Sarah's Dry Tree Blossoms and Isaac Is Born at the Appointed Noon
Sarah had been inside two foreign palaces, so the camp was ready to count months. Then Abraham lifted the boy up and everyone saw whose face he had.
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Where Is Sarah
Three men stood in the heat outside Abraham's tent and asked him where his wife was. "In the tent," he said. Behind the cloth, ninety years old, Sarah heard them ask after her.
Scribes have put dots over three letters of the word they used, and the dotted letters spell a second question the visitors were also asking: where is he? They asked Abraham where Sarah was, and they turned around and asked Sarah where Abraham was. Neither one was allowed to be a bystander at what came next.
Then the promise. At the appointed time I will come back to you, and Sarah will have a son. She laughed at it from inside the tent, which is what a body does when it has already done the arithmetic. Long afterward Deborah would sing that Yael was blessed beyond the women of the tent, and the women of the tent were these, the ones who bore children and kept the world running.
Two Palaces and a Rumor
The problem was not only her age. Sarah had walked into Pharaoh's house once and into Abimelech's house once, and she had walked out of both of them untouched, and everybody in the region knew both stories.
Rabbi Yitzhak weighed it against the Torah's own hardest case. A husband drags his wife to the priest, she drinks the bitter water, the water clears her, and Scripture promises her a child for what she went through. If a woman merely suspected is owed that, said Rabbi Yitzhak, what is owed to a woman who went through two royal houses and came out clean?
There is an angel appointed over conception, people said. Rabbi Yehuda ben Rabbi Simon would not allow it here. No officer, no deputy, nothing standing between. The Lord Himself remembered Sarah.
The Dry Tree
Ezekiel had watched God do this before and put it in the language of an orchard. I have brought down the high tree and lifted up the low tree. I have dried the green tree and made the dry tree blossom.
The high tree was Abimelech, a king who reached for another man's wife and woke from a dream that told him he was a dead man. The low tree was Abraham, who owned no field and pitched his tent wherever the water was. The green tree drying was Abimelech's household, every womb in it shut fast for as long as Sarah stayed under his roof. And the dry tree that put out blossom was Sarah.
Not like a man who talks and never moves, God said through the prophet. I have spoken, and I have done it. He had spoken at the tent door. Now He did it.
The Camp Counted on Its Fingers
She conceived and she carried and she bore a son, and the counting started before the birth cries stopped.
Rabbi Yudan said the pregnancy ran the full nine months, not a day short, precisely so that nobody could stand in the market and say the child had been scooped out of Abimelech's palace. Rabbi Hama said seven months, which are nine incomplete ones, and said the calendar never mattered anyway.
It never mattered because of the boy's face. Scripture calls him a son of Abraham's old age, and the word for old age is nearly the word for the shine of a likeness. The child came out wearing his father's features. On the eighth day Abraham lifted him for the circumcision, and every guest who had been doing sums in his head looked at the small face and stopped doing sums.
She had not gone anywhere for that child. Not to a palace, not to a physician, not to anyone.
At the Hour the Lamb Is Killed
Rabbi Huna, in the name of Rabbi Hizkiyah, fixed the hour. Isaac was born at noon.
The verse says he was born at the appointed time, and the same word for appointed time turns up in the law of the Passover offering, the hour when the lamb is slaughtered as the sun tips over from the top of the sky and starts down. That is when the child arrived. Not in the dark, not at the edge of a night when a story could be adjusted afterward, but with the light standing straight overhead and no shadow anywhere to hide a rumor in.
The dry tree was in fruit. The king who had taken her was low, his house barren, his dream still on him. And a woman who had spent her whole life being other men's business held a boy with her husband's face on him, in the middle of the day, where anyone could look.
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