Abraham and Sarah (41 page)

Now it’s come to this, she thought. I who was once the terror of Pharaoh’s harem will die out here in this wilderness and will be eaten tonight by jackals. It is too much, too much. I’m helpless. I can’t bargain or barter or steal one drop of water for me or my son.

She sat up and flung back her mantle. Sarah, what are you doing now? she thought. Are you laughing? Abraham, how could you make the choice of laughter over my son who loved you so? How could you in the end choose Sarah and her rigid bitterness over the warm love I gave you?

You said it was the Elohim who told you to send us out as Sarah demanded. So even your God rejects me.

She stretched out along the burning sand, covered her head with her mantle and finally, too weak to move, grew quiet, waiting for death. How it would come she didn’t know, but its coming was sure. Perhaps an angel would come and lift her out of this shell that wrenched and choked for lack of water. How fragile a human being was after all. Even the great Pharaoh could not live without water.

How long she lay there she could never remember, but the voice that spoke to her she would never forget. It was a soft, quiet, but very distinct voice. “Hagar,” it said, “do not be afraid. God heard the boy crying. You must lift him up, take him by the hand, for I will make a great nation of his descendants.”

Then as she rose to go to the boy and do as the angel had commanded her, she looked down toward the valley and saw in the place where the men had been was a well. She guessed by its location it must be the seventh well, Abraham’s well. The men had left, and no one was in sight.

Quickly she got the water skin and made her way down to the well. They would not die after all. She had not been rejected by Abraham’s God. He had not forgotten or forsaken her. She could feel joy surging through her, strengthening her. The joy and the new strength somehow were one. With water Ishmael would live.

Gently she cooled her son’s fevered brow with the water, then lifted the skin so he could drink. His eyes opened, and she could see his surprise and something more. It was as though for the first time, he was really looking at her and seeing her. With great effort he reached inside his robe and pulled out the half loaf of bread and handed it to her.

She broke off a small piece and handed the rest back to him. “Eat it all,” she said. He was dazed and bewildered. He had been prepared for death and suddenly there was water, enough water to be poured over his hands and cool his brow. His parched lips were dripping with the cool, crisp water as he questioned, “How?”

Hagar laughed and sank back on her heels. “Your father’s God, the
Elohim, opened my eyes and showed me the well. It was for your sake He did this thing.”

Ishmael managed a wan smile. “Then do you believe in my father’s God?” he asked.

For a moment she hesitated. When she spoke, it was as though she was saying something she had already worked through in her mind. “I once trusted in a small clay idol of Hathor. It may seem strange to you, but I thought she was real and could do wonderful things for me.”

Ishmael was listening to her with a new awareness and understanding. “What happened to her?” he asked.

“I found she was nothing but a piece of clay. It was all in my imagination. There was no goddess, nothing but the clay image.”

“How did you know?”

“I flung her away and she broke into small pieces. She was never anything but clay.”

“And …”

“I learned one must be careful. Not all gods are real. Some are just clay.”

Ishmael lay back with his eyes closed. She thought he was asleep and started to move. He put out his hand and stopped her. “I’m glad,” he said, “that you are my mother.”

Hagar thought her heart would burst. All the anger, hurt, and frustration were washed away in that one lovely word. He had called her mother.

After Hagar and Ishmael left, Abraham did not have a moment’s peace. He had time to think, and he realized all the things that could go wrong before Hagar and Ishmael reached the well. He told Sarah what he had done and saw that she felt no remorse. She even smiled and called him the old, tender names of endearment. She was delighted.

It was about noon when several of his chief herdsmen rode into camp. They were angry and frustrated, and the news they brought was disturbing. They told how Phicol, the commander of Abimelech’s army, had seized the well Abraham had dug and claimed it as belonging to the king. “Phicol has gone to report to Abimelech but has left his men guarding the wells. Our shepherds can’t water their flocks.”

As soon as Abraham heard the news he realized that if his shepherds
could not get near the well, neither could Ishmael and Hagar. There were no other wells or sources of water, and they would die of thirst.

“We must go at once to Abimelech,” Abraham said as he began putting on his best cloak and quickly fastening it with a toggle pin.

They had sent word ahead, and the king was waiting for them when they arrived. His first words surprised Abraham. “God is with you in everything you do,” he said. It was obvious that the king was remembering the curse that had fallen on him and his whole court when he took Sarah for his harem. He feared what Abraham might do with such power, and he wanted to extract a promise from him that he would not deal falsely with him or his children.

Abraham’s mind was on the well and the problems it had caused. It took a few minutes for him to realize that the king was afraid of him. Perhaps the king even thought he had come on an errand of revenge.

Quickly Abraham swore that he would do nothing to harm the king or his family. Then pressing his advantage, he complained to Abimelech about the well. “They have taken a well my men and I dug,” he said.

“I know nothing of this problem,” the king said. “This is the first time I’ve heard of it.”

“Then come with me to the seven wells and we’ll settle this matter as friends.”

The king was relieved that Abraham asked such a simple thing of him, and so they agreed to ride immediately to the site of the wells.

Abraham with his herdsmen and seven lambs arrived first at the wells.

“What are these for?” the king asked on his arrival as he pointed at the lambs.

“It is not going to be enough,” Abraham said, “that we have made this agreement and treaty between us. These lambs are witness to the fact that I dug the well and it is mine.”

The king agreed and further insisted that from that time on the place be called Beersheba, the well of the oath, as a constant reminder of their sworn agreement.

When the ceremony was over, the king came to the tents of Abraham’s shepherds for a great feast.

After the guests had gone, Abraham asked his host if anything had been heard of his son Ishmael and Hagar. “They are here waiting to see you,” the man said, clapping his hands so his servant appeared. “Bring the young man
and his mother. Our lord, Abraham, wishes to see them now.”

Moments later Ishmael and Hagar appeared at the tent door. They had completely recovered from their ordeal and were overjoyed to see Abraham.

Ishmael told his father everything, even to the miraculous voice that saved them by guiding Hagar to the well. He ended by proudly telling him that he had arranged for them to go in a caravan that would leave at the end of the week for Egypt.

Abraham was impressed but anxious. “Are you sure you can manage this?” he asked.

Ishmael nodded. “With the help of the Elohim I will succeed.”

The next day Abraham took Ishmael and some of his herdsmen back to the well. “I am going to plant this tamarisk tree beside the well,” he said. “It will give shade to the stranger who needs water, and it will be a reminder forever that this is my well.”

One of his herdsmen came forward with the small shoot, and another came with a digging tool. In a short time the tree was planted, and the herdsmen went back to their work. But Abraham and Ishmael stayed at the well. “My son,” Abraham said, “when you come this way and your flocks or people need water, you will know this well by the tamarisk tree beside it. Never again will you be without water in Beersheba. And when you see this well, you will be reminded of our God and his faithfulness. We will call upon him here as El Olam, the everlasting God.”

Before the caravan was ready to leave, Urim appeared and asked to go with Ishmael to Egypt. “I must find Warda,” he said. “I must be sure she is all right.”

Ishmael welcomed the cheese maker and assured him that if his grandfather accepted him, there would be a position for the man and his cheese in the house of the pharaoh.

Urim shook his head. “I’m not intending to stay in Egypt. I don’t really belong there anymore.”

Abraham stayed long enough to make elaborate plans for their departure. He wanted his son to arrive before Pharaoh in a manner befitting a prince. Runners were sent on ahead, and again gifts were dispatched for Pharaoh. Nothing was left undone to assure Ishmael’s acceptance.

A week later, early in the morning, the caravan left Beersheba. Part of the
group had come from Hebron and others from beyond the Jordan. The large caravan would travel down to Egypt on the old route called the Way of Shur.

Hagar felt both excited and anxious. What would it be like to return to her father’s house after all these years? She glanced over at her son and was reassured. Pharaoh would be proud to own this young man. All that the pharaoh had loved in his friend Abraham was now embodied in the young man who was his grandson.

Hagar looked back as the caravan began to move. The sun was just coming up, and she could see quite clearly the man she had loved so devotedly standing beside his well with some of his men. He looked suddenly old to her, and she had a feeling that she would never see him again. This part of her life was over. She had learned so much and was so different from the spunky, obnoxious young girl who had come with Sarah and Abraham from Egypt.

The last thing that was distinct and visible was the tamarisk tree, the little tree that would always stand as a welcome to her son and a reminder of the faithfulness of Abraham’s God, El Olam, the Everlasting. She would probably not come back, but Ishmael was young and strong and he would be back to see his father.

Urim was gone for months, but when he came back, he brought welcome news. Pharaoh had been overjoyed to see his grandson and had immediately given him houses and lands, and Hagar had picked out an Egyptian wife for him. In time Pharaoh promised to put him in charge of all Egypt’s mines and holdings in the Sinai and the Negev. “He will be a great prince,” Urim predicted, “and his mother will dwell in his house in a position of honor.”

At first Urim said nothing of Warda, but gradually some of the women close to Safra learned that the old man who had abducted Warda was dead. Warda had inherited all his possessions and was considered a very great and wealthy landowner in the delta.

Urim had seen that he no longer fit into her new life and so with dull determination wished her well. Then on a lighter note, he promised to send her an assortment of his best cheeses once a year. It was evident that she no longer needed him, and so he returned to Abraham’s camp and to Safra.

For Abraham it was different. He felt bereft and lost. The son he had loved and cherished was gone, perhaps never to return. To make matters worse, Sarah was happier than she had been in years. “See,” she said, “it’s wonderful to have them gone. I should have known better than to have suggested
such a thing as Hagar’s bearing me a child. It was all a big mistake.”

He winced with the pain of hearing her joy. He had made such wonderful plans for Ishmael. He had built so many dreams around him. Now all that was lost to him.

As time went on he also missed Hagar. He wouldn’t have admitted it, but she had been responsible for his remembering some romantic ditties of his youth. She had made his heart beat faster at her touch and the sap rise in his veins like it did in trees in the spring.

However, most difficult of all was the feeling that he had lost Sarah. She no longer seemed to see him. She had very little to say to him. At times she looked right past him in her delight at every move Isaac made. The child was everything. He made up her whole world and no one else mattered. She talked about Isaac, hovered over him constantly, and worried about the least problem he might face.