Abraham and Sarah (33 page)

When the child was born on Sarai’s lap as was the custom, Hagar asked quickly, “My lady, is it a boy?”

“It’s a boy,” Sarai said, “and we will name him Asa.”

Hagar was about to object, but she remembered that the stranger had told her to go home and submit to Sarai, and so she said nothing. However, when the child was carried in to Abram, he said, “This child shall be called Ishmael because God heard and answered, and we must remember forever that God hears even a woman and sees her trouble.”

Hagar loved the child as she had never loved anything before in her life. She had not known the meaning of love. Her most precious moments were spent with the small greedy little face pressed into her breast, depending on her for his very life. She delighted in each thing the child did but hid her delight so Sarai would not grow envious.

When the child wrapped his small fingers around one of her fingers or studied her face with wide, serious eyes and then finally smiled a half-crooked smile, she wanted to run and tell everyone. She wanted to brag outrageously when she saw how clever he was, but she wisely held her peace.

Sarai delighted in the child. She seemed to have totally claimed him as her own and took pride in his handsome little face, his first words calling her Ummi, and his affectionate nature.

Yet several things clouded Sarai’s joy. She resented the fact that Abram’s God had spoken to Hagar when He had never spoken to her. It did not help that the girl had gotten with child so soon. Even all that she could have accepted but to have Abram say the child’s name was to be Ishmael, the name Hagar had given him, was impossible.

She wanted to find fault with Hagar, but the girl was totally different. She was always pleasant, never rebellious as she had sometimes been in the past, and she seemed to have left her old arrogant nature back in the desert.

Sarai could find no fault with her. Even at times when she noticed Abram glance at her with approval, Hagar never seemed to notice. It was as though Hagar carried some wonderful secret that gave her peace and a quiet joy.

Sarai could not imagine what the secret could be, but Abram knew. He
knew, and he pondered the ways of Elohim. He couldn’t understand all of it. He really hadn’t thought Elohim would notice and take so much trouble for a woman, and an Egyptian woman at that. “Well,” he finally decided, “it’s like I told Hagar, we only know about Elohim by noticing what He does. He always surprises us just when we think we have Him figured out,” he said with a laugh. “Ishmael, we’ll never forget this lesson.”

With all his joy in the child, Abram could not bear to see Sarai with Ishmael. He could not endure seeing the subtle change that seemed to have taken possession of her. Having no child of her own was like a thorn that would keep her wound fresh and bleeding.

The child seemed to notice the difference too. Ishmael was serious and obedient with Sarai but laughing and playful with Hagar. He didn’t relax with Sarai but was always the good child, the proper child, when he was with her. Sarai bragged on his ability to please. Sometimes Abram saw her watching him with a sad, thoughtful look, and at such times she would call the child to her and demand, “Who is your dear mother?”

The child would look at her with his serious large eyes and say, “You are my mother.”

“Who do you love most?” she would ask, studying him with profound seriousness.

He would always give her the answer she wanted. “You, Ummi, it is you I love most.”

She would gather him into her arms and hold him tight with tears of relief coming to her eyes.

F
or thirteen years life moved on at the same leisurely pace with no difference from one day to the next. In that time not much thought was given to Elohim or his promises. Each person seemed to have settled for some form of compromise. Abram was pleased with the development of his son Ishmael, Sarai no longer grieved openly over her barrenness, and Hagar was content seeing that each day Ishmael was being groomed to inherit all that his father owned.

Then quite suddenly everything began to change. It started one cool spring night when Abram, unable to sleep, walked out under the stars and sat down on a projection of rock where he could see both the starry heavens and the campfires of his shepherds on the distant hillsides. The air was fragrant with new budding and blossoming things and the pungent odor of damp earth working its magic on roots and seeds.

As Abram sat and meditated, he began to study the stars. They were brilliant. They hung so low, they seemed like a giant tent cloth covering his world. His eyes wandered over them, and he realized once again how impossible it was to try to count them. How difficult it was to think his descendants would ever be that numerous.

As he pondered these things he slowly became aware of a familiar presence. He looked around and saw no one. He felt a rush of wind and then dead stillness. He held his breath and waited. Every nerve was tense. His fingers opened and closed, his feet shifted slightly on the smooth rock, but there was only the unusual silence. Then in the midst of the quiet he heard a voice and the sound of the voice was like thunder.

“Abram,” the voice said, “you have known Me as Elohim, but now you will know Me as El Shaddai, the almighty God.”

Abram felt such a power and presence of majesty that he fell prostrate on the ground with his face in his hands.

The voice went on to reaffirm the agreement and covenant that would
make Abram the father of many nations. “You will no longer be Abram,” the voice said, “but Abraham, exalted father.” The name was spoken with such force that it seemed to echo and reecho all around him.

Abram was about to speak and ask what his part of the contract was to be when the voice continued: “Abraham, you must obey Me. As a permanent sign of this covenant between us, you and all your posterity must be circumcised. Each male must have his foreskin removed on the eighth day after birth. This will be proof that you and those who come after you accept the terms of this covenant.”

Then the El Shaddai added, “And as to Sarai, your wife, she will no longer be Sarai, meaning ‘contention,’ but Sarah, meaning ‘princess.’ And I will bless her and give you a son by her. She will be the mother of nations and kings.”

Abraham got to his knees but still could not uncover his eyes. He was awed by the solemnity of the moment but also embarrassed and appalled to find himself secretly laughing at the ridiculousness of the promise. Sarah, a mother at her age? Surely I have heard wrong, he thought. Then he said, “Oh Lord God Elohim, I do believe in Your blessing to Ishmael.”

There was silence, and when the voice spoke again, it was with great might and power, “I am El Shaddai, the Almighty. As I have said, Sarah will bear you a son and you are to name him Isaac, ‘laughter.’ It is with him and his descendants I will sign my covenant forever.”

Abraham was immediately concerned for the son he had come to love so deeply. “What of Ishmael?” he asked.

El Shaddai continued, “As for Ishmael I will bless him also, just as you have asked Me to do. Twelve princes will be among his posterity, but My covenant is with Isaac, who will be born to you and Sarah next year at this time.”

With that the presence was gone as quickly as it had come, and Abraham was alone. He got slowly to his feet and looked around. The same stars shone out of the dark blue curtain of the sky, and the same fragrances and soft breeze filled the air around him. He brushed off the dust from his robe and stood thinking aloud.

“Laughter, so he is to be called laughter.” Then he marveled, “He already has a name. It seems the almighty God can even make an old man and his wife fruitful.” He laughed again, but this time it was with joy.

He started down the path to his tent, his feet taking off in a happy, shuffling jig. He felt young and spirited. He was going to be a father again, and
Sarah was to be a mother at last. Suddenly he paused. “Isaac, laughter,” he repeated. “He doesn’t want me to ever forget that He is the El Shaddai who can do anything. Wait until I tell Sarah.”

With mention of Sarah he paused. Perhaps, he thought, I should wait to tell Sarah. She will surely think I dreamed it all. She will never believe she can become a mother at her age.

Then as he continued on his way back to the camp, another thought crowded out all other considerations. “I must also tell Sarah and Hagar that Ishmael must be circumcised with the rest of the men,” he muttered. “They will think thirteen is too young and beg and plead. If he is to be part of the covenant, then he, too, must be circumcised. I must not linger about it. I’ll have the flint knives sharpened, and we’ll do it tomorrow before anyone thinks up excuses.”

Abraham, as he now insisted on being called, did not tell Sarah about anything but the necessity for circumcision. As he had feared, he found her opposed to having Ishmael circumcised with the men. “He’s but a child,” she insisted.

“In the future,” Abraham told her, “every child born in our camp will be circumcised by the eighth day.”

“If that’s true,” Sarah sputtered, “it’s well that I’m childless.”

Abraham saw how disturbed she was and decided there was no need to tell her of the promise. It would give her more reason to be upset. He would wait and see what came of the promise. After all, years had passed since the first promise was made.

Hagar accepted the necessity for the circumcision better than Sarah did. “The priests of Egypt have this mark on them,” she said. “For them it is a sign of dedication and honor.”

The circumcision took place without Lot. He gave the excuse that he would come later. He was busy with important matters. His businesses were prospering and his daughters were getting married.

When they came to circumcising Abraham’s menservants, Urim appeared. He had hurried up from Sodom to be part of the ritual. “I have always considered myself to be one of your servants,” he said, “and if they are to be circumcised, I don’t want to be left out.”

Ishmael surprised everyone by being braver than most, even proud to be considered old enough to be included.

It was on a hot day in early summer, near the oak grove at Mamre where Abraham was temporarily camped, that he was again reminded of the promise. It was a day much like any other. The huge sprawling oaks gave shade but little relief from the heat. The tent flaps were up, and Abraham sat in the opening hoping for a cool breeze. The air was still and dry with dust blowing in spirals. The grass was brown and brittle.