He leaned against the cushions, defeat settling through him. Was she right? Would his gift cause harm instead of the good he anticipated?
“I do not mean to offend you, Abba. It is merely a suggestion that seemed wise.” She slowly stood, but he remained seated, clinging to the coat.
The weaving was superb, the feel of the fabric exquisite. Not even he or his father had worn a robe so well woven. The colors would shine in the light of day, but even in the darker tent, they were easy to separate. Dinah had woven them in order of each son’s birth.
“You have done an excellent job, my daughter,” he said again after turning the robe over and over in his hands. He would enjoy wearing it, but that had not been his desire. How could he deny his heart’s desire?
Neither of them spoke until at last Dinah took a step away from him. “If there is nothing else then . . .” She met his gaze, a question in her eyes. She obviously wanted to know if he would take her suggestion, but she wouldn’t ask again.
“I will think on your request,” he said. He laid the robe aside and pushed to his feet. He walked her to the tent door and kissed both of her cheeks. “Thank you.”
She smiled. “I am glad you like it, Abba.”
He nodded. He liked it more than he could say. He just didn’t like her mother’s assumption or their suggestion.
A week later, once Joseph’s brothers had returned from taking the sheep and goats and oxen to greener pastures, Jacob called them all together. They sat around the fire to eat as usual, but there was a festive feeling in the air, mainly because Jacob made it so.
Joseph sat beside Dinah while Benjamin played at her feet in the dirt. He watched the boy as Dinah coaxed him to eat between moments of play. What might his life be like without his brother? He dismissed the thought and focused on the stew still left on his clay plate. His father had killed two young goats for this meal, and wine flowed from the newest pressings of a month ago.
Laughter came from across the circle, and Joseph looked up to see Judah and Simeon slapping each other on the back. He could only imagine what they were laughing about. Not one of his brothers looked in his direction, but he pushed the hurt aside and again watched Benjamin.
Joseph turned at his father’s hearty chuckle. “What has you in such a merry mood tonight, Father?” he asked. “It is not a new moon feast or some other celebration that I’ve forgotten, is it?” He glanced at Isaac, who also seemed in brighter spirits. What was going on?
“I have a surprise, my son.” His father beamed at Joseph as though he could not contain his joy.
“I look forward to hearing what it is.” Joseph searched his father’s face but was not able to draw from his expression even a hint of what he was thinking.
“You will soon see, my son.” Jacob smiled, then set his food aside and slowly stood and hobbled to the center of the group. Silence followed as everyone turned their attention to him. “For some time now I have wanted to designate my heir,” he said. “I know that I may yet live many years, but since no one knows the day of his death, we must be prepared for one of you to lead the others. This does not mean that you will not all have your share in my inheritance. But the firstborn rights mean that he gets the double portion.” He paused, looking from one son to another.
Joseph watched his brothers and saw their lips drawn in thin lines, their furrowed brows. They did not like the focus of his father’s words.
“As you know, Reuben, the first show of my manhood, defiled my concubine some years ago and lost his right as firstborn son. That only leaves me one firstborn of a first wife to put in his place.” He turned to face Joseph and motioned him to stand. “That man is Joseph.” He glanced toward a servant, who held something colorful in her hands.
She came forward and handed the object to Jacob.
“I have had a robe of many colors—of all of your colors—made for Joseph,” Jacob said. “This will show that he is my intended heir if I go to my fathers before I expect to. I want you to respect him and follow his lead should that be necessary. He will handle my affairs, as he has already begun to do. You will still rule over your own portions of land, once we have land to rule, but in the meantime, Joseph will be head of the tribes of Israel in my place once I am gone.”
Jacob released a breath as though winded, then took the robe and draped it over Joseph’s shoulders. “Put it on,” he said quietly.
Joseph did as he was instructed, the heat in his face not coming from the central fire. He could feel the anger brewing all around him, but he put his arms through the sleeves and tied the sash. He looked down at the robe that fell to his ankles, a robe of near royalty, with colors that represented them all.
“Thank you, Father,” he said, offering his best smile despite the sudden knot in his stomach. He could not disappoint the only one who truly loved him. No matter what his brothers thought of him, he could never hurt his father.
7
Judah strode from the central fire as soon as his father ended his speech and Joseph wore the offending robe. He would not sit and listen to another word. Simeon and Levi followed next, and soon all of his brothers and half brothers had fallen into line behind him. He bypassed his tent and left the compound, seething.
“It is an outrage!” Simeon said, hurrying to catch up with Judah’s long strides. “And an insult to our mother! To all of us!” His words held venom as his voice rose in a near shout.
Judah stopped near the edge of a small forest and faced his brothers. “Keep your voice down, Simeon.” He wanted to roar even louder, but they dared not let their father hear them. “We must talk, but we don’t want word to get back to Father . . . or Joseph.” He spat his brother’s name like a curse.
“What are we going to do? We can’t change what Father has done.” Reuben moved closer to Judah. “It is my fault that he chose Joseph over me. You know what I did.”
Judah stared at his older brother, certain that Reuben had made amends for his misdeeds often enough. He didn’t need to defend their father’s actions. “Father could have overlooked and forgiven your sin,” Judah said.
“You know he would never do that,” Issachar said. “Father has always favored Joseph. Why are we surprised by this?”
“It is as though he has made Joseph king over us!” Judah’s tone hardened, and he tamped his anger down. “I will not be ruled by a selfish boy.”
“No one is saying you will have to be. Our father is still in good health,” Levi said, his arms lifted in appeal. “You know how long our grandfather has lived, and our father could live many, many more years. Joseph has a coat. What does it matter? We will still live our lives as we have always lived them.”
“Father loves Joseph more,” Naphtali said, a hint of sadness in his tone.
Silence followed the remark. They all knew it was true, but Judah hated the reminder, and the coat just added to that in a blatant way. “Well, let him. We don’t need Father’s approval. We don’t need anyone’s approval save our own. I for one am not going to pay any attention to what this night was meant to prove or disprove. Let Father celebrate what he thinks is good. We will show him that Joseph is not one of us. He will never be considered our brother.”