* * *
Jacob slipped quietly out of the camp and was on his way up to the high plateau where he would skirt around Hebron and Bethlehem and get as far as possible on this first night. He must get so far that Esau could not easily catch up with him.
He had only his rough sheepskin cloak, and the night air was crisp and promised an early frost. From his satchel he pulled out some dried figs and ate as he hurried along. He dared not stop and light a fire for a proper meal. He didn’t ride but walked beside the donkey because he wanted to think. He felt burdened, oppressed by some choking pain that seemed to tear at his insides until he wanted to cry out in anguish. The night was dark, but he felt as though he were walking through a darkness that was almost palpable. He tried to get at the cause of the pain.
At first he felt it was the memory of his old, blind father stretching out his hands to give him his final blessing. The words flew around in his head like black crows. “May El Shaddai, the almighty, all-powerful God, bless you and make you fruitful and multiply you” … and then the part that made him almost retch with the pain, “and give the blessing of Abraham to you and your seed that you may inherit the land that God gave to Abraham.”
These were his father’s last words. They were words said to him and not to his brother Esau. They were the words of the blessing he had craved and lied to achieve. The problem was that he still didn’t feel that they belonged to him. Neither his grandfather Abraham nor El Shaddai would give blessings to a deceiver. He had thought, and his mother had thought, that to just wrest the words of the blessing from his father was all that was needed. Now he knew his father could say the words, but unless they were prompted by El Shaddai, they meant nothing.
The moon rose over the distant mountains of the Dead Sea and continued slowly into a high arch above him. The stars blossomed like small dove’s dung flowers in the soft black of the sky. He was aware of nothing but the rough stones in the path and the frequent cry of an owl. He walked fast to keep time with his turbulent thoughts. It was late when at last he came to a hillside looking out on the village of Luz. The village was small and the gates were closed. There would be no chance of rousing someone so he could spend the night in their guesthouse.
He found a grassy knoll and spread out his cloak. He needed a headrest. He looked around and saw a stone that seemed just the right size. He pulled it over to the grass, set it in place, and lay down, and was soon fast asleep.
He was exhausted and his sleep was deep and troubled. He saw Esau in his dream and then his father and finally his grandfather Abraham. They all seemed to look at him with disapproval. One word hung in the air around him even in his sleep, “Supplanter, you are a supplanter. With deception you have supplanted your brother.”
He was slightly aroused by an owl’s cry. He looked up into the now moonless sky and felt the stars pressing down upon him. They seemed almost within reach. A thought began to form in a hazy, dreamlike state. If only he could go to the gate of heaven as he had gone to his father and have it settled once and for all. If he could know that it really was Elohim who had chosen him as his mother said, he would have peace.
He turned over and was again aware only of some small creature digging near his headrest. He heard the owl cry once more and then he drifted off into a strange dreamlike state. He was gradually aware of steps, large steps, that led upward invitingly. He could not see the top, as they seemed to disappear into a bright, glowing mist. He lay still, very still, and watched as from the midst of the mist, he saw, very faint and far away, feet begin to appear descending the stairs and coming toward him.
Within moments beings of great power and beauty were coming down the stairs and then, just as they reached the bottom, turning and ascending in the same way. There was the smell of sod wet with spring rain and the fragrance of white lilies. There was the atmosphere of joy, bright, cascading joy.
Suddenly the mist at the top of the stairs glowed with a brilliance that made Jacob cover his eyes, and the beings on the stairs fell to their knees. A warm and encouraging voice sounded from the head of the stairs. “I am the Lord God of Abraham your father, and the God of Isaac. The ground you are lying on belongs to you; I will give it to you and your descendants. You will have as many descendants as the dust. They will cover the land from east to west and from north to south. All the nations of the earth will be blessed through you and your descendants. I am with you and will protect you wherever you go, and I will bring you back safely to this land. I will be with you constantly and will give you all I am promising.”
Jacob awoke with a start. Though the stairs had disappeared, the atmosphere was still charged with vibrant life. The glow faded and the stars were again all that was visible. “God lives here,” Jacob burst out in terror and awe. “I’ve somehow stumbled into His home! This has to be the very entrance to heaven!”