Till Shiloh Comes (35 page)

Benjamin stared at his father. “The older will serve the younger? That's what God told Grandmother?”

“It is, and that, my son, is why my mother was determined to see me get the blessing—because God told her that was the way it would be.”

Tamar put her hand over her mouth and rocked back and forth. Here was a woman after her own heart! The wife of Isaac, Rebekah, had done exactly what she would have done! She had seen to it that her son would receive the birthright. It was what she herself, in effect, had done when she had interfered with the natural, traditional laws of the tribe in order to produce sons by Judah's seed. She leaned forward once again to listen to the two men as they spoke.

“Do you understand, my son, what my mother felt?”

“It must have been hard for her, Father.”

“I don't think it was. She was a strong woman, and she decided that when God speaks, one must obey. That is why she explained to me that it was absolutely necessary I receive the birthright and the blessing of the firstborn and not my brother, Esau.”

“I have heard you were your mother's favorite while Esau was your father's favorite.”

“Yes. Esau was a man of the field, and Isaac loved the meat that he would bring in. I stayed closer to my mother.”

Jacob fell silent, and finally Benjamin asked, “Is something wrong?”

“One thing I haven't told you. When my mother told me to disguise my arm with a fleece so I would seem to be hairy like my brother, I told her I didn't think I could do it. I thought it would bring a curse on me, not a blessing. And I have never forgotten to this day what my mother said: ‘My son, let the curse fall on me.'”

Benjamin looked up, for his father's voice was trembling, and he saw tears in his eyes. He reached over and took his father's hand. “What's wrong, Father?”

“After my father died, my brother threatened to kill me, and my mother sent me away. I remember the day I left. My mother clung to me and said, ‘Go to Laban, my son, and stay with him a few days.' Those were the last words from her I ever heard—it was the last time I ever saw my precious mother on this earth!”

Jacob was weeping in earnest now, and Benjamin could do no more than put his arm around the old man. Jacob said between his sobs, “I don't know to this day if the curse of God came upon my mother because of what we did or not, but I like to believe that she thought she was doing the will of God when we deceived my father.”

Benjamin stayed with his father for a time, but the old man wanted to be alone, so he got up and left.

A short ways away he encountered Tamar, who said, “Be kind to your father, Benjamin.”

“Of course,” he said, surprised. “Why would you say that, Tamar?”

“Because he's an old man and he needs his people.”

****

Two days after Benjamin had listened to his father's tale, he was crossing the camp when he heard a shout. He looked up and saw a caravan coming into view. He ran to his father's tent, shouting, “Father, they're back!”

Jacob rose as quickly as he could and grabbed his staff. He limped outside and shielded his eyes with his hand. Despite his age, his eyesight was fairly good, and the first thing he said was, “There are only nine of them.”

Benjamin had not thought to count, but now he did. “You're right, Father! One of them is gone. Who is it?”

The caravan approached until they were only a few yards away, and Benjamin's eyes went to every face. “Simeon's not with them.”

The two stood there waiting while the returning brothers were greeted by their wives and children. There was laughter and shouting about the food, and the women started unloading the animals.

Judah and Reuben left the group to greet their father. Before they could speak, Jacob said in a stern voice, “Where is my son Simeon?”

“We will tell you everything,” Judah said quickly, “but we're back safely and with food.”

“But all of you are not back. Where is my son?”

“He is not with us for the moment because of the way the business turned out,” Reuben said, looking awkward and guilty.

Jacob demanded, “Where is he?”

“He's … he's still in Egypt, Father,” Judah said.

“
Why
is he in Egypt?”

Judah cleared his throat. “We ran into a problem while we were there, and Simeon had to stay until it was cleared up.” The other brothers had now gathered around and listened as Judah tried to explain the missing member of their group. They all sat down in a circle, and Benjamin looked at their faces while Judah spoke.

“It's necessary, Father, for you to hear whole the story of what happened to us in order to understand why Simeon had to remain behind. We arrived safely, and we went before the lord of the land called the Great Provider. He is a rather strange man, given to fits of some sort.”

“What sort of fits? Physically, you mean?”

“Oh no, but he was often friendly and grim at the same time. He wanted to know everything about us.”

Jacob listened as Judah explained, leaving out no detail. He heard how the Provider had accused them of being spies and how they had told him they were the ten sons of one man. Then later, when they had said there were twelve, he had accused them of lying.

Finally when Judah ended the story, Jacob said, “I have heard you through, Judah, but you have not answered my one question. Why is Simeon still in Egypt?”

“The man thought we were spies,” Judah said in despair. “He said he would not believe us until we brought the younger son we spoke of.”

“That will never happen!” Jacob cried out.

“But he said he would keep Simeon until we came back with our younger brother. We have to go back for Simeon's sake.”

Benjamin sat straight up, his face aglow and his eyes dancing. “I would very much like to see this strange man. I must go with them, Father.”

“Be still!” Jacob snapped. He stared at the others and said, “Now I know why I did not want you to go to Egypt. Did I not tell you it was an evil place, and have not my words come to pass? You have left the very best of you as a prisoner.”

Reuben said impulsively, “You did not always speak so well of Simeon.”

Jacob's face grew red. “You dare talk to me like that! You who defiled your own father's bed!”

Judah saw Reuben collapse and said, “Father, you're not being fair. If all eleven of us had gone, this would never have come up. You should have let Benjamin go with us in the first place.”

“Oh, so it's my fault now!”

“We've got to go back!” Judah said defiantly.

The brothers fell to arguing with their father, all nine of them speaking up in defense of Judah's explanation.

“We have no choice, Father,” Levi said. “We must go back.”

“You shall not go back!” Jacob insisted.

“Listen to me,” Reuben interjected. “Let the boy go. If we don't come back, then you may kill my own sons.”

“What wild talk is this, Reuben? I reject you and all that you say. Benjamin's brother is dead, and he alone remains to me.”

The brothers fell silent then until Zebulun asked, “But, Father, what about Simeon?”

“I will mourn for him. Now leave me.”

Jacob turned and limped off to his tent, and Benjamin spoke up, “Don't be bitter with him, brothers, and don't think this makes me happy to be treated in this way by Father. I wanted to go with you from the start.”

Reuben put his arm on Benjamin's shoulder. “I know that's true, little brother, but he will have to be brought to reason. We cannot leave our brother Simeon to die.”

“That's true. And besides that, the food we brought won't last all that long. When he gets hungry enough and sees the family starving, he'll have to listen to us.”

Weeks passed, and the family of Jacob kept time not by the passage of the sun or the shadows that began to lengthen, but by the diminishing food the brothers had brought back from Egypt. Day by day the supplies shrank, but it was as if Jacob had put the whole affair out of his mind.

“He's ignoring the problem,” Levi said one day to Reuben. Levi had lost weight, and even his quick temper seemed to have been extinguished. He had lost all hope of going back to Egypt. “Father's ignoring the fact that we're all going to starve to death.”

“I'm sure he thinks about it,” Reuben said hopefully. “We'll just have to wait until things get worse.”

Indeed, things did get worse, for as the weeks rolled by, the food diminished until the women were scraping bottom again.

One evening while the brothers were sitting around their fire, Jacob suddenly appeared. It was so unusual they were all startled. They got to their feet, and Reuben said, “Good evening, Father. Are you out for a walk?”

“No, I have come to talk to you about our people. Sit down.”

They all sat back down, but Jacob remained standing. “None of you is blind or deaf. You see that there is no food and our children are crying for bread.”

“Yes, we have seen this, Father,” Reuben said quietly. His eyes were on his father, and hope began to rise in his heart.

“Are you all just going to sit there and let us starve?” Jacob demanded.

The brothers looked at one another in surprise.

“What do you want us to do, Father?” Judah asked.

“Why, you must go back to Egypt, of course. They are the only ones with food.”

“That would be very wise,” Reuben said. “I think we should leave at once, but, of course,” he added, seemingly as an afterthought, “we must take Benjamin with us.”

Jacob had evidently been prepared for this. “No, you will not take him.”

“Then there's no point in going back!” Levi snapped. “We told you all about that, Father.”

Judah stepped forward. “Father, we must go, and Benjamin must go with us, or we will all die. Put Benjamin in my care. If he does not return to you … hold me responsible. If I do not bring him back, I will bear the blame before you all my life.”

Jacob stared blankly at Judah for a few moments, but then he blinked, shook his head as if to clear his thoughts, and continued as if Judah had not spoken. “You will take double money and that will satisfy the man. I'll hear no more about it. Leave tomorrow.”

Jacob turned and limped back into the darkness.

“There's no point in going back with double or even triple money,” Naphtali said, the flickering light of the flames making his scarred face look sinister. “I'm not going anywhere without Benjamin.”

“I told you Father would never change his mind. Benjamin is dearer to him than the rest of us put together,” Asher said. “That's the end of it.”

****

Tamar had followed Jacob out and listened to his speech and his command to go back to Egypt. She went back inside and found Leah pounding corn into meal in a stone vessel. “Jacob has just told the men to go back to Egypt.”

“He should have told them that weeks ago,” Leah said bitterly. “There's no other place to get food.”

“I think he'll have to let Benjamin go.”

“Did he say he would?” Leah demanded, her eyes lifting to meet Tamar's.

“No, he didn't. As a matter of fact, he said he'd send double money but not Benjamin.”

“Then they won't get the food. My sons have all told me about this strange man they call the Great Provider. They say he has no mercy in him, and unless they bring their youngest brother back, they'll get nothing.”

Tamar said no more but went about her work. After seeing her two boys down for the night, she left her tent and moved through the darkness, glancing at the stars overhead. They were always a miracle to her—how many there were and how bright they seemed. It was that way on this night, and as she made her way toward Judah's tent she wished she knew their names.

“Judah?” she whispered as she came to the front of the tent. She heard movement inside and then Judah stepped out. “What is it, Tamar?”

“I heard what your father told you.”

Judah stared at her face in the bright moonlight. “It won't do any good to return without Benjamin,” he said.

“You must convince him.”

“It's all over. I'm tired of everything,” Judah said. “I wish I'd never been born—or that I was dead.”

“Judah, you must never, never say that!”

“But it's true. There's no hope.”

“God is a God of hope. He will not let us perish.”

“I don't really believe that.”

Tamar stepped closer. “Don't you remember the medallion your father wears around his neck?”

“Of course I remember it.”

“You know the story of it. It's come down from the ancient past. Why, it may have come straight from Seth.”

“I know the story,” Judah said, “but it means nothing to me.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Whichever one of my brothers gets the blessing and the medallion, it won't be me.”

“Oh, Judah, don't give up! You don't know what God is going to do.”

“Tamar, I'm a sinful man.” Judah stared at her, then said bitterly, “
You
of all people should know that.”

“All men are sinful, Judah, yet God still uses them. Sometimes,” she whispered, “he can use a crooked stick to get the job done.”

Judah stared at her and shook his head. “I wish I were a better man, but I'm not.” He turned abruptly and disappeared into his tent.

Tamar stood there uncertainly, then walked swiftly to Jacob's tent. She was usually the last one to minister to him in the evening. She saw to it that his bed was made and then went to where he was sitting beside a lamp that cast its yellow beams over his wrinkled face and sparse white hair. She sat down beside him and did not speak.

Finally he sighed heavily. “These are hard times, daughter.”