Though Abraham and Isaac ordered guest tents to be set up, Ishmael insisted on raising his own tent for himself. It was not woven of dark goat hair but was of skins sewn together and lined with fragrant drapery of Egyptian make.
Everything he owned seemed to be made with the very finest craftsmanship. His clothes were of Egypt’s most costly linen and he wore a pectoral of precious stones set in polished brass. His sandals were gilded leather and his cloak was fringed.
Abraham ordered a great feast and the men sat long into the night around the fire discussing all that had happened to them and remembering the past. When it grew very late on the last night and everyone had drifted off, leaving only Isaac and Ishmael alone, the discussion took a more personal turn. “I was jealous of you,” Ishmael said at last. “You were to have the blessing and were to be given the birthright.”
Isaac grew very still and pensive. When he spoke it was with an air of real sympathy and understanding. “I didn’t understand at first but now I do. For thirteen years you had been my father’s firstborn and the delight of my mother. When I was born, everything changed for you, didn’t it?”
“Yes. I never had known that Hagar was my mother until then. It was a terrible blow.”
“And then my mother sent you away. That must have hurt the most.”
There was a long silence and then Ishmael spoke in a low, tense but controlled voice. “No, the greatest hurt came in knowing I was not to have the blessing of the firstborn or the birthright.”
“And I suppose you are still pained.”
Ishmael laughed a hard, forced laugh. He broke in half the small stick he had been absentmindedly holding and threw the pieces into the fire. “No, no, I am not pained anymore,” he said.
Isaac was surprised. “You no longer want the blessing or the birthright?”
Ishmael laughed again. “Look at me. I have more flocks and herds than my father, my sons own towns and live in stone castles, my coffers are full of gold and silver. I want for nothing. What greater blessing can my father give me?”
Isaac reached out and filled Ishmael’s cup with more wine. “And,” he said, “you have not mentioned your twelve strong, handsome sons or that I have none. If anyone is going to be the father of nations, it seems obvious; it will be you.”
Ishmael toyed with the fringe on his cloak and smiled. “I wasn’t going to say it, but it does seem rather obvious who has the blessing and the birthright.”
“It has been almost twenty years since I married Rebekah, and in all this time we have not been blessed with even one child.”
“Can you still be expecting Elohim to give you a child?”
“Yes,” Isaac said slowly. “He is our only hope and He has promised.”
Ishmael’s eyes opened wide in astonishment. “You believe then. All that our father has spoken, you really believe.”
“Yes,” he said as a look of intense pain crossed his face.
They remained silent for a few minutes listening to the snapping of the thorns in the fire and the whirring of bats above their heads. Finally Ishmael roused himself to go and then, being reminded of something, sat back down. Impulsively he leaned over to look more closely at his brother and said in an almost kindly manner, “You could get another wife, you know.”
“No,” Isaac said with surprising force. “Elohim has promised and I will hold Him to His promise.”
Ishmael was startled. He didn’t answer for a few minutes but he was puzzled. “What makes you so sure you can trust this Elohim of our father?” he asked at last.
“I have learned through painful experiences that He can be trusted. However, one may have to wait until all hope is gone.”
“I don’t understand,” Ishmael said.
Several minutes passed. Isaac seemed to be struggling within himself, not wanting to share something so personal. “You must have forgotten,” he began finally. “I am the son of a mother who was ninety years old when I was born. She and my father had given up all hope. She laughed at the angels who told my father she would conceive.”
“But you weren’t there. You’ve just heard about it. You’ve had no personal experience with this Elohim.”
Isaac stood and helped Ishmael to his feet. He placed his hand on his brother’s arm and seemed about to say “good night,” then he hesitated. “It’s true, I was not there, but when the bigger challenge was given, I was very much there.”
“You mean the sacrifice. I didn’t understand that either. If you were Elohim’s chosen, how could He take such a chance? You could have been killed.”