El Shaddai Volume II

El

Shaddai

Jane Ann Lemen

Volume II

Copyright © 2017 Jane Ann Lemen

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc. 2017

ISBN 978-1-64027-935-3 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64027-937-7 (Hard Cover)

ISBN 978-1-64027-936-0 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Book II, Continued—The Land Beyond the River

Introduction to

Volume II

Jacob has been in Paddan Aram, known in his homeland of Canaan as the Land Beyond the River, for over 14 years now. He had come to this land ostensibly to find a bride, to marry among his parents’ people. At stake was not only the family’s future, but also the future of a mysterious covenant given first to his grandfather and then to his father and now, he believed, to him by a god they called El Shaddai, a god they believed to be the only god in the world. And El Shaddai’s relationship with all mankind was to be passed on through Jacob as next in line.

The story was far more complicated. There was the older twin brother who Jacob had tricked out of the birthright and blessing that went to the inheritor of the covenant, the brother who in retaliation had threatened to kill him. There was the father-in-law who had not just one daughter but also an older daughter who needed a husband. But Laban, father of Jacob’s wives and brother to his mother, also needed Jacob, a very capable steward, and had no intention of allowing him to go back to Canaan. The two wives were sisters, one of so beautiful he had instantly fallen in love with her, the other, the older sister, more plain-looking faded in comparison. But this older sister had turned out to be remarkably fertile and was now expecting her seventh child in as many years, while the beautiful wife had just conceived her first.

What Jacob had anticipated to be a sojourn of only a year or two had now stretched to fourteen years with no end in sight. He was under the control of his father-in-law, in debt with virtually no way out. His mother back in Canaan had already died, and his father was well advanced in age. And there was still his brother waiting for him dagger in hand.

Yet Jacob had what neither his father nor grandfather had – a large family of sons, ten so far. And he had the promise of El Shaddai…

PART III

The Final Years

Chapter 14

On those occasions when he allowed himself to take the time to look at his life in retrospect, Jacob would always consider the summer of his sixteenth year residing in Paddan Aram as one of the most pleasant in his life, if not indeed the most pleasant. The weather was beautiful, the ewes dropped their lambs without incident, the crops came in abundantly, even the saplings in the newly planted olive grove seemed to thrive amidst the stumps of the old grove. And there was peace, blessed peace, in his home.

Even old Laban seemed somewhat friendlier, no doubt due to his youngest daughter at last being with child. Granted Laban had been somewhat shocked at the rather large number of black lambs born to his flocks that year, but he attributed that to the fickleness of the gods. For he could not complain about the lambing. It was unusually successful, and if a high number seemed to be black and thus belonged to Jacob, he still had more than the usual number for his own flocks. He could afford to be generous to Jacob, at least this year.

Both Laban and Jacob rejoiced in the pregnancy of Rachel, the favorite daughter of Laban and also the favorite wife of Jacob. Years of disappointment had vanished instantly with Rachel’s announcement that she was with child.

Jacob had found out about Rachel the same time that he found out about Leah’s latest pregnancy. For several years Leah had looked upon her own pregnancies with mixed emotions. She considered each child she could conceive a blessing from El Shaddai and was immensely happy over each one. But with each one also came anxiety knowing how her younger sister, whom she loved immensely, would most likely respond. In the last few pregnancies she had said nothing to her husband until she had to. And with Rachel still barren, Leah had come to feel embarrassed over her rather abundant fertility. Occasionally she fell into shame, but then reason overcame emotion. After all, what did she have to be ashamed of? Jacob spent far more time with Rachel in his bed than he did with her. Never was there a time when, having a choice of sleeping companion, he had picked Leah instead of Rachel. Not once. If there was any shame she bore, it was only over that first week of their marriage when she had taken Rachel’s rightful place in Jacob’s wedding chamber and had conceived. But the other five children, every one of them, had been conceived when Rachel was in the women’s confinement quarters.

So when Leah discovered she was expecting for the seventh time in nine years, she said nothing, not until almost two months later when Rachel came to her and asked, Leah, are you with child again?

Even then she had waffled. I might possibly be, she had answered, dreading the sarcasm and accusations that would surely follow.

But to her surprise, Rachel had smiled, and her eyes grew misty.

I think I might be too, her sister had whispered.

Together the sisters did the mathematics, as much as people without calendars could do, judging from the New Moon Festivals and when they had last slept in the confinement room. And however they figured it, Rachel was surely with child, about half a month behind her sister. What clinched the confirmation, however, was Rachel’s feelings of nausea, especially in the mornings.

They did not tell the news to their husband at once, Rachel being afraid that they could be wrong or something could happen before the child was big enough to survive an early birth. But it wasn’t long before Zilpah and Bilhah each began eyeing them suspiciously. Then Adah made some comment that indicated that she too was suspicious.

But when the rumors began flying around the village, then they knew they must tell Jacob, who indeed had his own suspicions by this time. It had been sometime, far more than the usual month, since Rachel had not been able to sleep by his side. But after telling Jacob, they discovered that Adah had apparently mentioned something to Darian who in turn had asked Nephilim who denied any knowledge of such things at all—good grief, he was a eunuch after all!

And then came Rezia’s visit, and the news had to be announced—to such celebration that the sisters were overwhelmed that so many cared about Rachel at last being with child.

That summer, that blessed summer, Rachel and Leah rediscovered the joys of their sisterhood, a relationship severely strained ever since Laban had switched brides on Jacob. All the pain, distrust, and heartache of that night and the following years melted away as they gloried in their shared pregnancies.

Rachel was to say later that this special summer had reminded her of when she was a child, perhaps four years old, and their father had purchased his two little girls dolls on a trip to Mari. The dolls were different, and happily for Laban, each girl had cherished her own doll as the most beautiful and special in the world. They had spent hours playing with them, dressing them in little clothes their mother Miriam had sewn for them, naming and renaming them. And each girl had not only been proud of her own doll but, wonder of wonders, had been equally proud of her sister’s doll.

Now they took such a delight in each other’s pregnancy. The nausea that hit Rachel had surprised her; she had not recalled Leah ever suffering so. So she asked her sister, and yes, she had felt some although nothing as severe as Rachel’s. When Leah at last seemed to be over any traces of nausea, Rachel hoped the same would be true for her, and in a few weeks it was. When Leah’s breasts began to swell, Rachel looked for her own to do the same. Leah’s abdomen began to swell sometime before Rachel’s did, but Leah explained that was because she had already had six babies, while Rachel was having her first. And sure enough, after a few more weeks Rachel’s abdomen began to swell also.

And then came the day when Leah took Rachel’s hand and placed it on her abdomen.

Do you feel it? she asked.

Yes! said Rachel. Yes, I do! That’s your baby moving!

And you should feel the same very soon, promised her sister.

And about three weeks later she did, much to her and Leah’s joy, and Jacob’s. He would put his hand on one belly and then the other, and all three would laugh, especially when he pretended to talk to the babies and interpreted their movements as answers to his questions. Rachel thought this was the most wonderful feeling she had ever had, feeling a new human life, feeling Jacob’s son, moving within her.

As the summer wore on, the sisters, still as giddy and giggly as little girls, began talking about the coming babies in more concrete terms.

Leah, Rachel had said with a start one day, what if I have a girl! What if I don’t give Jacob a son!

Then I’ll be angry with you! Leah had snapped back, although her grin told Rachel she was not truly angry. This child of mine is the girl in this family. Your child is to be another boy, your son for Jacob!

Leah, wouldn’t that be wonderful? asked Rachel, suddenly happy again. You have wanted a daughter for so long, and I want a son to give to Jacob. That’s how it will be, a daughter for you and a son for me!

Sounds perfect to me, agreed Leah.

But Rachel, always the worrier, suddenly grew sober again. But what if I do have the girl and you the boy?

Then, silly, we’ll switch the babies, and Jacob will never know, said Leah. But it won’t be that way. I’m sure this child within me is a girl, and I’m sure that yours is a boy.

How could you know such a thing?

Because I believe that’s how El Shaddai would want it. Remember the dream he sent to Jacob? Sons will also come from you.

Rachel did take comfort in that. But not totally. For deep within she bore a secret, one she could not share with her sister, one she would not share with her father, and one she would never, ever tell Jacob. She had frequently gone to her father’s small chapel within his house and lit a candle before the idol to El. But when no one was nearby, she had also lit one to Anath, the goddess of fertility, and to Anath’s consort Ba’al, lord of the universe and the mountain storms. These were the gods she had been raised to serve, and as much as she loved Jacob, she could not let go. What if Jacob were wrong? At last she rationalized that if El Shaddai was what Jacob claimed, he would surely understand her anguish. For if El Shaddai were indeed the only god, then why would such a great deity mind a desperate woman lighting a candle before idols that did not exist? But thought Rachel, Jacob must never know. She would rather face the wrath of an offended god or two than the disappointment of her husband.

And so that pleasant summer passed. Jacob’s ten sons, from Reuben at eight years of age, the oldest, to little Zebulon just beginning to walk, grew rapidly, bronzed by the hot sun of Paddan Aram. Judah and Dan now joined the three oldest boys in their lessons under the tutelage of Nephilim. Frequently their classroom was up in the hills where they learned to distinguish the various animal tracks they found there. They learned how to stalk the wild goats and deer and how to avoid the bear and mountain cat. They also learned how to handle the bow, how to string it rapidly and brace the arrow, and especially how to aim it, take a lead on their prey if necessary, and let the arrow fly to its mark. They learned everything that the sons of the nobility of Ur, destined someday to be officers in Ur’s armies, would learn. In short, they learned everything that Nephilim had learned as a child.

Jacob’s sons also learned the stories of their ancestors. Nephilim could not teach them the lists of the Ancient Ones, their family tree, for there were two names on that list that corresponded to names he was no longer allowed to utter, and so Jacob was the one to teach his sons those lists. Both men emphasized that the youngsters must learn the histories of their family accurately, a mistake made now could last for a thousand years, so no mistake was allowed to be made.

Nephilim also taught them how to make the writings accurately on their little clay tablets that he made for them, washing them clean at the end of each day’s lessons. He also taught them his own native tongue, and also those of Canaan. He wanted to teach them the tongue of Egypt, but alas, he himself had forgotten it. He thought they might have need of that tongue when they returned to Canaan. Yet, Hello, Goodbye, and Thank you were all he could remember.

Nephilim’s other task, that of training the villagers for warfare, could now be done openly. Laban could hardly argue against the village defenses since those defenses had saved their lives the summer before. Laban was also forced to increase their armory of arrows, stones, and spears. They must never run short again.

If Laban had been confused over the large number of black lambs born to the flocks that spring, Jacob and Darian had not. More significant than the color of the lambs was the conformation of them. The little lamb Laban had left for him two years before had every indication of being as good a sire as the one Jacob had sacrificed years before.

Laban would have been amazed had he seen the sheep grazing in Zadok’s hidden paddocks. Jacob and Darian were overjoyed when Nephilim first took them to the mountain hideout. Slowly they began moving their own sheep in. By breeding the black ram’s offspring back to white ewes, they hoped to build a substantial flock in just a few years.

Just a few years—those words gnawed at Jacob. When the summer heat at last abated, he figured he had been in Paddan Aram sixteen years. A far cry from the one or two years he had originally planned on being gone from Canaan. And yet he knew there were still more years ahead of him before he would be able to leave. The vision at the altar in the glen had said El Shaddai would tell him when the time had come. He would have to wait. Yet he ached to leave, to return to the tents of his father.

Gradually the heat of the summer gave way to the relative coolness of fall. The days shortened, and the summer fruit harvest came and went. Soon the wine making season would be upon them.

The bellies of Jacob’s wives were both bulging by then, and he hated to be too far away from his house in the village. All three laughed at the awkwardness of the expecting mothers, a new experience for Rachel but one that Leah was all too familiar with. Jacob looked at them and looked at his house, and everywhere he looked there seemed to be children, and all of them boys, packed in it. He wondered how the house, even with its new expansion, could hold two more.

Then one day, while he was out in the fields, Reuben and Simeon came running.

Father, Father!’ they cried. Mother’s time has come again!"

Jacob ran with the boys back to the village, through its streets, and up to the gates of his house. There he was halted by some very determined village women.

No, Master Jacob, one cried, this is a time for the women to care for things. We will tell you when you may go in.

We told the boys it was too soon to get you, said another, but they would not wait. Now you must wait.

So Jacob sat within his own gates, impatiently waiting to be permitted inside. Soon he heard oohs and aahs from inside the walls and a baby’s infant cry. Then he heard someone—he thought it sounded like Zilpah—saying, Leah, you have your girl!

A short time later Adah, her face beaming, came to the gate and allowed Jacob into his own residence, with the women and some men from the village spilling into his courtyard behind him.

Adah said nothing, but it mattered not, for Jacob did not wait for her to speak. He hurried into the room where Leah lay on pillows, the birthing stool set to one side. Zilpah and Bilhah had finished cleansing the area, and Rachel sat holding a damp cloth to her sister’s forehead. Already Leah held the newborn to her breast.

She smiled broadly as Jacob knelt beside her and tenderly stroked her hair and gently patted the babe. He smiled at Rachel, who smiled back. The infant had already stopped nursing, and Jacob asked if he might hold the child. Leah, smiling, gently handed the baby, tightly wrapped in its swaddling cloths, to her husband.

To the horror of the women, Jacob began to carefully unwind the cloths they had so carefully wound around the newborn just moments before. And as he finished the unwinding, a look of grave concern drew over his face.

What? What’s this? he asked, his brows knit and confusion in his voice.

What’s what? asked Leah, alarmed. Is something wrong?

I’ve never seen a baby like this before, he said. And then he held the naked child up and took it to the door for all in the courtyard to see. I ask you, have you ever seen such a child like this born in the House of Jacob before? Have you now? He was greeted by laughter and cheers from the villagers.

Jacob, you’re as silly as ever a goose could be. Leah laughed. No, you haven’t seen a child like that born in this house before because you’ve never had a girl born in this house before! Now give her back to Zilpah so we can get her wrapped again!

Oh, that’s the cause of her looking so different, Jacob replied, handing the infant over to Zilpah. I thought something was wrong!

If something’s wrong, it’s not with that baby, replied Leah. The maids and I have given you ten sons and Rachel will soon give you another. That should be enough men around this place. This one’s a daughter, and I am grateful to El Shaddai for her!

So am I, Leah, Jacob whispered, kissing her on the cheek. Still she is different from her brothers.

And praise be to El Shaddai for that! Leah retorted.

Have you thought of a name? asked Jacob.

I would like to name her Dinah, said Leah. That was the name of the nurse who cared for Rachel and me when we were little.

I suggested that name to Leah awhile back, said Rachel. We both like it.

Then Dinah it shall be, said Jacob. And reaching to Rachel, he put his hand on her swollen belly, And this one, do you have a name for this one yet?

Yes, replied Rachel. But I will wait until he is here and at my breast. And it will be a he, you needn’t worry about him being different from your other children.

It was barely two weeks later that Rachel went into labor. Hers was not an easy birth as Leah’s had been. The pains had begun during the night and on into the morning. She struggled for several hours with Jacob, waiting in the courtyard with Laban and Darian, growing more and more anxious. As the day wore on into evening, and Rachel’s cries of pain became louder and more frequent, the men stared at each other in silence.

But at last, just as the sun was shedding its last rays of the day, Rachel gave one more long moan, and then they heard the infant’s first cry. Soon Adah came to the door, motioning Jacob and Laban inside.

It’s a boy, just like Rachel and Leah said. Adah beamed.

Is Rachel all right? It seemed to last such a long time, Jacob said.

Rachel is fine, Adah answered. Exhausted but fine. She is not such a natural at childbirth as Leah. I swear Leah could be working in the fields, pause a few minutes to give birth, and then continue her fieldwork. Rachel did struggle, and it was a large baby. But some honeyed wine and a good night’s sleep, and she’ll be fine. And the baby is as healthy as you could possibly hope for.

Then Jacob saw his new son, a beautiful baby, serenely asleep in his mother’s arms. As he looked at this new son, he thought surely this was what Rachel had looked like when she was born.

I have given you a son at last, Rachel whispered, her eyes glistening with joy.

You have indeed, said Jacob. A beautiful son, I think the most beautiful I have ever seen. What shall we call him?

Joseph, Rachel answered at once.

Joseph, ‘may God give us another son.’ said Jacob. Now that your womb has at last opened, there will be more sons, I am sure.

Laban stepped out of the shadows behind Jacob. My daughter, he said, it is only fitting that so beautiful a mother should have so beautiful a child. This House has truly been blessed.

Rachel said nothing, but never took her eyes from her precious son. Behind her she heard another infant began to stir and then cry, and she could hear her sister move toward the child. Soon the cries were replaced by the sound of Leah’s infant at her breast. And she wondered what Leah was thinking.

For Leah had surely heard the praise of Rachel’s son as the most beautiful, Leah who had given Jacob six sons from her own womb plus the two from Zilpah’s. And always, so it seemed, Leah was lost in the shadows behind Rachel, and, now that she held a son in her own arms, Rachel was acutely aware of her sister.

Taking her eyes from her newborn son and looking at her father, Rachel said, loud enough for Leah to hear as well as Jacob and Laban, The House of Jacob has been blessed many, many times, Father, twelve times now, to be exact.

A week later, Jacob and his wives, accompanied by Darian and Adah, and the slave Nephilim, made their way to the hidden glen that sheltered the altar to El Shaddai. Soon they were joined, secretly, by Terah and Rezia. And there Jacob circumcised his eleventh son, Joseph.

Sometime during that same night, two candles were lit on Laban’s altar, one before the idol to El, the other before the idol to Anath.

* * * * *

A stranger, had he visited Jacob that winter and watched him with his new son, would have assumed that this little Joseph was Jacob’s firstborn son, not his eleventh. And he might have assumed that the other newborn in the house was a twin to Joseph. For the two infants, born only a couple of weeks apart, were the delight of their father. He could not get enough of either of them. And as the winter gave way to spring and then summer and then that year too passed, the two children seemed to grow more and more adorable, and embedded themselves in their father’s heart even more, Dinah because she was the only girl in a large family of boys, and Joseph because he was the child of Jacob’s beloved Rachel.

Both children resembled Rachel in appearance except Dinah had her mother’s auburn hair and Joseph had his father’s dark brown hair. Jacob might have made the argument that the children didn’t resemble Rachel so much as his own mother. But Laban would respond that to say the children looked like Rachel would also mean that they looked like Rebekah, so there was no use arguing the point. By the summer they were two years old, the eighteenth year Jacob had resided in Paddan Aram, they were considered by everyone in Nahor as the two most beautiful, and spoiled, children in the Land Between the Rivers.

For if Jacob was taken by his two youngest children, Laban was even more so. Joseph was the child of his beloved daughter Rachel, who reminded him so much of his lost sister Rebekah. And Rachel had waited so terribly long for a child. Dinah was the only girl of his many grandchildren by Jacob, and she had the most winsome expressions. A smile from her, especially if accompanied by the blinking of her eyes with their long auburn lashes, and Laban would yield to the most outlandish demands.

Each evening, if Jacob and his large brood had not shown up at his doorstep by a certain time, then Laban would grab his walking stick or even saddle his mule, and go to Jacob’s house. And there he would bounce the two children on his knees and kiss them over and over. They were not just his heart’s delight; they were indeed his heart.

But when two children in a family of twelve children receive such an abundance of attention, there are bound to be others feeling slighted. Such was the case with Jacob’s other ten sons, especially Reuben and Zebulon.

Reuben was now ten and becoming aware of his own status as the firstborn son of the House of Jacob. According to custom, Jacob’s estate, if necessary at that point in time, would have been divided equally in twelve parcels with each son getting one share except for Reuben who, as firstborn, would inherit two. But as he watched his father coddle Joseph, he wondered if his extra share would be safe from this youngest brother.

Reuben went to his mother one day and asked that very question. She had chided him for being jealous of a little boy barely old enough to walk and speak, and to be more trusting of his father. Still he wondered. But since he was only ten years old, other things took priority for his attention and his concerns gradually were pushed to the side.

But Zebulon was a different story. Little Zebulon was only a year older than Dinah and Joseph. He had been the new baby in the family, and now that position had passed on to another. Of course that was the same situation that all nine of his older brothers had gone through. Being the baby in the House of Jacob had been a very temporary position, sometimes lasting only a matter of weeks. Each one from Reuben on through to Zebulon had faced the loss of that cherished position. As baby after baby had come, and come very quickly, the boys lost any memory of themselves holding the esteemed position, and also saw that it was indeed a very temporary privilege.

But it was not temporary with Joseph. For no more babies had come to the House of Jacob. And Joseph, along with Dinah, were permanent title holders to the position of Baby. And of all the ten boys, Zebulon felt the sting the most.

But there was no one the boys could go to for relief, for Leah and Rachel, in a legal sense the mothers of all ten of the older boys, were also caught up in the adoration of Joseph and Dinah. Dan and Naphthali, Rachel’s sons by means of Bilhah, keenly felt the loss of their status with their mother. Rachel had guided them, cared for them, done most of the things a mother would do for her children. But she had not felt them move within her, had not struggled through labor to deliver them, had not held them to her breast. And it was very obvious to them, even though they were seven and six years old, that, though loved by her, they were not her sons in the same way Joseph was.

Their grandfather had paved the way for their new status, referring to them as bastards. They were too young to understand the meaning of the word, and Rachel refused to explain, simply saying their grandfather was wrong in saying it, they were no such things but her true sons, whatever that meant.

Still they remembered the years they, along with Gad and Asher who had been birthed by Zilpah, had played with Terah’s children, while the rest of the family had visited Grandfather. Finally their mother had demanded that Grandfather allow all the children to come to the compound. And indeed, even after the birth of Joseph and Dinah, all the children could come. But somehow they knew that they were different. And now even their mother seemed to be treating them differently.

Leah sensed that something was wrong with the children, that there was a hurt among them, a sense of loss of their father’s affections. Perhaps she was the one to sense that pain since she had also experienced it as a child when Rachel was born, the pain of having lost status as the favorite when another came along to take that place. And she continually felt such pain knowing she had never been Jacob’s choice for wife, let alone for first wife. Those who experience such pain are frequently able to sense such pain in others.

Leah tried to compensate for it, and even spoke to Jacob about it. Jacob, for his part, had not felt he was showing any favoritism, but still, when Leah would press the issue, he would make an effort to show affection to his other sons, especially Zebulon and Issachar. But eventually he would fall back into the same habits as before. Rachel, so caught up in the joy of her first son, was completely oblivious to showing any favoritism, and even responded to Leah’s concern by saying, And why wouldn’t I show favoritism to Joseph? He’s my son!

Jacob was battling other demons that year besides the emotions of his many children. He felt an emptiness inside, an emptiness that was lifted only when he was holding Dinah and Joseph in his arms, and then only temporarily.

He was battling an intense desire to go home, to go home before it was too late to see his father, before his brother might seize his father’s possessions upon Isaac’s death. That desire obsessed him.

But balanced against it was the knowledge that he was nowhere near ready to go home. Darian had asked to leave with him, and a few other villagers had also indicated interest. And his flocks and herds, hidden in Zadok’s pastures, were growing yearly. But he was still tightly bound to Laban.

And in the middle of that tug of war between his hopes and reality was the silence of El Shaddai.

Over and over in his mind Jacob replayed the vision he had at the altar in the hidden glen. El Shaddai had repeated his promise to return him to Canaan, to the land promised his grandfather Abraham. But it would be in El Shaddai’s time. El Shaddai would tell him when that time had come.

But little seemed to be happening, nothing to indicate that time was nigh. He prayed as he always had, upon first arising in the morning, at various times during the day, and at night before retiring. And he heard nothing. He saw nothing. Worse, he felt nothing. The skies were empty.

He had always laughed at those who worshiped the trees and the sun and the moon, as if those things, created by Almighty God, could themselves be gods. But now he was beginning to falter. At least those who worshiped the trees and sun and moon had objects they could see and point to and say, Ah yes, there they are. There are my gods.

He knew the obelisk in the glen was not El Shaddai. It was only an object erected by some unknown man many years before to point his thoughts and his mind and soul toward something beyond himself in the heavens. Jacob had now begun to wish that the obelisk was indeed El Shaddai. Then it would be something real, something he could touch, something he could see. He prayed to feel God’s presence with him again, to feel the warmth, to see the light, especially to feel the hand on his shoulder consoling him, reassuring him.

But he heard, saw, and felt nothing.

One day he and Darian had gone up to the glen, and he had sacrificed a lamb, the first of that year’s crop, at the altar there. Yet it seemed meaningless. After the sacrifice and the prayers, he felt just as empty as he had before.

As they rode back, Jacob mentioned to Darian his emptiness, how he longed to have another vision from God.

Darian had smiled and said nothing for a moment or two, as the mules trotted on down the path. At last he turned to his friend and, smiling even more broadly, said, Well, Jacob, I guess you’ll have to be content to live like the rest of us.

Jacob was surprised. "I don’t understand. What do you mean?’ he had said.

The rest of us haven’t had any visions, said Darian. We have to live, and believe, without visions. We have to live by faith. Perhaps that’s why El Shaddai has withdrawn himself from you, my friend. He wants you to live on faith for a while.

When they had returned to the village that day, Jacob discovered that Micah had arrived once more, and this time had brought a string of seventeen of the finest mules he had ever seen.

After greeting his friend and inquiring of his father, who, Micah assured him, was in excellent health, he asked about the mules.

They are splendid! Jacob had exclaimed. Where did you find them?

In Damascus, Micah replied. Who else breeds such fine animals? Your father has felt he has been remiss and has sent them as gifts.

Jacob looked at Micah in surprise. My father remiss? he asked. In what way?

Micah laughed. Well, it has occurred to him that you have had a multitude of children and he has not sent presents to them, he explained. ‘These mules are for the sons of Jacob’ Master Isaac told me, ‘as well as a mule for Jacob and one for each of his wives and concubines, and another in case he should have yet another son before he returns.’ When you return to Canaan, he wants your family to be well mounted.

Jacob smiled broadly. He went along the line of animals, examining each, running his hand over their backs, pleased with all he saw and felt.

These are indeed fine animals, he said. And young.

They are indeed young, said Micah. They have been broken to both saddle and pack, and are gentle and strong. They will serve you for many, many years.

Gentle enough for the oldest boys to ride them? asked Jacob.

The man I bought them from, the most renowned breeder in all of Damascus, assured me they would carry a child easily. In fact he brought out his own grandson, a lad about four years old, and had him ride on each mule. They are gentle, very gentle. Of course they are still mules and might show some stubbornness, but I don’t think you’ll need to worry about a bite or a kick.

Jacob turned a sober face to Micah. I still have no idea when I might be able to come, he said.

They are young mules, Micah replied, emphasizing the word young.

But my father is not young, Jacob answered sadly. Still these mules will be handy. And wait till the boys see them! They will be so excited! Especially when I tell them that each one will have a mule of his very own.

The boys were indeed excited when they heard the news. All except the three youngest—Issachar, Zebulon, and Joseph—had been in the hills with Nephilim studying their lessons. Jacob told them about the gift from their grandfather, the one they had never met, and that they could pick out which mule they wanted for their own, beginning with Reuben the oldest on down to Joseph. To their secret delight, he included the sons of the concubines in the birth order between Judah and Issachar. It was doubtful that Joseph, only two years old that summer, understood what was expected of him, but he immediately went to one of the remaining six mules and began to pat it.

The excitement caused by the arrival of such fine animals reached the ears of Laban, and he came out to the well to see what was happening. He could not help but admire the beauty of the gifts to his grandsons.

Yet that evening, after a festive dinner in the compound welcoming Micah, Laban could not resist saying, Those are indeed fine mules, although I can’t imagine why you would need that many. Your sons are still too young to need mounts. Mules are sterile, so you can’t start herds for your boys when they’re grown. And if you should leave for Canaan, you won’t need that many mules for just you and Nephilim. Donkeys would have been far more practical.

Jacob’s eyes blazed, and he started to speak, but to his amazement Rachel had suddenly pushed herself between him and her father.

Those mules are for the sons of Jacob to ride when they return to the land promised them! she snapped. The promise was not just to Jacob but to his children and their children after them.

Rachel, interrupted Laban, his temper beginning to flare, you are not—

But the sentence remained unfinished.

Don’t tell me what I am or am not, she fired back, her temper already blazing. Jacob is my husband. You put my hand in his yourself. And I will follow him wherever he may go. And so will my sister. And so will our sons—all eleven sons and our daughter. If El Shaddai calls him back to Canaan, we will go, all of us. And we will go mounted on these mules given us by Isaac, father of Jacob. The time comes in every woman’s life when she leaves the house of her father and sojourns in the house of her husband. And that is what Leah and I have done, and we shall go wherever he takes us!

And with that she yanked a surprised Joseph from his grandfather’s lap and, shoving Dan and Naphthali ahead of her, marched out of her father’s house. Her sister very quickly rose and followed her with her children, saying nothing.

Laban and Jacob stared at each other. At last Laban broke the silence, pointing a finger at his son-in-law.

This changes nothing, Jacob, he said in a quiet voice that was even more frightening than his usual bellowing. My daughters and my grandchildren are to stay here. And even if I let you leave with them, which I never shall, by all the gods in the heavens above and the depths below, if you ever leave here with one thing, just one thing that belongs to me, I’ll track you down to the ends of the earth and whip you back here. Enjoy your mules. When you leave, you and Nephilim can pick and choose which to ride, if you can ever leave!

Micah stayed in Nahor long enough to help Jacob build a pen and shelter for the mules between the old wall of the village and the new one, behind Jacob’s house. They also broke an opening into the old wall, so the mules could be brought in and out through his courtyard. Nephilim had suggested it. The area between the two walls had plenty of grass for grazing, and that would keep the mules close at hand. Jacob saw the logic of that. With them so close by, the boys and the mules would have plenty of opportunity to know each other, and they would be well away from Laban.

On the last day of Micah’s visit, Jacob had walked with him beyond the outer wall of Nahor, and the two men had clasped each other and exchanged the kiss of peace. And then Micah had told Jacob that this would probably be the last trip he would be making to Paddan Aram. Jacob had nodded. He understood with his father’s advancing age Micah would not feel comfortable leaving Isaac for such a long period again.

That night, Jacob lay on the rooftop of his old house, longing to fall asleep but unable to do so. His mind was too busy. Too much had happened during Micah’s short visit. He had been lulled by the apparent friendliness of Laban, especially after Joseph’s birth. Yet as Laban himself had said, nothing had changed. Laban was still adamant that Jacob could not leave, at least not with his family.

He had been surprised at Rachel’s words, and at the emotion behind them. He had worried about whether she would want to leave her father and the only home she knew. He knew Leah’s heart on the matter. Leah had suffered under her father’s neglect and had no regrets about leaving him. And Jacob made a promise to himself that he would try to treat his own sons more equally. But he thought, Rachel had not suffered from Laban’s neglect. She had been the favorite. Would she really want to leave him and Paddan Aram? Tonight she had said so, and said it emphatically. But when the time came to mount the mules, would she really feel that way?

Perhaps Rachel had realized the significance of that story Laban had told when Rebekah had died. Perhaps she had realized she was the favorite not because of her own charms and goodness and spirit but because she reminded him of his lost sister, because she was Rebekah, come back to him.

Jacob’s mind kept coming back to the conversation he had with Darian that very morning Micah had arrived. He would have to live by faith. Darian was right. None of the others who had come forward and asked to be taught about the One God had visions. Only he had. They had to live by faith. Why should he expect not to?

And what might a vision be anyway? Was Rachel’s bold defiance of her father, her brave announcement that she would follow her husband to Canaan, was that a sign from Yahweh? What about the gift of the mules from his father? Jacob could argue either way. On the one hand, he could argue that these were indeed signs from Yahweh. On the other hand, they were no such thing, only coincidences that would have happened anyway.

And what indeed was faith? Was it blind, indeed mindless, thinking, fitting everything that happened into his own preconceived notions. Were the mules a sign from El Shaddai because he wanted them to be such a sign? Or was it trust, a setting out without knowing where or why, but only who? And was even the who a matter of faith?

He thought of his grandfather, Abraham, who had set out from this very country so many years ago, led by a vision, by an idea, by a concept that no one else believed in, indeed that everyone else considered laughable. And on that blind faith Abraham had gone to a land he had never heard of but believed his people would inherit. Well, that was silly on the very face of it. First, Abraham had no people, not even a single son, when he had left Paddan Aram. And the land promised to him was already occupied by other peoples. Micah had pointed that out to him, well over twenty years ago, when they stood on that hilltop in Galilee, and Jacob had surveyed the land that was to belong to his people someday. Micah had asked about all the other peoples who lived there. What would happen to them?

To be fair, Jacob had to admit that Abraham’s situation seemed more impossible than his did. Abraham was to have only one child by his wife Sarah, and that child came when they were both too old to have children. Jacob had eleven sons, and even discounting the four by the concubines, he still had seven. And now he had a fine string of mules for his wives and sons for their journey to his father’s tents. He had growing flocks of sheep and goats, much of it hidden out of sight in Zadok’s pens. He had many fine camels. He had a slave who was bright and brave and dedicated to him, one who was keeping records that would justify his leaving with what was rightfully his.

But he also had no more sense of Yahweh than when he had complained to Darian riding back from the glen. Was this what faith meant? To wait? To continue on in spite of evidence seemingly to the contrary? To hope when it seemed hopeless?

Abraham had. And the thought suddenly occurred to him, Isaac must be doing so now. Else he would not have sent the mules.

Jacob sighed. So must he. He must wait. He must continue to build up his flocks and also his followers to go with him. And he must hope.

As he lay there on the rooftop, he gazed at the stars overhead. The eternal stars, he thought, always twinkling down on mankind.

He arose from his mat and lit the small lamp of olive oil on the table beside him. And then he knelt before its flickering flame.

All right, my lord El Shaddai, he said. Yahweh, the great I AM, God of my grandfather, God of my father, God who has brought me here and promised to take me home again, I will wait if that is your will. I will continue on if that is your will. And I will hope if that is your will. I will have faith if that is your will, even when my whole being wants to doubt. For there is no one else in heaven above or in the earth below who I can trust but you.

A few days after Micah’s departure, Jacob called his two trusted advisers, Darian and Nephilim, to meet with him on the rooftop of his home. To their surprise, he asked Rachel and Leah to join them. Nephilim had poured new wine in their goblets and was prepared to leave when, to his discomfort, Jacob asked him and the women to sit in a circle among the pillows. Nephilim was exasperated that his master seemed so often to forget his slave’s status and include him when a slave should not be included. He should not be seated with free men and especially not with his master’s wives.

Briefly Jacob explained what he wanted to know—how prepared were they to leave at an instance’s notice. Specifically, how many people from the village would be coming, what were the sizes of his flocks and herds that would be taken to Canaan, did they have enough men going to protect them, did they have enough weapons, and where could they secure tents and furnishings for tents for the journey.

He was surprised at the number of villagers who were hoping to come. Later he thought he shouldn’t have been. Most of them had also had their fill of Laban and would be willing to set out on a new adventure. The ones remaining behind were mostly older people who could not make such a long trek.

Did they have enough animals to transport that group? Nephilim believed they were close, very close to having enough pack animals. Most of the villagers would have to walk. Jacob decided that his wives and the smaller children would ride on his camels, leaving the new mules as pack animals. When they got to Canaan, they could become the mounts for his sons.

Flocks and herds—Jacob himself answered that. They would need more sheep and goats as well as a few more donkeys. He estimated close to a third of their stock would either die or be slaughtered for food on the journey.

And so the five people analyzed each aspect of the trip. Jacob and Nephilim were both experts in moving large caravans from one place to another, Nephilim from his military background and Jacob from his nomadic experience. Darian had some idea of the best route to take, which oddly enough was close to the one Jacob had been told his mother had traveled when Eliezer had brought her from Paddan Aram to marry his father.

Then came the matter of tents, and to Jacob’s surprise Leah, Rachel, and Nephilim had smiled as if in on a secret that had been kept from him. Nevertheless, he continued telling about his idea of somehow making a trip to Haran and buying the tents they would need. It would cost him plenty, but they had to have them. His concern was how to get them back to Nahor and hidden so Laban would not discover them.

That will not be a problem, my lord, Leah had said, her smile broadening. Rachel put her hand over her mouth as if to stifle a giggle.

And why is that not a problem? Jacob asked, with a tinge of demand in his voice. He was annoyed at their frivolity in the face of a serious problem.

Leah looked at Rachel who burst out laughing.

May I have permission to be told this secret that is so amusing to you? Jacob asked with a heavy note of sarcasm.

My husband, we already have the tents, Leah answered.

You have tents?

Yes, Jacob, answered Rachel, we have tents, although probably not enough yet. And they are obviously well hidden.

Where? he asked in amazement.

Here in the village—in places that if you have not found them, neither would our father, Rachel continued. Did you think we women did not know that we would need tents? We have been scraping goatskins for three years now. And while you men were busy with your war training, we women were busy sewing tents together.

Jacob smiled. His disbelief had turned to relief and gratitude. He looked at Nephilim.

You knew about this?

Yes, my master, I knew.

But you never told me.

My mistresses said I must not bother you with it. So I did not tell you. And, my lord, the slave continued, I was quite relieved when they told me about it. The money you would have spent on tents can be better used on the supplies we will need on the journey to Canaan, and also to pay a caravan to take our tablets to Mari.

Jacob. Leah interrupted. Are you saying that the time is near?

I don’t know, admitted Jacob. I have no idea when the time will be. It could be tomorrow or next month or next year or another ten years. But when El Shaddai tells me, and I do believe he will tell me, we must be prepared to move and to move very quickly.

It seems to me, said Darian, that we must have everything necessary assembled, and a plan in place so we can move quickly. Once Laban realizes we are on the move, he will attempt to stop us. We must get as much a start on him, as many miles as possible between him and us before he realizes that we are gone. I have talked with Nephilim about this, and he has devised a plan, actually several plans, on how to do that. And although they don’t know it yet, he has been training some of the men on implementing that plan. When the time comes, they will be ready.

Very good, Darian, said Jacob. I am pleased that you and the others have been working on many of these concerns on your own. That takes a load off me. We still have much to do though. We need more weapons too, and we cannot leave the village defenseless. We must remember those who will be staying. But the one thing that concerns me that I have no answer to is how to get a jump on Laban, how to get a large enough distance between him and us before he realizes we are gone that he won’t come after us. I don’t want a bloody skirmish with him. He is still my uncle and the father of my wives, and grandfather to my children. How can we escape from under his very nose?

We have discussed that many, many times, said Darian, a note of regret in his voice. And none of us have been able to think of an answer.

Well, said Leah, we shall leave that one to El Shaddai.

Laban knew nothing about the meeting on Jacob’s rooftop room, nor many other meetings that were occurring around the village. Yet he was suspicious. Something was afoot, and he was sure it had to do with his obstinate son-in-law.

For one thing there was the mystery of the lambs. The first spring there had been an unusually large number of black and speckled lambs born, he had dismissed it as coincidence. After all, he had sold all the black sheep except for three newborn lambs the spring his sister Rebekah had died, so perhaps this was nature’s way, or in his belief, Anath’s way, of compensating for a lack of black sheep.

But the next spring there was also an unusual amount of black lambs. And at the same time there seemed to be fewer black yearling lambs. He asked Jacob about his flocks, and Jacob had said he might have sold a few for slaughter since he had so many, but he couldn’t really remember. Laban had then sent Terah out to inventory Jacob’s flocks, but the numbers seemed inconclusive.

The next spring there were more speckled lambs born, as well as a good number of black lambs. This time his sons, Tiras and Kenan, were also suspicious. Both advised their father to keep an eye on Jacob.

He’s stealing from you, Father, said Tiras.

As much as I admire him for what he and that slave of his did to save you and the village, I have to agree, said Kenan. Things aren’t adding up right.

If you’re getting as many black and speckled lambs as you say, and they are all to go to his flocks, he has to be doing something, agreed Tiras. If you are not careful, Jacob will have everything you possess and will leave us nothing for an inheritance.

Father, I know this is hard for you to believe, continued Kenan, that your own son-in-law, and indeed the son of your dear sister Rebekah, would cheat you. But remember his own father named him Jacob the Supplanter. He has always grabbed for everything that wasn’t his, and he’ll do that to you too. As I said, I admire him and Nephilim for saving your life and this place, but I do not trust him.

Laban heeded the words of his sons and the very next morning gave Terah a new task. He was to search through the hills and discover if there was some special reason for the huge increase in black lamb birthing.

After a week of combing the hills surrounding Nahor, Terah had returned with just one bit of new information. He had found a stream that virtually all of Laban’s flocks went to at some point to drink from, especially during breeding season. And along that stream, Jacob had apparently fashioned poles that he bent over the banks of the stream. The sheep were breeding in the dappled shade of those poles.

Poles? Laban had asked, incredulous. What kind of poles? How does he make them.

They’re just ordinary branches, most from the poplar and plane trees in the hills, Terah had answered. He peels off the bark so there are white stripes on them, and then sticks them in the mud along the stream. It makes a dark, shady area with a patchwork of light under them. And that’s what the lambs look like when they’re born in the spring, like the place where the ewes bred.

Laban was mystified by the account and rode up to the stream himself. And there were the branches, some bent over, some upright. And he could see for himself how the sun shone down in speckled patterns of shade.

After Micah had come with the string of mules, Laban had become even more apprehensive. One night, shortly after the news about the trees where the sheep bred, Terah was once again sent on a hunting trip, this time to Jacob’s house. It was done while Laban was entertaining Jacob and his entire family at the compound. Even the handmaids and Nephilim had been invited. Laban detested entertaining the slaves in such a fashion. He only reluctantly agreed to have the children of the concubines included at his home, as Rachel and Leah had both insisted that would be the only way he could see the other grandchildren. But he had to get everyone out of Jacob’s house so Terah could search it thoroughly, which meant inviting Zilpah, Bilhah, and even the maimed Nephilim. Laban was certain that Micah left a bag of silver or gold pieces each time he visited, and surely it was hidden somewhere in Jacob’s house.

But Terah had reported that once again his search had come up empty. He could find no silver, gold, jewels, or anything else of value in Jacob’s house.

Laban had raged at the news, but Terah had calmed him by suggesting that Jacob was surely keeping such items on his person to guard against theft. That did make sense but did not alleviate Laban’s fears that Jacob was up to something.

Still Laban was consoled by the generous visiting Jacob’s family was willing to do. After Rachel’s display of independence, there had been a coldness that was only broken when the old man walked to Jacob’s house with presents for everyone and begged they would come to visit him again. It took a promise not to ever discuss the strict terms he had imposed on Jacob’s leaving for his daughters to agree to visit the compound again. Jacob had wisely stayed out of the negotiating for the