The Curse of Obedience: The Biblical Parable of Abraham, his God and Isaac

By Laszlo Z. Bito

About the Book
When I first learned to read by sounding out words I realized, to my horror, that one of the pictures in my children’s Bible was a story about a father who, out of obedience to God, was ready to sacrifice his son. That story of Abraham and Isaac terrified me. Later, the atrocities of WWII and the treachery of Moscovite dictatorship in Hungary focused my attention over and over again on the question of the origins of human cruelty. This led me back to the story of Abraham and Isaac, and finally to the crucial question of whether Abraham wanted to kill his son because he had heard the voice of God, or had heard the voice of God because he wanted to kill his son. The more I thought about it the more convinced I became that finding an answer might go a long way toward freeing us from a godhead that makes Abraham’s unquestioned obedience acceptable or even commendable as a virtue. My novel is a dramatization of these underlying concepts, all within the context of the lives and times of Abraham and Isaac. LZB

About the Author
If fate – namely the 1956 revolution in Hungary – had not intervened, Laszlo Z. Bito (1934-2021) would have become a writer of fiction, as clearly indicated by his notes from the coal mine to which he was consigned by the Soviet overlords. Because of his involvement as a local organizer of the revolution he had to flee the country, and upon his subsequent arrival in the United States as an immigrant without knowledge of English he needed to choose a more practical career. After graduating with a BA in chemistry and biology from Bard College he decided on biomedical research, achieved a PhD in biophysics and cell biology from Columbia University in 1963, and joined the Ophthalmology faculty of that university in 1965. This led to the development of the drug Xalatan, which has been for many years the gold standard in the treatment of glaucoma. At the age of 63 he retired from science to devote himself to the long-delayed writing of fiction and essays. By the time of his death, he had published more than twenty books in Hungarian, some in two editions, some with translations into German and several Eastern European languages. His literary work included six biblical novels. The Gospel of Anonymous, released in 2011, marked the first of those novels published in English, followed by Eden Revisited (2022).

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dorrance Publishing Company
• Release date: May 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9798886047790

Book preview

Did Abraham want to kill his son Isaac because he had heard the voice of God, or did he hear the voice of God because he wanted to kill his son?

PART 1

THE BIRTH OF ISAAC

And the Lord visited Sarah as he had said, and the Lord did unto Sarah as he had spoken. For Sarah conceived, and bare Abraham a son in his old age, at the set time of which God had spoken to him. And Abraham called the name of his son that was born unto him, whom Sarah bare to him, Isaac. And Abraham circumcised his son Isaac, being eight days old, as God had commanded him. And Abraham was an hundred years old, when his son Isaac was born unto him. And Sarah said, God hath made me to laugh, so that all that hear will laugh with me.

Genesis 21:1-6

PART 1, CHAPTER 1

And he [Abraham] lift up his eyes and looked, and, lo, three men stood by him: and when he saw them, he ran to meet them from the tent door, and bowed himself toward the ground.

Genesis 18:2

I pray thee, kind maiden, canst thou show us the way to the tent of the great prophet Abraham and his wife Sarah? With exaggerated politeness the youngest of the three travelers, astride the tallest and most splendidly equipped camel, addressed Maahar, the servant girl, at the desert well. Her delicate features, narrow eyebrows, light olive skin, and proud bearing all led the stranger to judge her correctly to be a descendant of one of the ancient peoples of the Nile and to address her accordingly, in her own tongue.

When she remained silent, the young man introduced himself elaborately, giving his name—Nohaykem—with emphasis, as though he expected it to be familiar to anyone living in the land of Canaan, even a handmaiden of the Hebrew nomads. He understood that she was a servant of Abraham’s clan, yet continued to address her as if she were a princess of royal blood.

The stranger broadened his practiced smile and allowed the front of his traveling robe to part, revealing fine garments of color and quality rarely seen in those realms. His older companions, silent in their heavy black burnooses, sitting on their lesser beasts slightly behind and on either side of Nohaykem, only emphasized his youth, good looks, and worldly confidence.

We are in great haste, having urgent matters to discuss with Abraham, the king of the Hebrews. Art thou a servant of his household? Nohaykem’s patience was beginning to fray. Direct us to him without delay if thou knowest his whereabouts!

Are you known to him by name, or better yet in person? Maahar inquired, ignoring the urgency of his request. Brought up among nomads, she had learned to be suspicious of all strangers, yet she had even stronger reason to withhold her answer now, for she was related to the very people the travelers so eagerly sought. Her elder sister, Hagar, was the very handmaiden who had been given years earlier as second wife to Abraham by his first wife, Sarah.

We come to see Abraham at the bidding of his brother’s son, Lot. Nohaykem did not allow his frustration to show, but instead deployed his store of ritual encomium: I have not yet been so fortunate as to meet in person the great Abraham, but he, the oracle of his newfound One-God, and his wife Sarah met my companions many years ago. The honorable Lot assured us that anyone we might chance to meet on our sojourn here would be able to direct us to Abraham and Sarah, his beloved brother and sister, as he calls them.

You haven’t far to go, Maahar said reluctantly, more impressed by his tone than by his contrived smile and calculated politeness. That is his camp over there. She motioned toward a small grove of tents, barely visible in the shimmering heat. When you come to a fork in the path, just take it to your far side, she continued halfheartedly, having realized that whatever the strangers were selling or buying was more important to this Nohaykem than anything she could offer him. You will find Abraham in the only tent with a wall around it. Then, as if suddenly taken by a thought: Or if you but wait while I fill my pitcher I’ll seek him out for you, she offered, hoping to learn more about the purpose of the strangers’ journey. But Nohaykem wasted no more of his smiles or words on her. He signaled to his companions and they hastened on their way.

‘I must tell Hagar of this,’ Maahar said to herself. ‘Whatever Lot is up to cannot be for the good of my sister or her son, our beloved Ishmael,’ she concluded, lifting the pitcher to her shoulder. But seeing an old woman of Sarah’s service approaching, she set it down again on a washing stone. Hafri served as Sarah’s eyes and ears; now she was muttering curses on the three men for having galloped past her without acknowledgment.

What do those two snake-oil peddlers seek here? she asked, by way of greeting.

Which two do you mean? The young one must be from somewhere in the lower regions of Egypt, as he speaks my tongue quite well. The two grim-faced cutthroats said nothing.

They are the two I mean. Many seasons ago when we were already wandering these parts of Canaan with our flocks, somewhere past the hills of Rabok, near Luz, these guileful two came to see my mistress, Sarah. They stayed with us from full moon to full moon, giving to Sarah and Abraham foul-smelling potions to drink, swearing by all their gods that their brews would make her bear a boy child. I’ll always recognize the one who was trying to hide that ugly scar across his face. Nor will I ever forget how they departed, weighed down with purses of gold. Hafri shook her head sadly. And all those riches gone to waste, for Sarah didn’t give birth even to a girl child!

Shading her eyes with a gnarled hand, she strained to see in the distance the figure she knew to be Abraham, bowing to the ground in front of the three strangers before ushering them into his tent. Hafri, taken by the sight, turned to Maahar, "What got into Abraham? Could it be that Sarah hasn’t abandoned hope after all? Could such a thing be possible? She must be well-nigh ninety and she hasn’t been in a woman’s way since we were banished from Egypt! Could my poor mistress still believe the promise made to them in her youth by their One-God? Does she still hope the seed of Abraham will take root in her aged womb? But how?

Take my word for it, my dear Maahar, our master hasn’t lain with her ever since Ishmael was born to your beautiful sister on my mistress’ knees, and has grown up to be such a fine boy, his father’s greatest joy. Hafri emphasized her praise of Ishmael with a toothless smile, hoping to prolong the conversation to learn from Maahar whatever she had gathered from the travelers, the only notable visitors they had seen in many moons.

Perhaps that is what’s bothering Sarah, said Maahar softly, speaking more to herself than to Hafri, but the old woman had sharp ears and countered with sudden bitterness: Between the days he spends with Ishmael and the nights he spends with your sister Abraham hasn’t time or love left for my poor mistress.

I know. Sarah must be tired of listening to Hagar’s love cries every night. But believe me, Hafri, it is not my sister’s fault: When Sarah gave her to Abraham we all begged her to have a stone house built for them where they wouldn’t bother anyone with their lovemaking. Sarah refused to listen, and when Abraham finally put up that useless wall around Hagar’s tent, he acted as if he had been forced to defile the graves of his forefathers. Without a roof it serves little purpose; you can still hear her every sigh, her every moan, her every...

Maahar had wanted to defend her sister, but when her voice began to betray her envy of Hagar’s ecstatic happiness she fell silent. There were men of great handsomeness among the Hebrews, but their customs and Abraham’s edicts left her still alone, for none of the men except Abraham was wealthy enough to keep a second wife and none would take an Egyptian as first wife. Instead of finishing her sentence, Maahar imitated their mistress’ voice: ‘You and your buildings,’ Sarah has said to us a hundred times, ‘You Egyptians are not happy unless you can build monuments to yourselves, something that will remain after you are gone!’ And my mistress is right, she is! We Hebrews never leave anything behind. Hafri leaped at any chance to teach one of the conceited Egyptian servants a lesson about the superiority of the nomadic way of life. When we move on, we even cover up our wells, leaving everything the way God left it to us. We shepherd folk don’t befoul the beauty created by the Lord for His own pleasure and for us to enjoy. Hafri made a sweeping gesture toward the sparse pastures that stretched to the horizon, but her arm dropped to her side as her motion reached the encampment of tents, among them Hagar’s, surrounded by the shoulder-high wall of stones that hardly served the purpose for which it had been built. Yet the wall did serve some purpose; if nothing else, it kept out curious children who, until then, had always managed to find openings between the tent sheets and peeped in. It also kept out Abraham’s faithful camel, which one night had mistakenly taken for his call the rapturous grunt of his master. The old beast had plunged his head into Hagar’s tent and, taken aback by what he saw, danced around until he had torn the whole tent down. Only after that had Abraham given in and had the wall built, though he never stopped muttering about it. We do not build walls because we do not have anything to hide from one another, Hafri told Maahar, morosely. We nomads are one big family. We always share our sorrows and pleasures and keep no secrets. This is our strength, that we are one. I know that you and your sister and all your people from the shores of the Nile look down on us dusty-footed wayfarers.

I never said or thought any such thing! Maahar objected. She did not relish the possibility that such disparaging words might reach the ears of their mistress and awaken her ire. I only mean to say that our settled life does have some advantages.

Some advantages! Hafri snorted. I fear that anyone who sets foot in Egypt is carried away by your fancy ways. Since he returned from the Nile even Abraham is not what he used to be, talking about how his Heavenly Lord has promised him lands far and wide! Sometimes I worry that he himself might be ready to give up our nomadic way of life for a piece of land on which to grow beans and peas.

Hafri fell silent, thinking of everything she loved: the limitless lands of their unbounded kingdom, the wandering way of life of which she was a product and a defender. She could almost see the returning scout standing on his camel’s high saddle as he inched up above a hot, shimmering plain, gesturing in the direction of his discovery of grassy pastures and wells of sweet water. She could almost feel the thrill of pulling up stakes, folding tents, gathering herds; the excitement of setting out toward land that held greater promise than that left behind. Maybe the settled life agrees with you, dear Maahar. Hafri sat down on a boulder and motioned to her to do the same. But if we hot-blooded nomads were to try to trap our souls in houses, what do you think would happen to us? We’d become like the people of Sodom and Gomorrah! Locked up like lambs in a winter hutch our men would lose interest in everything except each other—she made an obscene gesture. Hafri was hitting her stride again: But worst of all, if we were to start building houses we would cut down all the biggest shade trees to build roofs the way you Egyptians have done, until our animals had no more shade in which to find refuge from the scorching midday sun!

Yes, Hafri, I can understand why this would concern you, but I cannot understand why you think that living in cities leads to wanton lewdness. In Egypt we worship our gods faithfully. The great goddess Hathor is merely one among them. At her altar of love and ecstasy the daughters of Egypt learn to use her skills with joyful grace. We simply prefer to keep these matters, once they are learned, within the walls of our homes. If hearing my sister in pleasure with Abraham troubles Sarah...

My mistress cares little about your sister’s pleasures. Neither does she, at her age, seek such pleasures for herself. But might she still hope to have a son of her own? She must have sent for those peddlers to bring stronger potions for her … or for Abraham.

You are mistaken, Hafri! Maahar exclaimed. It wasn’t her doing. It was neither Sarah nor Abraham who summoned those three here. They came at the bidding of Lot!

Lot? Abraham’s brother’s son?

Yes Lot. But I’d better hasten to my sister. Whatever Lot is scheming cannot be in her favor or in the interest of my dear nephew Ishmael. Then she lifted the water pitcher to her shoulder and started off, saying to Hafri, You’d better go to our mistress and keep your eyes on those strangers.

•••

Come, Hafri, you won’t believe this! Sarah whispered, putting her bony finger to her colorless lips to signal her trusted servant-woman to approach quietly. Hafri obediently tiptoed to her mistress, who was eavesdropping behind Abraham’s tent.

Three strangers appeared out of nowhere, Sarah whispered excitedly. They told Abraham that I will be with child! She tried hard not to laugh out loud as she grasped her servant’s garment and dragged her a few steps away from Abraham’s tent, but even then she continued in a whisper: I hope they don’t expect me to take my husband into me with pleasure after all this time. I have suffered only pain with him, ever since ... ever since Egypt. Sarah had become too worked up to contain her voice, so she began tasting her thoughts silently as they came to her mind: ‘Pleasure... is that what they bring? The magic of pleasure, the wonder of... Is pleasure part of God’s promise? Why, with Abraham, could it never be for me as it was with Pharaoh? Why could it never be for me with Abraham as it seems to be for Hagar?’

Sarah had never really been jealous of Hagar’s pleasure, yet now she dwelt on it in spite of herself: ‘She is as skilled as the best of us among Pharaoh’s concubines ever were in the art of Hathor. Some of us could make even the most timid calf snort like a fulsome bull. I did it well with the great Pharaoh. And yet... Silly woman! The idea of being with child at my time of life makes me laugh!’

Suddenly, at that very moment, Sarah heard a thunderous voice that reached her from near and far and all directions at once. From the fright she felt she recognized it to be the voice of their Heavenly God addressing Abraham, but now, for the first time, she heard it too: Abraham, wherefore did Sarah laugh, saying within herself, ‘Shall I indeed bear a child now, when I have grown old?’ Is thy wife mocking me? Is there any matter thou believe to be impossible for me?

In her fright, Sarah denied the accusation: I... I did not say anything! I… she tried to defend herself.

At that, the great voice became truly terrifying: Nay, but thou didst laugh! God thundered, and Sarah was as if deafened by the sound. Even as she realized that, at long last, Abraham’s God had spoken directly to her, sound, light, smell, taste, and breath all swelled in her, intertwining into a knot of pure terror. It was more than she could bear. Heat as if from a melting furnace blasted through her body, her legs gave way, and she fell to the ground.

Hafri had heard nothing and the sight of her beloved mistress writhing on the ground stunned her. But she soon regained her inborn balance and, grasping a goatskin, forced water into Sarah’s mouth. Then she helped her mistress to rise and stand precariously on her shaking legs. Cradling Sarah’s shoulder, she led her to the tent they shared. There she bathed her mistress’ forehead and face with scented water.

Held by her servant much as a child is held by its mother Sarah stared sightlessly, seeking to regain control of a mind scoured of everything but the sound of God’s portentous words.

•••

Sarah was not easily humbled, but now she humbly acquiesced to the will of her God. After being bathed in warm goat’s milk, as her faithful servant woman groomed her in preparation for congress with Abraham, she pondered the events that had led up to this moment.

Her mind drifted back to the years before Egypt, when her brother, then named Abram, had shattered the clay gods and wooden idols that their people, led by their father, Terah, had worshipped. How irresistibly fierce had Abraham been in his condemnation of those who failed to worship his newfound One-God. Then he had led their people beyond the reach of Terah’s pagan gods, led them from peril to peril. How Abraham’s eyes had blazed when he ignited a pyre of the wooden idols he had taken from their kinfolk, or when interpreting his One-God’s words to all those who could not hear them.

God’s promises... God always keeps His promises... she said pensively to Hafri, as she remembered the words of her blazing brother before he first bedded her. But why did Abraham send for this handsome seed peddler? Does he doubt God’s ability to perform miracles by His will alone? Does he imagine God has need of such lowly intervention?

Oh, Abraham didn’t send for him, my lady, said Hafri, pleased to be the bearer of such precious tidings. Lot sent for them. You should ask him, your nephew, what he is conniving now.

Oh, Lot! That does explain it. Sarah’s laugh was laced with bile. The disciple makes certain that his master’s God finally keeps his promise, even if Lot himself has to make all the arrangements. I wish Abraham wouldn’t tell Lot everything he hears from the heavens, it merely encourages Lot’s meddling and brings no one anything but grief. Think of when he took it upon himself to deliver the people of Sodom and Gomorrah to the wrath of our God. And so now he takes it on himself to make our Lord’s promise to get me with child come true?

So it would seem, alas, Hafri said in sympathy, even as her mind raced to more practical and, therefore, to her, more important matters. But tell me, my mistress, how will those peddlers settle with your husband this time? Are they going to fleece him again?

Do not worry, Hafri. I think Abraham learned his lesson last time. This time, I assure you, he will not pay them unless I bear him a son. And if they are so certain that I will have a boy, they need ask no payment now, for they know that they can get more after the miracle has come to pass.

What of the handsome seed peddler? What did he have to say for himself? What’s his part in all this? wondered Hafri. I have not so much as heard him speak, but we will surely discover what he is up to. They are staying the night. Abraham ordered his people to prepare a feast for them. I will make you beautiful to meet them, never fear. I’ll prepare you for every turn of God’s will.

Surely He cannot wish me to be as a woman with that young bearer of Egyptian pleasures and seeds. Whether he arrives through the doing of Abraham or Lot... Sarah hesitated, then went on in a subdued whisper, Or by the will of God, I cannot, will not, take him into me. I will not, may the Lord forgive me. I will take only Abraham, even if I have to ask Hagar to make him feel like a man.

God will make Abraham a man with you, mistress, crooned Hafri, as she continued to rub lotions and soothing creams into skin ravaged by age, sun and sand. As He commands, so He will provide. You will see. All the same, it will not hurt to ask Hagar to help the Lord a bit with Master Abraham. She will do it because she loves you. She has loved you since you held her on your knees, to take her pain into your body when she gave birth to Ishmael. She will ever love you thus, for taking Ishmael as your own son. Hafri’s voice was as soothing as her hands: Anyway, mistress, after I hide your wrinkles with amber paste, redden your cheeks with the juice of beets, and darken your eyelids with kohl, Abraham will see you as his Sarai, as you were before Egypt, and he will be with you as he was before. Hafri turned away and mumbled the last words to herself: ‘Before he gave you to Pharaoh.’

Not hearing these last words, Sarah responded with a deep sigh: Let God’s will be done.

•••

Come, Hagar. Let’s go out in the fields where no one can hear us. Maahar took her elder sister by the arm, whispering to her as she led her out of her tent: I met three strangers by the well. What I have learned from them may be important to you and your son.

If I were to listen to all the rumors I would spend my life worrying rather than enjoying my days with Ishmael and my nights with Abraham. As long as my husband is the chieftain of his people and is pleased to lie with me, what need have I to worry?

Hagar looked at her sister with her pleasing smile reflecting the exuberant happiness that made everyone take delight in her, but Maahar did not smile. She was worried as she urgently tried to convince her sister that something sinister was afoot: I do not bring rumors, dear sister. I heard from the mouth of the youngest of three peddlers, speaking in our own tongue, that they came here at the bidding of Lot. Whatever Abraham’s so-called brother is conniving cannot be for your good.

And just what do you think Lot is up to?

"Hafri thinks