I met the Patriarch Abraham only once. My nephew Wasunani and I were passing through Canaan, far from our home in the land of Hatti, traveling with a caravan down to Egypt. The pay for caravaning was good and we got to see many wonderful sights along the way. One also hears the voices of the gods more clearly in the desert, and this I considered an added bonus.
Our caravan stayed for the night by the Tamarisk tree that Abraham planted at the well they call Beersheba. Abraham had built an inn there, and an altar to his god, El.
The fame of this man preceded him in the desert, for they said that he allowed anyone to use his well free of charge, and that he was known to feast generously with travelers who passed that way. I can confirm that this is true, for the man demanded no payment for the use of his well, but rather offered to us whatever we might request. I recall him polling our group to discern what we would most like to feast upon: “a loaf of bread? Meat? Wine? Eggs?” To our starving caravan it was like a dream come true! That was one of the best meals I have ever eaten.
He asked in return only that those who were willing, whose other allegiances did not prevent them from doing so, might join him in worshipping El that night.
When he had prayed to his god for some minutes, he turned to us and said, “say a blessing.” Being unfamiliar with the rites of El, we were hesitant to proceed, and we asked him, “‘What shall we say?” He said to us: “Blessed is the God of the universe, whose food we have eaten.”
Think of it! The god of the universe?
A man may worship Tarhunt or Teshuib, the gods of the storm, or Hebat, the goddess of the sun, or A’as, the god of wisdom, or any number of gods or goddesses of fertility, or of crops, or of war, but the god of the universe? Yet what could we say? We had eaten the man’s food, and we had voluntarily entered into the worship of his deity, and we had even asked him what blessing we should say, and so we said it.
“Blessed is the God of the universe.”
He also taught me a name of El that I had not heard before in my travels through Canaan: “El Olam”, that is, “the eternal God.”
I am sure I am not a good Hattite, for while I still make obeisance to Tarhunt and Hebat, I cannot get this idea out of my head that there is also a God of the whole universe, El Olam, and I secretly pray to him when I lie down, and when I rise up, and when I eat.