And so Isaac and his family moved to Gerar. The king proved to be generous. He moved some of his own family out into smaller quarters so Isaac and Rebekah and their family and servants could move into houses adjoining the palace.
“You will come and sit every day with me,” Abimelech said. “Your family will be like my family. This famine is sure to pass, but in the meantime we may need each other.”
Rebekah had not forgotten her former experience with the king’s sister Anatah. Now she was surprised when this same sister invited her to come sit with her women whenever she chose. Rebekah would have much preferred going down to Egypt.
When the spring finally came and there had been no winter rain, Isaac began to seriously consider moving down to Egypt. He called his men together and said, “If we stay here, we will have to depend on the wells and building irrigation channels. It will be hard work and in the end we may all starve.”
“We are ready to move. When can we leave?” they immediately asked.
Isaac held up his hand and signaled for silence. “We must not make such a move without first getting guidance from Elohim.”
They were all aware that he had been fasting and praying, spending most of the day and far into the night on his face before his father’s God. Now for the first time, they understood his concern and they began to wait anxiously for his answer. Most of them believed it was already obvious what should be done. They would have no real choice but to go down to Egypt where the Nile could be trusted to fend off any famine.
When the day finally came that Isaac announced the answer that had been given him, they were all speechless with amazement. “We are not to go down to Egypt,” he said. “We are to stay right here and trust Elohim to take care of us. We still have the wells that have not run dry, and we can continue to build irrigation ditches as they have always done in Ur.”
He said no more but turned and went back into his tent. He had seen them frowning with puzzled, questioning looks and real fear clouding their eyes. He heard their murmuring and then quite clearly he heard one of them say, “Can we trust him to really hear from Elohim like his father? This goes against all our better judgment. To go to Egypt is the only safe thing to do.”
Isaac himself could hardly believe what he had heard from Elohim. It was so different from what he had expected. He was well aware of everyone’s reaction. He could see it in their eyes as they looked away—they were frightened. What he told them was not based on common sense. To stay on in the midst of the worst famine any of them had ever experienced sounded like the most foolish thing they could do.
Rebekah had been so sure they would be going down to Egypt that she had been quietly packing and was ready to go. Now she couldn’t help wondering if Isaac was making a big mistake. If Abraham had been there and told them they were to stay, that he had heard this from Elohim, it would have been different. Isaac’s speaking with such sureness didn’t impress her. “You know we will all starve if we stay here,” she said finally.
Esau was the only one who agreed with his father. He didn’t want to leave because he was totally entranced with one of the Hittite maids of Kirjath-arba.
Her name was Judith. He had seen her dancing with the maidens at one of the festivals honoring the goddess Anat. She danced handling a large snake that wound around her arms and encircled her waist. She not only danced with a fascinating, snakelike undulation, but she was also able to make the large snake obey her every command.
Esau was fearless in confronting the lions or the panthers that prowled the jungle of the Jordan. He had been known to wrestle one of the lambs from a large bear, but he avoided and feared the snakes. He had killed many of them as they reared up in his path and glared with their cold, beadlike eyes, challenging him. He knew that they were stealthy and deadly, and to see a young beauty like Judith tormenting and flirting with the big snake fascinated him.
He had waited until the performance was over and then, jumping down from the wall where he and other young men had been sitting, he confronted her. “Are you not afraid?” he asked.
“No,” she said as her eyes narrowed and she tossed her head, studying him all the time. “The snakes I can control,” she said, “but a young man like yourself is the real danger.”
He only later learned what she meant. She had been dedicated to the goddess as a very young child, and it was the only life she knew. Esau understood but was determined to have her for himself; to leave for Egypt at this time would spoil everything.
Jacob’s reaction was different. He was among those who crowded into his father’s tent to hear what had changed his mind. It interested him because it was so unlike his father. His father was never one to speak with authority. He was always looking for some peaceful way around any disagreement. Now here he was insisting on a plan of action that was definitely unpopular.