ISHMAEL Part 2

“Did you hear that? Sarah is pregnant!”

“What? That just can’t be true!”

“Who? Which Sarah?”

“The one who used to be called Sarai.”

“That ninety year old woman? Now that is news!”

“They are saying that he’s the son of a promise, and that he is the true heir.”

 From tent to tent, from family to family, the news spread like a fire out of control.

Ishmael didn’t join in the excitement. The news confirmed to him what he had long suspected. He was a mistake. The comments about the true heir stabbed him like a sharp knife and he flinched involuntarily each time he heard them. The reality was too painful to accept and the boy grew sullen and bad tempered, refusing to accept every attempt his father made to demonstrate his love for his firstborn.

 *** *** ***

The cry of a newborn baby broke the silence. Ishmael heard it and his heart missed a beat. The sound came from the direction of Sarai’s tent. He closed his hands into two fists and began to hit the sacks of corn his father had placed in the shade of a tree. Over and over again he hit the sacks until the corn spilled out at his feet. He stamped on it furiously. Then he kicked the puppy that frolicked beside him and marched out of the campsite. He didn’t understand what was happening; he didn’t understand his feelings. He hated everyone and most of all he hated that baby.

 *** *** ***

The years passed and the bitterness in Ishmael’s heart grew silently and undetected like a poisonous gas. Sometimes he felt he would explode. Sometimes he exploded.

“Dad, I need to know the truth.”

The 14 year old shot a defiant glance at the two women in his life. They were squabbling as usual.

“Dad, tell me. Which of those two women is my mother?” His tone was sarcastic. It was obvious he was trying to make his father angry.

Through narrowed eyes he watched as Abraham placed a protecting hand on baby Isaac’s head. Reluctantly the old man shifted his gaze from the face of his newborn son to that of the angry teenager.

“Why have you changed your name Dad?”

Then, putting his hands on his hips, he threw back his head and spat out the question he had reserved for this moment.

“What’s so special about this baby?”

Abraham turned his full attention to his firstborn.

Patiently and lovingly he went back to the beginning.

“My son,” he began, “That day when God and I spoke together, I said ‘If only Ishmael might live under your blessing!’ And God told me there is a blessing for you. Listen to what God said about you. ‘As for Ishmael, I have heard you: I will surely bless him; I will make him fruitful and will greatly increase his numbers. He will be the father of twelve rulers and I will make him into a great nation’.

Ishmael wasn’t satisfied. His father’s detailed explanation and his affirmation of his love for him did nothing to appease the anger that burned in his chest. It threatened to suffocate him along with the hatred, the bitterness and the rejection already firmly entrenched there. His lip curled in contempt.

“Baby Isaac. Huh. The fulfillment of a promise? The son of the covenant? The heir?  How dare he be born, horrid little brat! I hate him!”

 *** *** ***

The day of Isaac’s weaning party arrived. From a distance Ishmael watched his little brother, the centre of attention. The pain of rejection made him feel terribly alone.

“I don’t belong here. They are a family. I’m an outsider”

Suddenly the adrenaline of vengeance raced through his veins driving him to make a decision. This was the perfect moment: Ishmael went up to his little brother and began mocking him in front of all the guests.

Like an avalanche of rocks that appeared from nowhere, Sarah’s reaction to Ishmael’s behaviour took all the guests by surprise. Heads turned. Mouths opened. Eyebrows went up. Sarah the perfect hostess threw herself on her husband.

Each word, a stone thrown with tremendous force, hit and wounded the heart of Ishmael’s father. 

“Get rid of that slave woman and her son, for that slave woman’s son will never share in the inheritance with my son Isaac.”

Abraham was most distressed. This was about his own son. The old man spent a sleepless night, his only comfort God’s words: It is through Isaac that your offspring will be reckoned. I will make the son of the maidservant into a nation also, because he is your offspring.”

Early next morning Ishmael watched in disbelief as his father filled a skin with water and packed a basket of food.  He was conscious of a dreadful sinking feeling in his stomach. O.K he had been rude to his spoilt little brother but would his dad kick him out of the family just for that? A searing pain shot through his heart as the root of bitterness twisted itself into a knot. Hot, angry tears spilled down his cheeks.

Abraham placed the skin of water and the food on Hagar’s shoulders, but Ishmael carried a heavier burden. He carried his reactions to the deception, and  injustice he had suffered even from before he was born. He carried the burden of guilt, anxiety, anger and resentment; he would carry this burden for the rest of his life. 

His father called him, said goodbye and handed him over to his birth mother.  In total silence he walked out into the desert behind her.

To be continued