Abraham From The Bible: The True Story
I made the mistake of buying the first episode of Mark Burnett and Roma Downey’s new television series, “The Bible,” the other day. I say mistake because I thought we were signed in to Caleb’s iTunes account on our television — which would have meant the show was a freebie — but rather, we were signed into mine. So I ended up wasting not only an hour of my life, but also $2.99, which when you eat mostly from the bodega, can really go a long way. For instance, with $2.99, you can buy a valuable bag of sunflower seeds and an added bonus can of Diet Dr. Pepper.
I’ve already watched the Charlton Heston Bible miniseries. And Ben Hur. And basically every other Bible show you can watch around Easter. I even read the Bible as a historical document, in an attempt to sound knowledgeable in a religious studies class I took at Brown that somehow revolved around 20th century American white male literature.
What I mean to say is that I already knew every fucking thing that was going to happen in the first episode of the miniseries, at least in terms of narrative — what I was hoping for was some hot bitches wearing caftans and having sex with Abraham in an artfully decorated desert hovel, to give me a new perspective on the whole situation. The show was a real disappointment in that sense — the production value was low, and the bitches were busted. Not busted, per se, but definitely not like “Ben Hur” hot, you feel me?
Anyway, what really struck me, for the first time, watching this particular iteration, was that if you’re looking at Abraham from the perspective of 21st century society, then it’s pretty easy to decipher why he could talk to God and shit. Abraham, you see, was clearly a paranoid schizophrenic.
Just in case you’ve never read the Bible, here’s how the story of Abraham goes.
Abraham was a prophet named by God to save the good and righteous people of Earth. God first appeared to him one day and said, “The Egyptians are totally out to get you.” And Abraham responded, “I know, right? I’ve been thinking that myself.” Then God told him to pack up all of his things, his family included, and depart to the desert to go search for somewhere safe to live.
“Why the hell are we doing this?” Sarai, his beloved wife, asked him.
“Shut up, woman,” he said to her.
They traveled for many years, and many of his people starved to death. Abraham didn’t notice because the last thing on his mind, with all of the voices chattering in his head, was what he was going to fucking eat. “You think that spot’s safe?” he asked Michael, one of God’s Angels, as he pointed to a nice patch of land next to a river.
“Abraham, I would not settle there,” said Michael. Then he pointed to the distance, where it was known that there was nothing but sand and sun and arid land. “I think you should go to that place, where there are no mind readers.”
Eventually, some of Abraham’s people got sick of the insanity, so they decided to break off on their own. Lot, his nephew, took his wife and a band of followers, and headed out towards Sodom. “That place is full of Egyptian spies!” warned Abraham. But Lot just patted him on the head and gave a look of deep sympathy to Sarai.
A few months later, one of Lot’s followers returned, barely able to walk. Abraham was in the hills, having a conversation with God. “And on the fifth day, I created all of the creatures in the toiling waters, and let them swim free,” said God.
“Do you think I could cut off my arm, and put it in a body of water, it would turn into a fish?” Abraham asked God in return.
“Agh, my son,” God said to him. “You are not ready for that yet, nor do you have enough possessions to trade for that information. If you give me your wife for one night, however, I will teach you how to speak to the Holy Spirit.”
“Sarai!” Abraham screamed.
In the camp, Sarai had her servant girls bury her underneath a mound of pillows.
As Abraham climbed down from the mount, he ran into Lot’s follower. “Abraham, you must help!” Lot’s follower implored. “Lot has been taken by very bad men, and is in much danger.”
“Who are you?” Abraham asked.
“The Holy Spirit,” said Lot’s follower.
“Already?” Abraham said quizzically, and looked back up at the hill.
The next day, Abraham packed up his camp, and headed back out to the desert. The whole way to Sodom, the Holy Spirit sat on his shoulder, and sang show tunes he told Abraham he had learned in a brothel in Ur of the Chaldees.
As it was foretold, Abraham saved Lot from Sodom, by dragging him by his hair from his bed early in the morning. On the way out from the city, Lot’s new boyfriend, Fitty (short for “of the Rephaite people”), commented under his breath, “Damn, he smells like shit.” Abraham was too busy assuring Michael that he liked him just as much as the Holy Spirit to hear the insult.
To prove his loyalty, in the middle of the night, Michael made Abraham go burn down Fitty’s old house in Sodom. It was a dry summer; the fire caught on, and ended up destroying the whole city.
A few weeks later, and a new angel named Seraphim appeared. “Abraham,” he told Abraham. “You are destined to have a child with Sarai.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Michael sneered. “Sarai’s eggs dried up years ago. Have you seen that old hag?”
“Let’s go try to fuck her,” the Holy Spirit said. “For shits and giggles.”
“Sarai!” Abraham roared.
A few years earlier, Sarai had dressed up her Egyptian handmaid Hagar in her clothing, and sent Hagar to Abraham’s tent in her stead. When Hagar bore a son — no one really knew for sure if he was beget from Abraham or a nice looking young warrior name Phicol — Sarai thought she was off the hook. They named him Ishmael, and for a time, lived in peace.
This time, however, Sarai was not so lucky. Abraham caught her as she tried to run to the cover of the bush beside the camp. After the act was done, it was said that it took three days to wash the smell of him from her skin.
Before long, God told Abraham that Sarai was pregnant with his son. “I’m not pregnant, I’m 68 desert winters old,” Sarai said.
Abraham consulted with God, and God said that women could get pregnant when he wanted them to get pregnant, as long as Abraham promised that he would sacrifice his son and give him to God when he was a certain age. Ten seconds later, Abraham forgot the promise, because he got busy arguing with Michael over whether or not the Egyptians had the technology to implant control devices in your brain. But God did not forget.
Sarai, it was said, stuffed her caftan with straw until the time came for her to give birth. When she emerged from the tent, she was carrying the son of a slave girl who had accidentally be knocked up during a daylong stint at a trading post near Canaan. “Behold your son, Isaac, ” said Sarai.
Abraham scratched his nuts and went back to calculating how long it would take for a messenger on horse to bring a note to the Holy Spirit, who had allegedly retired to Mount Olympus.
Abraham and his people traveled. They traveled and traveled. They traveled some more. “This is not the promised land…yet,” God kept on saying. Some of the younger members of the tribe complained that all they did was walk around in circles, but the older ones knew not to say anything, lest Michael, who they now knew by name, commanded Abraham to burn them in their sleep.
Eventually, Isaac came of age, and God commanded that Abraham bring him to the top of a mountain, and sacrifice him in his name. “Who?” Abraham asked when God brought it up.
“Your supple little young son,” the Holy Spirit sneered. He was back from retirement.
“The one with the cute bottom,” said Seraphim. “Who’s always in Fitty’s tent.”
So Abraham climbed down from the mountain, and walked amongst his people, all the while grumbling under his breath about ninjas.
Sarai saw him walking around, but thought nothing of it. Abraham frequently came down from the hills to preach about God and the angels and salvation, or some other nonsense. Honestly, she didn’t give a shit.
“Come with me, boy,” Abraham said, breaking into Fitty’s tent. There, Isaac sat at Fitty’s feet, and let his long hair be braided.
“Oh God!” said Isaac.
“Where?” Abraham said.
Briefly confused, he scratched his nuts. Then he grabbed Isaac by the arm, and pulled him up to the top of the mountain, where he had prepared a nice fire and a romantic picnic, just as God had ordered. “What’s going on?” Isaac whimpered. And then louder, “Mommy??!!”
Abraham ordered him to strip down naked. While the boy was doing so, Seraphim returned with the bad news that he had just caught an Egyptian ninja that looked exactly like a goat spying on them from the next mountain over. He told Abraham that he needed to come with him to check out the threat immediately. Abraham departed on foot, the trail of his shit-smeared tunic trailing behind him as the sun set over the hills. Isaac was saved the rest of Biblical history.
A few years later, the tribe finally reached Beersheba, a city of abundance. By that point, Abraham was so far gone that he no longer knew his own name. He died unceremoniously, slumped in a pile of sheepskins next to the cart of scraps he had been dragging around behind him for the past few years. God lived on in his grandson Jacob, who began hearing the deity speak to him when he hit puberty.