Sarah’s Journey
Based on Genesis
22:1-8
Setting – Sarah’s
tent, perhaps some cushions strewn around.
Sarah, Abraham’s wife,
an ancient woman.
Abraham, he should
appear older each time he is on stage.
Isaac, a boy in his
early teens
Sarah
Oh, you
clumsy girl! That was my best
pottery! You idiot! Out of my sight now! A day at the rendering pots ought to teach
you to be more careful! Out! Out!
No, Zaphra,
I do not want any of that vile tea
you make for my aching joints! There’s
nothing wrong with me! Quit fussing over
me and leave me alone!
(Sighing)
Oh, you’re right. I have been out of
sorts for days. I can’t help it. I’m just so worried about Abraham and Isaac.
I know, I
know. Abraham treasures the boy; he
would not let anything happen to him.
It’s not Abraham I’m worried about.
It’s that God of his. I can feel
it in my bones – there’s something Abraham didn’t tell me about this journey,
something that has to do with God.
I feel so
wicked for even thinking such a thing.
After all God promised Isaac would be Abraham’s heir and there would be
descendents as numerous as the stars. I
should trust God. But it’s so hard. There’s so much I don’t understand. God’s commands are strange.
After all God
has never talked to me! But Abraham has
had many conversations with God. And
after each one, Abraham has done some very strange things.
Well, we
moved here didn’t we! So far from the
rich green land I knew as a child. So
far from family and friends. Yes, yes,
Zaphra, you are like a daughter to me.
And our household has grown – we have new family and friends. But I was not there when my mother died – how
do I know if my sisters honored the customs properly? I was not there to make sure it was so- as
was my responsibility as the oldest daughter.
No I was
not there. One day, out of the blue,
Abraham runs into my tent. He was so
excited. What light was in his
eyes! But his words made no sense:
Abraham:
(Upstage and to the
left of Sarah) Sarai, Sarai! I have spoken with God. I, I mean God has
spoken with me! You need to start
packing, lay in provisions. We’re going
on a long journey. God has promised to
make me a great nation. But we must go the land God shows me. Hurry, I want to leave within two days! (Exits
excitedly)
Sarah
And with that he ran out. I started packing and we did leave on the
second day. I left my mother, ailing,
bedridden, in the care of my sisters.
She did not have much longer in this world, we could have waited. But no – Abraham said God told him to go, and
go we did.
As the town
faded in the distance, I wondered who this God was that Abraham spoke to. Which god was he following? What a thing – to claim that a god talked to
you! Unheard of!
Nor was
that the last time God spoke to Abraham.
I remember the time God told Abraham that all the males of his household
must bear a sign of the covenant between God and Abraham. What a sign!
All the males from Abraham himself to the least of the goatherds were
limping around for days! What a
sight! Ha! And what a strange God to
require such a sacrifice!
Abraham
(Upstage
and left of Sarah. He is in pain.) Now
Sarai, I mean Sarah – your new name is going to take some getting used to! Now dear one, I know it is inconvenient for
you to spare the girls - but the herds must be tended. Until the men have finished healing, the
spinning and weaving will just have to wait.
After all, there’ll be no more spinning and weaving if we lose the
source of our wool. And dear, could you
please get some of that soothing salve for me!
(Leaves limping)
Sarah
I didn’t understand, but it seemed
to make sense to Abraham. I decided then
that I didn’t need God to talk to me.
God could just leave me and the other women alone! If God required that from the men, we women
were glad to be left out of God’s regard!
I didn’t understand and I didn’t
believe. It was Abraham’s God and
Abraham’s promise. Still, for Abraham to
be the father of nations required a child; a child God promised would be
mine. I heard the promise of the strange
visitors, the ones Abraham was sure were messengers of the Lord. Ha! A
child from an old woman, from a womb that long since had dried up – that had
never showed the least sign of being fruitful.
I laughed in disbelief. Yet, yet,
deep down inside, hope burst into life, hope that I thought I had buried long
ago.
Suddenly, I no longer needed God to
speak to me. Who needed to hear God’s
voice! I had something much better. God reached down from the heavens and touched
me! When I felt the first fluttering
movements of life, so slight I thought I might be imagining them, oh yes, I
believed then! My faith was strong – I
knew that a God who cared enough to grant an old woman’s desire truly loved
me. And a God who could fill the
lifeless with life could truly do everything.
And that day, that glorious day, when Isaac first breathed our air, my
joy was complete. Abraham was so
proud. I could hear his voice from
outside my tent as he held our son aloft for all to see.
Abraham
(Enters upstage and left of Sarah, cradling the infant) How great is God! And how everlastingly faithful God is! Look and see – the promised heir is
born! And what a strong, healthy boy he
is! Look at him! The most beautiful perfect child ever! (Exits proudly showing off the child)
Sarah
Finally
life was perfect. I held my tiny son,
nourished him, nurtured him, watched him grow.
Watched his first steps, heard his first word. Watched him grow into young manhood. I worried all night the first time he stayed
out with the shepherds, watching the herds.
And now, now, I worry about what God wants with my husband and my son so
far out in the wilderness.
I heard them as they prepared for
their journey. And I know, as sure as
anything I have ever known that something is not right about this trip. Abraham was evasive when I asked him about
the need to take such a long trip to worship God when we have always worshiped
right here. Even Isaac was puzzled by
Abraham’s instructions.
(Isaac and Abraham
enter upstage and left of Sarah. They
dialog, and then exit stage right).
Isaac
Father,
should I go to the herds and select a few choice lambs to take for the
sacrifice?
Abraham
No, Isaac,
there is no need. We are to take only
what we have already prepared. God will
provide us with everything else we need.
Sarah
No, Zaphra,
it is unlikely that they will find a suitable sacrifice in the wilderness of
Moriah. You have never been there, but I
have. I will never forget the desolate
lands we passed through on the way to this land God promised to us. Shepherds would be hard pressed indeed to
bring flocks there to graze. And it is
the wrong time of the year for the caravans.
How will God provide? There is
nothing there to provide with.
I can not
imagine what Abraham is thinking. Well,
yes I can. You can not live with a man
as long as I have lived with Abraham without knowing what he is thinking. I saw the look in his eyes as he kissed me
goodbye – the uncertainty, the fear. That
look filled my heart with dread. God has
asked something unthinkable. I am afraid
for my husband, and especially my son.
I keep
telling myself, Isaac is the child of the promise. God will surely let no harm come to him. I remind myself of the stories that Abraham
has told me about God, about God’s goodness and love. Surely such a God would never ask what I am
afraid God has asked. Still, thoughts plague my days and my dreams
are troubled. I know the secret Abraham
tried to hide in the depths of his eyes.
I know why they took no lamb.
How could
God ask such a thing? What about the
promise? How can a dead son provide
heirs? How can God snatch my joy from
me? I don’t understand.
How can
Abraham love such a God? How can he even
think about obeying this command? If God
is good and loving, why is God doing this to us? What about God’s promise? Will God go back on his word? Hasn’t Abraham been faithful?
How can I
trust, Zaphra? I want to scream and beg
and plead with God! And then I feel
ashamed that I lack faith! What if my doubts
cause God to harm my son? Each day I watch the hills, looking for a sign that
they are returning, safe, to me. And
each day I despair of what I fear I’ll see.
And God, as always, is silent.
There are no answers for me, no promises, no hope.
So what can
I do? I pray, even though the heavens
seem closed to my pain. I wait. I hope against hope. I have no answers, no reassurances. I am empty, clinging to a promise. And through all the doubts, the despair, and
the pain, there is nothing left but God.
