Abraham and Sarah

Abram obeyed the call from on high: he set out with Sarai, with Terah, his father, and Lot, his Loth Nephew of Abraham delivered during an expedition. nephew. They stayed for some time in Haran, a city of Mesopotamia; there Terah died. They continued the journey toward the west, passing near Damascus; if one is to believe the old traditions, Abram exercised a sort of royal authority in these places. What is certain is that Damascus lies on the line one would draw from Mesopotamia to the land of Canaan, where the pilgrim of faith was heading; it is that the memory of the great patriarch still fills the entire Orient today, and that common opinion attributes to him the foundation of Dimashq or Damascus. Whatever may be the truth of these accounts, adopted moreover by Trogus Pompeius and the various historians of Syria, Abram continued his journey and arrived in the heart of a wide valley where Shechem was later built, which has become a suburb of the current city of Nablus: a land now uncultivated, but always fertile, sweet and gentle like the eternal youth of its greenery, melancholic like its long horizons and its ruins.

There are men who seem to summarize in their personal destinies the fate of an entire people, or some aspect of the general life of the world. Similar to human generations, which time rushes along these changing shores toward a mysterious future, ancestor of the wandering Arab and the Jew who drags his indefinite hope under all suns, Abram truly passed through the earth as a traveler. The tent he had pitched the day before, he folded the next day, like an exile who has no permanent dwelling and who seeks a homeland. From the plains of Shechem, he descended toward the south of Palestine, and soon even toward Egypt, because of the famine that was devastating the land of Canaan. Sarai, although she was no longer young, had not yet received in her beauty the ravages of time, whether by a privilege granted to an existence full of wonders, or by the natural vigor of the body in those primitive ages when longer life undoubtedly had a less fleeting bloom. Could the fraternal hospitality in which ancient peoples lived, as in a sweet and favorable atmosphere, sufficiently defend Sarai against the insults of a foreign people? Abram did not believe so: «I know that you are beautiful,» he said to her with simplicity, «and that the Egyptians will say when they see you: "She is his wife," and they will kill me to have you. Make it known, I pray you, that you are my sister, so that I may be treated well because of you, and that my life may be spared in your consideration.» Indeed, one does not kill a man to have his sister, whereas causing him to perish is often the only recourse to take his wife.

Scarcely had the traveler crossed the border of Egypt when the king was already informed of Sarai's beauty; the race of courtiers has always been knowledgeable and quick to sense and discover what can flatter the passions of the master. Sarai saw herself taken and led to the palace. Because of her, Abram was treated with regard; he was offered as a gift what constituted the wealth of primitive centuries and pastoral peoples, great herds of oxen and sheep, donkeys and camels, a crowd of servants and handmaids. However, extraordinary punishments struck the prince and his house. Enlightened, as a result of these blows from on high, regarding the truth of the facts that he had been left ignorant of, he respected Sarai, a righteous and pure soul, who had entrusted herself with ingenuity to Providence and whom Providence did not abandon. Pharaoh summoned Abram: «What sort of thing have you done to me?» h Pharaon Sovereign of Egypt who elevates Joseph to power. e said. «Why did you not warn me that she was your wife? Why did you say she was your sister, exposing me to take her as my wife?» Then he gave orders to his people to ensure that the stranger suffered no harm upon leaving Egypt, and he returned Sarai into his hands.

Some time later, when Sarai followed Abram to the land of Gerar, in Arabia Petraea, the same incident occurred with circumstances almost similar: Sarai was miraculously protected against Abimelech: this was the common name of the chiefs of the region, just as the name of Phara oh was co Abimélech King of Gerar. mmon to the kings who ruled Egypt.

However, Abram left Egypt with Sarai and all that he possessed, and he returned to Palestine. Lot, for his part, also had great possessions. They both needed a vast expanse of land, lest their flocks run out of pasture and their people come to quarrel. They separated: Lot chose the eastern part of the region and settled on the banks of the Jordan, which watered the then-smiling and fertile plains of Sodom and Gomorrah; Abram withdrew toward the West and dwelt in the valley of Mamre, which has remained so famous. Shortly after, troops coming, as it is believed, from the Assyrian empire, and reinforced by some small neighboring princes, tried to definitively subdue the kings of the Pentapolis, who were weary of foreign domination and refused a tribute that had been paid for twelve years. The Pentapolis was that region then occupied by the cities of Sodom, Gomorrah, Admah, Zeboiim, and Bela, also called Zoar, and where today the silent and heavy waves of the Dead Sea extend. The Canaanite kings were defeated and their goods given over to pillage; Lot, who dwelt among them and had brought them aid, became, with all his riches, the prey of the victors. Abram was quickly informed of this disaster; he gathered in all haste the bravest of his men, and, supported by some allies he had in the country, he fell, during the night, upon the Assyrian troops, put them to rout, and brought back Lot and the captives with all the booty. It was upon his return from this expedition that he was greeted and blessed by Melchizedek, king of the city that was later named Jerusalem, and priest of the Most High, a fi gure of anot Melchisédech King of Salem and priest of the Most High. her pontiff and another monarch who purified the world by the shedding of his own blood, and established his reign over spirits and hearts, and who, with the Gospel in hand, came to meet humanity to help it in this suffering race and this laborious combat that we call life.

Abram had received the promise and nurtured the hope of an illustrious posterity, and yet old age arrived without bringing him children. "Look up to the sky," the Lord said to him, "and count the stars, if you can. So shall your race be." The patriarch had no less faith in the divine word than the day he had left, upon an order from on high, the fields of Chaldea. Sarai, who lamented her long sterility, did not imagine that she would ever have to share with Abram the privilege and the joy of living again in sons; she therefore advised him to marry Hagar, her servant, according to the custom of those centuries, when polygamy was tolerated. She wanted to console herself in this way with a borrowed motherhood; but she found in it, on the contrary, a source of keen sorrows: rivalries broke out between the two wives. Perhaps the sad Sarai, not knowing how to resign herself with enough courage, was severe and demanding, like most of those whom misfortune strikes; perhaps also Hagar, forgetting her condition, showed herself imprudent and too proud of her fortune, for she was going to have a son. Soon, indeed, she gave birth to Ishmael, the harsh ancestor of the Arab people.

But Ishmael was not the child of the promise. One day, therefore, the Lord appeared to Abram and said to him: "I am God Almighty; walk in my presence and be perfect. I will contract a covenant with you and will multiply you infinitely... I will make you the chief of many nations, and kings will be born from your blood. My pact with you and with your race, in the succession of generations, will always remain lasting, and I will be your God and the God of your posterity. To you and to your descendants, I will give as an eternal inheritance the land where you pass as a traveler, the whole country of Canaan..."

A covenant was contracted. Abram swore, for himself and his race, to flee idolatry and to obey God with an inviolable sincerity; he kept his oath, but his race, with its indocile head and unruly heart, was often reminded in vain of the fulfillment of its obligations. God committed Himself, on His side, to give the old Abram numerous descendants, first fruits and symbols of those believing generations that were to shine, one day, in the firmament of the Church, like the stars in the azure of the heavens. To add an express sanction to His word and leave an indestructible monument to these facts, God changed the name of Abram, which means exal ted fat Abraham Father of Isaac and the first of the patriarchs. her, to that of Abraham, father of m ulti Sara Wife of Abraham and mother of Isaac. tudes, and the name of Sarai, which means my princess, to that of Sarah, the princess par excellence, because she was to be the mother of several peoples. "For I will bless her," the Lord continued, "and you will have a son by her whom I will also bless; he will be the chief of nations, and princes will come forth from him." The names of Abraham and Sarah, thus modified, carried hopes that sustained the Synagogue for twenty centuries, and which still charm all dispersed Israel; today, as we have gathered in faith the blessings they prophetically expressed, they resonate with sweetness to every Christian ear, and until eternity they will be on the lips of the human race.

Astonished to hear such great things, Abraham prostrated himself face to the ground, he smiled in his naive joy, and said in the depths of his heart: "Shall a centenarian then have a son, and shall Sarah give birth at ninety years old? May Ishmael only live before our eyes!" he added, addressing the Lord. His smile did not come from disbelief; it was rather a thrill of gratitude and respect; for he knew well that God can make the desert bloom and give a few more rays to an autumn sun. Thus, far from rebuking him as if for a doubt, God said to him: "A son will come to you from Sarah, your wife, and you shall call him Isaac; I will make a covenant with him and his d Isaac Son of the promise of Abraham and Sarah. escendants for eternity. I have also heard your prayers for Ishmael; I will bless him and cause him to grow and multiply infinitely; he will be the father of twelve princes and the chief of a great people. But my pact will only take place in favor of Isaac, whom Sarah must give birth to in a year, at this same time." Then the voice that said these words stopped, and the vision vanished.

Shortly after, in the greatest heat of the day, Abraham was sitting at the entrance of his tent in the valley of Mamre. Suddenly he lifted his eyes toward the path and saw three men approaching. He ran to meet them and bowed down to the ground before them, according to the ancient and oriental manner of greeting. "My lords," he said, "if I have found favor in your sight, receive the welcome of your servant. I will bring a little water to wash your feet, and you shall take some rest under this tree. I will serve you a little bread to strengthen you, and then you shall continue your journey." We know with what religious devotion hospitality was practiced among the ancients, and especially in the Orient, and what intimate and sacred bonds it established between men. The humblest cares were generously granted to the traveler; his very name was asked of him only after the first meal; upon his departure, he received and gave some gifts as a testimony of indissoluble friendship: happy customs that ensured the stranger bread almost as sweet as the bread of the domestic hearth everywhere, and which made him find in his hosts brothers and sisters, a dear image of his absent family!

The mysterious pilgrims accepted Abraham's invitation. The patriarch entered his tent and said to Sarah: "Knead three measures of flour in haste, and bake loaves under the ashes." He himself ran to his flock to choose the best he had. The delicacies of the table were then unknown; one did not apply oneself to stimulating the appetite through the diversity of foods and the luxury of preparations. Common meat, abundant but not varied, milk and butter: such were the dishes offered to the guests of Mamre. This would be very simple for an age of refinement, where the value of things is measured above all by their rarity; but it was a magnificent feast in those times of moderate and frugal life, when man had not yet subjected hunger itself to the artifices of civilization. The travelers took their meal under the shade; Abraham stood, ready to serve them if needed.

These were not men, these strangers sitting at Abraham's table: they were human forms inhabited, for a moment, by celestial spirits. They asked him where Sarah was; perhaps the customs of the people and the country forbade Sarah from being in the presence of strangers, perhaps also the cares of hospitality called her elsewhere. She was not far away, moreover, and the words of the conversation could reach her ear. "Sarah is in her tent," answered Abraham. "In a year, at this same time," added one of the august pilgrims, "I will return to visit you, you will both be alive, and Sarah, your wife, will have a son." Sarah heard these words, and, thinking of her great age, she smiled in secret; for, separated from the travelers by the door of the tent, she could not be seen by them. But one of them, addressing Abraham: "Why did Sarah laugh, saying: 'Shall I indeed have a son at my age?' Is anything too difficult for God? I will return in a year, at this same time; you will both be alive, and your wife will have a son." Sarah, quite frightened by the reprimand: "I did not laugh," she said. "No," replied the interlocutor, "you did laugh." Sarah undoubtedly regarded her guests as simple men, and her smile had nothing impious in it; but she was wrong to lie, because one must never deny the truth, even when it seems to be feared.

The angels rose to continue their journey: Abraham wished to see them off, and walked for some time with them. They were heading toward the city of Sodom. It was in this encounter that the patriarch was informed in advance of the punishment prepared for the corrupt inhabitants of the Pentapolis, and that he sustained with his celestial interlocutor this dialogue of sublime familiarity, where all that Providence puts of paternal tenderness into the government of the world is revealed, and all that men can put of filial trust in God. When therefore the Lord had pronounced his threat: "If there are fifty righteous in the city," said Abraham, "will they also perish?" — "If I find fifty righteous in Sodom, for their sake, I will spare it." — "I have begun, I will speak again, though I am but dust and ashes. What will happen if there are forty-five righteous?" — "I will not destroy the city." — "And if there are forty?" — "I will not strike." — "And thirty?" — "I will stop." — "And twenty?" — "I will not destroy Sodom." — "And ten?" — "I will pardon." Abraham kept silent, the vision disappeared, and he returned to Mamre.

In the evening, two of the travelers arrived in Sodom. They were able to convince themselves that iniquity was carried to its height there; Lot, who offered them his house and wanted to protect them, had difficulty escaping the gravest insults. They invited him to leave this i nfamou Sodome City destroyed by divine fire. s place, and, as he hesitated, they took him away the next morning with his wife and daughters. At sunrise, Lot was entering Zoar. At that moment, a frightful rain of sulfur and fire leaped upon the reprobate cities. The ground, which is bituminous, undoubtedly ignited after tearing and opening itself under the strikes of lightning and internal tremors. Everything was invaded and devoured by the fire. At the memory of the curses given to the Pentapolis, Abraham had returned to the very place where, the day before, he had left his guests. From there, he saw Sodom, Gomorrah, Admah, Zeboiim, and the surrounding country sink; burning ashes rose from the ground like the smoke of a blazing furnace. Since that day, life has not returned to these places, and it cannot take root there. Over the valley once covered by the islets of an entire people, a great lake extends its drowsy waters, which barely awaken in storms. It is said that fish do not inhabit it, and that birds never fly above it. Salt sown on the shore, further on shifting sands, here and there some plants that grow slowly and as if with regret, the ground without greenery, the air without freshness, the valley without sound; everything presents the sad image of death.

The days foretold by the Lord had arrived, and He who renews the youth of the eagle finally gladdened the old age of Sarah by sending her a son. The child received the name Isaac, according to the command received from heaven, and to recall that his father had smiled at the promise of a posterity upon which, for a long time, he had no longer counted. Sarah, alluding to this mysterious name, said: "God has given me the smile of joy, and everyone, upon learning of it, will smile at me." And, indeed, all Christian centuries have honored, in this child who came to put an end to the long desolations of Sarah, the prophetic figure of that other Isaac who, after four thousand years of waiting, appeared in the midst of nations struck with sterility for truth and virtue, and made the Gospel shine before their eyes like a ray of light and like a smile of charity.

Sarah nursed Isaac herself, as do all mothers who know that suffering is a sweet mystery in which tenderness is strengthened, and that by drawing life so close to the maternal heart, children undoubtedly find something more generous and pure there. Moreover, it was the custom of primitive centuries, because it was the order of nature. The time to wean Isaac having come, there was a great feast at Mamre; for, in the past, one only celebrated the birth of a man when he had escaped the first perils of existence, and when he could already support solid food and appear as a guest at the feast that the family gave him.

Ishmael, son of Hagar, was about fourteen years older than Isaac, and he abused his superiority of age and strength toward him. Sarah's heart suffered much from this mistreatment; fearing for Isaac the consequences of these budding antipathies, she obtained the dismissal of Hagar and Ishmael. The outcasts took refuge in Arabia Petraea. Abraham, for his part, found the opportunity to strengthen himself in Palestine by making an alliance with a neighboring prince named Abimelech, perhaps the same one who had given him hospitality in Gerar. Abimelech came one day to solicit the patriarch's friendship: "God," he said, "is with you in everything you undertake. Swear, therefore, in the name of God, that you will never do harm to me, nor to my children, nor to my race, but that the kindness I have shown you, you will show to me and to the land where you live as a stranger." Abraham consented, but after complaining of the violence exercised against his people by the people of Abimelech: it concerned a well of which he had been unjustly despoiled. It was a legitimate and serious subject of discontent in a land rich in herds, but where rivers and rain are rare. Abimelech protested that he had never heard of this injustice: thus the difficulty was lifted without trouble. They therefore promised each other mutual friendship, which was sealed, according to ancient custom, by the blood of slaughtered animals: the place where this alliance was concluded took the name of Beersheba, that is to say, the well of the oath. Abraham planted a grove there and erected an altar to the Lord; for at that time there existed only one temple which had the firmament for a dome, the sun for a luminary, and the mountain peaks for an altar; God had built it with His own hand.

Every life has its trials, and our dearest affections often become our hardest sorrows; but also every trial has its goal, and suffering is an element of glory. The only and beloved son of Sarah was nearly taken from her in an unexpected and tragic way: a known voice, the voice of the Lord, asked that he be sacrificed. Was it not cruel and unreasonable to put to death a son so long desired, and upon whom rested the hope of a numerous posterity? A man without faith would have thought so; but the believing patriarch knew that God, the sovereign arbiter of human life, can mark its end, just as He has marked its beginning, and make it cease by the means that pleases Him; he also knew that God reigns over death no less than over old age, and withdraws, at His will, from the extinguished ashes of the sepulcher the flower of a young life, just as He crowns the sterile woman with the honors of motherhood. Was Sarah immediately informed of what was to happen, or did Abraham wish to spare her the spectacle of a drama so frightful for a mother's heart? It is probably this latter conclusion that must be drawn from the silence of the Scriptures; who doubts, indeed, that, warned of the mournful event that was to close the destinies of Isaac, Sarah would not have given him one of those radiant kisses that mothers press to the lips of their sons at the moment of a supreme farewell, and which resound even into the most remote posterity?

Be that as it may, Abraham courageously prepared to execute the order he had received. He took Isaac with two young servants, and set out toward the place of the sacrifice: it was, according to some, Mount Moriah, where the temple of Solomon was later built; others think it was Calvary, where Jesus Christ gave up His life. Wonderful correspondence of the figures that prophesy with such precision, and of the reality that comes to accomplish everything with such fullness! From Beersheba, where Abraham dwelt, to Jerusalem, where he was going, one counts about twenty leagues; he arrived there after two days of walking. On the order of their master, the two servants stopped; Abraham, holding the iron that was to strike the victim and the fire that was to consume it, and Isaac, carrying the wood necessary for the sacrifice, climbed together the hill designated by heaven. Meanwhile, Isaac said to his father: "Here is the wood and the fire; but where is the victim for the holocaust?" — "My son," answered Abraham, "God Himself will provide a victim for the holocaust." They finally reached the summit of the mountain; stones were arranged as an altar; the wood was placed there; Isaac, for he was the victim, let himself be docilely bound upon the funeral pyre. The father had seized the sword, he was extending his hand, when a voice cried to him from above: "Abraham! Abraham!" The blow remained suspended, and the voice continued: "Do not extend your hand upon the young man, and do not do him any harm. I know that you fear God, since, to obey Me, you have not spared your only son... I will bless you, I will multiply your race like the stars of heaven and like the sand on the shores of the sea, and your sons will possess the cities of their enemies. And in your posterity will all the nations of the earth be blessed, because you have obeyed Me." Abraham perceived a ram whose horns had become entangled in a bush; he took it to offer it in holocaust in place of his son. Then he returned to Beersheba. It is thus that the divine oracles, frequently reiterated, marked in a decisive manner the dynasty of the Liberator announced for the first time to the exiles of Eden, promised then to the race of Abraham, saluted from afar by believing Judea, awaited by the Orient faithful to traditions, by Greece, friend of science, and by all the peoples whom passions had divided, but whom an intimate force held in common hopes. It is also thus that the offering of Isaac immolated in intention, and the offering of victims immolated in reality in ancient religions, were the shadows and symbols of a better sacrifice, which was accomplished eighteen centuries ago, and which, renewing itself every day before our eyes, covers the entire world with an immense pardon.

Nothing is known of Sarah's final years. She died at a very advanced age in the small town of Kiriath-Arba, which the Israelites named Hebron when they Hébron First capital of David as king of Judah. had conquered the land of Canaan.

The old patriarch, upon losing Sarah, shed tears, and according to the custom followed in such mourning, he remained for some time sitting on the ground beside the corpse. This duty fulfilled, he went to find the inhabitants of the city and said to them: "I am a stranger and a sojourner among you; give me the right of burial here, that I may bury her who is dead to me." Piety toward the dead belongs to all ages, as does the certainty of another life. Abraham's request was received with favor; he was even granted the choice among the finest sepulchers to bury Sarah. But tombs become sacred things through the presence of cherished ashes; the ancients would not have seen without scandal their passing into other hands, and they consoled themselves, moreover, with the hope of resting one day beside their ancestors. Abraham therefore wanted the sepulcher to be acquired by a real and permanent right. "If you find it suitable," he said to the inhabitants of Arba, "be my intercessors with Ephron, son of Zohar, that he may give me the cave of Machpela h, whi Ephron Hittite who sold the cave of Machpelah to Abraham. ch he possesses at the end of his field, and that, before Macphéla Sepulcher of the patriarchs in Hebron. you, he may cede it to me in full ownership for the price it is worth." — "Not so, my Lord," Ephron replied generously; "but listen to what I am going to tell you. I grant you, in the presence of the sons of my people, the field and the cave that is in it. Bury there her whom you have lost." Abraham expressed his gratitude; but at the same time he insisted on obtaining, instead of a free concession, a true contract of sale. Ephron saw himself obliged to end the debate. "The land you ask for," he said, "is worth four hundred shekels of silver; this price suits us both. But what does it matter?" Then Abraham had weighed, in the eyes of the gathered crowd, the quantity of silver indicated (approximately seven hundred and fifty francs, if one relies on the scholars who have written on the comparative value of ancient and modern currencies). At this price, the field of Ephron, the cave that was in it, and the surrounding trees passed into the possession of Abraham, and the inhabitants of the city were witnesses and guarantors of the concluded treaty. Such was the primitive way of making and securing transactions.

Abraham therefore placed the remains of Sarah in the cave he had just bought, to the south, and not far from the city, which, later, was called Hebron (tribe of Judah); a few years later, he himself found there a place of rest for his ashes, awaiting the Resurrection.

The sacrifice of Abraham was the figure of the sacrifice of the Cross: Isaac represented the Savior, and the ram, caught by its horns in the thicket, was the image of Our Lord crowned with thorns. Represented in the catacombs and in Christian meeting places in general, this story was intended to inspire in the faithful resignation in persecution, courage in martyrdom, and, moreover, love and gratitude toward the Lamb of God immolated for the salvation of men.

A beautiful fresco represents the first scene of the drama, Abraham pointing with his finger to the fire lit on a small altar, and on the other side, Isaac carrying the wood for the sacrifice. Here is the ordinary type of the second and main scene: Isaac is kneeling, sometimes on an altar or at the foot of the altar when the fire is lit there, sometimes on a pile of wood, in accordance with the account in Genesis, sometimes on the bare earth, sometimes on a rough rock. The altar is sometimes composed of two upright stones and a third placed across them, like some primitive Christian altars. Artists have most often depicted it in the form of pagan altars, with the patera (a type of saucer intended to receive the blood of the victims) and the simpulum (libation vessel) carved on the sides.

Isaac is usually dressed in a simple tunic and has his hands tied behind his back. Abraham holds one hand on his son's head, and with the other raises the sword ready to strike him. His gaze is turned back toward a hand emerging from a cloud, which, in Christian monuments in general, is the sign of the intervention of God the Father and His Providence, and, in the subject that concerns us, presents the hand of the angel stopping the arm of the father of believers. Abraham sometimes has as clothing only a tunic, loose or belted, very short or descending to his feet; but he is most often found draped in the pallium.

Sarah is honored as the spiritual mother of all believers, by reason of her trust in God and her firm courage in exiling herself from her homeland and traveling through a foreign land on the faith of Abraham and by sentiment of religion. She is also honored as a mysterious figure either of the Virgin Mary, who gave birth to the true Isaac, or of the Christian Church, whose children equal in number the stars of the firmament. A truly strong woman, who bore without faltering the weight of tribulations; an incorruptible spouse, who needed only her own heart to find herself above the perils into which the force of circumstances threw her twice; a noble stem of a great people, which, for four thousand years, has perpetuated itself without merging with the other nations of the globe: such was Sarah. Several traits of her life have tempted the pencil or brush of illustrious masters:

Benedetto Castiglione painted some of the journeys she made with Abraham; others have represented her at the moment when she laughs at the promises of imminent motherhood brought by the angels. This latter subject was treated by Raphael first in the Vatican Loggias, then in another composition where Sarah's incredulity is much more strongly accused. Sébastien Bourdon, of the French school, found in this same subject the material for a remarkable painting, which opens his beautiful series of the Works of Mercy.

## CULT AND RELICS. — MONUMENTS.

The most complete description we know of Hebron, the place of the burial of Abraham and Sarah, is that given to us by Mgr Mislin.

"The Arabs call Hebron El-Khalil, city of the friend of God. The current city is divided into three parts; the one i El-Khalil First capital of David as king of Judah. n the middle is the most considerable. It rises in an amphitheater on the hill; it is not surrounded by walls; it has four hundred houses and about five thousand inhabitants, all Muslims, with the exception of four hundred Israelites established in the lower part of the city. Its altitude is two thousand eight hundred and forty-two feet; it exceeds that of Jerusalem by two hundred and sixty-three feet. The church of Saint Abraham is converted into a mosque, and the Muslims call it: Medjid-el-Khalil; it is forbidden for Christians to enter it. We have a description of it that we owe to Aly-Bey.

"The burial place of Abraham and his family," he says, "is in a temple that was once a Greek church. To get there, one climbs a wide and beautiful staircase, which leads to a long gallery from which one enters a small courtyard; toward the left is a portico supported by square pillars. The vestibule of the temple has two rooms; one on the right which contains the sepulcher of Abraham, and the other on the left which contains that of Sarah. In the body of the church, which is Gothic, between two large pillars on the right, one perceives an isolated small house, in which is the sepulcher of Isaac; and in another similar small house, on the left, that of his wife Rebecca. This church, converted into a mosque, has its qibla or tribune for the preachers of Fridays, and another tribune for the muezzins or singers. On the other side of the courtyard is another vestibule which also has a room on each side. In the one on the left is the sepulcher of Jacob, and in the one on the right that of his wife (doubtless Leah).

"At the end of the portico of the temple, on the right, a door leads to a kind of long gallery which still serves as a mosque. All the sepulchers of the patriarchs are covered with rich green silk carpets, magnificently embroidered in gold; those of their wives are red, also embroidered. The sultans of Constantinople provide these carpets, which are renewed from time to time. I counted nine one on top of the other, at the sepulcher of Abraham. The rooms where the tombs are are also covered with rich carpets. Entry is defended by iron grilles and wooden doors plated with silver, with locks and padlocks of the same metal. For the service of the temple, there are more than one hundred employees and servants.

"The whole monument appears to be one hundred and fifty feet long, by eighty feet wide; the mosque has a second enclosure of high walls, flanked by ancient towers that are falling into ruins."

"Upon leaving the city of Hebron," adds Mgr Mislin, "going toward the south, one finds in the valley three bridges that bear the names of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Several women draw clear and abundant water there; I approached to drink some; a young girl came to meet me, and, like another Rebecca, she promptly placed on her arm the earthen vessel she was carrying on her head, and gave me to drink."

The place where Abraham received the three angels, that is to say the oak of Mamre, was honored by Christians and even by Jews and pagans. A chapel was built on Mount Moriah, which is part of that of Zion or Calvary, because tradition said that it was there that Abraham had wanted to sacrifice his son.

"The terebinth under which Abraham received the three angels," says Calmet, "is very famous in antiquity." Josephus, in his work on the Jewish War, affirms that one showed, a few stadia from Hebron, a very large terebinth that the peoples of the country believed as old as the world. Eusebius assures that one still saw in his time the terebinth of Abraham, and that the peoples of the surroundings, Christian or Gentile, held it in singular veneration, as much because of the person of the patriarch as because of those whom he received there. Eusebius, Saint Jerome, Sozomen have spoken of this terebinth. It is not surprising that some fabulous stories have attached themselves to these places that became so famous and where so many nations passed successively; but these nations have all agreed in the veneration for Abraham and in the pious custom of visiting the tombs and the vestiges of the holy patriarchs. What does it matter, for example, to the scholar who wants to realize the reality of the history of Abraham, whether the terebinth, of which one speaks here, is identically the same as that which sheltered this patriarch, or whether another of the same family and the same place succeeded its father? The essential fact is the fixation of the location by an uninterrupted tradition and the universal respect of all the Orient for Abraham.

"The oak that one sees today," says Mgr Mislin, "is two miles from Hebron. It is at the end of the valley of Mamre, where there is a spring and streams; thus one can hardly doubt that it is toward the place where the ancient oak and the tent of Abraham were; but it is no longer the same tree, for it no longer resembles the description of the ancient authors. Saint Jerome, in speaking of Saint Paula, says that she saw the remains of this oak of Mamre, while this one is one of the most beautiful trees that I have seen, and that it is in a perfect state of conservation. It has more than thirty feet of circumference at a height of eight feet.

Excerpt from The Women of the Bible, by the late Mgr Darboy; from the Dictionary of Christian Antiquities, by the Abbé Martigny; and from the Bible under the Bible, by the Abbé Gainet.