Read Online Rebekah: Women of Genesis by Orson Scott Card - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Orson Scott Card
Tags: Fiction, Old Testament
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father all my life, and you don’t know that we are true to the one true God?”
Pillel actually looked confused. “I knew that you stayed aloof from the priests of the cities and paid no tithes to them, and I knew that your gods were small images so that they could be carried around with you—”
Those wretched little god-images! Rebekah wanted to scream in frustration: Father always ignored her when she suggested that they shouldn’t use them, and Laban laughed at her for being so particular, but the images did confuse people. “Pillel, those images are only to help the servants understand that our God is not the same god they worship in the cities, and to help them think of the true God when they pray.”
“I am one of the servants,” said Pillel. “And all gods are God.”
“All gods are not God,” said Rebekah. “Only God is God, and we do not worship an image.”
“I see my master Bethuel bow down before stone images to pray,” said Pillel, “and I bow behind him, and his son and daughter bow beside him also.”
“But the stone is not God.” She could not contain her frustration any longer. “I told Father that nothing good would come of his using those images. Just because great-grandfather Terah made them does not make it right or good. It only confuses people—the way it’s confused you.”
Pillel looked at her coldly. “I am not the one who is confused.”
“Go to Father and tell him what I said,” Rebekah replied. “You’ll see who is confused. I will not bow down to the image of a false god. I wish I had never bowed down to an image at all, because the true God needs no images.”
“How can I go to my master and tell him that his daughter refuses to worship with her husband as I have seen her worship with her father all her life?”
“Now that I have told you,” said Rebekah firmly, “how can you not tell him?”
As if explaining things to a little child, Pillel said, “A woman worships the gods of her father and then she worships the gods of her husband.”
“After all these years in my father’s house,” said Rebekah, in a tone just as condescending, “you still remain a stranger who does not understand what he sees.”
She should not have said it. It could only hurt him and make him angry, at a time when she did not need anyone working against her.
“Pillel,” she said at once, “I’m sorry, I spoke falsely and in anger.”
He did not reply at all.
“You are not a stranger here.”
“Of course I’m a stranger,” he said. “The line between family and servant is always clear in my mind and I have never been confused.”
“But not a stranger. I only meant to say that if you think we actually worship the stone images Father keeps, and if you think he would have me marry a man who would require me to worship false gods . . .”
“I know what you meant,” said Pillel. “But I don’t know how to say what should be obvious to you without giving offense.”
“Say it and I swear I will not be offended.”
“Mistress,” said Pillel, “I have worked beside your father longer than you have been alive, and I swear to you that it is you, not I, who does not understand what your father worships, and what he will expect of you.”
His words stopped her cold. Was it possible that he was right? Didn’t Father reject the gods of the cities and towns? Did he think that the images he prayed to were actually somehow God himself and his Servant or Son, rather than being mere depictions, puppets they used when they acted out the story of creation?
It was too great a mystery to be sorted out. How could Rebekah have come to understand what she understood, if Father believed something so different? Who would have taught her? Of course the way she understood things to be was the way things really were. It was Pillel who was wrong.
But he meant no harm by resisting
Pillel actually looked confused. “I knew that you stayed aloof from the priests of the cities and paid no tithes to them, and I knew that your gods were small images so that they could be carried around with you—”
Those wretched little god-images! Rebekah wanted to scream in frustration: Father always ignored her when she suggested that they shouldn’t use them, and Laban laughed at her for being so particular, but the images did confuse people. “Pillel, those images are only to help the servants understand that our God is not the same god they worship in the cities, and to help them think of the true God when they pray.”
“I am one of the servants,” said Pillel. “And all gods are God.”
“All gods are not God,” said Rebekah. “Only God is God, and we do not worship an image.”
“I see my master Bethuel bow down before stone images to pray,” said Pillel, “and I bow behind him, and his son and daughter bow beside him also.”
“But the stone is not God.” She could not contain her frustration any longer. “I told Father that nothing good would come of his using those images. Just because great-grandfather Terah made them does not make it right or good. It only confuses people—the way it’s confused you.”
Pillel looked at her coldly. “I am not the one who is confused.”
“Go to Father and tell him what I said,” Rebekah replied. “You’ll see who is confused. I will not bow down to the image of a false god. I wish I had never bowed down to an image at all, because the true God needs no images.”
“How can I go to my master and tell him that his daughter refuses to worship with her husband as I have seen her worship with her father all her life?”
“Now that I have told you,” said Rebekah firmly, “how can you not tell him?”
As if explaining things to a little child, Pillel said, “A woman worships the gods of her father and then she worships the gods of her husband.”
“After all these years in my father’s house,” said Rebekah, in a tone just as condescending, “you still remain a stranger who does not understand what he sees.”
She should not have said it. It could only hurt him and make him angry, at a time when she did not need anyone working against her.
“Pillel,” she said at once, “I’m sorry, I spoke falsely and in anger.”
He did not reply at all.
“You are not a stranger here.”
“Of course I’m a stranger,” he said. “The line between family and servant is always clear in my mind and I have never been confused.”
“But not a stranger. I only meant to say that if you think we actually worship the stone images Father keeps, and if you think he would have me marry a man who would require me to worship false gods . . .”
“I know what you meant,” said Pillel. “But I don’t know how to say what should be obvious to you without giving offense.”
“Say it and I swear I will not be offended.”
“Mistress,” said Pillel, “I have worked beside your father longer than you have been alive, and I swear to you that it is you, not I, who does not understand what your father worships, and what he will expect of you.”
His words stopped her cold. Was it possible that he was right? Didn’t Father reject the gods of the cities and towns? Did he think that the images he prayed to were actually somehow God himself and his Servant or Son, rather than being mere depictions, puppets they used when they acted out the story of creation?
It was too great a mystery to be sorted out. How could Rebekah have come to understand what she understood, if Father believed something so different? Who would have taught her? Of course the way she understood things to be was the way things really were. It was Pillel who was wrong.
But he meant no harm by resisting