The Art of the Deal (aka Genesis 13)
Yasha’s Old Testament continues with Genesis 13. Abraham puts in the hard work, finally gets the Promised Land...and then Yahweh swoops in to talk all the credit? And what's up with Lot? Is he really that dumb?
Read the previous installment: Genesis 12.
We’ll see how long I can keep this up.
—Yasha
Genesis 13
From the Negev Desert Abraham lumbered east into Canaan. It was no easy journey for now Abraham was rich with gold and silver and cattle and sheep and slaves and they all moved slow. He’d set up camp and let his herds graze for a while. Then he’d tell his slaves to roll everything up and they’d move a bit and set camp up again — on and on it went, stage by stage, until they reached a place called Bethel.
There Abraham looked around and realized that this was the same spot where he had first sacrificed a young goat for Yahweh, sending nice sizzling fat up to the sky in hopes that Yahweh could work a little backroom magic with the whole famine bit. That goat hadn’t helped at all. It was a total waste. Standing there on that same spot, Abraham recalled how angry he had been back then…how foolish he had felt for listening to that braggart Yahweh. Now he looked around and said out loud, “Sorry I doubted you. I shouldn’t have lost my cool. You came through for me after all. My flocks are multiplied. The amount of gold I have I can’t even spend.” But Yahweh didn’t answer. Abraham looked up at the sky. That’s for the best, he thought. Last thing I want is him buzzing in my ear day and night, cooking up new schemes.
While Abraham was taking a stroll, his slaves had set up all the tents and put the beasts out to pasture. Everything was good. The soil was moist, the grass was tall. But as he got closer to camp he saw that something wasn’t right. There was shouting and fighting. It was Lot and his herdsmen. They were all riled up, shaking their sticks in the air, fighting with Abraham’s herdsman and accusing them of taking the best pasture for Abraham’s flocks. The problem, Abraham soon found out, was that his troop had gotten so large there wasn’t pasture enough around the camp to support everyone’s beasts…and Lot felt he was being squeezed out. Abraham turned to Lot…
“Lot, you goat fucker! I know we’re family but damn you’re a dumb sonofabitch. It’s good for you that your father, my brother, died as young as he did. He woulda probably had you stoned to death already for how useless and insufferable you are,” he said. “What are you complaining about? Land? Look over there. Look! There’s plenty of green pasture if you just walk for a few hours that way.”
Then Abraham swept his hand through the air and continued in his best patriarch voice, “The famine that plagued this land was good for us. Whereas it was full of people when we came through before, now the population is much depleted. Many Canaanites perished…their gods didn’t help them in their time of need…freeing property for us to claim as our own! I say we split up our camps. If you go north, I’ll go south. If you go south, I’ll go north. There’s plenty of land for all and I’m tired of seeing your face.”
“Lot, you really are a goat fucker aren’t you?”
Lot, who was not too bright, looked about him and saw that his uncle was right. To his east, the whole plain of Jordan was green and full of life. There was plenty of water, the grass was tall and green. It was like the Garden of Eden, he thought. “Gee, uncle, sorry about that. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself,” he said. “I’ll go this way into the Jordan Valley, towards Sodom. I heard it’s a great big city with lots of fun people…it’ll be a good place for me to sell my wool and meat and there’ll be lots of entertainment to be had there.” Abraham nodded. “You go my son. Let me know if you need anything,” he said. And the camp was harmonious once again because Abraham was a wise and patient man.
As soon as Lot left, Yahweh buzzed in with that high pitched whine of his. “Hey! Abs! You miss me?”