He decided not to share these fears with his mother. She wouldn’t understand. He loved her for wanting him to have the blessing. It would be a terrible blow to her if she ever thought that in spite of all her plans, Elohim had not approved of what they had done.
It was dark when he returned home and went directly to his mother’s tent. He had expected to find his mother smiling and joyful; instead he found her pacing back and forth, now clutching the tent pole, then sinking her fingers into her flying hair, her eyes fierce and her jaw thrust out as though in defiance. “We must go immediately to your father’s tent.” The words sprang at him like sharp nettles. “Esau has come,” she said, “and they are demanding an explanation.”
At the last moment Rebekah decided that she should go alone to face Isaac and Esau. “It may be dangerous for you to come while Esau is still with his father,” she said.
“Perhaps I should agree to give him back the birthright and the blessing,” Jacob said.
“No, no, it’s impossible. That’s why Esau’s so angry. It can never be taken back.”
“Then I must go and try to make it right.”
Rebekah was hurriedly twisting her long hair into a knot and thrusting in a wooden pin to hold it in place. “There’s nothing you can do that will make it right in his eyes,” she said.
She snatched up her head cloth and going to the brass mirror on the tent pole quickly wound it into place covering her hair. She broke off a sprig of blossoming basil from a clay pot and thrust it into a fold. Leaning closer into the mirror to survey the effect, she moistened her lips, wet her finger, and nudged the hairs of her eyebrows into a curved line. Then smoothing down her robe with a swift, agitated movement, she looked long and pensively at Jacob.
With a stifled sob she reached out and grasped Jacob’s arm. Her fingers dug into the soft folds of his robe as she whispered, “You saw how disturbed I was when you arrived,” she said quietly. “Deborah had just told me she heard your brother means to kill you. If not now, then when your father dies.”
Jacob staggered back with a look of horror on his face as the full meaning of her words sank in. “And … what am I to do?”
“You are to do nothing. I’ll go and see what can be done.”
With that she hurried out and down the path toward Isaac’s tent. As she approached she could hear a terrible wailing. It rose and fell on the air like that of a wounded animal. She quickened her steps and rounding a corner came face-to-face with Esau. He seemed not to recognize her at first, but then with a sudden lunge and a face contorted with rage, he clawed at her. “You, you are the one. You have always favored my brother.” He was quickly steadied by two friends who struggled to hold him back.
In spite of his friends’ efforts, he again lunged forward and spat at her. With that and some wild curses, he turned and let his friends lead him off toward his own tents.
Rebekah was badly shaken as she lifted the tent flap and faced Isaac. She could see that he had heard everything. She saw the bowl of venison sitting to one side untouched and the bread strewn randomly beside it, and she was grieved for the pain of her elder son.
“Why, why did you let him do it?” Isaac asked, his face lifted and his sightless eyes glazed and cold.
Impulsively she knelt before him and bent to kiss the hem of his robe in respect, then leaning back on her heels, she spoke quietly and firmly. “You have forgotten the message given me by Elohim before the twins were born. You yourself told me to go and inquire of Him.”
Isaac was suddenly quiet and thoughtful. “I do remember something like that, but it was so long ago,” he said. “What happened?”
“The answer came to me quite clearly. ‘You are to give birth to twins,’ He said, ‘and the younger will serve the elder and rule over him.’”
“And you told me this?”
“Of course, but you never paid any attention to the prediction. From the moment they were born, you assumed Esau was to have the blessing and the birthright.”
Isaac buried his face in his hands and moaned. “You are right; what you say is right. I remember, I remember everything. Why didn’t you remind me? Why did you think you had to trick me?”
“Men don’t listen to women, especially if they are saying something that doesn’t sound logical.”
“Yes,” he said, lifting his head and turning toward her. “Yes, that was the problem; it wasn’t logical.”
“So you didn’t think Elohim would give a woman a message that wasn’t logical.”
“I should have known. That’s the way it’s always seemed. He isn’t logical. His ways are mysterious.”