The Last Testament: A Memoir (10 page)

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If thou wert sent here to read this verse, thou art an asshole.

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There; now, the next time thou findest thyself splitting hairs with a pedant on a finer point of scripture, say, “Ah, but art thou not forgetting Againesis 19:4?”; and send him scurrying here, to read my personal message.

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The more ambitious among you may even attend a sporting event, and hold up a banner reading
AGAINESIS
19:4; that thousands of boorish sophists may scurry to their Last Testaments and discover for themselves the epic majesty of both my words, and their fail.)

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It did not help Esau’s cause that he was an unusually stiff, by-the-scroll kind of fellow; for this made him the perfect butt for his younger brother’s pranks.

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Countless were the times in their childhood I would check in on them, to find Jacob giggling and running away; and Esau with his leg stuck in a pot, or his head dripping with porridge, or his tunic covered in camel droppings, shaking his fist and yelling,
“Ja-cooooooooobbbb!”

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Verily, compared to most of Jacob’s mischief the birthright exchange was a simple affair, taking all of five seconds: Esau came back from a long day of hunting, saw Jacob eating a bowl of lentils, and said, “I swear to God I’d trade my birthright for some of that right now”; to which Jacob replied, “Done!” and that was that.

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For heed me: whenever my name is invoked as a surety for an earthly pledge; whenever I become, as it were, spiritual collateral; I note it, and hold the speaker to his or her end of the bargain, with no exceptions.

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This is true for all humanity;
all
humanity.

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(I am looking at thee, Susan Moskowitz of Great Neck, New York.

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For just now in the girls’ locker room I heard thee speak thusly unto your BFF, Marissa: “I swear to God if Joey asks Paulette to Beth’s party I’m going to kill her!”

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Lo, I will hold thee to that, Susan.

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If Joey asks Paulette to Beth’s party . . . thou must kill her.)

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As for Jacob’s other great ruse, the switching of the blessing of the firstborn, that is a long story; it takes up all of Genesis 27, though I must admit any astute reader can see where it’s going from verse 4.

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The comically senile Isaac sends Esau out to prepare the food for the blessing; while he is away Rebekah prepares the food herself, and dresses her beloved son Jacob up in goatskin to simulate Esau’s hairiness; Isaac gets suspicious, and almost figures it out, but then feels his son’s “beard” . . .

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The whole thing playeth like an episode of
Three’s Company;
and not a good one, either; a later one, from the post–Suzanne Somers era.

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Esau was furious with Jacob; so Jacob ran away and made for the dwelling of his Uncle Laban; and one night on the road thereto, I sent him the famous vision of Jacob’s ladder.

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He dreamt of a ladder reaching to heaven, with angels ascending and descending, and me at the top; and, as I had his grandfather, I promised to bequeath to his descendants the Promised Land; and, as I had his grandfather, I promised to make his seed as numerous as the dust of the earth;

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And, as I had his grandfather, I ended the dream with that plastic spider bit.

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But it did not work on Jacob; he was far too savvy; in fact in all his 147 years I never “gotst” Jacob; not one time.

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Yea, Jacob took no crap from me.

CHAPTER 20

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J
acob eventually made it to his Uncle Laban’s house, where, I am pleased to report, there were two young, nubile first cousins waiting for him to marry.

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Laban was a colorful character; in Genesis, I write of how he held Jacob in indentured servitude for 20 years, and how Jacob ultimately swindled him out of most of his cattle; but I left out how he was constantly—and I mean
constantly
—begging me to let him be a patriarch.

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For Laban knew of my covenant with Jacob, and was keenly jealous; and hardly a day passed when he would not sneak away, look up at the sky to where he presumed I was, and say, “Hey, God, make me a patriarch.

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Patriarch me up, buddy.

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C’mon.

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What, thou’rt telling me Jacob is a patriarch? Thou’rt gonna look me in the eye and tell me Jacob is more suitable patriarch material than me?

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Guy’s a putz!

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Lo, I say that with all due respect; kid’s my son-in-law twice over; but he’s out of control.

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Verily, thou wantest a loose cannon running your Promised Land?

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Fuhgetthaboutit.

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Listen: ‘Abraham, Isaac, and Laban.’ That soundeth good to thee? ’Cause it sure soundeth good to
me,
I can fucking tell thee that.”

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These speeches amused, not angered me, for I understood their motivation; it is difficult to live in such close contact with one who regularly talks to and is personally protected by God, and not to harbor such feelings of resentment.

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(Pat Robertson gets this all the time.

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Even his most pious friends experience jealousy toward him; for they commune not directly with their heavenly Father, whereas Pat and I talk three times a week; four, during hurricane season.)

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Of one more event in Jacob’s life will I speak, for it has been a matter of some theological dispute.

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Jacob and his family were fleeing from Laban, after Jacob had fooled him out of most of his cattle; meanwhile Esau had heard that his wayward brother was nearby, and sent a message that he was coming to meet him, with 400 armed men.

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Thus hard beset on two sides, Jacob sent his family away for their protection, and left himself alone beside a stream at sunset; whereupon “there wrestled a man with him until the breaking of the day.”

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Herein lies the dispute; for Genesis saith “a man,” but many have assumed it must have been an angel; and many beautiful pictures of Jacob wrestling this “angel” have been painted by artists like Rembrandt, Gauguin, and Chagall.

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But verily I say unto thee, that it was no angel, but, as written, a man; a man sent by Laban and Esau to beat the living crap out of Jacob.

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It had nothing to do with me; though I admit I did not lift a finger to stop it; for by any measure of divine justice, Jacob had it coming.

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And lo, that nameless goon broke just about every bone in Jacob’s body; Esau and Laban did get their forty shekels’ worth.

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But Jacob gave as good as he “gotst”; for though of only average build, he was nimble with a good reach, and knew a little krav maga; he refused to concede, and on and on they battled unto daybreak.

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It was endless; the only clash I have ever seen even comparable to it, was the fight scene between Frank Armitage (Keith David) and George Nada (“Rowdy” Roddy Piper) in the film
They Live;
and even that was done only in a spirit of post-ironic kitsch.

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When the sun rose, Jacob and the unknown enforcer both lay bruised, battered, and half-dead on the sandy ground.

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Out of respect, the enforcer called Jacob “Israel,” meaning “he who struggles with God”; for he assumed I had been fighting by Jacob’s side all night; I did no such thing; I just sat on a cloud with the angels and took in the show.

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And so Jacob became Israel; and in time, Israel became the name of the land I had promised him.

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An apt name it was too; for verily, what nation has struggled with God more than Israel?

CHAPTER 21

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A
fter that near-fatal encounter Jacob saw the wisdom of appeasing his kinsmen, so he reconciled with his uncle and his brother; though when they first saw him limping toward them in a full-body clay-cast, they chuckled uproariously.

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Then, having made peace with—wait; I should mention here that Isaac died.

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Yea; just to catch thee up, this whole time he had been getting older and older, and so had his wife; and then she died; and then he died.

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I do not mean to make his death sound unimportant; Isaac was a great man, pure of heart, strong of soul, etc.; but his life was unblemished by a single moment of interest;

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And I am the L
ORD
thy God, King of the Universe; I need to maintain narrative thrust.

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To resume: having made peace with his family, Jacob now settled down to raise his twelve sons, who were born of four different mothers: for he lived in an arrangement whereby he was not only married to his two first cousins—who were sisters—but was sleeping with both of their hand-maidens.

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Yea; Jacob was smoooooth.

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These sons would one day found the Twelve Tribes of Israel; the tribes took their names, and for centuries thereafter the relative popularity of these tribes depended solely on the relative popularity of their names.

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(This was evident from their yearly gatherings, where the delegates from Dan and Joseph were held in esteem, yet everyone giggled whenever a Zebulun entered the room.)

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But I am getting ahead of myself; for we have now arrived at the story of Joseph: of his betrayal at the hands of his other brothers; of his slavery in Egypt; of his imprisonment, release, and rise to power as Pharaoh’s chief advisor; and of his final reconciliation with his siblings and reunion with Jacob.

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It is a long, intricate, and subtle tale, taking up the last 14 chapters of Genesis; easily the most compelling, psychologically nuanced narrative to be found anywhere in the Old Testament.

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I will not be discussing it.