Rebekah: Women of Genesis (22 page)

And no mistaking the meaning of her allowing him to place the goldware on her. She took off the tiny earrings she was wearing and replaced them with the far richer gold of the earrings he offered. From the color, this gold was almost pure; she handled it carefully, because such pure gold would be soft. It might bend or flake if she handled it roughly.

She found that she was trembling, and it was hard to get the earrings on. But when she was done, she looked the man in the eye and said, “It is truly an honor to receive a man who follows the God of Abraham.”

“I have already said and done more than I should,” said the man. “But it is plain that the Lord has prepared the way before me.”

“Let me go to my father,” she said, “and he’ll send men to guide you to where your animals can be unloaded and penned, and where you and your fellowservants can lodge.”

“We will be here, watering the camels, and awaiting the will of the Lord.”

Rebekah turned to pick up her water jar, and then realized that there was no way she could bear to walk slowly carrying water, when the Lord had brought a suitor from the one house that would mean more than Ezbaal’s. Leaving the jar behind, she walked, then trotted, then full-out ran up the path that wound around the hill toward the camp of Bethuel.

Before she could get to Father’s tent, she found Laban and Mother conferring outside her tent, and before she could say anything to them, Mother said, “Where did you get those?”

Laban looked at her closely. “We don’t have anything like that.”

“Actually, I do,” said Mother. “But they were a gift from my husband before we were married.”

“A man gave them to me,” said Rebekah.

“And you took them? You
wore
them? Do you have any idea what that implies?” said Mother, getting angrier by the moment.

“I know exactly what it means,” said Rebekah. “The Lord God of Abraham has brought me my husband.”

Which left Mother momentarily speechless.

Laban gave her a strange look and said, “Where is this man?”

“You’ll find Abraham’s steward waiting by the well, along with my water jar and pitcher. I offered him the hospitality of our camp and said that Father would send a man to lead him here.”

“Abraham’s steward?” asked Laban.

“
The
Abraham?” asked Mother.

“Perhaps,” said Rebekah. For the man hadn’t actually said so, had he? “He might be.”

“He
might
be? And you took these gifts?”

“They can always be given back, Mother,” said Rebekah.

But they wouldn’t be. She knew it, with the certainty she always felt when the knowledge came from God.

Chapter 8

Rebekah was already giving instructions to the women to prepare food and ready the large extra tent for an honored guest and his six men when Laban came running to her, out of breath.

“You have to come,” he said.

“Already?”

“He won’t eat, he says, or even drink more than the water you served him at the well, until he states his errand.”

“He’s a driven man,” said Rebekah.

“Well, he needs you there.”

“I’m never there when Father talks with suitors,” she said.

“Then you refuse to come?” asked Laban, amused.

“Of course I’m coming,” she said. She took a moment to give the last few instructions to the women about how things should be arranged for the meal, and then hurried with Laban to Father’s tent.

“Well?” asked Rebekah. “What do you think?”

“He’s a servant who is used to commanding like a great lord,” said Laban.

“He didn’t seem bossy to me,” said Rebekah.

“Great lords aren’t bossy. They just say what they want and expect it to happen. They just say, ‘I think it might be nice if Rebekah were here,’ and off goes the son of the house to obey the guest.”

“So why did you go?”

“Because Mother agreed with him and sent me to fetch you.”

“So she’s writing for Father.”

“And sizing up the fellow with her own eyes.”

“His animals were taken care of?”

“Trust me a
little,
Rebekah. The animals have been unloaded and they’re eating their fill. We also brought up the water you dipped, so he and his men could wash their feet from their travels. Anything else you want to check on?”

“I just asked.”

“You were checking,” said Laban. “You always check on everybody else. But who checks up on you?”

“No one ever has to,” said Rebekah.

Laban laughed. “Well, I suppose that’s true. Since you check everything three times, how could you possibly leave anything undone?”

“But I always worry that I might have,” said Rebekah.

They were at Father’s tent now. Laban led the way inside. The front door stood open for light, as did the two side doors that were usually kept closed. To Rebekah’s surprise, everyone was standing.

“Are we awaiting someone else?” asked Rebekah.

“He won’t sit,” said Mother dryly, “until he has delivered his message.”

That was pointless, Rebekah thought, and she turned to Abraham’s steward. “Sir, this is a courteous house. No one can sit until you are seated. You would do us all a great kindness if you sat down. Your message can be spoken seated as easily as standing, I think.”

The man blinked, then raised his eyebrows. “The damsel speaks wisely,” he said. “I feel the eyes of God upon me, and so I’m afraid my urgency ran stronger than my common sense.” He seated himself. “Thank you for the generous way you have received me and my master’s other servants. You have treated us as if we were all lords.”

“The servants of a great lord receive some of the honor due to their master,” said Mother.

Laban was writing furiously. The servant saw this, and waited to begin until Laban had finished writing.

Father spoke. “Please tell us your errand.”

“I am Eliezer, steward of the household of Abraham, husband of Sarah, and son of Terah, your grandfather.”

When Father read the words and nodded, he went on.

“The Lord has blessed my master with flocks and herds, silver and gold, menservants and maidservants, camels and donkeys. But this was nothing to him compared to the greatest gift of God: His wife, Sarah, gave birth in her old age to a boychild named Isaac.”

Isaac. Rebekah well knew the name and the story of the birth. But today Eliezer was telling this story because it was part of his errand. It was, she felt sure, the name of her husband. The miracle baby, grown to be a man, and now in need of a wife to bear children, so Abraham’s line could continue and the birthright could pass to another generation. A woman who will partake of the blessings of Sarah, to be the mother of nations in some future time.

Me.

“Abraham has begotten other sons to concubines, but Isaac is sole heir to all that Abraham has, including the birthright.”

When Father read this, he nodded. “We know of the birthright. For a while I was in line for it myself, till God chose otherwise.”

“A short while ago, my master called me to him and made me swear the most holy oath, that I would find a wife for Isaac, but not from among the daughters of the Canaanites in whose land Abraham dwells. Rather he sent me north to the land of Haran, to Abraham’s father’s house, to his kindred, to find a wife for his son.”

Rebekah saw how intently Father and Mother and Laban all listened to the man. She realized that she was the calmest person in the tent. But then, it was her prayer that was being answered here.

“But how would I, no more than a steward, and a man of Damascus by birth, hope to choose the woman who should be Isaac’s bride? The choice could not be mine. It had to be the Lord’s. So this evening, as I stood by the well of Haran, knowing that the women of this place would come there for water, I prayed that God would show me the woman he chose. I asked for this sign, that when I asked a woman for a drink of water, she would not only give it to me, but would also offer water for my animals.”

Mother raised an eyebrow at this. Rebekah suspected what she was thinking: Eliezer had not chosen an easy sign for God to fulfill. The kind of woman who would, of herself, talk freely to a stranger at the well, and pour water for him, was not the kind of woman that he could bring home as bride for his master’s son. So he made the sign even more outrageous—that she must offer to water his animals as well, even though he had servants with him who were perfectly capable of doing it. What woman, of low or high station, would go so far?

And when Father read Eliezer’s words, he looked sharply at Rebekah, for of course he knew that they would not be having this conversation if Rebekah had not fulfilled the sign in every particular, which meant that she had behaved in an outrageously immodest manner.

Rebekah merely bowed her head demurely. Let Father think what he would. She was led by God today. What seemed brazen to her parents had felt like ordinary generosity to her at the time. Or not even that. It had simply felt right.

Eliezer went on. “Your daughter, with astonishing kindness, put my request and the needs of my animals above her own modesty. I received my sign from the Lord in every particular. Then, to learn that she is in fact the daughter of Bethuel, a young woman whom any great man would desire for the bride of his heir—and, of course, my own eyes told me of her beauty, which will greatly please my master’s son.”

Rebekah saw Laban smirking, and imagined what he’d say to her later about what he’d do if Father ever suggested that Pillel should go choose a wife for him.

“And now, if you will treat my master with kindness and faithfulness, tell me. And if not, tell me there is no hope for my master’s suit, so I can know which way to turn.”

Father began nodding as he read this, though Rebekah well knew that the demand for an immediate answer was very abrupt. No, it was rude.

So Rebekah wrote her own words in the dirt, the letters facing Father, even as Laban was still writing Eliezer’s words.

“I will obey God’s will,” wrote Rebekah.

The words were simple enough, but Rebekah knew that Father would understand all that they meant. That she believed this man’s sign was indeed from God, that she would marry Isaac, and there was no reason to pretend to negotiate. This was the wedding she had waited for.

“My master is old,” said Eliezer. “He cannot travel. Nor will he allow Isaac to leave his side, for there are enemies of God who would seek out the young man to kill him in order to try to thwart the will of the Lord.”

Rebekah wondered if those enemies included Ishmael, Abraham’s firstborn, the son of a concubine, who had been expelled from Abraham’s camp as a boy nearly at the age of manhood because of the threat he posed to the baby Isaac. But surely one brother would not threaten another, no matter how angry or jealous he might be.

Father looked intently at Rebekah, and then at Laban and Mother. He had nods from all of them before he answered. “This comes from God. What does it matter what we think, good or bad?” Father shook his head, but then he gestured toward Rebekah. “Look, there she is before you, my daughter Rebekah. Take her, go, let her be the wife of your master’s son. The Lord has made his choice. Her son will have the birthright.”

Rebekah felt a thrill go through her. The thing was done. So quickly, so simply, after all these months—no, years since the suitors had started coming. This was the reason she could not say yes to Ezbaal. Even that proud desert lord would understand a woman’s refusing him in order to marry the heir of Abraham.

Eliezer knelt up and then bowed himself down to the earth, right across the place where they had been writing. His right hand stretched across the place where Laban had written Eliezer’s words, and his left hand touched Rebekah’s own writing, though whether he planned it or it was simple chance, she did not know.

“O God, Master of my master, Father of all fathers, Lord of all lords, for thy sake this great family offers up their brightest jewel to adorn thee in thy glory, and thou hast chosen to bind this gift into a setting of the purest gold of my master’s house.”

It was a very poetic thing to say, and the words might have thrilled her if Rebekah was to be won with words. But since she was already won by her faith in God, she only admired the words and then wondered idly if Eliezer had thought them up in advance, composing them during the journey north from Canaan, or if the words simply fell unplanned from his lips.

Eliezer knelt back up and opened the bag at his waist. He brought forth more jewelry and laid it upon the rug before him. The pieces were of the purest gold Rebekah had ever seen, their luster deep and rich in the evening light that slanted into the tent, or of a silver that showed no sign of tarnish. The gems set in the rings and necklaces were polished perfectly and seemed to glow with inner light. All the workmanship was extraordinarily delicate and even. Rebekah had never imagined that such things could exist, let alone be offered as a gift for her. And not the bride-gift, either, for these were clearly intended to adorn her body, not remain behind with Father and Mother when she left.