Womanhood in the Patriarchal Age.
SARAH THE BEAUTIFUL PRINCESS--HER FAITH TESTED--THE MISTAKE OF HER
LIFE--HER LOVELY CHARACTER--REBEKAH--AN ORIENTAL WOOING--ELIEZER’S
PRAYER--THE BRIDE’S ANSWER--MEETING ISAAC--A MOTHER’S LOVE FOR HER
SON--JACOB’S FLIGHT--REBEKAH, THE BEAUTIFUL SHEPHERDESS--SEVEN
YEARS’ SERVICE FOR HER--LABAN’S DECEPTION--LEAH, THE
TENDER-EYED--HUMAN FAVORITES--DIVINELY HONORED--RACHEL’S TOMB THE
FIRST MONUMENT TO HUMAN LOVE.
From the prominence given to Eve in connection with the temptation and
the overwhelming disasters which followed the loss of the Eden home in
Paradise, we are surprised the Sacred historian passes over a period
of about two thousand years without giving us any record of women. The
names of good men are mentioned. Enoch walked before God for over three
hundred years, and the walk was such a perfect one, and it pleased God
so well, that He translated Enoch. Noah also “found grace in the eyes
of the Lord,” and he was “a just man and perfect in his generations,”
and “walked with God,” doubtless as Enoch had done. No doubt there were
others who lived clean, pure lives. Of this number was Lamech, the
father of Noah, for he was comforted in the birth of his son, saying,
he “shall comfort us concerning our work and toil of our hands, because
of the ground which the Lord hath cursed.” Surely such men must have
had good mothers to train them, and good wives for companions. But
nothing is said about these women that walked in White Raiment in that
dark and sinful age, when “all flesh had corrupted his way upon the
earth,” until Sarah, the fair wife of Abraham, is reached.
We find this beautiful princess willing to leave her home and her
people in the land of Ur of the Chaldees and journey for more than a
thousand miles to the land of Canaan. However, this journey was not
a continuous one, for a long stop was made at Haran, in Mesopotamia,
perhaps half way between Ur and Palestine.
Of her birth and parentage we have no certain account in Scripture.
In Gen. xx, 12, Abraham speaks of her as “his sister, the daughter of
the same father, but not the daughter of the same mother.” The Hebrew
tradition is that Sarai is the same as Iscah, the daughter of Haran.
This tradition is not improbable in itself, and certainly supplies the
account of the descent of the mother of the chosen race.
The change of her name from Sarai to Sarah was made on the
establishment of the covenant of circumcision between Abraham and God,
and signifies “princess,” for she was to be the royal ancestress of
“all families of the earth.”
The beautiful fidelity of this noble woman is shown in her willingness
to accompany her husband in all the wanderings of his life. Her home
in Mesopotamia was gladly and willingly exchanged for a tent, and that
tent was often taken down and set up during the nomadic life which
formed the basis of the patriarchal age. God intended to set forth in
Abraham not only the thought that here man has no continuing city, but
also the life of faith. And this faith of Abraham is distinguished from
the faith of the pious ancestors in this, that he obtained and held the
promises of salvation, not only for himself, but for his family; and
from the Mosaic system, by the fact that it expressly held the promised
blessing in the seed of Abraham, as a blessing for all people. But this
faith had not only to be developed, but also tested. It is beautiful to
read that Abraham believed God, but his faith when he went down into
Egypt was far from that when he went “into the land of Moriah” to offer
up Isaac. Nothing is plainer in the Bible than that a man’s faith is
not a matter of indifference. He can not be disobedient to God’s calls,
and yet go to heaven when he dies. This is not an arbitrary decision.
There is and must be an adequate ground for it. The rejection of God’s
dealings with us is as clear a proof of moral depravity, as inability
to see the light of the sun at noon is a proof of blindness.
Now let us look at a few of these testings or trials of faith that came
into the life of this woman in White Raiment, this princess in Israel.
She was asked to give up her native land. How dear the fatherland is
to the heart, only those who have passed through the experience can
realize. This was not all. She was asked to give up her kindred. To
move away from all the associations of childhood and youth, requires a
brave heart. But she was also asked to give up her home, and what is
dearer to a woman’s heart than her home? We have no doubt Sarah’s home
by the beautiful streams that flow down from the high table-lands of
Armenia into the rich valleys of Mesopotamia, was a lovely one, and to
exchange it for tent-life was a brave sacrifice. Her love to God must
have been deep and constant.
After a long, weary journey through the desert sands, the land
of promise is finally reached, only to find it afflicted with a
famine. How often Sarah must have longed for one look out over the
fig orchards, the olive yards and waving grain fields ripening in
the summer’s sun of her native Mesopotamia, as she looked out over
the barren hills, burned-up fields, and dried-up water courses of
Palestine. Night after night, Abraham’s tent is pitched, only to be
taken down in the morning, in quest of pasturage for their herds and
flocks, until the wilderness in the southern extremity of Canaan is
reached. How all this must have tested their faith. Had they not
mistaken the call of God? Is it possible that this parched land is the
land of promise? How disappointments and failures test our faith, and
the heart of poor Sarah must have been sorely tried.
But there was yet another test, and a humiliating one at that, and
it seems to look as if their united faith was wavering. She was a
beautiful woman, and they were now upon the very borders of Egypt,
and there was no other alternative but to perish with famine or
to go down into the land of the Pharaohs. Both Abraham and Sarah
seemed to realize the hazard they were running, for, possibly, the
bloom and beauty of Sarah’s face might cost Abraham’s life. So they
agreed between them that Sarah should say that she was his sister,
lest he should be killed. The declaration was not false. She was his
half-sister, but it was not the whole truth, and it would seem, from
their present conduct, that their faith, tested by the famine, was now
wavering, for, why not appeal their cause to God, instead of taking it
into their own hands? The reason for resorting to this deception was,
if she was regarded as his wife, an Egyptian could only obtain her,
when he had first murdered her husband. But if she was his sister,
then there was a hope that she might be won from her brother by loving
attentions and costly gifts, or, if her beauty came to the notice of
Pharaoh she would be taken to his harem by arbitrary methods. They had
not reasoned in vain. The princes of the land saw her, “and commended
her before Pharaoh,” and “Sarah was taken into Pharaoh’s house.”
It is hard for us to understand what a trial of her faith this harem
life must have been to the pure-minded Sarah. How often her mind must
have gone out over the stretches of desert wastes to her own land
abounding with streams and fertility. And to be conscious that the
charms of her person were the centre of attraction in the court of
Egypt.
But all this time God’s eye was a witness to all that was passing. When
we get to the end of self, He always comes to our rescue--our extremity
is His opportunity. In her resided the religious disposition in the
highest measure, and just at a time when the nations appeared about
to sink into heathenism, hence her faith must be saved to the race,
so “the Lord plagued Pharaoh with great plagues,” that is to say, God
administered “blow on blow,” and these were of such a nature as to
guard Sarah from injury. At length the ruler of the land, whose heart
does not seem to be hardened like the later kings, concludes that his
punishment is for the sake of Sarah, and restores her to Abraham.
After Abraham had separated from Lot, the Lord again appeared unto him,
at which time Abraham complained for the want of an heir. So the Lord
leads Abraham out of his tent, under the heavens as seen by night, and
in that land of blue skies, the night heavens are beautiful indeed. God
had promised at first one natural heir, but now the countless stars
which he sees, should both represent the innumerable seed which should
spring from this one heir, and at the same time be a warrant for his
faith.
At this point the human element again seeks to aid in bringing about
the realization of the divine promise. The childless state of Abraham’s
house was its great sorrow, and the more so, since it was in perpetual
opposition to the calling, destination, and faith of Abraham, and was a
constant trial of his faith. Sarah herself, doubtless, came gradually
more and more, on account of her barrenness, to appear as a hindrance
to the fulfillment of the divine promise, and as Abraham had already
fixed his eye upon his head servant, Eliezer of Damascus, so now Sarah
fixes her eye upon her head maid, Hagar the Egyptian. It must be this
maid not only had mental gifts which qualified her for the prominent
place she occupied in the household, but also inward participation
in the faith of her mistress. So Hagar is substituted, for, in the
substitution, Sarah hopes to carry forward the divine purpose of the
family. In this she certainly practiced an act of heroic self-denial,
but still, in her womanly excitement, anticipated her destiny as Eve
had done, and carried even Abraham away with her alluring hope. Though
she greatly erred in this effort to assist God in bringing in the
realization of the promise, and thereby revealed a lack of faith in
the divine appointments, yet we have here a beautiful exhibition of
her heroic self-denial even in her error. Perhaps, viewed from the
human standpoint, we should here bring into our narrative also, the
fact, that they had been already ten years in Canaan, and Sarah was now
seventy-five years of age, waiting in vain for the heir, through whom
the great blessing was to come to all the families of the earth.
However, in all this, Sarah, the noble generous hearted, had not
counted upon the conduct Hagar would assume in her new relation. As
an Egyptian, Hagar seemed to have regarded herself as second wife,
instead of recognizing her subordination to her mistress. This
subordination seems to have been assumed by Abraham, and hence the
apparent indifference probably was the source of Sarah’s sense of
injury, when she exclaimed, “My wrong be upon thee.” She felt that
Abraham ought to have redressed her wrong--ought to have seen and
rebuked the insolence of the maid. Beyond a doubt, looking at the
pride and insolence of Hagar, from Sarah’s standpoint, it was very
trying. The Hebrews regarded barrenness as a great evil and a divine
punishment, while fruitfulness was held as a great good and a divine
blessing. The unfruitful Hannah received the like treatment with Sarah,
from the second wife of Elkanah. It is still thus, to-day, in eastern
lands. With almost the tenderness of Elkanah to the sorrowing Hannah,
Abraham says, “Behold the maid is in thy hand.” He regards Hagar still
as the servant, and the one who fulfills the part of Sarah. But now the
overbent bow flies back with violence. This is the back stroke of her
own eager, overstrained course. Sarah now turns and deals harshly with
Hagar. How precisely, we are not told. Doubtless, through the harsh
thrusting her back into the mere position and service of a slave. But
Hagar, it appears, would not submit to such treatment. She, perhaps,
believed that she had grown above such a position, and fled from the
presence of Sarah.
What need was there for Sarah to learn the lesson of the patience of
faith. God had promised her great honors and blessings. There was in
her nature much that needed toning up by the grace of patience, and
God would take his own best time in developing her life. Her haste to
anticipate the blessing promised, not only delayed its realization, but
brought sorrow to her own heart, and untold trouble to her posterity,
for Ishmael’s hand has been “against every man, and every man’s hand
against him.” The Ishmaelites, it is said, “dwelt from Havilah unto
Shur,” and it is certain that they stretched in very early times across
the desert to the Persian Gulf, peopled the north and west of the
Arabian peninsula, and eventually formed the chief element of the Arab
nation, which has proved to be a living fountain of humanity whose
streams for thousands of years have poured themselves far and wide. Its
tribes are found in all the borders of Asia, in the East Indies, in all
Northern Africa, along the whole Indian Ocean down to Molucca, they are
spread along the coast to Mozambique, and their caravans cross India
to China. These wandering hordes of the desert have always and still
lead a robber life. They justify themselves in it, upon the ground of
the hard treatment of Ishmael, their father, who, driven out of his
paternal inheritance, received the desert for his possession, with the
permission to take whatever he could find. Mohammed is in the line
of Ishmael, and the followers of Islam, in their pride and delusion,
claim that the rights of primogeniture belong to Ishmael instead of
Isaac, and assert their right to lands and goods, so far as it pleases
them. Vengeance for blood rules in them, and the innocent have often
fallen victims to their horrible massacres. So that the disaster which
overtook the race in this premature anticipation of divine Providence
is second only to the disaster that overtook Eve in the temptation
and the loss of Paradise. Could Sarah have foreseen all the sad
consequences of her unseemly haste to pluck the unripened promise God
meant to give her, she certainly would have cultivated the patience of
faith.
But the years passed on--fifteen of them nearly--since the child
Ishmael had been in the home of the patriarch, and the visit of the
angels under the Oaks in the plain of Mamre. During this time God
had once more renewed his promise to Abraham, and also the rite of
circumcision had been established, and, doubtless, the symbolical
purification of Abraham and his house, opened the way for the friendly
appearance of Jehovah in the persons of the angels, or men, as the
patriarch at first thought them to be, as he looked up, while seated
in his tent door through the heat of the noontide hours.
When he saw the angels, “he ran to meet them,” and, it seems, instantly
recognized among the three the one whom he addressed as the Lord, and
who afterwards was clearly distinguished from the two accompanying
angels. “If now,” Abraham asks, “I have found favor in Thy sight, pass
not away.” This cordial invitation, while it has in it the marked
hospitality of Orientals, to the inner consciousness of Abraham it had
a deeper meaning, the covenant relation between himself and Jehovah,
that is, he hopes this relation is still continued. His humble and
pressing invitation, his zealous preparations, his modest description
of the meal, his standing by to serve those who were eating, are
picturesque traits of the life of faith as it here reveals itself, in
an exemplary hospitality. This is the custom still in Eastern lands,
and is referred to by our Lord in that passage where He speaks of His
second coming, and shall find His people watching, for He will “make
them to sit down to meat, and will come forth and serve them” (Luke
xii, 37), and seems to be one of the countless instances where, in the
web of the Holy Scriptures, the golden threads of the Old Testament
are interwoven with those of the New, and form, as it were, one whole.
And the fact that this beautiful custom of hospitality is still
observed among the Bedouins, as we can speak from personal knowledge,
is remarkable, and impresses us with the thought that the covenant
blessings, like some sweet, heavenly fruitage, refuses to be lost out
of the lives of that ancient people.
The meal having been served in this beautiful Oriental manner, the
Lord asks, “Where is Sarah?” Abraham made answer, “Behold, in the
tent.” Then the Angel of the Lord, not only renews the promise, but
that it should be fully realized in the birth of Isaac within a year.
Sarah, behind the tent door, hears this unqualified assurance, but,
viewing it from nature’s standpoint, rendered doubly improbable from
her life-long barrenness, “laughed within herself.” We can not regard
this as a laugh of unbelief, or the scoff of doubt, as some do, but as
a laugh falling short in her conception of God. The thing which was
impossible according to the established laws of nature, her faith had
not yet grasped as being possible with God. But the Lord, nevertheless,
observed Sarah’s laugh, and this divine hearing on the part of the
Angel of the Lord, startled her, and had its part in the strengthening
of her faith. It prepared the way for the question, “Is anything
too hard for the Lord?” To her own mind one thing, namely, that she
should be a mother at ninety years of age, seemed too hard. And so
the question had to do with this very thought, and must be settled on
the side of her faith. And she grandly and heroically asserted her
belief that nothing, not even the seeming insurmountable obstacle which
nature interposed, was too great for God to overcome, and her faith was
strengthened, for we read, “through _faith_ Sarah received strength
to conceive seed, and was delivered of a child when she was past age,
because she _judged_ Him faithful who had promised” (Heb. xi, 11). The
trial of her patience of faith was a long struggle. It took twenty-five
years to bring her up to the point where her faith could grasp the
truth that nothing was too hard for the Lord to perform. But this
blessed woman at length stood in right relation to God, for, without
faith, be it observed, it is impossible to please God, or to receive
anything at His hands.
In due time Isaac was born. It was the great event in Sarah’s life. As
the mother looked down into the face of the son of her bosom she breaks
forth in an exultant song of thankfulness, not unlike that of Mary,
the blessed virgin. The little song of Sarah, it has beautifully been
said, is the first cradle hymn. Our Lord reveals the profoundest source
of this joy, when, in addressing the Pharisees, who held Abraham to
be their father, said, “Your father Abraham rejoiced to see my day.”
Sarah, in the birth of Isaac, is the ancestress of Christ. Spiritually
viewed, the birthday of Isaac becomes the door or entrance of the day
of Christ, and the day of Christ the background of the birthday of
Isaac.
Another beautiful incident in connection with the childhood of Isaac
is, that Sarah, his mother, even at her advanced age and exalted
station in life, did not deem it a burden to nurse him. Calvin has
well said, “Whom God counts worthy of the honor of being a mother He
at the same time makes a nurse; and those who feel themselves burdened
through the nursing of their children, rend, as far as in them lies,
the sacred bond of nature, unless weakness, or some infirmities, form
their excuse.”
But along with the growing child is the mocking Ishmael. He was
fourteen years of age at the birth of Isaac, and therefore in the first
years of Isaac, appears as a playful lad, and true to his nature,
doubtless developed a characteristic trait of jealousy which would not
escape the ever watchful eye of Sarah, as she observed his dancing and
leaping, and now and then making hateful faces at the mother’s darling,
mocking his childish fears and appeals to the mother for protection.
This seems to have been endured by Sarah until the great feast day,
held to celebrate the weaning of Isaac. Seeing special attention paid
to Isaac by all the invited guests, his jealousy suddenly developed
into envy, and this, in turn, found expression in mockery. Sarah
could endure these mockings no longer, for to her sensitive nature,
Ishmael’s mocking the child of promise was but the outward expression
of his unbelief in the faith of his parents, and therefore the word
and purpose of God. His conduct revealed his unbelief, and hence was
unworthy and incapable of sharing in the blessing, which then, as now,
was secured only by faith, and which had already cost her so much.
Hence she said to Abraham, “Cast out this bondwoman and her son.” The
treatment may seem harsh, but there could be no peace or happiness in
that household until the mocking Ishmael was out of it. This mother,
whose spiritual faith had been quickened in a marvelous manner, was
clear-sighted enough to see that the purposes of God in reference to
Isaac could only become actual through this separation. The fact that
the prompt, sharp determination that “the son of this bondwoman shall
not be heir” with Isaac, “was very grievous in Abraham’s sight,” shows
that his prejudice in favor of the rights of the natural first-born
needed correction. And God confirmed the judgment of Sarah. For the
exclusion of Ishmael was requisite not only to the prosperity of Isaac
and the line of the promise, but to the welfare of Ishmael himself. And
the man of faith, who should later offer up Isaac, must now be able to
offer up Ishmael also.
After the sending away of Hagar and her son Ishmael, there is but one
incident recorded in the life of Abraham, namely the treaty or covenant
of peace with Abimelech, King of Gerar, though probably several years
passed away between the departure of Hagar and the last great test or
trial of Abraham in the offering up of Isaac on Mt. Moriah.
The son of promise had grown to be a lad of sixteen or seventeen years
of age, when the voice of the Lord called unto Abraham, saying, “Take
now thy son, thine only son Isaac, whom thou lovest, and get thee into
the land of Moriah; and offer him there for a burnt offering upon
one of the mountains which I will tell thee of.” It would seem that
this message came to Abraham while asleep--in a dream as we would
say--and therefore all the more trying as such a revelation, under such
circumstances might well be questioned. Upon waking out of his sleep he
might reasonably question the import of such a dream, especially since
Isaac was his only child, and the son of promise. But it appears that
Abraham did not stop to explain away this command, and we must believe
that he did not even inform Sarah of this heart-crushing revelation,
for neither she nor Isaac knew at the time the special object of the
journey. Promptly Abraham made the necessary preparations, and set
out on the three days’ journey. His obedience is absolute. There is
not even a question raised as to his correctly understanding the duty
required of him. To suppose that Abraham did not have the bleeding
heart of a father in this great trial, would be to destroy the force
of this testing of his faith. And the fact that he had three days’ time
in which he could change his purpose, made the conflict within him all
the harder.
The lad and the mother could easily see from the wood, and the fire,
and the knife, that he went not merely to worship, but to sacrifice.
The testing was still more heart-breaking when, at the end of the
journey, at the foot of Moriah, while Abraham is in the act of laying
the wood upon the obedient Isaac, the heir of promise said, “My father,
behold the fire and the wood, but where is the lamb for a burnt
offering?” How the bleeding heart of the father must have been touched
afresh as he looked upon Isaac as “the lamb,” yet, as if the hour for
the fuller revelation had not yet come, made answer, “My son, God will
provide Himself a lamb.”
And so the two, the father and the son, slowly climb the rugged sides
of Moriah to its very summit, and Abraham built an altar, as he so
often had done before, for, wherever Abraham had a tent, God had an
altar, and in the building of this altar we may well believe the
loving, obedient Isaac assisted. Then the wood was laid upon it. All
was ready for “the lamb!” But God had not yet provided the victim.
What passed between father and son the Sacred record has not revealed.
However, we must believe it was the Gethsemane struggle with Isaac,
and that in the end he said to Abraham, as Christ, under similar
circumstances, said to His heavenly Father, “Thy will be done.” And,
perhaps, this loving self-surrender of Isaac made it all the harder
for the father’s heart. But, somehow, we can not understand it, only
in the light of complete self-surrender to the will of God, he “bound
Isaac his son, and laid him on the altar upon the wood,” and, nerving
himself for the last great act, he “stretched forth his hand, and took
the knife to slay his son.”
But God, during this scene on Mount Moriah, was an interested
spectator. He saw that the obedience of faith--the complete
self-surrender of Abraham’s will--was perfect. “And the angel of the
Lord called unto him out of heaven, and said, ‘Lay not thine hand upon
the lad, neither do thou anything unto him, for now I know that thou
fearest God, seeing thou hast not withheld thy son, thine only son,
from me.’”
It is worthy of observation that, while the command to offer up Isaac
came in a dream, and therefore open to misgiving, the command to stay
his hand is spoken by the angel of Jehovah out of heaven. Abraham was
perfect in his faith, and how far it reached into the great love for
God and self-surrender to His will, we shall never know. Paul, speaking
of this wonderful victory over self, said that Abraham accounted that
God was able to raise up Isaac, “even from the dead; from whence also
he received him in a figure.” Though all his hope, humanly speaking,
perished out of his heart when he took up the sacrificial knife on
Moriah, yet his faith overleaped human limitations into the infinite
ability of God to raise up Isaac out of the ashes upon his altar.
Such faith was possible for Abraham, for God asks no impossibilities
at the hands of men, and what was possible for this man of faith is
possible for any of us, if we are willing to pay the price. Let no one
think, however, that such fruits of righteousness drop into the lap of
the faithless.
But through this severe testing, Sarah nowhere appears on the scene. It
may be, infinite love would spare the mother’s heart. It may be, also,
the last great trial of her faith took place in the tent, stretched
under the oaks, in the plain of Mamre. There is a Jewish tradition that
when Sarah fully learned the nature of the journey to Moriah, and the
scene which there took place, the shock of it killed her, and Abraham
found her dead on his return home. This may do as a tradition, but not
as the _finale_ of God’s dealing with His people. The potter, as he
fashions the vessel upon the wheel, does not seek to break it. So God
does not test us beyond our capacity to endure. Then, also, if Isaac
was born when Sarah was ninety years of age, and she died at the age
of one hundred and twenty-seven, and the scene on Moriah took place
when Isaac was a lad of sixteen or seventeen, she lived for twenty
years after that event, to be a comfort and a blessing in her home.
At length this princess in Israel, tested and tried, and found true,
died at Hebron at the good age of one hundred and twenty-seven years,
and Abraham wept over her, and well he might, for she had shared his
trials and was a good and faithful wife, and she was a mother, even
more than a wife.
Abraham purchased the cave of Machpelah of Ephron, the Hittite, and
tenderly laid the remains of this lovely woman to rest in one of the
chambers of the cave. It is the first burial mentioned in the Sacred
records. And the tomb remains unto this day, hallowed in the eyes of
Jews, Christians and Mohammedans alike, and was visited by the writer.
The lesson which God would teach us in the life of this woman in White
Raiment is that testings are necessary to the development of faith,
and that these testings come to us in the most ordinary events of our
daily lives. All Christians surely know by experience that events which
seemed all darkness at first have ultimately brought them nearer to the
light. The much-dreaded cloud has proved to be only a veil under which
God hides His mighty power. His gracious query, “Is anything too hard
for the Lord?” has comforted us, and has turned what we thought to be
a curse into a blessing. O, can we not trust Him in the darkness as
well as in the light, knowing that He can bring calm out of storm, and
that he often chooses the darkness and the cloud as a special medium by
which to reveal himself? Could we climb to heaven by some other way,
and escape the shadows and the storms of life, how much should we miss
of the blessed manifestations of God’s revelations of His power.
God speaks to listening ears and waiting hearts as truly to-day as He
did before the tent door under the oaks in the plain of Mamre. He may
speak to us through his providence, through the voice of a friend,
through a book or a sermon; but perhaps He does so most frequently in
the little details of everyday life, in which we can not fail to see
His dealings with us if our hearts are turned expectantly toward him.
Only let us be admonished by Sarah’s sad mistake. That she made it,
proves that she was human. But let us be afraid of sin. The door once
open, none of us can tell into what endless labyrinths of sorrow it
will lead us. God wants a tried people, not only for their own sake but
that they may be a blessing to others.
And now we come to a most beautiful scene in Sacred History. While, as
a whole, the Bible gives the drama of human sin and divine redemption,
yet it pauses in its wonderful revelations to let us look into the
homes of the people who lived ages ago. It somehow touches human life
on all its sides. Other books which are held sacred by eastern nations,
give woman only contemptuous mention. This one recognizes the dignity
and beauty of her life and work. It tells in seven verses the story
of Enoch, who walked with God three hundred and sixty-five years and
who was holy enough to escape death, while it gives sixty-six verses
to the wooing and wedding of Rebekah and Isaac. In the pictures which
the Sacred Record opens to us of the domestic life of the patriarchal
age, perhaps this is the most perfectly characteristic and beautiful
idyl of a marriage, and how it was brought about. In its sweetness and
sacred simplicity, it is a marvelous contrast to the wedding of our
modern fashionable life. And surely, since God’s Book gives so much
time and space to the domestic life of women, the daughters of modern
Christianity ought to regard themselves and their affairs of the utmost
importance. For the sake of Him who gave them such prominence and
recognition, they ought to love Him.
Abraham, the friend of God, understood fully that it would never do
to have the heir of promise fall into the hands of a heathen wife. He
could not bear the thought of taking one of the corrupt Canaanites into
his family, with the chance of her leading Isaac into the abominable
worship of her gods.
Parents often frustrate the grace of God and mar His plans irreparably
by being careless of the worldly associations and affinities of their
children.
Sarah, the beautiful and beloved, had been tenderly laid away in the
cave of Machpelah, and Isaac is now forty years of age. Forty years,
however, in those good old times, is yet young, when the thread of
mortal life ran out to a hundred and seventy-five or eighty years. As
Abraham has nearly reached that far period, his sun of life is dipping
downwards toward the evening horizon. He has but one care remaining--to
settle his son Isaac in life before he is gathered to his fathers.
The scene where Abraham discusses the subject with his head servant
sheds a peculiar light on the domestic and family relations of those
days.
Calling Eliezer, his most trusty servant, he discloses to him his
purpose, and makes him take an oath that he will faithfully carry out
his wishes. But Abraham’s steward saw the difficulties of such a proxy
wooing, and expressed a fear that the young woman would object to so
hazardous a journey to share the home of a man whom she had never seen
and of whom she had possibly never before heard. So, to make matters
sure, he asks if it would not be better to take Isaac with him? To this
request the patriarch replied, “Beware thou that thou bring not my son
thither again.” Abraham saw that there was too much risk in allowing
Isaac to go back to the old home. He might have to be scourged out of
it as was Jacob, the next in the line, a few years later. He must do
right and trust God. So he told his steward, “The Lord, before whom I
walk, will send his angel before thee and prosper thy way, and thou
shalt take a wife for my son of my kindred and of my father’s house.”
Then, as he saw the ever-present contingency with which human free
agency may frustrate even Divine Providence, he added, “And if the
woman will not be willing to follow thee, then thou shalt be clear
from this thine oath; only bring not my son thither again.”
The picture of the preparations made for this embassy denotes a
princely station and great wealth. “And the servant took ten camels of
the camels of his master, and departed; for all the goods of his master
were in his hand; and he arose and went to Mesopotamia, unto the city
of Nahor.”
Now comes a quaint and beautiful picture of the manners of those
pastoral days. He made his camels to kneel down without the city by
a well of water, at the time of the evening when the women go out to
draw water. With the kneeling camels around the well, the aged Eliezer
uncovers his head in the evening twilight, and with closed eyes and
face raised towards heaven, he talks to God in this simple and yet
eloquent way, “O, Lord God of my master Abraham, I pray thee, send me
good speed this day, and show kindness unto my master Abraham. Behold!
I stand here by the well of water; and the daughters of the men of the
city come out to draw water: And let it come to pass that the damsel to
whom I shall say, Let down thy pitcher, I pray thee, that I may drink;
and she shall say, Drink and I will give thy camels drink also: let
that same be she that Thou hast appointed for Thy servant Isaac; and
thereby shall I know that Thou hast shewed kindness unto my master.”
It is to be observed that this aged servant talked to God with all the
simplicity and directness of a child with its mother. He told the Lord
where he stood, and it was in the most likely place about an Oriental
city at evening time, for all the damsels come out to the well at that
hour of the day to draw water. He did not doubt that there was a bride
for Isaac in the town; and he wanted to find the right one immediately.
The care of Abraham’s affairs pressed him, and he wanted to get through
the matter with as little waste of time and sentiment as possible.
That he might not make any mistake in his delicate mission, he tells
the Lord of a little test he thought of using. He needed a sign from
God to select the bride from among the women who should come to the
well. He used his own judgment as far as it went; but it stopped short
of a decision. He specified that the chosen one should be industrious,
hospitable, deft, courteous. She should be qualified to stand at the
head of a princely establishment.
His prayer was speedily granted, for thus the story goes on, “And
it came to pass, before he had done speaking, that, behold Rebekah
came out, who was born to Bethuel, son of Milcah, the wife of Nahor,
Abraham’s brother.”
It is noticeable, how strong is the sensibility to womanly beauty in
this narrative. This young Rebekah is thus announced: “And the damsel
was very fair to look upon, and a virgin, and she went down to the
well, and filled her pitcher, and came up.” Drawn by the bright eyes,
and fair face, the old servant hastens to apply the test, doubtless
hoping that this lovely creature is the appointed one for his young
master.
“And the servant ran to meet her, and said, Let me, I pray thee, drink
a little water of thy pitcher. And she said, Drink, my Lord; and she
hastened, and let down her pitcher upon her hand, and gave him drink.”
She gave with a will, with a grace and readiness that outflowed the
request, and then it is added: “And when she had done giving him drink,
she said, I will draw water for thy camels also, until they have done
drinking. And she hastened and emptied her pitcher into the trough, and
ran again unto the well to draw water, and drew for all his camels.”
Let us fancy ten camels, all on their knees, in a row, at the trough,
with their long necks, and patient, care-worn faces, while the pretty
young damsel, with cheerful alacrity, is dashing down the water from
her pitcher, filling and emptying in quick succession, apparently
making nothing of the toil; the gray-haired old servant, looking on in
devout recognition of the answer to his prayer, for the story says:
“And the man, wondering at her, held his peace, to wit (know) whether
the Lord had made his journey prosperous or not.”
There was wise penetration into life and the essentials of wedded
happiness in this prayer of the old servant. What he asked for his
young master was not beauty, or talent, but a ready and unfailing
outflow of sympathy and kindness. He asked not merely for a gentle
nature, a kind heart, but he asked for a heart so rich in kindness that
it should run even beyond what was asked, and be ready to anticipate
the request with new devices of helpfulness; the lively, lighthearted
kindness that could not be content with waiting on the thirsty old man,
but with cheerful alacrity took upon herself the care of all the ten
camels. This was a gift beyond that of beauty, yet when it came in the
person of a maiden exceedingly fair to look upon, no marvel that the
old man wondered joyously at his success.
Instantly, as the camels had done drinking, he produced from his
treasury golden earrings and bracelets with which he adorned the
maiden. We can easily imagine the maidenly delight with which she ran
to exhibit the gifts of jewelry that thus unexpectedly descended upon
her.
Nor does Eliezer fail to offer up a prayer of thanksgiving for divine
guidance. In this he set a worthy example to all who seek direction
from God. He said, “I, being in the way, the Lord led me.” A free
translation would be, “I used my own judgment as far as it would go,
which was a long distance from a safe conclusion, and the Lord led me
the rest of the way.”
Bethuel, when he saw the gifts and heard the words of Rebekah, hastened
to the well and said to Eliezer, “Come in, thou blessed of the Lord;
wherefore standest thou without? for I have prepared the house, and
room for the camels. And the man came into the house: and he ungirded
the camels, and gave straw and provender for the camels, and water to
wash his feet, and the men’s feet that were with him. And there was set
meat before him to eat: but he said, I will not eat, till I have told
my errand. And he said, Speak on.”
He then related the purport of his journey, of the prayer that he had
uttered at the well, and of its fulfillment in a generous-minded and
beautiful young maiden, and thus he ends his story: “And now, if ye
will deal kindly and truly with my master, tell me: and if not, tell
me; that I may turn to the right hand or to the left.”
Bethuel answered, “Behold, Rebekah is before thee; take her, and go,
and let her be thy master’s son’s wife, as the Lord hath spoken.”
“And it came to pass, that when Abraham’s servant heard their words, he
worshipped the Lord, bowing himself to the earth.”
And now comes a scene most captivating to female curiosity. “The
servant brought forth jewels of silver, and jewels of gold, and
raiment, and gave them to Rebekah; he gave also to her brother and
to her mother precious things.” The scene of examining jewelry and
garments and rich stuffs in the family party would have made no mean
subject for a painter. No wonder such a suitor sending such gifts found
welcome entertainment. So the story goes on: “And they did eat and
drink, he and the men that were with him, and tarried all night; and
they rose up in the morning and he said, Send me away unto my master.
And her brother and her mother said, Let the damsel abide with us a few
days, at the least ten, and after that she shall go.”
“And he said unto them, Hinder me not, seeing the Lord hath prospered
my way; send me away, that I may go to my master. And they said, We
will call the damsel and inquire at her mouth. And they called Rebekah,
and said unto her, Wilt thou go with this man? And she said, I will
go.” Her prompt reply to this important question was an index to her
character. The Divine approval of her ready obedience gave her a grand
prophetic Messianic promise that thousands of millions should be
gathered into His Kingdom from the conquest “of those which hate them.”
This extra Hebrew prophecy was a flash of God’s light on the fact that
our Lord should be the Saviour, not only of the Jews, but of the entire
world.
Thus far this wooing seems to have been conceived and conducted in that
simple religious spirit recognized in the words of the old prayer,
“Grant that all our work may be begun, continued and ended in thee.”
The Father of nations has been a never-failing presence in every turn.
“And Rebekah arose, and her damsels, and they rode upon the camels, and
followed the man; and the servant took Rebekah, and went his way.”
It was a long way from the city of Nahor, in Mesopotamia to Hebron
in the southern borders of Palestine, and between the Euphrates and
the land of promise stretched leagues of hot desert sands, through
which the camels slowly and patiently toiled day after day with their
precious burden. But at length Damascus with its refreshing streams,
and Mt. Hermon with its dome lifted among the clouds, were passed, and,
towards evening of the last day, just as they reached the head of the
valley of Eschol, from the summit of which opens a magnificent view
through the whole length of the valley, “Rebekah lifted up her eyes,
and when she saw Isaac she lighted off the camel. For she had said unto
the servant, What man is this that walketh in the field to meet us? And
the servant had said, It is my master; therefore she took a veil and
covered herself.”
Doubtless for days Isaac had walked the mile and a half from his
mother’s tent to where the valley of Eschol forms a junction with the
plain of Mamre, from whence he could look up the narrow valley and
view the approaching caravan at a considerable distance. The expectant
bridegroom, brought up with the strictest notions of filial submission,
waits to receive his wife dutifully from his father’s hand, and yet, we
fancy, day after day he goes out to meet her, and now the long-expected
caravan, with Eliezer, his father’s most trusted servant, at its head,
is approaching at eventide, and he quickens his step to meet his bride.
From what we have already seen of Rebekah, she is lively, lighthearted,
kind, possessed of an alert readiness, prompt to see and do what is
to be done at the moment. No dreamer is she, but a wideawake young
woman who knows her own mind exactly, and has the fit word and fit
action ready for each short turn in life. She was quick, cheerful
and energetic in hospitality. She was prompt and unhesitating in her
resolve; and yet, at the moment of meeting, she knew the value and
propriety of the veil. She covered herself that she might not unsought
be won.
“And Isaac brought her into his mother Sarah’s tent.” Tent life in
the days of Abraham, in our estimation, must have been not only
desirable, but grand and glorious. Living, as they did, so closely in
contact with nature, as God made it, fresh, pure air, babbling brooks,
rippling streams, and blue skies, theirs was a happy life. They were
not confined in crowded cities, surrounded by dismal walls, but on the
hillsides, the open valleys and the unbounded plains. Their tent was
pitched in a clump of oaks, near a living stream, and overlooked the
plain of Mamre--a beautiful picture of freedom, ease and comfort. To
such a place he took Rebekah, and she became his wife; and he loved
her; and Isaac was comforted after his mother’s death. So ends this
most charming story of domestic life in the patriarchal age. For
beauty, simplicity and directness it has no equal. We also see, in
the closing words, one of those delicate and tender natures that find
repose first in the love of a mother, and when that stay is withdrawn,
lean upon a beloved wife.
So ideally pure, and sweet, and tenderly religious has been the whole
inception and carrying on and termination of this wedding, that Isaac
and Rebekah have been remembered in the wedding ritual of Christian
churches as models of a holy marriage according to the divine will.
Though for nineteen years Rebekah was childless, yet retained she her
husband’s love. This may have been a trial to Isaac, since the line of
the blessing was to pass through him. That he thought much about it is
evident, for, at length, he “entreated the Lord for his wife,” and his
intercession was based upon a divine foundation in Jehovah’s promise.
And, possibly, even Isaac had to be educated up to this point, namely,
that the seed of promise must be sought from God, so that it should be
regarded, not as the fruit of nature, but as the gift of divine grace.
In due time Esau and Jacob were born, and they were twins, but with
natures and characteristics marked more for their contrasts than
similarity. Beyond the bare statement, “And the boys grew,” nothing is
said of their childhood and youth--the formative periods of their lives.
When they had grown to manhood’s estate, we are informed that “Esau
was a cunning hunter, a man of the field; and Jacob was a plain man,
dwelling in tents.” The free and easy life in the chase developed in
Esau a robust appearance, and for that reason, and also “because he
did eat of his venison,” Isaac loved Esau. Jacob is represented to
us as of a more delicate make-up and naturally appealed more to the
mother heart. “Rebekah loved Jacob.” From merely a parental standpoint,
both were wrong. Even though the characteristics of these boys were
wide apart, the parents should have been united in their love, and
impartially discharged their duties, and let God, in his own good
time, make His selection. But here, as in the lives of Abraham and
Sarah, Isaac and Rebekah delayed the blessing God designed they should
have, and brought sorrow into their own lives. It is evident that
the ardent Rebekah, by her animated, energetic declarations, formed
a very significant complement to Isaac, confiding more in the divine
declarations as to her boys than Isaac did, and therefore better able
to appreciate the deeper nature of Jacob. But when Isaac shows his
preference for Esau to be the heir, the courageous woman forgets her
vocation, and with artifice counsels Jacob to steal the blessing from
Isaac--a transgression for which she had to atone in not seeing her
favorite son after she sent him away, out of reach of his brother’s
anger. She had only Esau left, and he must have made her feel that it
was her partiality that had robbed him of what he prized most highly.
His heathen wives had been a “grief of mind” to her. She said, in her
diplomatic effort to get Jacob off to a place of safety, “I am weary of
my life because of the daughters of Heth. If Jacob take a wife from the
daughters of Heth, such as these which are the daughters of the land,
what good shall my life do me?” Probably Esau did not mend matters by
adding to his family the Ishmaeltish woman.
Rebekah’s habit of managing affairs may be more common than we
think. It is the fault of energetic souls. She loved Jacob with the
passionate, tropical strength of her fervid heart. She would not trust
God to give him what she believed he ought to receive. It is very hard
for such as she to wait patiently for the Lord when His delays are
developing faith.
However, viewed from a human standpoint, her faith in the divine
purposes was much more clear-sighted than that of Isaac. Consenting
to be laid on the altar as a sacrifice to God, Isaac had the stamp
of submission early and deeply impressed on his soul. Hence, in the
spiritual aspect of his character, he was the man of patience, of
acquiescence, of susceptibility, of obedience. Rebekah, on the other
hand, was energetic, intensely active, self-confident, a most excellent
manager, even tricky, but nevertheless capable and efficient. She had
the faults which usually go with such traits of character. Taking
things into her own hands, she even meddled with Providence.
But was she not provoked to this act by Isaac himself? Isaac’s willful
act does not consist alone in his arbitrary determination to present
Esau with the blessing of the theocratic birthright, although Rebekah
received that divine sentence respecting her children before their
birth, and which, no doubt, she had mentioned to him, but the manner in
which he intends to bless Esau. He arranges to bless him in unbecoming
secrecy, without the knowledge of Rebekah and Jacob. The preparation
of the venison, in its main point of view, is an excuse to gain
time and place for the secret act. In this point of view, the act of
Rebekah appears in a different light. His well-calculated prudence was
skillfully caught in the net of Rebekah’s shrewdness.
A want of divine confidence may be recognized through all his actions.
Rebekah, however, has so far the advantage of him that she in her
deception has the divine assurance that Jacob was the heir, while Isaac
has only his human reason without any inward spiritual certainty.
Rebekah’s error consists in thinking that she must direct divine
Providence by means of human deception. The divine promise would have
been fulfilled without her assistance. Of course, when compared with
Isaac’s fatal error, she was right. Though she deceived him greatly,
misled her favorite son, and alienated Esau from her, there was yet
something saving in her action according to her intentions. For to Esau
the most comprehensive blessing might have become only a curse. He was
not fitted for it.
Viewed from Rebekah’s point of view, the lesson for us is, we are not
to do evil, that good may come. The sinful element in her act was the
wrong application of her assurance of faith, for which she suffered,
perhaps, many long years of melancholy solitude.
Had this noble woman in White Raiment not erred she would not have been
human. As a whole, she has a beautiful character--beautiful in its
generous helpfulness, in its prudence, in its magnanimity, and in her
theocratic zeal of faith.
Here Rebekah obviously disappears from the stage of life. It has
been conjectured that she died during Jacob’s sojourn in Padan-aram,
whither she had sent him to escape the tragic consequences of her hasty
conduct, for she is not mentioned when Jacob returned to his father,
nor do we hear of her burial till it is incidentally mentioned by Jacob
on his deathbed. She was buried in the cave of Machpelah, by the side
of Sarah.
After Jacob had obtained the theocratic birthright he fled from his
father’s home in Beer-sheba to Padan-aram, or the city of Haran, in
Mesopotamia. Haran was situated about four hundred and fifty miles
north-east from Beer-sheba. If the young man walked thirty miles a day,
for he performed this long journey over the mountains and through the
desert on foot, it took him fifteen days. No doubt, as he drew near the
well, before the city, he was footsore, dust-covered, homesick, and
greatly depressed in mind, for the occasion of his sudden departure and
the anger of his brother Esau were still fresh in memory.
But what a quaint, picturesque scene of Oriental life is presented to
our view. It is yet early evening. The shepherds, with their flocks,
are moving from various points over the plain to one common centre.
Three of the shepherds had already arrived, and Jacob salutes them,
and asks, “My brethren, whence be ye?” And they answered, “Of Haran.”
Then he inquired, “Know ye Laban?” They made reply, “We know him,”
then, pointing to a shepherdess slowly leading her flock over the plain
towards the well, said, “Behold Rachel, his daughter, cometh with the
sheep.” While he was yet talking with the shepherds, Rachel drew near
“with her father’s sheep.” Jacob saw his opportunity, for the great
stone over the mouth of the well had not been removed, and, though it
was the work of three men to remove the stone, he hastens to perform
this task for the beautiful shepherdess alone, and does for her what
his mother had done for Eliezer’s camels, watered her flock. Clearly,
it was love at first sight. Rachel must have deeply impressed him. And
what could have been her thoughts as she stood by her flock and saw
this youth pour bucketfull after bucketfull into the stone troughs for
her sheep? It was certainly an impressive introduction.
The sheep watered, and before he made himself known, he stepped up
to the bewitching shepherdess, and kissed her. This story of Rachel,
the pretty shepherdess of the plains of Mesopotamia, who took with a
glance the heart of the loving, homesick Jacob, and held it to the end
of her days, has always had a peculiar interest, for there is that in
it which appeals to some of the deepest feelings of the human heart.
The beauty of Rachel, the deep love with which she was loved by Jacob
from their first meeting by the well of Haran, when he showed to her
the simple courtesies of the desert life, and kissed her and told
her he was Rebekah’s son; the long servitude with which he patiently
served for her, in which the seven years “seemed to him but a few days,
for the love he had to her;” their marriage at last, after the cruel
disappointment through the fraud which substituted the elder sister
in the place of the younger; and the death of Rachel “in the way to
Ephrath, which is Bethlehem,” when she had given birth to Benjamin,
and had become still more endeared to her husband; his deep grief and
ever-living regrets for her loss--these things make up a touching tale
of personal and domestic history which has kept alive the memory of
Rachel through all the long centuries down to the present time. Her
untimely death has been likened to a “bunch of violets pulled up by
the roots, with the soil clinging to them--their exquisite perfume
reminding one of the leafy nook in which they grew.”
What a mystery is love! We can not define it. It can only be unlocked
by the key of experience. Love is not a product of the reason. It is
the free play of the spiritual sensibilities in the possession of its
object. And if human love is inexplicable, divine love is an ocean too
deep for the plummet of man, and by far too broad to be bounded by the
thought of the loftiest intelligence in the universe.
Chaste human love is a beautiful thing, by which conjugal love is
afterwards more and more strengthened and confirmed. And, in this scene
at the well, we have emphasized the fact that virtuous maidens do not
need to attend large, exciting assemblies or popular resorts, to get
husbands. If they are true to themselves, they can safely trust God,
who is able to give them pious, honorable and upright husbands.
As soon as Rachel learned that Jacob was her father’s nephew, and that
he was Rebekah’s son, “she ran and told her father.” When Laban heard
Rachel’s story, he hastened to meet Jacob, and brought him to his house.
After a short stay as the guest of the family, it seemed best to Laban
that wages should be given to Jacob for his services, but instead of
wages he desires Rachel, and, instead of service for an indefinite
time, he promises a service of seven years. Jacob’s service, it is
thought by some writers, represents the price which was usually paid
for the wife. Doubtless, Rachel was worth to Jacob the years of service
he paid, but doubtless then, as now, prices varied according to age and
beauty, and in some Eastern countries the prices are higher than in
others. The custom still exists. A man without means serves from three
to seven years for his bride. To Jacob, these years of service seemed
but a few days. His love for Rachel made his long service a delight to
him. He was cheerful and joyful in hope.
At the end of the years of service Laban made a great nuptial feast.
These Oriental weddings last seven days. Doubtless Laban arranged this
feast, the better to facilitate Jacob’s deception by the coming and
going of guests, and the general bustle and noise characteristic of
such occasions. The deception was also possible through the custom,
namely, the bride was led veiled to the bridegroom and the bridal
chamber. Laban probably believed, as to the base deception, that he
would be excused, because he had already in view the concession of the
second daughter, so Leah, the elder daughter, was substituted. The
motive for this is not stated. Perhaps Laban recognized a skillful and
useful shepherd in Jacob. He may also have acted from regard to his
own interest, especially since he knew that Jacob possessed a great
inheritance at home.
The substitution of Leah for Rachel is the first retribution Jacob
experienced for the deceitful practices of his former days. He had,
through fraud and cunning, secured the place and blessing of Esau--he,
the younger, in place of the elder. Now, by the same deceit, the elder
is put upon him in the place of the younger. God has somehow so
arranged the affairs of men, that what a man sows, that shall he also
reap. Sin is often punished with sin.
When Laban was asked for an explanation of his conduct, he replied that
it was not the custom in his country to give the younger into marriage
before the first-born, a bit of information he should have given Jacob
when he first made suit for Rachel. His excuse does not justify in the
least his deception, but there was, however, a sting for Jacob in his
reply, namely, in the emphasis of the right of the first-born.
There was, therefore, nothing left for Jacob but to give another seven
years’ service for Rachel. So, at the end of the marriage week or
feast of Leah, the second wedding followed, and the years of service
were rendered afterwards. We do not know why Rachel was affectionately
loved, while Leah held but an indifferent place in Jacob’s heart. But
then there is no accounting for, or explaining, love. Leah, it is
said, was “tender-eyed,” that is to say, weak-eyed. This, however,
does not necessarily mean she was sore-eyed or blear-eyed, but simply
they were not full, clear, and sparkling, not in keeping with the
Oriental idea of beauty, though otherwise she might have been comely.
But to an Oriental, black eyes, clear, lustrous, full of life and fire,
especially, when in addition to all these, the eye is expressive,
are considered the principal part of female beauty. Rachel was the
fortunate possessor of all these charming qualities of Eastern beauty,
and so must have charmed, captivated, and held Jacob in spite of all
other obstacles.
That Leah tried to win his affections is evident from what she says in
connection with the birth of Reuben, her first born. “Now therefore,”
she says, “my husband will love me.” No doubt, during the seven years
that Jacob was in the home of Laban, her love for him became deep
and strong, which had, no doubt, induced her to consent to Laban’s
deception. So, after the birth of the first son, she hoped to win,
through her child, Jacob’s love in the strictest sense. After the
birth of the second, she hoped to be put on a footing of equality
with Rachel, and to be delivered from her disregard. After the third
one, she hoped at least for a constant affection. At the birth of the
fourth, she looked entirely away from her surroundings to Jehovah by
calling him Judah--praised be Jehovah.
If Rachel obtained Jacob’s affections because of her beauty and
loveliness, and he refused to bestow upon Leah that affectionate
consideration for which she was grieving her life away, it may be a
comfort to those who suffer as Leah did, to know that God does not look
for beauty from man’s standpoint, and that the sweet graces of mind and
heart go farther than personal charms, for He certainly conferred more
honor upon her than He did upon Rachel. He gave her more children than
to Rachel. She was also, through her posterity, the mother of Moses,
David, John the Baptist, and the greatest honor of all, was the mother
of our precious Lord Jesus Christ. Leah was not an idolator, so far as
we know, while the beautiful Rachel was tainted with this abomination,
and it seems to have clung to her posterity, for it was the tribe of
Ephraim that led Israel in the sin of idol worship. So that while Leah
may not have been as beautiful as her fair sister, she was more loyal
to God, and doubtless was, on that account, so greatly honored of Him.
But the fair, clear-eyed, beautiful Rachel, like the lovely Sarah
and sprightly Rebekah, was barren and childless, and because of this
became very much dejected, and exclaimed, “Give me children or else I
die!” From this expression we are to understand, she would die from
dejection. Doubtless this dejection led to the substitution of her maid
Bilhah. Her jealous love for Jacob is overbalanced by her envy of her
sister. The favored Rachel desired children as her own, at any cost,
lest she should stand beside her sister childless. The ambition to be
among the progenitors of the Messiah made Hebrew women eager to have
children. Rachel was not willing to leave the founding of the people
of God to her sister only, but wished also to become an ancestress, as
well as Leah, but in very deed, not until Joseph’s birth, her very own,
could she say, “Now God has taken away my reproach.”
At length, after a service of twenty years or more, God called Jacob
to return to his own people. Laban had been a hard master, not only to
Jacob, but to his own daughters. “Are we not counted of him strangers?”
said they in their conference with Jacob concerning the return. He
had sold them as strangers, more as slaves, for the service of their
husband. Hence they had nothing more to hope for from him, for this
very price, that is, the blessing resulting from Jacob’s service, he
had entirely consumed. The daughters had received no share of it. Hence
it is evident that they speak with an inward alienation from their
father, and are quite willing to go with Jacob to the land of promise.
The time set for the departure was the feast of sheep-shearing.
Either Laban had not invited Jacob to this feast, or Jacob took the
opportunity of leaving, in order to visit his own flocks. As the
sheep-shearing lasted several days, the opportunity was very favorable
for his flight.
“But Rachel had stolen the images,” the Penates or household gods,
which were honored as guardians, and as oracles. From this incident we
may infer that she was not altogether free from the superstitions and
idolatry which prevailed in the land whence Abraham had been called,
and which still, to some degree, infected even those families among
whom the true God was known. It is thought she was actuated to steal
them with the superstitious idea that her father, being prevented from
consulting them as oracles, would not be able to pursue Jacob. This
act, however, as also the well-planned and ready dexterity and presence
of mind with which she concealed her theft, and prompt denial to her
father, reveals a cunning which is far more befitting the daughter of
Laban than the wife of the prudent patriarch.
Jacob continued his journey without interruption until the fords of
the Jabbok were reached. While at Mahanaim he sent messengers to
Esau, with a view of bringing about a reconciliation with his grieved
brother. When he reached the Jabbok the messengers returned and brought
the alarming intelligence that Esau was coming to meet him, and four
hundred men were with him. This greatly distressed Jacob, and led him
to divide his family and his flocks, and to send them in bands before
him. Once more, in a critical time, when he expected an attack from
Esau, his discriminate regard for Rachel is again shown by placing Leah
and her children in the place of danger, in advance of Rachel and her
child.
[Illustration: JACOB’S STRUGGLE AT THE JABBOK.]
Having thus disposed of his family and his flocks, Jacob remains behind
to pray. It was the great struggle of his life. And the burden of
that midnight cry was, “Deliver me, I pray Thee, from the hand of my
brother, from the hand of Esau; for I fear him, lest he will come and
smite me, and the mother with the children.” At length the angel of the
Lord said, “Let me go, for the day breaketh!” But Jacob, as if his life
hung on the issue, which it doubtless did, replied, “I will not let
Thee go, except Thou bless me!”
God heard his prayer and delivered him out of the hands of his brother,
Esau.
As Jacob passed over the Jabbok “the sun rose upon him,” and he set
forward on his journey a changed man.
In due time Jacob reached the Jordan at Succoth, thence to Shechem, and
then to Bethel. At each of these places he halted.
It seems that for a considerable time after the return to Palestine,
the images, or household Penates, which Rachel had stolen from her
father, remained in the family, perhaps connived at by Jacob, till,
on being reminded by the Lord of the vow which he had made at Bethel
when he fled from the face of Esau, and being bidden of Him to erect
an altar to the God who appeared to him there, Jacob felt the glaring
impiety of thus solemnly appearing before God with the taint of
idolatry cleaving to his beloved Rachel, said, “Put away the strange
gods from among you.” After thus casting out the polluting things from
his house, Jacob, at Bethel, amidst its sacred associations, received
from God an emphatic promise and blessing.
After his spirit had been purified and strengthened by communion
with God, by the assurance of the divine love and favor, by the
consciousness of evil put away and duties performed, it was, as he
journeyed away from Bethel, that the chastening blow fell and Rachel
died. Doubtless the blessings that came as a result of the cleansing
and purging from idolatry at Bethel had their effect in bringing Rachel
to a higher sense of her relation to that Jehovah in whom her husband,
with all his faults of character, so firmly believed.
Five miles south of Jerusalem, and a mile and a half from Bethlehem,
in the way to Hebron, is a beautiful chapel, sacred to the memory of
Rachel. This is the place where beautiful Rachel surrendered her own
life for the life of her second son, whom she named Ben-oni (son of my
pain). The wish she had uttered at Joseph’s birth, that God would give
her another son, now, after a long period, perhaps sixteen or seventeen
years, is at last realized.
Rachel held Jacob’s love to the last, and even down to his old age he
mourned her loss. The stone pillar which he set up at her grave is the
first recorded instance of the setting up of a sepulchral monument;
caves having been up to this time spoken of as the usual places of
burial. The tomb of Rachel is one of the shrines which Mohammedans,
Jews and Christians unite in honoring, and concerning which their
traditions are identical. At the time of our visit, it happened to be
the time of new moon, when the chapel was open and all lighted up with
olive oil lamps, and the chapel and crypt filled with weeping women.
The lamentations were real and sincere, and, had we remained very
long, we should have wept out of very sympathy for the grief-stricken
mourners of this princess of Israel. The thought that here this lovely
woman in White Raiment sacrificed her own life for another was in
itself depressing. This first mortuary monument, sacred to the memory
of a great love and a great sorrow, has come down to us through more
than three thousand years. One may see it “but a little to come to
Ephrath.”
“Tell me, ye winged winds,
That round my pathway roar,
Do ye not know some spot
Where mortals weep no more?
Some lone and pleasant dell,
Some valley in the west,
Where, free from toil and pain,
The weary soul may rest?
The loud wind dwindled to a whisper low,
And sighed for pity as it answered, ‘No!’”
Leah probably lived for some years after Jacob reached Hebron. Whether
she ever found grace in his sight is not stated. However, in Jacob’s
differences with Laban both Leah and Rachel appeared to be attached to
him with equal fidelity, while later, in the critical moment, when he
expected an attack from Esau, his discriminate regard for the several
members of his family was again shown by his placing Rachel and her
child hindermost, in the least exposed situation, Leah and her children
next, and the two hand-maids, with their children, in front. Of her
death nothing is said. From the expression, “There I buried Leah,”
(Gen. xlix, 31), we are led to believe that she died at Hebron before
Jacob went down into Egypt. She was buried in the family sepulchre,
“in the field of Machpelah, which is before Mamre.” Since Hebron is
only twenty-five miles from Rachel’s tomb, near Bethlehem, it is quite
strange that Jacob did not bury his beloved Rachel in the family
sepulchre, along with Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebekah, and Leah,
and where he was himself finally buried.