All the time that he was complaining, Rebekah was working to fit a strip snugly around his neck and then two others to cover his arms. When they were firmly in place, she leaned back and studied the effect, then reached out and felt of it. She smiled. “It will do,” she said.
Jacob was still nervous. “People will see me,” he said, holding out his arms awkwardly. “I can’t go to my father’s tent without being observed.”
“Don’t worry, Deborah has sent the children away and given everyone else orders to keep away from Isaac’s tent so he can have quiet. There is nothing to fear, but you must hurry.”
With that she felt of Jacob’s arms once more and then, with a nod of satisfaction, handed him the bowl of fragrant stew and some bread and ushered him out of the tent.
The entrance flap to his father’s tent was raised, which was a sign that his father was waiting for someone. Jacob felt a slight twinge of fear and guilt as he realized that it was Esau he was expecting. Then remembering all the hurts and slights he had received in Esau’s shadow, he stiffened and entered the tent. In the dim light he could see Isaac sitting among the cushions; his legs were crossed and his hands on his knees. “My father,” he said.
Isaac immediately became attentive. “Here I am,” he said. “Who are you?”
“I am Esau, your firstborn.” He paused a moment, fearing that his voice may have already betrayed him. “I have done as you commanded,” he said, “and here is the venison.”
Isaac seemed to hesitate and Jacob urged, “Come and eat, so that you can bless me.”
Isaac still hesitated. “How have you found it so quickly?”
Jacob was temporarily paralyzed with fear. He frowned and then hurried to assure him. “Because,” he said, “the Lord, your God, brought it to me.”
Again Isaac hesitated, paying no attention to the fragrant stew Jacob had placed before him. “Come closer so that I can feel whether you are really Esau or not.”
Sweat broke out on Jacob’s brow. His anxiety mounted until he remembered his mother was standing just outside the tent listening. Quickly he put out his arm and guided Isaac’s hand to feel the rough, hairy skin.
“The voice is Jacob’s but the hands and arms are Esau’s,” Isaac said. “Are you truly my son Esau?” he asked directly.
“I am,” Jacob said with as much conviction as he could muster.
“Bring me the venison that I may eat before I bless you,” Isaac said, and Jacob knew this was going to be another test. If the dish his mother had prepared was not quite right, his father would immediately sense the deception and all would be lost. Jacob handed him the dish and then sat where he could watch as his father dipped the bread in the warm broth and ate. At first he was hesitant as though testing to see if it was really the dish he was waiting for, and then to Jacob’s relief he ate hungrily. When the dish was finished, Jacob brought him wine and stood watching him drink. He had begun to feel more relaxed. Then just as he was sure the ordeal was almost over, his father stretched out his arms. “Come near now and kiss me, my son,” he said. Jacob knew this was the final test. His father was still suspicious.
Jacob helped him to his feet and felt his arms around him, his fingers digging into Esau’s cloak, his face buried in its rough folds. He kissed him, then held him at arm’s length. “Yes,” Isaac cried, with tears running down from the sightless eyes. “This is the smell of a field that the Lord has blessed. It is the smell of my son Esau.”
Jacob knelt and Isaac placed his hands on his head and blessed him. “May the Lord give you of the dew of heaven and the fatness of the earth with plenty of corn and wine.
“Let the people serve you, and nations bow down to you, and cursed be everyone that curses you and blessed be everyone that blesses you.”
Jacob rose and stumbled toward the door of the tent. He did not want to risk saying anything that might give his act away. He had the blessing and now he wanted only to escape.
* * *
He did not want to wait where he would see Esau coming in with the venison and then patiently building the fire and boiling the water. He rushed to his mother’s tent and let Deborah and his mother pull the skin from around his neck and his arms. He flung Esau’s cloak from him and sneezed at the earthy odor. He plunged his arms, again and again, into the basin of water Deborah brought. He scrubbed them until they were red and raw trying to get the odor and the dried blood off. His mother was elated and kept praising him for managing everything so well.
He could feel none of the elation. He felt soiled and disappointed. It wasn’t at all what he had thought it would be. What he had gotten was not something he had earned or deserved but something he had been forced to cheat to gain. He rushed out and sat under an overhanging projection of rock where he could think. It occurred to him that maybe he didn’t really have the blessing at all. If it was Elohim who had to approve and agree, it was doubtful that He would approve such deceit.