The Wedding to Nabal
Several days passed and then a man came to our home; it was Nabal’s head servant. He had come to speak to my father, and his business remained locked inside him until he and my father could talk in private. My mother and I were terribly curious, but the younger children were as noisy as ever, so we could hear nothing from behind the closed door. Then I felt it returning, that strange uneasy feeling.
After what seemed like hours, my father and the servant appeared in the doorway. The servant paused, glanced at me, and then left our home. I could see worry in my father’s face as he turned to look at my mother. Now I was sent outside while my parents talked. The quiet whispered conversation grew louder at times; I could hear my name. Then I heard my mother weeping softly. What was happening? Why was I outside the room if my name were being spoken inside?
Finally the door opened and my father called for me. I moved awkwardly, on command, but my heart did not wish to go into that room. I heard… and yet I did not hear… it was as though my body had shut out some dreadful reality. Indeed, it was a dreadful thing… but I only know that in its fullness now, years later. Nabal wished to marry me… me, Abigail… and my father had consented. I never was told by my parents the details of the arrangements. Indeed, if they had explained it to me, I don’t think my mind would have heard. I felt lost, as though I were floating in a terrible dark emptiness and dread.
The usual betrothal period followed… hours, days, weeks and months of concern for me. How I longed to remain in my parents’ home, poor as it was, with our own customs, with my brothers and sisters, with all that was familiar. This was no dreamy state of eager, happy new love. It was more like a nightmare, one that did not go away when I awoke in the morning.
Lavish wedding preparations were being made. How could my parents afford all this, I wondered? The whole village eagerly anticipated the spectacular event. My mother and father seemed distant from me; there was none of the joy of betrothal times. At night I often heard my parents arguing… followed by my mother’s soft weeping. I cried too.
The few times Nabal visited he was accompanied by his servants, and he spoke mainly to my father. To me he paid little attention — a glance, a word… that was all.
The wedding day arrived. It was filled with people, confusion, activity, and awkward attempts at outward joy. I will never forget the dread I felt as the cry went forth in the evening air: “Here’s the bridegroom. Come out to meet him.” Then I was whisked off to Nabal’s enormous house… for I was now Abigail, wife of Nabal of Carmel. Many in our village must have thought my parents had secured a splendid marriage for me. I would have a life of ease and luxury; the best of food and clothes; menservants, maidservants, and all riches. Somehow my village neighbors conveniently forgot the harsh things we had always heard about Nabal. For them it didn’t matter, but for me it would be a bitter reality that seemed as though it would never end. The uneasy feeling I first felt in my village settled down over me like a cloud.
The Marriage to Nabal
I was trapped. I now knew the fear of a wild creature ensnared, with no possibility of escape. Days and weeks continued in a hopeless procession. How had this happened to me? Hear my prayers, O Lord God. Was not my heavenly Father aware of my grief and misery? I knew that He alone could save me from such an existence, and so I tearfully sought Him morning, noon, and night, day after day. My refuge was in His Word, in the echoes of my father’s stories. How often I recalled Joseph’s life, of the betrayal he experienced from his brothers, of slavery, of an unjust imprisonment… and my heart felt a kinship I had never known before. I, too, must endure and not lose faith in my heavenly Father, the One who sees all, hears all, and knows all.
I remember it all now as though it was but yesterday… and the remembering of it makes me shudder once again.
My husband never showed any affection towards me, and I never really learned much about him. Nabal was distant and uncaring by day. By night he was even worse. He and his friends would drink until the dawn of a new day; then, half sick, they would fall asleep where they sat. At other times he drank alone, and he would become loud and abusive to his servants. These were the nights I feared the most, because I knew that when he was finished cursing the servants he would seek me out. He would stumble from room to room searching and calling my name. At first I hid from him, and prayed for an escape. But I did not always escape. Later, as the fear diminished I would confront him… but this only added to his anger. So, in the end, just like his other servants, I left him alone to his foolish ways. Wine indeed is a mocker, and whoever is led astray by such is not wise.
During this time, I constantly thought of my parents… of our simple home, of the discipline of our lifestyle, of my brothers and sisters, of the happy marriages I knew. And I would wonder why, oh why, was I trapped in this… this existence? Where were my parents and family when I so desperately needed them? My messages to them were never answered. It seemed that all I knew and loved had vanished. My only friends were my servants, my fellow-sufferers in this grand but heartless house. They, alone, knew something of the misery of this pitiful marriage.
It was during one of his drunken rages that I learned another bitter fact, the real reason behind our marriage. Nabal took great delight one night in telling me that I was his: he had bought me out of poverty. Apparently, my father was in debt to other villagers. Times had been hard. But what do the young know of such things? Somehow Nabal had learned of this and cleared my father’s debts.
However, I was the “repayment” — Nabal had bought me. He had paid for the betrothal feast, the wedding garments, and the wedding feast. Then, as the shock of it all settled over me, Nabal laughed as he told me the worst. If, he said, I had ever wondered why my family never visited me, the answer was that he, Nabal, had also made it a part of my “contract”… no family ties allowed.
So, at last, I knew the whole truth in its ugliness… and I was crushed. Now I understood my mother’s tears, and my father’s silent shame. My parents were bound up with us in this agony of life.
Added to the daily misery was the lack of all things spiritual. There were no evening and morning prayers, no joy of feast days in this house, no reciting of Israel’s history, and no desire for the Word or the ways of God. Indeed, the fool does say in his heart… as well as in his deeds: “There is no God.”
Nabal was, however, not lazy. He worked tirelessly at his accounts. He also wanted — indeed, he was determined to have! — larger flocks and herds, bigger and better vineyards, more barns, better crops. His lands were overworked, as were his animals and servants. Many times a new servant would come to me to see if I would hear a case and intervene on his or her behalf with the master of the household. Little did they know that Nabal cared for me no more than he cared for them; I was just one more of his “possessions”, to use as he pleased. He lived in his own world, while I existed only on the fringes of that world.
Strange as it may seem, however, my world was a busy, useful life. As mistress of a large house and grounds, I had much to oversee and I enjoyed the challenge. My mother had taught me well, although my tasks were not quite the same as they had been back in our village. I tried to treat my servants fairly, and they responded with respect. Yes, my days came to be filled with productive tasks… while the nights continued to seem like endless dark passages, punctuated by Nabal’s drunken revelries of cursing and abuse. During those nights, I especially felt hopeless and empty, and the uneasiness would eat away at me.
The Origin of the Organic World – Part One