forty's sake.”
I thought I heard impatience in his immeasurably powerful voice. I swallowed hard to hold down my fear. My heart raced in my chest. I said, “Oh let not the Lord be angry, and I will speak: suppose there shall thirty be found there.”
He said, “I will not do it, if I find thirty there.”
What good was my life to me if I could not declare the goodness of Adonai to Adonai Himself? What faith did I have if I could not ask for what was good from the God who is good?
“Behold now,” I continued, and I heard something like confidence returning to my voice. For I knew, I truly knew, that He is good. “I have taken upon me to speak to Adonai. Suppose there shall be twenty found there.”
And he said, “I will not destroy it for twenty's sake.”
Even though my voice sounded confident, I knew that I must quickly draw this negotiation to my intended result, lest he become angry with me. For surely a handful of lives are a petty thing in the eyes of an eternal God, are they not?
I knew what I must do and I said, “Oh let not the Lord be angry, and I will speak yet but this once. Suppose ten shall be found there.” I felt some sort of belief as soon as the words were out, for surely between Lot and his daughters and their wives, and a few of their best friends, there were ten there who feared Adonai and did what was right.
Adonai confirmed for me, “I will not destroy it for ten's sake.”
I did not detect in his voice the kind, reassuring tone that I expected. But something seemed to tell me still that Lot and his family were safe.
Then he did smile on me, and his smile seemed to day, “You have loved righteousness, and you have loved to justify My creatures, and hated wickedness, and refused to condemn them. Therefore Adonai, your God, has anointed you with the oil of gladness above your fellows.”
Adonai went his way. I realized in his sudden absence how wonderful it had been, even in such dire circumstances, to commune with Adonai. I returned to my place.
Thursday, December 12, 2024
Chapter 45: Gabriel
Setting: Genesis 18:17-22
Michael and I accompanied Adonai on this visit to Abraham. Michael was to announce to Sarah that she was to give birth to Isaac, and I was to deliver the overturning of Sodom and Gomorrah. The announcement of Isaac accomplished, we rose up from there, and looked down on Sodom. Abraham went with us to see us on our way.
Turning aside to me that Abraham might not hear, Adonai asked, “Shall I hide from Abraham that thing which I do, seeing that Abraham shall surely become a great and mighty nation, and in him all the nations of the earth shall be blessed? For I know him, that he may command his children and his household after him to keep the way of the Adonai by doing justice and judgment, so that Adonai may bring upon Abraham what He has spoken about him.”
I answered not a word, for I dared not contradict the will of Adonai, but I did not see why the Possessor of heaven and earth should need to consult with a son of Adam.
It seemed to me that Adonai reasoned thus: “If I asked Abram to sacrifice even his own son, he would not refuse me, how much less these wicked cities? What then can I lose by consulting him? Though I drove Adam from Eden, and though I shut Noach in the ark, yet Abraham do I love so much that I will do nothing without his consent. And look, I have already called Abraham the father of these nations. Does one condemn the son without the father’s knowledge? Shall I hide anything from Abraham?”
I answered him not with my voice, but with my whole being, as I always answer Adonai. “Yes, Lord.” And of course, Adonai must show this thing to Abraham also so that he would be warned not to lead his remaining children in the wicked ways of these cities.
We rejoined Abraham on the way, and Adonai said to him, “Because the cry of Sodom and Gomorrah is great, and because their sin is very grievous; I will go down now, and see whether they have done altogether according to the cry of it, which is come unto me; and if not, I will know.”
Michael and I turned our faces away, and went toward Sodom, leaving Abraham to stand there before Adonai in a wonderful conference between God and man.
Chapter 44: Kadeem
Setting: Genesis 18:1-16
Extra-biblical Sources: Bereishit Rabbah 48:19
It was just three days after the circumcision of our men. It was an especially hot day; not the kind of day when men travel across the desert to greet each other, but the kind of day when they sit in the shade of their tents and meditate. I was dozing under a broom tree in the heat of the day, awakening every few minutes to shift my position so that my eyes stayed out of the sun. I was falling in and out of daydreams. I awakened to the sound of running feet, and as I turned my head I was surprised to see the sandals of our lord Abraham running past.
I propped myself up and my eyes confirmed that these were also his red robes billowing as he ran.
I saw that he was approaching three men. The one in the middle was slightly taller, with the other two at his sides. Abraham bowed himself toward the ground as he drew near.
I heard his voice, for I was hardly a stone’s throw away: “My Lord, if now I have found favor in your sight, pass not by this place, I pray, from your servant. Let a little water, I pray, be fetched, and wash your feet, and rest yourselves under the tree. I will fetch a morsel of bread, and refresh your hearts; after that you shall pass on, since you have come to your servant.”
They said more or less in unison, “do as you have said.”
He gestured for them to sit under the fabled oak of Mamre, and I ran forward to make my presence known to Abraham. Our eyes met and without a word, a nod of his head let me know that I must go quickly to fetch water and to wash the feet of our guests.
Abraham was hot on my heels as I ran to his tent. I entered to collect the water, and he entered to speak with Sarah. I had never seen the placid man Abraham so hurried. Said he: “Make ready quickly three seahs of fine meal, knead it, and make cakes upon the hearth.” And with that he was gone out of the tent on another errand. I did not understand why he asked her to use three seahs of flour, for that would surely yield enough bread to feed a hundred men!
There was not enough water in the skins in Sarah’s tent, so I ran quickly to the well to draw more. As I returned with the water, Abraham met me with a fatted calf. He exchanged with me the calf for the water, and said to me “hasten to dress it.” Rarely have I skinned a calf in my life, and never so quickly. Before I was finished, my father Eliezer had joined me, and was cooking the meat in his great iron pot.
Abraham returned to us, and he had us carry the stewed meat, while he himself carried milk and cakes and butter, and these we set before the men who sat beneath the tree.
Abraham glanced at my father, who called me aside and said to me softly “I am needed again in the fields. Do not disturb these great men as they talk. Make yourself scarce.” I decided I would lay myself down beneath my broom tree once more and watch this scene with that invisibility that we slaves enjoy.
The men said to Abraham, “Where is your wife, Sarah?”
I wondered what kind of question this might be, that a stranger comes and asks a man at once where is his wife. “Behold,” answered Abraham, sweeping his arm to indicate the place, “in the tent.”
The taller one, who sat in the middle, spoke up: “I will certainly return to you when this time of year returns again, and behold, your wife Sarah will have a son.”
I heard a soft chuckle from the tent, followed by a sigh. The men must not have known of Sarah’s age or her condition, and Sarah found some twisted humor in their failed attempt at predictive prophecy.
The man said suddenly, “Why did Sarah laugh, saying,’ Shall I of a surety bear a child, which am old?’ Is there anything too hard for the LORD? He created man in the beginning, and you think that he cannot restore man to youth? At the time appointed I will return unto you, this time next year, and Sarah will have a son.”
I was surprised that the man had heard her, for the chuckle had been soft enough that my young ears had hardly picked it up from my place at the broom tree, and this man, at twice the distance and easily three times my age, seemed to have heard clearly not only her laughter but presumably whatever else she may have muttered under her breath.
Was this man a man of God? Perhaps a priest of El Elyon, like the great Melchizedek of Salem? Would Sarah really become pregnant?
Sarah appeared in the doorway of the tent and her face was sullen. “I did not laugh,” she declared.
“No,” said the man, “you did laugh.”
With that they turned and began walking away. Abraham glared as Sarah, and stepped quickly to join them and to escort them as they departed.
I shuddered to think of what curse must fall upon Sarah’s child, if indeed she had defied the very man of God who announced the child’s coming.
Tuesday, December 10, 2024
Chapter 43: Ishmael
Setting: Genesis 17:23-27
Extra-biblical Sources: Bereishit Rabbah 46:1,4
I remember it pretty clearly. It’s not the kind of thing a boy would forget.
Eliezer is the largest man in the household, with rippling muscles, and in his old age his hair has receded far enough to reveal the terrible scar he received in Sodom. It was this figure who sat in the center of camp during the heat of the day and carefully sharpened his black obsidian knife.
Abram came before him first. He lifted his arms to the sky and sang great hallelujahs to Adonai. Then he lifted his robes and in the blink of an eye Eliezer had expertly removed a ring of skin which he cast onto a beautiful rug which was apparently consecrated for this purpose.
I watched my father’s face closely, and I am certain that he did not wince at all. He walked calmly to Olabisi who applied some salve, helpful to stop the bleeding, which she had prepared in abundance for these proceedings.
I was called forth next and Abram stood beside me, with pride and with calm in his eyes, as he instructed me to lift my robes for Eliezer. I still remember those robes. They were the color of the desert, perfect for hiding among the rocks on hunting expeditions.
I lifted my robes, focusing all of my attention on the anticipation of the pain, so that, if I expected it fully, I might not wince or cry when it was done. I confess my body jolted ever so slightly when the knife pierced my skin, but my face remained as calm as my father’s. The rest of the day was worse than the event itself, but I have experienced many more painful injuries since.
I stood with my father and watched as this procedure was conducted by Eliezer again and again on all the men of our household. After each man was circumcised he would dip the knife quickly in a pot of hot beer, then wipe it with a cloth and invite the next man to step forward. After a few men had gone, he would pause for a moment to inspect his blade and to hone it as needed. There was a running joke in the camp, repeated with nervous laughter, that it was better to go immediately after the sharpening, and not four or five men later.
I remember that something went wrong during the circumcision of Zahavi. I did not see what it was, but I heard him cry out, and I saw an unusual amount of blood, and he was whisked away so that Olabisi could help him.
The sun was nearing the horizon when the last man was circumcised, and a great mound of foreskins lay heaped on the rug. They were taken outside of the camp and burned.
I asked my father that night why Adonai wanted us to cut off our foreskins. He looked at me with kindness for a long moment and then he explained it to me.
“Suppose there was a noble lady whom a king commanded, ‘Walk before me.’ She walked before him and her face went pale, for, she thought, who knows what defect may have been found in me? And the king, knowing her thoughts, said to her, 'You have no defect, but that the nail of your little finger is slightly too long; pare it and the defect will be gone.”
“Circumcision,” he said, “is the purest manifestation of divine wisdom, for our lives are determined not by what we keep for ourselves but by what we cast off. It has ever been that Adonai blesses those who will cut off from themselves that which they do not need. Even as a fig contains nothing inedible save its stalk, and with its removal even this defect ceases, so did God tell us to remove this unworthiness, that we might walk before Him, and be perfect.”
He paused, and looked at me intently to make sure I was listening carefully before proceeding. “If a man would cling to what he has, he himself will be cut off from the land of the living. So we cut off the foreskin because He is a God who loves those who will part with even the most precious parts of themselves when the moment requires it.”
I have tried every day to be that man, who cuts off what is in not needed without fear.
Monday, December 9, 2024
Chapter 42: Abraham
Setting: Genesis 17:1-22
Extra-biblical Sources: Bereishit Rabbah 47:1,4
I was eighty and six years old when Hagar bore unto me my only son, Ishmael. I was ninety and nine, and my son Ishmael ten and three, when Adonai next appeared to me.I was sitting at the door of my tent in the heat of the day, silently meditating on the goodness of God, when Adonai was suddenly before me.
He said resolutely, “I am El Shaddai. Walk before me, and be you perfect. And I will make my covenant between me and you, and will multiply you exceedingly.”
I fell on my face in fear. What name was this, this El Shaddai? Surely it was El Elyon who is Adonai, but by the name of Shaddai I had never before known Him. And what did he mean by this command, “be you perfect”? What mortal can satisfy a god’s desire for perfection? I was about to plead with El Shaddai to lower his standards when He continued to speak in a commanding tone:
“As for me, behold, my covenant is with you, and you will be a father of many nations. Neither shall your name be called Abram any longer, but your name will be Abraham; for a father of many nations have I made you. And I will make you exceeding fruitful, and I will make nations out of you, and kings shall come out of you. And I will establish my covenant between me and you and your seed after you in their generations, as an everlasting covenant, to be a God to you, and to your seed after you. And I will give to you and to your seed after you the land wherein you are a stranger, all the land of Canaan, for an everlasting possession; and I will be their God.”
My head was spinning at the import of His words, and their impossibly poetic arrangement. I wanted to hold onto them forever but I feared lest they leave my mind before I could properly commit them to my memory. I feared that in my sudden turmoil I may have missed some question that He had asked me, for now it was silent and I knew not what to say, But then, he went on:
“You, therefore, will keep my covenant; you and your seed after you in their generations. This is my covenant which you will keep between me and you and your seed after you: Every male child among you will be circumcised. And you will circumcise the flesh of your foreskin; and it shall be a token of the covenant between me and you. And he that is eight days old shall be circumcised among you, every man child in your generations, he that is born in the house, or bought with money of any stranger, which is not of your seed. He that is born in your house, and he that is bought with your money, must be circumcised. And my covenant will be in your flesh for an everlasting covenant. And the uncircumcised male child whose flesh of his foreskin is not circumcised, that soul will be cut off from his people; he has broken my covenant.”
I had heard of this practice of circumcision before, and it was a mark of honor among certain castes of the Egyptians. I had not guessed that El Elyon would require it of his devotees.
I rose to my feet at this command of circumcision, for I would not waste even a moment in disobedience when Adonai gave a word. But it was as I looked around for a knife to do this thing that Adonai required that He continued to speak, and I was truly and utterly shocked by what El Shaddai said next:
“As for your wife Sarai, you will not call her name Sarai, but Sarah is her name. And I will bless her, and give you a son also by her. Yes, I will bless her, and she will be a mother of nations. Kings of people will be from her."
I fell on my face once more, and I laughed with wonder and with joy. What an incredible thing this was! Did I understand correctly? Would Sarai be the mother of Ishmael, or would she indeed bear a son truly her own, from her own womb? I treasured the wonderful question in my heart: would one be born to he that was a hundred years old? And would Sarah (for that was now her name!) who was ninety years old, bear a child?
I dared not assume that I had understood my Lord correctly. Surely he meant instead that Ishmael must be counted as Sarah’s own. Or perhaps he meant to test me by promising me things that could never be, then to disappoint me and to see if I remained faithful.
I said to my God, “Oh, that Ishmael might live before you!”
I wanted nothing more. I needed no son from Sarah to be happy.
And yet, God did reply, “Sarah your wife will indeed bear you a son; and you will call his name Isaac: and I will establish my covenant with him for an everlasting covenant, and with his seed after him. And as for Ishmael, I have heard you. Look, I have blessed him, and will make him fruitful, and will multiply him exceedingly. Twelve princes she will beget, and I will make him a great nation. But my covenant will I establish with Isaac, which Sarah will bear to you at this same time next year.”
And God left off talking with me, and God went up from me.
I laughed with joy that such an impossible thing was soon to take place, and I went to find Sarah, to inform her of her new name at once, and also that we might get to work accomplishing God’s will without delay.
That night as I lay with Sarah in my tent, I wondered at what might be the meaning of her new name, and God revealed to me that my princess was no longer mine, but was to be a princess for all mankind. And I thought that it is a wonderful thing to possess a beautiful woman, but it is more wonderful still to give her to the world.
Chapter 41: Hagar
Setting: Genesis 16:15-16
There can be no doubt that Ishmael is the child of the promise. He is the singular delight of his father Abram, and not without reason. Even as a young boy he excelled at the adding and subtracting of numbers, the prediction of weather, the interpretation of the hosts of heaven, and all manner of intelligent pursuits.
He is a brave hunter, and more capable than any other man his age.
He knows how to stand up for himself. He is proud and strong and will not accept injustice in the world without recompense.
Things have never been the same between myself and Sarai since Ishmael was born. She smiles when she sees me, and she tells me what a fine son I have given Abram; how handsome and how noble. She says, too, that surely he is the promised one.
But her words are merely polite, not really celebratory, and I see a tiredness in her eyes when she smiles. It is as if the core of her being were an incredibly tired heart of stone, and so she must spend her days softly smiling and doing odd chores instead of living from her heart.
Still, I see that she loves Abram and takes refuge in his bosom, and that she loves to play with the children and to care for them, even Ishmael. Maybe it is alright, to live out one’s days without ever really facing the darkest parts of our souls? Maybe there are wounds too deep to truly heal, which are better left alone than agitated by arguments or prayers?
Chapter 40: Olabisi
I had not yet had a child of my own when Senusret son of Ra appointed me as a nurse in his household. I studied under the slave woman Kissa, who was renowned for her assistance in all matters of childbirth and female anatomy.
She taught me how to mix laserwort and white stone powder with honey, or acacia leaves with date paste, that a woman might avoid pregnancy. Or to have her squat over steaming beer, and, if available, frankincense and myrrh, in order to become more fertile.
She taught me how a woman should urinate on emmer and barley seeds. If the barley seeds sprout, she is pregnant with a boy, or if emmer, a girl. But if they do not sprout she is not pregnant.
She taught me how to use sea salt and rushes to induce childbirth, or how to use the leaves of kheper-wer and milk to delay it.
But most importantly, she taught me how one may invoke Horus to assist with the birth. One must chant over a golden Bes amulet four times: “Come down, placenta, come down! I am Horus! Come down!”
In a manner like this we invoke many gods. Hathor, that she may watch over the mother and grant her domestic bliss. Taweret, the blessed pregnant hippopotamus, that the delivery may go well and that the mother’s milk may be plentiful. Meskhenet, that the mother may be brave and strong and that the birthing stones may support her. Thoth that the delivery might not stall, and Amun that he might blow a cool northern breeze to ease the mother’s pain.
Kissa was under Bastet and I under Kissa, so that when Sarai acquired Bastet, she acquired me as well. Kissa was too old to leave the palace. I do miss her gentle eyes and her soft hands and her powerful prayers to Taweret.
Bastet, however, who is now called Hagar, would not have me call on the Egyptian gods but only on El Elyon. It was an awkward task to chant the sacred spells to the one Canaanite God rather than many Egyptian ones, and at times the rhythm or the rhyme of the songs was less than perfect as a result. But I did my best, and secretly whispered under my breath a few pleas for mercy and protection from the gods of our mother Egypt as well.
Bastet bore a beautiful baby boy, and Abram called his son's name Ishmael. Even though I am no good with the language of the Apiru, I knew what this name meant: God hears.
Sarai was nowhere to be found that night, but in the morning she came in quickly to the mother’s tent and took the child away. Bastet was beside herself with sorrow at the emptiness of her arms. But without expression or explanation Sarai returned again not two hours later and gave the child back to his mother, leaving promptly.
She taught me how to mix laserwort and white stone powder with honey, or acacia leaves with date paste, that a woman might avoid pregnancy. Or to have her squat over steaming beer, and, if available, frankincense and myrrh, in order to become more fertile.
She taught me how a woman should urinate on emmer and barley seeds. If the barley seeds sprout, she is pregnant with a boy, or if emmer, a girl. But if they do not sprout she is not pregnant.
She taught me how to use sea salt and rushes to induce childbirth, or how to use the leaves of kheper-wer and milk to delay it.
But most importantly, she taught me how one may invoke Horus to assist with the birth. One must chant over a golden Bes amulet four times: “Come down, placenta, come down! I am Horus! Come down!”
In a manner like this we invoke many gods. Hathor, that she may watch over the mother and grant her domestic bliss. Taweret, the blessed pregnant hippopotamus, that the delivery may go well and that the mother’s milk may be plentiful. Meskhenet, that the mother may be brave and strong and that the birthing stones may support her. Thoth that the delivery might not stall, and Amun that he might blow a cool northern breeze to ease the mother’s pain.
Kissa was under Bastet and I under Kissa, so that when Sarai acquired Bastet, she acquired me as well. Kissa was too old to leave the palace. I do miss her gentle eyes and her soft hands and her powerful prayers to Taweret.
Bastet, however, who is now called Hagar, would not have me call on the Egyptian gods but only on El Elyon. It was an awkward task to chant the sacred spells to the one Canaanite God rather than many Egyptian ones, and at times the rhythm or the rhyme of the songs was less than perfect as a result. But I did my best, and secretly whispered under my breath a few pleas for mercy and protection from the gods of our mother Egypt as well.
Bastet bore a beautiful baby boy, and Abram called his son's name Ishmael. Even though I am no good with the language of the Apiru, I knew what this name meant: God hears.
Sarai was nowhere to be found that night, but in the morning she came in quickly to the mother’s tent and took the child away. Bastet was beside herself with sorrow at the emptiness of her arms. But without expression or explanation Sarai returned again not two hours later and gave the child back to his mother, leaving promptly.
Chapter 39: Hagar
Setting: Genesis 16:7-14
A person can live in the most intimate proximity with another for many years, even a lifetime I would guess, without really knowing them. Take heed, you husbands who think you know your wives, and you maidens who think you know your mistresses. You do not.
I was never in the habit of criticizing Sarai. It does not come naturally to any but the jealous to criticize the beautiful. And I was not made jealous, but awed by her beauty. I enshrined Sarai in my heart. She was not merely the outward picture of beauty, but the inward, too, so it seemed. So much so that when she approached me about bearing a child unto Abram, I did not foresee any issues that might arise between us on that account.
What serpent’s venom did rise up within her when my belly swelled with Abram’s seed. She seemed genuinely happy for me when my condition first became apparent, but it was not long until she began to exhibit subtle words of mild contempt, followed by not-so-subtle words and actions of malice and gall.
I will spare you the details, and tell you only that my life was made intolerable with insults to which I was not permitted to respond, chores of the most demeaning sort, vicious gossip, and finally blows to my own body that drove me from the camp. And to think, all of this from the kind, gentle, dignified Sarai that I met back in Egypt and treasured all these years. Who taught me the ancient stories of El Elyon and braided my hair like hers and laughed with me late into the night.
Of the ancient stories there is one that certainly comes to mind now. That of righteous Avel, struck down by the idiotic jealousy of his wicked brother Cayin, who was too blind to see that Avel could have been his teacher, rather than his victim.
The sweetest friends can be the bitterest betrayers.
I don’t need to tell you that banishment from the household of Abram was essentially a death sentence in the wilderness. The Elohim do not intend for a woman and her child to survive on the earth alone, but to be enfolded in the arms of a loving husband and a thriving community.
You will not believe what happened to me in the desert. Very well, but I will tell you the same. As I exited the camp, I found a bowl of lentil stew and a cake of unleavened bread sitting conspicuously in my path. I ate these and I walked many days and many nights in the strength of that gracious meal. I came at last to a small spring of water, bubbling up out of the ground, and the water was sweet to my taste, but my heart was still bitter.
I lay down there in the wilderness and asked the Elohim that I might die. I felt terrible guilt at the idea that my child would die with me, but I reasoned in my own bitterness that the life of the child would also be made bitter by Sarai. She would never allow him to become a great prince but would treat him even worse than she treated me. I confess, a part of me may not have wanted her to have the opportunity to change her mind, either. To put the bitter words behind her and act as if they were never spoken, and claim the child as her own and raise him as her son after having treated me so badly. I wanted them to find my swollen body dead by this spring of water, and for Sarai to cry out “what have I done?”
But this was not the will of the God who sees the calamity of the mistreated, and Who hears the cry of the oppressed.
The presence of Adonai was suddenly upon me there by the spring in the desert, and he said to me clearly in the dark of night, “Hagar, Sarai's maid, from where did you come, and to where will you go?” How is a woman, and a mere slave at that, to answer a god? I answered simply and truthfully about where I had come from, “I am running from the face of my mistress Sarai.” But as to where I intended to go, I gave no answer, for I had already been telling Him all day that I wanted to go down to Sheol, and there was no need to tell Him one more time again.
Adonai told me in a tone of voice at once commanding and yet gentle, “Return to your mistress, and submit yourself under her hands.”
I was not surprised to find that a god would side with a mistress over her slave. I gave no answer but sat in the darkness, weighing the substance of my spirit to see if I had it in me to return to my mistress, or if I had it in me to defy her and her God with her, or if all there was to do was to continue laying there in the desert till either death found me or my stubbornness broke.
As I contemplated these things He spoke once more, with words that energized me as I would not have thought possible. “I will multiply your seed exceedingly, that it shall not be numbered for multitude.”
Was it true then? Was my child to be the fulfillment of Adonai’s promise to Abram, to make him a great nation? Let Sarai be bitter. Let her hold her breath until she turned blue and stomp her feet and slap people with sandals and scratch their faces. That wouldn’t change the declaration of the Elohim that from my loins and not hers nations would spring.
He continued, “Behold, you are with child, and will bear a son, and will call his name Ishmael; because Adonai has heard your affliction. And he will be a wild man; his hand will be against everyone, and everyone’s hand against him; and he will dwell in opposition to his brother.”
I know not what came over me then. But as God spoke to me of a son whose name means “God hears,” I knew in my heart that He is also a God who sees, and I spoke to Adonai, that I might give Him a name even as He gave one to my child.
Think of it! A slave names a god! And I told Him boldly that His name is “El Ro’i”, the God who sees. And I thought I saw as it were His hindquarters as He departed from me, and I wondered aloud to the angels of the heavens, “has this poor woman actually seen the back of the one who sees me?”
Later when we passed by that spring I told Abram privately of what had happened there, and he called the spring Beer Lahai Roi, and while many know it by this name few know why it is called thus.
I was never in the habit of criticizing Sarai. It does not come naturally to any but the jealous to criticize the beautiful. And I was not made jealous, but awed by her beauty. I enshrined Sarai in my heart. She was not merely the outward picture of beauty, but the inward, too, so it seemed. So much so that when she approached me about bearing a child unto Abram, I did not foresee any issues that might arise between us on that account.
What serpent’s venom did rise up within her when my belly swelled with Abram’s seed. She seemed genuinely happy for me when my condition first became apparent, but it was not long until she began to exhibit subtle words of mild contempt, followed by not-so-subtle words and actions of malice and gall.
I will spare you the details, and tell you only that my life was made intolerable with insults to which I was not permitted to respond, chores of the most demeaning sort, vicious gossip, and finally blows to my own body that drove me from the camp. And to think, all of this from the kind, gentle, dignified Sarai that I met back in Egypt and treasured all these years. Who taught me the ancient stories of El Elyon and braided my hair like hers and laughed with me late into the night.
Of the ancient stories there is one that certainly comes to mind now. That of righteous Avel, struck down by the idiotic jealousy of his wicked brother Cayin, who was too blind to see that Avel could have been his teacher, rather than his victim.
The sweetest friends can be the bitterest betrayers.
I don’t need to tell you that banishment from the household of Abram was essentially a death sentence in the wilderness. The Elohim do not intend for a woman and her child to survive on the earth alone, but to be enfolded in the arms of a loving husband and a thriving community.
You will not believe what happened to me in the desert. Very well, but I will tell you the same. As I exited the camp, I found a bowl of lentil stew and a cake of unleavened bread sitting conspicuously in my path. I ate these and I walked many days and many nights in the strength of that gracious meal. I came at last to a small spring of water, bubbling up out of the ground, and the water was sweet to my taste, but my heart was still bitter.
I lay down there in the wilderness and asked the Elohim that I might die. I felt terrible guilt at the idea that my child would die with me, but I reasoned in my own bitterness that the life of the child would also be made bitter by Sarai. She would never allow him to become a great prince but would treat him even worse than she treated me. I confess, a part of me may not have wanted her to have the opportunity to change her mind, either. To put the bitter words behind her and act as if they were never spoken, and claim the child as her own and raise him as her son after having treated me so badly. I wanted them to find my swollen body dead by this spring of water, and for Sarai to cry out “what have I done?”
But this was not the will of the God who sees the calamity of the mistreated, and Who hears the cry of the oppressed.
The presence of Adonai was suddenly upon me there by the spring in the desert, and he said to me clearly in the dark of night, “Hagar, Sarai's maid, from where did you come, and to where will you go?” How is a woman, and a mere slave at that, to answer a god? I answered simply and truthfully about where I had come from, “I am running from the face of my mistress Sarai.” But as to where I intended to go, I gave no answer, for I had already been telling Him all day that I wanted to go down to Sheol, and there was no need to tell Him one more time again.
Adonai told me in a tone of voice at once commanding and yet gentle, “Return to your mistress, and submit yourself under her hands.”
I was not surprised to find that a god would side with a mistress over her slave. I gave no answer but sat in the darkness, weighing the substance of my spirit to see if I had it in me to return to my mistress, or if I had it in me to defy her and her God with her, or if all there was to do was to continue laying there in the desert till either death found me or my stubbornness broke.
As I contemplated these things He spoke once more, with words that energized me as I would not have thought possible. “I will multiply your seed exceedingly, that it shall not be numbered for multitude.”
Was it true then? Was my child to be the fulfillment of Adonai’s promise to Abram, to make him a great nation? Let Sarai be bitter. Let her hold her breath until she turned blue and stomp her feet and slap people with sandals and scratch their faces. That wouldn’t change the declaration of the Elohim that from my loins and not hers nations would spring.
He continued, “Behold, you are with child, and will bear a son, and will call his name Ishmael; because Adonai has heard your affliction. And he will be a wild man; his hand will be against everyone, and everyone’s hand against him; and he will dwell in opposition to his brother.”
I know not what came over me then. But as God spoke to me of a son whose name means “God hears,” I knew in my heart that He is also a God who sees, and I spoke to Adonai, that I might give Him a name even as He gave one to my child.
Think of it! A slave names a god! And I told Him boldly that His name is “El Ro’i”, the God who sees. And I thought I saw as it were His hindquarters as He departed from me, and I wondered aloud to the angels of the heavens, “has this poor woman actually seen the back of the one who sees me?”
Later when we passed by that spring I told Abram privately of what had happened there, and he called the spring Beer Lahai Roi, and while many know it by this name few know why it is called thus.
Chapter 38: Abram
Setting: Genesis 16:3-6
Extra-biblical Sources: Bereishit Rabbah 45:4-6
One could not really say that Sarai was past the age for childbearing, for in her case there never was such an age. The signs that would have signaled the end of her fertility never arrived, for her fertility was never with her to begin with.
This is not to say that the Elohim could not do as they please and work in her a strange and wonderful thing. But they have a saying in the lands to the east that I try to bear in mind, “trust God but tie your camel,” which is to say that while God can work a wonder if He so choose, it is better not to test Him. It is better to do for God what God wishes, rather than make God come down and do it Himself.
Like any young man I assumed in my youth that I would inherit the house of my father, and that the fruit of my loins would in turn inherit it from me. It was to my surprise as much as any other that I found myself marrying a barren woman, yet even then I had the son of my brother to raise up as my own. And perhaps this was an appropriate arrangement in light of my role in Haran’s death.
Then Lot abandoned me and I was left with Eliezer of Damascus, born a slave in my household, as my only heir. But as has been recounted, on the night of great blackness Adonai declared that my heir would be from my own loins.
I recounted that night to Sarai with excitement and wonder, but there was something in my recounting that did not please her at all. She seized upon the words that I spoke before Adonai, when I said, “look, I go childless!”
“You go childless, Abram? Do you not have the option to take another wife from the many beautiful women of the land? Do we not both know that it is not Abram that goes childess, but Sarai?”
I had never even contemplated taking another wife, and this my princess ought to have known, but she was beside herself with anger and confusion.
“Imagine,” she said, calmly, “two men are imprisoned, and as their king passes by, one of them cries out to him, ‘execute justice for me!’ The king stops his important tasks and comes down to listen carefully to the prisoner. He hears the man's plea and executes justice for him, that he may be released. Will his fellow not have a grievance against him, saying “I have a grievance against you, for had you said “Execute justice for us” he would have released us both, but as you said “Execute justice for me,” he released you but not me.”
And in Sarai’s mind my plea before Adonai that “I go childless” was a plea concerning myself and not her. And to be fair, who can say what the gods are thinking, or what mistakes in our grammar they may hold against us?
Sarai was very hard on herself. She insisted that she was not worthy to bear a child, as God had clearly decided, for we had been in Canaan ten years, and still, no child. She was certain that I must take Hagar as a reward from the hand of El Elyon, that His promise to me might be fulfilled, of a son from my loins. This child would be raised by Sarai as her own, as indeed Hagar was her property and Hagar’s children her own, and thus she would obtain a son in this way.
I listened to my wife. There were many reasons to do so. Inasmuch as we were blessed when I gave Sarai to an Egyptian, we would surely now also be blessed when Sarai gave an Egyptian to me. In both cases is the giving not a sacrifice made in faith, that El Elyon will bring about good in the lives of those who trust Him?
Hagar was also young and vigorous, and while her beauty did not compare to Sarai (no woman’s beauty does), I confess that something in me was pleased by the idea of variety.
Besides these things, as I have said, it seems generally wise to work out the promises of El with our own lives, rather than daring Him to come down and work with His own hands. He had said that I should have a son from my own loins. To act in faith of this promise would surely be to impregnate a fertile woman, and so I went in to her.
Imagine the complexity and the intensity of my emotions when Hagar conceived, and the conception became a point of contention between my wife and her maidservant. In truth, Hagar’s attitude changed when she saw that she was with child, and her mistress was despised in her eyes.
Sarai came to me in tears, for a rumor had reached her ears that her friend and servant had spoken thus: “My mistress Sarai is not inwardly what she portrays outwardly: she pretends to be a righteous woman, but she is not. For had she been a righteous woman, see how many years have passed without her conceiving, whereas I conceived in one night!”
I inquired of Hagar on this matter and she did not deny it but rebutted that Sarai had taken to calling her “that poor woman,” and that she made her carry her water buckets and bath towels to the baths, and that she had driven her out of the tent so that she must spend the night out in the cold, and that she had slapped her face with a slipper.
I addressed both women directly that there must be no more quarreling, and yet Sarai insisted that I must punish Hagar harshly and publicly. I told Sarai, “I am constrained to do her neither good nor harm”, for El Elyon wills that if a man joins a slave to himself as his wife, he may send her away again, but he must no longer deal with her as a slave, because he has already humbled her enough by lying with her.
“After we have vexed her,” I reasoned, “how can we now enslave her again?” At this Sarai was so upset that she clawed my face with her fingernails so that it bled, and she departed from my presence without being excused.
I found her in her tent and she bitterly accused me, “my wrong be upon you and your silly child. I have given my maid and my friend into your very bosom; and when she saw that she had conceived, I was despised in her eyes. Adonai judge between me and you.”
To appease her I said, “Look, your maid is in your hands; do to her whatever seems best to you,” for I reasoned that while El wills a man to treat his wives with respect, Sarai was hemmed in by no such law.
I do not know what transpired that night, but in the morning the woman Hagar was gone from our camp, having departed into the desert.
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