The days of Abraham, the Wanderer of Covenant, drew to a close like twilight softening into night. Yet even in old age, his strength had not fully left him, and he took another wife—Keturah, a woman of quiet dignity. She bore him sons: Zimran, Jokshan, Medan, Midian, Ishbak, and Shuah. The bloodline of the patriarch branched wide. From Jokshan came Sheba and Dedan; and Dedan's sons became known among the desert tribes—Asshurites, Letushites, Leummites. And from Midian rose five sons—Ephah, Epher, Hanoch, Abida, and Eldaah. These were sons of Keturah—sons of legacy, but not of promise.
To Isaac, the chosen heir of the covenant, Abraham entrusted all he possessed. But to the sons of his concubines, he gave gifts and sent them eastward—away from Isaac, away from Canaan. The land was not theirs to inherit.
Abraham lived one hundred and seventy-five years. He died content, full of years and wisdom, and was gathered to his fathers—into the sacred sleep of those who had walked with El Elyon. His sons, Isaac and Ishmael, stood side by side to bury him in the cave of Machpelah, beside Sarah his beloved, beneath the oaks of Mamre, where covenant had been sealed in days past.
And after Abraham's breath returned to the heavens, the blessing of the Most High rested upon Isaac, who made his dwelling near the well of Beer Lahai Roi—the spring of the Living One who sees all.
Then came the lineage of Ishmael, son of the Egyptian handmaiden, Hagar. Twelve sons he bore, princes of wild lands, wanderers of deserts, rulers of tents and swords. Nebaioth was firstborn, followed by Kedar, Adbeel, Mibsam, Mishma, Dumah, Massa, Hadad, Tema, Jetur, Naphish, and Kedemah. These twelve became rulers of clans, encamped from Havilah to Shur, near Egypt's edge. Ishmael, like his father, lived long—one hundred and thirty-seven years—then passed into silence, his descendants living in restless struggle, always on the edge of their brothers' lands.
Now begins the account of Isaac, the son of promise.
Isaac was forty when he took Rebekah, daughter of Bethuel the Aramean from Paddan-Aram, sister of Laban. But Rebekah's womb was silent. So Isaac, the quiet one, knelt before the Eternal and pleaded. And the LORD heard. Rebekah conceived—but war stirred within her womb. The children wrestled as if nations were clashing inside her. In pain and confusion, she sought the voice of the Most High.
And the LORD answered:
"Two nations dwell within your womb. Two peoples will be divided from you. One will be stronger. The elder shall serve the younger."
When her time came, twins were born. The first emerged red, cloaked in hair like a rough cloak of fur—so they named him Esau. But the second followed fast, his small hand clutching his brother's heel. He was named Jacob, the supplanter. Isaac was sixty years old when the twins came into the world.
As the boys grew, so did the contrast between them. Esau, wild as the wind, became a skilled hunter and roamed the open country. Jacob, thoughtful and still, preferred the tents, dwelling among the flocks and family. Isaac loved Esau for the taste of game he brought from the fields. But Rebekah, she saw something else in Jacob, and her heart leaned toward him.
One day, Esau stumbled in from the wilderness, faint with hunger. The scent of Jacob's stew stirred his senses.
"Give me some of that red stew!" he cried. "I am dying!"
But Jacob, eyes keen like a hawk, saw the moment and said, "Sell me your birthright first."
"What use is a birthright if I perish?" Esau said, waving his hand in dismissal.
"Swear to me," Jacob demanded.
Esau swore. And just like that, the firstborn's honor, the blessing of the line, the sacred birthright—was traded for a bowl of lentil stew. Jacob gave him bread and stew. Esau ate, drank, wiped his mouth, and walked away. Thus, he scorned his birthright as if it were nothing.
But the heavens remembered.