“I cried myself to sleep every night for weeks after you disappeared, Joseph,” Benjamin said, and indeed there were tears in his eyes now. He had been emotional from a young age, and Joseph loved him for it. “But I fear it will never be.”
“You speak of our father and his ties to the land.”
“Yes. I love my father, but he's very stubborn.”
“Yes, he is. But somehow we will have to convince him. This famine will go on for a long time, and he can't keep sending you here to buy food. You would wear out the animals.”
“I would love to come here. My father hates Egypt, but I don't.”
“It has its charms,” Joseph said, “but it has its dangers also.”
“I haven't seen any of those.”
“I live in the midst of idolaters, Benjamin. So would you if you came here. Egypt has thousands of gods. Every town can make its own god and build a little temple for it. It might be made of mud, but they will bow down and worship it. It breaks your heart.”
“But we're surrounded by idolaters where we are also. I don't think any of our neighbors believe in El Shaddai.”
“Some of them may believe but not know His name. I've always felt that. If God spoke to Abraham, what would prevent Him from speaking to other people?”
Joseph had provided special lodging for his brothers, and as they left, he greeted each one of them personally, looking into their eyes and smiling. He saw that they were all still conscious of the wrong they had done him, and after they left he spoke to Asenath about this. “They all feel terribly guilty, wife. I saw it in their eyes.”
“They should feel guilty.”
“No, they shouldn't. I've forgiven them, and that's all there is to it.”
“You think things like that can be wiped out in an instant!” Asenath exclaimed. “I grieved for years over the way I treated you the first time I saw you.”
“Yes, you did,” Joseph said. He put his arm around her and drew her close. Smiling down at her, he murmured, “And I told you it was foolish.”
Asenath reached up and put her hand on Joseph's cheek and left it there. “You are different from any man I have ever known, or any woman, for that matter.”
“Well, I hope I'm different from the women.” Joseph winked.
“Don't be foolish!” she laughed shortly. “Everybody I know holds a grudge against someone, but you never seem to notice when people hurt you.”
“I'm sure you're wrong about that, but I've had to struggle with it, Asenath. It just does no good to hold a grudge. Who do you hurt? Not the one you hold the grudge against. He probably doesn't even know it. You hurt yourself.”
Asenath sighed and put her cheek against his chest. She had her arms around him, and he held her tightly. “I love you, husband. You're a good man.”
“I'm glad you think so, but I still wish my brothers would forget about the past.”
****
The next morning Joseph singled out Judah and took him for a drive around the countryside. He intended to do this with each of his brothers to have some time alone with them, but especially with Judah. Judah was interested in everything, but there was an innate gloom in him that was only interrupted briefly by slight smiles. Finally they came to stand beside some herds that belonged to Pharaoh, and Joseph pointed out that to the Egyptians, shepherds were an abomination.
“That doesn't bode well for us,” Judah said, shaking his head.
“On the contrary, it may be a good thing.”
“How is that?”
“I have a plan. I'll tell you about it later.”
The two walked around the herds for a time, and when Judah did not speak of his personal affairs, Joseph said, “I am sorry about the death of your two sons, Judah.”
Judah struggled for words and then said quietly, “They were not good men, either of them.” He looked up and said, “I assume that you have heard about my sons by my daughter-in-law.”
Joseph was suddenly uncomfortable. He had heard it from Reuben. Reuben had not volunteered the information, but Joseph, having heard part of the story, wanted to know it all, and now he said, “We all make mistakes.”
“This was more than a
mistake,
” Judah said. “It was wrong, a sinful thing, and I will never cease to be ashamed of it.”
“But what about the two boys that Tamar bore you?”
Judah looked up, and a odd expression crossed his face. “That's a strange thing, brother. I love those two boys more than I loved my sons by my wife. Of course I can't understand it.”
“I have heard that Tamar is very attached to our father.”
“She is very much. From the time she came to us, she absorbed the stories of our family, and she cannot hear enough about Shiloh, who is to come.”
The two walked along, and Joseph finally put his hand on Judah's shoulder. Judah had always been a handsome man, and he had grown even more so as he had gotten older. There was a majestic aspect to him with his leonine head and eyes that were less afflicted with the redness of Leah's other sons. His eyes were a strange, smoky gray color and seemed to have a depth behind them. Joseph studied him and said, “Judah, there are only three things you can do about something in your life that was wrong.”
“What three things?”
“You can repent, and I know you have done that. You can do everything possible to make it right, and from what I hear you have taken care of Tamar, though not as a wife, and you have provided for those boys in a very real way.”
Joseph paused, and Judah said, “And what's the third thing?”
“Don't grieve over it.”
“How can I not?”
“I can't tell you that. You know I had the same problem.”
Judah was shocked. “What did you ever do? Was it a sin with a woman?”
“No! It was a sin against my brothers.” Joseph saw surprise wash across Judah's face, and he said, “I wronged you, Judah, you and the others, all except Benjamin. I carried stories of you to my father. I was nothing but a talebearer.”
Judah knew this was true, but he was surprised to hear Joseph say it. “You feel it that deeply?”
“I felt it when I was in the pit and thought I was going to die. I saw then what an abominable thing it was to carry tales to my father about my brothers. I repented of it in that pit, and now,” he said, “I'm going to try to make it right with you. And then I'm going to forget it. Let me urge you, brother, don't grieve over this business. You have two fine sons. Throw yourself into helping them. Be all the help you can to Tamar and her children, and God will bless you for it.”
Judah's eyes brightened, and he swallowed hard. “Brother, if I could do that ⦠if you could help me ⦔
“Who knows?” Joseph smiled. “It didn't seem that there was any meaning to my experience, but looking back I see that there is. Who knows, Judah, God may have some great thing to do with one of those two boys. You hang on to that.”
“I will,” Judah said. He stood straighter and took a deep breath. “I feel ⦠I feel that a load's been lifted.”
“That's what brothers are forâto lift loads. Come. Let's go back and see what the others are doing.”
****
The brothers stayed two more weeks, but finally it was time for them to go back to Canaan. Their departure was instigated by the pharaoh himself. He called Joseph into his presence and inquired into the minute details of their reunion, and then he said, “I want to be generous to my friend Joseph, the Provider. Do this, then. Send your brothers back to the land of Canaan and have them bring your father and everything they own back to Egypt. I will give them the good of the land of Egypt.”
“You are most generous, Your Majesty.”
“Not at all. Now, have them take wagons back with them to transport their little ones, their wives, and their father. Tell them not to bother bringing much back with them, for all their needs will be provided when they get here. See to it at once.”
****
The pharaoh's command was exactly what Joseph was hoping for. He immediately called his brothers together to give them the message. “I will have the wagons ready. You will take them almost empty, for there's no need to take a great deal of food this time. Only enough to make the return journey.”
Judah said doubtfully, “But our father ⦠I am not sure he will come.”
“You must persuade him, Judah. All of you must persuade him.”
Reuben was troubled. “We will do our best, brother.”
“That is all a man can do.” Joseph smiled. “You will leave tomorrow at first light.”
****
The next morning the caravan was ready by dawn. Joseph embraced each of his brothers, but he held on to Benjamin a little longer and whispered, “You can do more than anyone to convince our father, Benjamin.”
“I? What can I do?”
“You are the son of the True Wife. Tell him about me. Tell him about my children and my family here. Be gentle with him, and I believe all will be well.”
The wagons pulled out at once, each of the brothers driving one. They all looked back and saw Joseph and his family watching them. Indeed, Joseph kept his eyes on them until they were out of sight. Then he turned and said to Asenath, “I think all will be well. God is in it.”
Jacob sat in the shade of a tree staring toward the southern entrance to the valley. The sheep were white dots that moved slowly across the pasture, but he paid little heed to them. Overhead, not too far off, three vultures were making their deadly circle, spiraling down toward the earth, eying some gruesome feast. The sight depressed him, and brushing a pesky fly away from his face, he leaned his head back against the tree. A voice roused him, and he looked up to see Tamar bringing him a cup.
“Master, you must be thirsty. Please have some of this wine.”
“That would be very good, Tamar.” Jacob took the cup, sipped it, and licked his lips, staring down into the purple surface of the wine. “They have been gone a long time, it seems,” he murmured.
Tamar moved closer and knelt down before him as was her custom. “It's a long journey, and the heat is very bad.”
“I suppose you're right.”
Tamar studied Jacob critically. The old man had lost so much weight his robe hung on him, and his hands seemed shrunken. His eyes were set deep in their sockets, and the vertical lines around his lips were much more pronounced.
“I wish you would not grieve so much,” Tamar said. “All will be well.”
Jacob smiled faintly. “You are always a comfort, Tamar. You have great faith that things are going to work out well.” He sighed and shook his head. “I hope you always feel that way.”
“Master, only think of how El Shaddai has worked in your life and in the life of your father and grandfather.”
Jacob watched Tamar as she sat down beside him. Despite the lack of food, she was still a strongly built woman and attractive in her own way. She had turned down several husbands since her sons had been born, and he wanted to ask her about it but somehow felt strangely inhibited. She had been a comfort to him in many ways, not just physically but spirituallyâin a way he could not quite understand. She had seemed content with life since the birth of her sons, throwing herself into their upbringing and devoting much time to caring for Jacob as well. “I think they will be home very soon. El Shaddai has surely watched over them.”
“I worry about Benjamin.”
Tamar touched his hand lightly. “He will be fine, master. Do not worry.” A thought passed through her mind, and she looked off in the distance where her boys were playing and said, “Why don't you tell the boys some more stories about the family? It will occupy you, and they love it. Especially Perez.”
“All right. I will,” Jacob said and smiled. “You always find a way to divert me. Go get the boys.”
****
Even as Jacob began telling Tamar's two sons the stories of his youth, the caravan of wagons was drawing nearer to Hebron. They had brought plenty of feed for the animals and had stopped at the now familiar wells and water holes along the route. They had hurried as much they could by day, but the nights had seemed long. All of them had two things on their mind: How would they tell their father that Joseph was alive? And how could they convince him to go to Egypt? All of them were convinced that this was the thing to do.
On the last night of their journey, they had sat around the fire and discussed ways to tell their father the good news. Levi had begun the conversation by saying, “I can't imagine any way to break the news to him. Good news can be more unsettling to an old man than bad news.”
“I've thought about that.” Simeon nodded. He was sitting close to Levi, their faces illuminated by the fire. “I think maybe the best way is to come right out with it. Just tell him.”
“No,” Reuben objected at once. “The shock would be fatal. We've got to figure out another way.”
Judah sat and listened as the brothers argued back and forth. He had changed since having his talk with Joseph. There was more life in him, and he seemed to have lost the deep-seated gloom that was never far beneath the surface of his personality.
Finally, when silence fell across the group, he said, “I agree that it's going to be a difficult thing. If we don't do it exactly right, it could go very badly with our father.” He poked at the fire with a stick and then shook his head. “A man doesn't take hold of a joy straight off when he's been in sorrow for so many years. It's brought a great bitterness into our father's life, and I fear some of it has been directed toward us.”
“You are right about that,” Asher said. He had grown fatter with the good food they had enjoyed in Egypt and even now was eating honey-soaked raisins. He popped them into his mouth, chewed on them, sucked the goodness out of them, and finally said, “I don't think all of us can rush in. That would be too much.”