As much as he loved the boys, it was evident that he must send them away. He would give them each a generous settlement and send them with their mother back to her father, their grandfather. They would be more than welcome there as the old man had produced only daughters. He determined to do it quickly while he was still of sound judgment and in control of things. There was not much time left and things must be in order so there would be no conflict after he was gone.
He knew it would not be easy. Keturah would cry and the boys would complain among themselves. They would not dare to openly come against him. However, if things were not settled now, once he was gone and Isaac was in charge, there would be constant trouble.
He thought of Isaac, and as happened so often these days, he was reminded of their trip to Mount Moriah. Layers and layers of meaning kept coming to him in these years since it had all happened. There was nothing unusual in his taking his son to sacrifice him. This was done quite often by his Canaanite neighbors for seemingly trivial reasons. A child or young person might be sacrificed for the success of a trading venture, the erection of a house, or even to clear a man’s conscience before his household gods.
One of the things that made their sacrifice so different from his was that they usually had many sons and he had only the one special son of the promise. Ishmael, his firstborn, was not even considered. It was obviously a test of some sort. He had realized at first that in presuming to be a friend of his God, it was to be expected that at some time that obedience would need to be weighed and evaluated. Mount Moriah may have been that evaluation.
It was also different because he had been told to go to a specific place, Mount Moriah, to make the sacrifice. The usual procedure was for the sacrifice to be made close to the man’s home. Friends and relatives would be notified and a feast would be prepared and served once the ritual was over. None of these things were part of his instructions.
Of course the final difference was that the boy was not sacrificed after all. If he shut his eyes, he could still see his son’s trusting gaze, feel the raised knife in his right hand, the place marked with his thumb where the knife would fall. There had been the sudden rigidity in his raised hand and the voice telling him not to harm his son. Then the miracle of seeing the ram in the thicket.
He remembered telling Isaac when he had asked about the lamb for the sacrifice, “The Lord will provide.” Of course there had been no lamb and he had tied his son, placed him on the altar, and raised the knife before the ram had appeared. The usual procedure would have been for the sacrifice to be carried out regardless of what he heard or felt. He’d never heard of anyone untying and releasing the sacrifice. If he hadn’t been used to listening for Elohim’s voice, he would have gone ahead and sacrificed his son. He buried his head in his hands and wept. Even as an old man the memory moved him deeply. His son’s trust, Elohim’s faithfulness, and then the realization that his God did not want His people to sacrifice their children.
Very slowly the memory faded and he was again aware of the night sounds, the dark sky punctured with bright stars, the smells of damp earth and growing things, and finally the fresh breeze that toyed with the tent flaps and lifted the sand at his feet. Yes, I must send Keturah and her sons away. Isaac would not have the strength to do it. He would give in to their pleading, might even give them his birthright.
With great effort he raised himself, dusted the sand from his robes, and turned back into his tent. He rolled his shawl into a pillow and eased himself down onto his mat and was soon fast asleep.
The next day he woke with a new feeling of urgency. He had to accomplish all that needed to be done. He must make his announcements soon and carry out his decision quickly. Keturah and her sons must be sent away as soon as possible. First, he would have to tell Keturah. Then he would have to make an announcement to his immediate family and close tribesmen.
Before he took any action, he called Eleazar and conferred with him. He must not offend his friend who was Keturah’s father, and he did not want his sons to feel that he had been unfair.
When Eleazar came, Abraham did not ask his advice as he often had done in the past; instead he simply told him his plan. “You must take several trusted men and ride as quickly as possible to my old friend, Keturah’s father. You will tell him that I am soon to be gathered to my people and I must leave my camp in order.”
Eleazar started to object but was silenced by Abraham’s stern look and upraised hand. “You will tell him,” Abraham continued, “that while I have a son to manage my affairs when I am gone, I know that he has none. He gave Keturah to me at a time when I needed her; now I am ready to return her with her six sons and such of my wealth as they will need. They are good sons and grandsons and will bless him in his old age.”