Years passed. One night, Sarai could not sleep. She was growing older and she had no son to give up. The custom of her people forbid choosing one of her daughters to be an heir, no matter how bright or capable. She wanted to break the tradition, but only men were treated with power and respect among all the peoples she knew. Breaking with tradition would bring all of that power down on her head.
Sarai told Abram one day: “Let us choose a male heir among the slave children.”
Abram replied: “Absolutely not. I will have a love child with you, not adopting some mongrel.” His words spoke of love, but his face spoke of disgust. Sarai knew how much he could hate people of a different heritage.
Promises and Visions
Sarai went out to her alter and called to the Gods. “My husband wants no heir than what will grow from my soil. Please, tell me what to do!”
There was no answer, except the cold wind. She returned and told Abram to work science to grant her a vision.
He gathered three year old cow, a three year old goat, a three year old sheep, a dove and a raven. He split the mammals in half and gutted the birds and laid everything out.
Sarai meditated on Elohim while Abram chanted about Elyon and drummed.
Sarai saw a flame appear and float between and over the animal parts. Abram drummed and sent her into a divine trance.
Before a setting sun, Sarai saw her family, seated around an enormous feast. They ignored the steaming meats, pungent sauces, crisp vegetables, engorged fruit, and instead fought and argued. They grew cruel and vicious, complaining about their chairs, insulting those closest to them, forgetting their love. She saw them become rulers, then slaves, then tyrants, then trapped. She ran up to them and grabbed their arms, telling them to behave.
Couple by couple, they noticed the massive dining hall made of gold and refracted sunlight.
Couple by couple, she reminded them of themselves. They began to laugh and cry together again, and they ate delicious food.
Couple by couple, they grew comfortable, relaxed. They noticed the gold and the bounty. But it wasn’t all equal. The hall was perfect, but some were seated closer to a column, or a hall, or the entrance, or the kitchens. They talked about what they could take, what they could leave behind. And they forgot the meal again, growing colder.
Couple by couple, group by group, table by table. Sarai’s family grew, and fought, until it filled the valley.
The cycle continued, stretching over the entire Earth, the people enslaving themselves worshiping the material, the objective, things before their minds, and forgetting the beauty from their seat.
Above ash ridden ground, a voice called from the stars above, every star twinkling with the words: “All of this land, I give to you. Trust in me, and all that you dream will be yours. You children will live in countless numbers among the stars. Fight for life and all of this will be yours. Only fight for love and your place at the table if you want to be free.”
Sarai woke in a cold sweat, hearing the words echo in her mind as the vision faded. Through Abram’s drumming she found her way back. She looked over the lands and up at the stars, uncertain of what to do. When Abram asked what the vision said, she said what she hoped it meant: “God has told me, I will bear you an heir.”