“Unlike you,” said Abraham, “I actually listen to what other people are saying, and occasionally allow their words to change my mind.”

This was so unfair that she couldn’t find words to answer him.

“Instead of listening only to think of arguments to destroy them with,” said Abraham.

“Like me.”

“Isn’t that what you were doing just now? Struggling to find some retort that would devastate me for daring to say that I was able to change my mind, and you were not?”

“Because you’re wrong,” she said, “and you can’t see it.”

“Sometimes I’m wrong, and like every other human being, I don’t see it until I do. And sometimes that takes longer than it should, in my ignorance. Which is made worse by the fact that I’m old and have the foolish idea that I might actually have learned something from my experiences. But you don’t have that problem, because you already know what’s right and wrong and what matters most and what doesn’t matter at all.”

“I’ve never made any such claim.”

“Of course you haven’t,” said Abraham. “To claim the supremacy of your judgment would show that you knew it was possible to doubt it.”

Her mind raced with sharp answers, but underneath it she could feel another thought that she couldn’t put in words, and it was that inarticulable thought that she knew most needed to be said.

So in the silence, there was a moment for Isaac’s voice to emerge again. “We are all good people,” he said, “trying to do good things for those we love. Because we disagree about what is the best thing to do doesn’t make any of us evil.”

Gentle as his voice was, it was a sharp yet fair rebuke to all of them, and from Abraham’s face, Rebekah could see that he felt it as keenly as she did. “I know,” she said. “But you treated me as if you thought I was horrible to have taught my son to read.”

“And you treated me as if you thought I was a monster for having taught my grandsons that the sacred writings are not to be trifled with.”

She started to renew the argument with a sharp retort, but again the unframed thought floating just under the level of consciousness distracted her from saying the harsh words that came to mind.

“Who is to say,” said Isaac, “which lesson was most important to learn today?”

And then the unspoken thought took shape. “Isaac, Father Abraham, do you see what’s happening in our family? This struggle between us is going to turn into a struggle between the boys. Esau and Jacob are as different as two brothers can be, but you are teaching Esau that he is the worthy, manly son and Jacob is weak and womanly.”

“While you’re teaching Jacob that he ought to covet the birthright.”