Till Shiloh Comes (7 page)

“We'll have to put up with it no matter what,” Judah said, “because that's just the way things are.”

“Not if we do something to stop it,” Simeon said, his eyes redder than flame with his anger.

The brothers stood there raving and shouting, some of them so angry they threw stones at trees and took sticks and broke them. Simeon and Levi seemed the most volatile, and finally Reuben tried to quiet them. “Don't trouble yourselves,” he shouted over them, trying to calm them down. “This will pass away.”

“Pass away! Why would it pass away?” Simeon screamed. “It'll pass away when Joseph is dead, that's when it will pass away!”

“Don't speak like that,” Reuben said, horrified because he feared the wrath of these brothers was being kindled to the point where murder was a very possible outcome. “Remember, he is our brother!”

“He's no brother of mine,” Issachar said bitterly. “He gets everything and we get nothing. I hate him!”

A murmur went around, and Reuben's eyes met Judah's. Judah shook his head as if to say,
There's nothing we can do about it
. Reuben's shoulders drooped, for he knew Judah was right. He had a premonition of a terrible future. He was not a man of much imagination, but it did not require much to know that things could not go on like this without tragic consequences. He turned sadly and said, “Well, let's get the rest of the crop harvested.”

The men went to work, but they were sullen. Some of them continued to cry out against Joseph's insolence, and their threats were more dire than ever.

Benjamin tripped along happily beside Joseph, holding his hand, as usual, when they went out to the fields together. The sun was bright, and the desert flowers blooming. Although the heat was oppressive, Benjamin did not care, for he was with his beloved brother, Joseph.

“Tell me about the dream again, brother.”

Joseph looked down at Benjamin and smiled. His heart was always filled with love for his little brother. “Why, Benji, you're the only one who wants to hear them.”

“Oh, I can't believe that.”

“It's true.” Joseph shrugged. “Our father has forbidden me to speak any more of my dreams.”

“But why, Joseph?”

“I can't imagine. I know Father himself has dreams, and he has great faith in them. But he says it is bad for me to tell them to others, especially to my brothers.”

“Even to me?”

Joseph laughed and ruffled Benjamin's hair. “Not you, Benji. I'll tell you all of my dreams.”

“Tell me of the ones again about the sheaves and the moon and the stars.”

“I've told you a hundred times. You know them yourself.”

“But it's different when you tell them!”

Not unwillingly, Joseph told the dreams again. He had nourished them, knowing somehow deep in his heart these dreams were central to his life. He could not press the interpretation too much, but he could see very well that it would take only one act on his father's part to make them come true. He had said many times to himself, though never publicly,
If my father would declare that the blessing of the firstborn would be given to me instead of to Reuben, then all my brothers would have to be obedient to me. They would bow down just as the sheaves did to my sheaf, and just as their stars did to me
. He never voiced this, however, for he was beginning to understand how much danger there was in saying such things.

Benjamin listened again, his face beaming, as Joseph related the dream; then he said, “I will bow down to you, my brother.”

Joseph laughed, picked up the boy, and swung him around, holding him tightly in his arms. He kissed him and said, “I know you would. You are my true brother. Indeed you are.”

Benjamin clung tightly to Joseph's neck. Joseph had indeed become the center of his world. Young as he was, he was aware that there was a barrier between him and his father because his mother had lost her life bringing him into the world, and he felt great guilt for that.

“Come along. Let's hurry,” Joseph said. “We don't want to get into trouble with Father again.”

“No indeed! We must obey Father,” Benjamin said eagerly.

The two spent a delightful afternoon wandering in the fields, and now the sun was approaching the horizon. Joseph suddenly stopped and pointed. “Look. There's a caravan—traders, I see.”

“Let's go look at their goods,” Benjamin said, excited.

“All right,” Joseph said. “We have no money, but we can look.”

When the two brothers were about a hundred paces from the caravan, Benjamin said, “Look, there's Levi.”

Joseph stopped. “Yes, and there's Simeon.”

“Maybe we'd better not go there. They'll tell Father.”

“I'm not afraid of what Simeon and Levi would say. Father knows we're spending the day together.” Nevertheless, despite these brave words, Joseph nodded. “Maybe you're right, Benjamin. We'd better not continue.”

“But let's stay here and watch them awhile.”

“All right,” Joseph said, and the two lingered at a distance. The caravan had obviously stopped for the day, and cooking fires sent smoke into the air in tall spirals. The smell of cooked meat made the boys hungry. They could hear singing and see some women dancing.

“Look at those women. I've never seen dancing like that,” Benjamin said. “What is it, Joseph?”

“It's not a good thing for you to see.”

“Why not?”

“Because those women are harlots.”

“What's a harlot?”

“A bad woman that makes men do bad things.”

“Oh, I know what that means. Like Elspeth did when she was gotten with child with Lomenie of Lomar?”

“Yes. Like that.”

Joseph watched, seemingly riveted to the scene. He saw the women dancing in their scanty costumes, and then he saw that Levi and Simeon were drinking heavily. “They need to get away from those women,” he said. “They're bad for them.”

Benjamin was struck silent by the scene and did not answer.

Finally the two boys watched two of the women grab Simeon and Levi and pull them to their feet. They took them to two separate tents, and Joseph said abruptly, “Come along, Benjamin, we need to get away from here.”

“All right, Joseph. This is a bad thing.”

As they made their way back, Joseph was silent, and Benjamin looked up and asked, “Are you going to tell Father?”

Joseph was lost in thought. “I think I'd better. He needs to know such things.”

“They'll get mad if we tell.”

“You're not going to tell. I am,” Joseph said. “It's for their own good!”

****

Leah was giving her sons Simeon and Levi a tongue-lashing that had all the bite of a scorpion. She was a woman with a sharp tongue anyway, and now as her sons stood before her, both married heads of households, they stood humbled like two boys caught stealing sugared dates.

“You defile yourself with those harlots!” Leah screamed, her voice carrying over the entire camp. “Have you no shame! Both of you have good wives, and you defile yourselves. I'm the mother of fools!” Their mother struck them both and sent them out of her tent.

Simeon turned to Levi and said, “It was that talebearer Joseph. He's the one who brought the report to Father.”

“We were fools,” Levi said heavily.

“Maybe we were. I've learned one thing, though. If you're going to sin, don't do it in public.”

****

The public shame of the two men was painful, and they blamed Joseph for telling on them. All ten of the brothers were absolutely furious at Joseph.

Even Reuben could make no defense for Joseph. After all, he had also carried the evil report to Jacob of Reuben's misbehavior with Bilhah, which was much worse. But still he kept silent as his brothers raved and shouted, angry to the core. He knew that the Sons of the Maids were just as angry, and he whispered to Judah, “Try to quiet them down. They're crazy.”

“Don't they have reason?” Judah said bitterly. “Does that pampered brother of ours have the right to carry tales?”

“Simeon and Levi were wrong.”

“It makes no difference. Talebearing is wrong, especially against your own brothers! That is a sin against God himself! Family is important, Reuben.”

Reuben could not argue, for he felt the same. He thought of going to Joseph and trying to talk him into apologizing, but he knew he did not have the words or the skill to speak to his quick-tongued younger brother. He sighed heavily and shook his head. He had no one to share his burden with except Judah, and even Judah was fed up with Joseph's behavior.

****

Two days after Jacob had received Joseph's reports of Simeon and Levi's behavior with the Canaanite harlots, Levi came to him, saying bitterly, “We're going over to Shechem. Not only the six of us but also the four Sons of the Maids.”

“All ten of you?”

“Yes,” Levi said defiantly. He waited for his father to protest, but Jacob seemed crushed.

“Why don't you wait awhile, my son?” he pleaded.

“We're not waiting for anything.” Levi had never spoken to his father like this.

Jacob knew well of the anger that burned in the hearts of his ten sons. “All right,” he soberly agreed. “The grazing is better at Shechem, and it will be good for the flocks. Be careful.”

Levi did not even say good-bye but turned on his heel and walked out. Jacob bowed his head, knowing that things were completely out of his control. He tried to pray but could not. He slept a troubled sleep, for he could not help thinking of his dream in which he had held a knife over Joseph. It was not difficult to interpret such a dream, and he had struggled inwardly, trying to give up Joseph to God as Abraham had given up his son Isaac. He knew, however, that he was weaker than Abraham and could not find the faith to do it. He had wept over this silently in the darkness of his tent, but somehow he felt better that the ten would now be absent. “At least,” he whispered to himself, “they can't harm their brother as long as they're in Shechem.”

****

Since the brothers had left, the weather had grown hotter, and the earth had become parched and dry. Jacob's spirit was no better. The heat was oppressive, and he was troubled by his own inadequacies. He knew he should give Joseph and Benjamin up to God, but they were all he had left of Rachel. No matter what he said to God in his prayers, in the secret chambers of his heart, he knew he would give up the ten in order to save the two.

The days passed, and Jacob's emotional struggles did not lessen. It affected his health to the point where he was now in poor condition. Tamar, now married to Er, often brought him tasty food and wanted to listen to his stories. A few times Jacob asked her about her marriage, but she avoided speaking about her husband's behavior. It was common knowledge that Er was a violent man and beat Tamar and that he was unfaithful to her, but she refused to complain.

As for Jacob's problems with his sons, it was not that he did not love his ten sons. He saw their shortcomings, but his own history was unsavory enough that he could forgive them.

There were times when Jacob feared for his own sanity, and he was often plagued by the frightening thought,
I'm possessed by some evil spirit that makes me disobey my God
. Like all of his people he had a deep fear of madness and would run quicker from an insane person than he would from a bear or a lion. Day after day he struggled, and slowly he began to be filled with a desire to bring peace to his family.

“I've got to make my ten sons understand that I love them,” he said to himself, but could think of no way to do this. Finally he began to formulate a plan that perhaps Joseph was the key to bringing peace to Jacob's heart and pacifying his brothers.

He called Joseph to his tent, and when the young man was inside, Jacob said, “Sit down, my child.”

“Yes, Father. What is it?”

“I am very worried about this problem you have with your brothers.”

“So am I, Father. It grieves me that they do not love me.”

Jacob resisted the impulse to deliver a sharp and bitter sermon about how Joseph had brought his brothers' anger on himself. He did not say a word about this, however, but spoke of his own responsibilities. “I have twelve sons,” he said, “and I have spoiled you.”

“Not so, Father,” Joseph protested.

“You know it is true, Joseph. Do not pretend.”

Jacob's eyes grew flinty, and Joseph could not bear the sight of them, so he dropped his head. His father had a strength that he himself lacked. “I am sorry, Father.”

“I hope you are, for I have decided to send you to your brothers.”

A flare of joy leaped into Joseph's breast, though he kept it carefully hidden. He had never been sent out alone on such a journey, and excitement burned in his spirit. “To go see my brothers?”

“Yes. I have decided you are to take them some good provisions, but mainly I want you to use the time to make peace with your brothers.”

“How shall I do that, Father? They hate me.”

“I must tell you the truth, my son. Your brothers hate you because you think you are better than they are.”

“No, Father, that's not—”

“Do not interrupt me. You know it is so.” Jacob's eyes again bored into Joseph, and the young man could only drop his head. “It is largely my fault,” Jacob admitted, “for you
are
gifted above any of your brothers. You are better looking and more intelligent. You have far more imagination than any of them. These things are good, but you have let pride in them lift you up. The dreams you've had about their sheaves bowing down to yours!” Jacob's voice grew bitter. “What a fool thing to tell them of this. Stupid! Unthinkable! I cannot see how you can hold your head up after speaking of such a thing.”