Prologue
MAMRE, 1842 BC
Jacob paused at the outskirts of Mamre near Hebron, taking in the familiar hills and fields where he had spent the early years of his life. Memories filled him, along with an ache in his heart over the news that his mother had long ago passed into Sheol. Why had he been forced to stay away nearly thirty years? He closed his eyes against the glare of the setting sun, remembering his mother’s tenderness, her way of speaking, her smile. If only things had been different. He should never have allowed his uncle Laban to keep him away so long. He should have been here for her.
His heart skipped its normal rhythm as anxiety flared with the memories. Would his father welcome him now? Isaac had spent years alone without wife or sons, with none but his servants to care for his flocks, his fields, his needs. Jacob should have been here for both of them. The moment he had wed Rachel, he should have made plans to return. But Laban had tricked him again and again, and the regret he felt gave way first to anger, then to acceptance. He had done what he had to do. There was no use in trying to change the past.
He slowly pushed his staff into the dirt and limped closer to the encampment, which spread far and wide before him, a testament to his father’s wealth.
“Are you all right, Abba?”
The voice of Rachel’s firstborn, seventeen-year-old Joseph, caused Jacob to turn and smile. How often had he thanked God for Rachel’s oldest son? Every day was not often enough, but every day the thought of Rachel surfaced, and Joseph was his memory of her. He was so like her in looks and in spirit. So unlike his brothers. A better, wiser son.
Jacob patted Joseph’s hand where he had placed it in the crook of Jacob’s arm. “I am fine, my son. It has been a long time since I have laid eyes on my father. He will not see us coming, but he will hear us. And he will know my voice.” He hoped. “My father will be pleased to meet you. Come. Let us not delay lest the sun sets before we arrive and the servants think we are strangers come to harm them.”
Joseph glanced behind them, and Jacob turned his gaze as well. Their caravan of sons, wives, children, and animals would need more room than Isaac now possessed. Jacob would do his best to include Isaac in their home—to give him a family again.
He picked up his pace despite his apprehension and moved toward the black goat-hair tents, spotting the largest one in the center, right where his father’s tent had been when he left it for Paddan-Aram. God had promised to be with him when he left, and now He had brought him home again. How fitting.
The thought pleased him more than he expected. And to know that he had finally set things right between himself and his brother still filled him with awe. God really could do the impossible.
He looked at Joseph once more, marveling again that Rachel had borne him after so many years of longing. Yet why did God take her upon Benjamin’s birth? And why did Joseph’s brothers so often look on his favorite son with disfavor?
Jacob shook the thoughts aside. “Come,” he said again. “There is my father’s tent. It is time for you to meet your grandfather.”
Joseph followed obediently, and Jacob said no more as they reached the tent, where the flaps were lifted. Isaac sat in the doorway upon cushions with a young servant girl close by.
“Father.” Jacob could barely choke out the word, and emotion suddenly overtook him. He knelt with difficulty due to his bad leg, drew up beside Isaac, and carefully touched his knee. “It is I, Jacob.”
Isaac turned his head toward Jacob, his eyes unseeing. He cleared his throat. “Is that really you, Jacob, my son?”
“Yes, Father. It is really I. I have come with the wives and children and flocks that the Lord your God has given to me. I have come so that they can know you, Father.” He paused, swallowed hard, and felt the strong grip of his father’s hand in his. “I have come home,” he said, this time letting his tears flow.
He leaned closer, and he and his father embraced as though they never wanted to part again. Isaac’s tears wet Jacob’s robe, and they wept together for all that had come between them. For all of the loss they had both suffered. And for the joy of coming home again.
1
1841 BC
Joseph walked the ancient path from the fields near Hebron to his father’s tent beneath the oaks of Mamre. The shepherd’s staff rested in his right hand, but his gait felt weighted, despite the brilliant colors of the setting sun and the cool whisper of the breeze in the trees above him. He wasn’t sure he wanted the role his father had placed upon him. His brothers certainly would not approve.
The scent of roasting lamb wafted to him, and a moment later the cry of a child met his ears. He hurried closer as Dinah emerged from his father’s tent, carrying his brother Benjamin.
“You are back,” Dinah said, smiling above his brother’s wiggling body. The boy was nearing his first birthday and did not often like to be held except by Joseph, though he seemed to tolerate Dinah above the other women in the family.
“Yes,” he said, dropping the staff and reaching for Benjamin, who now tried to fling himself into Joseph’s arms. “There you are, baby brother!” Joseph held him high above his head until Benjamin squealed with delight. They played their little game until Joseph finally set Benjamin in the dirt and held his hand to help him walk toward their father’s tent.
“How did it go?” Dinah asked before he could walk away. “I know it has not been easy for you of late. Our half brothers—and my own brothers, for that matter—seem to consider you a pest more than the grown man you are.”
Joseph gave her an appreciative look. He lowered his voice and leaned closer while trying to keep Benjamin from tugging him away. “It’s nice to know that someone understands. I fear our father does not stop to consider that having me report to him on their behavior will not help their feelings toward me. He already favors me overmuch because I’m Rachel’s son.”
“Abba loves you, Joseph. He does not see clearly where you are concerned—or that he puts you in difficult situations.” She touched his arm. “Perhaps I can speak to him about this sometime.”
Joseph shook his head. “No. Don’t worry yourself over it. If I have too much trouble, I will talk to Father.”
Dinah lifted a brow, her expression dubious. “Sometimes he listens to me better than to any of you. Keep that in mind if you need me.” She turned, then tossed him a smile and walked off to her mother’s tent.
Joseph chuckled as he led Benjamin to greet their father. Jacob was sitting among his cushions just inside his large goat-hair tent. The sides were up to let in the breeze, and Jacob smiled as he saw them coming.
“Greetings, Abba. Did you rest well?” At over one hundred years, Jacob often rested in the heat of the day. He no longer had the strength to shepherd the flocks as he once did. Rachel’s death seemed to have aged him, despite the joy Benjamin brought to both of them.
“I did, my son.” He motioned with a veined hand for Joseph to come closer and sit beside him. Joseph did as he was asked. “Tell me, how did it go in the fields today? Have the sons of my concubines returned with you?”
Joseph glanced at Benjamin, who had picked up a wooden stick and was attempting to put it in his mouth. Joseph took the stick from him and offered him a small wooden toy he used to play with. He looked once more at his father. “They are taking the flock to greener pastures and staying in one of the caves tonight. They did not wish to return to camp just yet.”