Dear diary,
Then, later that night, when Abram was massaging the feet of Hagar and Sarah, at their abode in Mamre, Sarah was telling Hagar all that had happened with Jehovah earlier that day — how he had given her the ring, and how he had renewed his promise to procure a vast lineage for their son Ishmael, and how Jehovah had changed Sarah’s last name to match his own — El, which apparently means “God” — since he planned on becoming Sarah’s super-travelmate and to act as the godfather of all their son’s children, etc...
At this point, having been trying simply to focus on his task and not to overhear all the above gossip, Abram finally can’t help himself: he falls flat on his back & explodes in a fit of giggles; then he yells at the top of his lungs, between gasping bursts of laughter: “HA-HA-HA!!! I admit, our friend is a resourceful fellow; but I don’t think he’s quite as adept as all THAT! Behold, he’s no businessman: he’s only a poet — so where’s he gonna get the money to support those ‘multitudes’!? All this braggadocio of Jehovah leaves me in stitches! Lo: if his crazy promises come true, then I promise to change my name to Abra-HA-HA-HAm! signifying that I laugh at the notion of placing trust in that trickster.” Then he dries his eyes with a kerchief.
Now a calm voice is heard from the room’s far window:
“You like the sound of this news?”
They all turn and see that it is Jehovah; it turns out that he’s been eavesdropping throughout the whole scene above. But he does not look angry; in fact, he seems almost to smile as he speaks.
“There’s more where that came from, Monseigneur Abram. For I’ve just decided that it’s not enough to give my beloved Sarah & Hagar one child only; but now that Ishmael has turned thirteen, I want the lad to have a brother. It is not good for him to grow up alone. So now I add this promise to all those other promises, which you found so funny. Yes, laugh it up, Abe: I’m telling you that our favorite couple here shall be expecting yet another seed.”
Here Sarah cries: “O that’s excellent news; but this better not mean that you’re taking Ishmael away in a fiery chariot.”
And Jehovah sez, “No, no, not at all. I said that I’m planning this secondborn to compliment our firstborn — I want Ishmael to have a comrade, someone to run around with: a friend to accompany him on his adventures, so that he doesn’t get lonesome. I’m not replacing Ishmael; and he’ll still have his plentiful breed of descendants that shall overrun the planet; all I’m saying is that you will bring forth an additional child, for the sake of florabundance. For, if you’re fertile, why not be fecund? Right, Mr. Abram?”
Abraham humbly tilts his head.
“Now, when Sarah & Hagar bear this next child,” Jehovah continues, leaving his place outside the window and parting the drapes to enter the room, “I suggest that you christen him Isaac, which is a name that means ‘This one is guaranteed to make audiences laugh’ — in memory of the fact that Mr. Abram found my prophecy so hilarious.”
“Ah! that sorta reminds me,” Sarah sez, “of that serpentine portrait that we rescued for Lot’s Reptile Paradise — the one that Paul the Apostle stole for his Passion Play — for it never stopped talking, and everything that it said was really funny.”
“Hmm, I had forgotten about that,” sez Abram. “I should give Lot a call, to see how things are going for him. I haven’t talked to him in a while.”
“Mr. Lot is doing fine,” sez Jehovah. “I was just with him, last night. But, now back to my good news: This alt-son Isaac, whom I hereby predict will be born nine months from this evening, shall become the co-inheritor of our firstborn Ishmael’s bounty — the multitudes of offspring, which will gradually repopulate the earth — I’ve already amended the contract to include him. So your children shall be, as it were, equal shareholders in everything.”
“But, wait,” sez Abram. “Didn’t Sarah, just a second ago, plead with you not to diminish Ishmael’s inheritance by even a caesar? Yet now you forward to all of us this memo stating that his blessing is to be downsized by fifty percent?”
“No,” sez Jehovah God to Abraham. “You apparently haven’t been paying attention to our conversation. It’s as tho you’ve fallen asleep at a meeting in your boardroom, again: for you’re barely listening to what we’re discussing here. Sarah’s prayer had nothing to do with her firstborn’s inheritance: she was only demanding that I refrain from taking Ishmael to heaven, in one of my flame-wagons, the instant his clone is born. And I granted that request, readily; for it was never my intention to substitute one lad for the other. I just want these boys to have fun, to enjoy the experience of life, and not to spend their childhood in friendless solitude. (I know how it feels to have a desolate childhood; I wouldn’t wish such despair on my greatest enemy.) And, as for the inheritance in question, I already promised that Ishmael’s offspring shall be infinite. Now, if I choose to make Isaac a co-inheritor of this promise, then we’re talking about each of our plaintiffs receiving one portion of a limitless quantity: and half of infinity is still infinity — like love, it’s an ever-growing thing, which you cannot diminish. Try as you might to reduce it, it just keeps expanding, onward & outward, forever & ever. So, despite the fact that I’ve revised my contract with Sarah to include both Ishmael as well as his doppelgänger Isaac, I think we can all agree that my plan is still perfect.”
Jehovah God now storms from the room, causing the drapes of the entryway to undulate.
After a moment of silent thought, Abraham looks up at Sarah & Hagar and asks, “But how can Ishmael’s childhood get any better by this gaining of a sibling, after the days of his youth have ended? For the lad is become a man now: he recently turned thirteen. In other words, isn’t his childhood already over?”
“I am offering him,” sez Jehovah from the window, quoting the poet Hart Crane, “an improved infancy.” Then, paraphrasing Nietzsche’s remark about Emerson, Jehovah adds: “He has no clue how young he will yet grow.”
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