Two days later, Joseph came to the place where the town of Shechem had been. The grass was green in some spots and brown in others. He wandered from the ruins of the city to the pastures where his brothers once kept their father’s flocks. From the amount of recent animal dung and short-cropped grasses, it was obvious shepherds had been there.
So where were they now? Had they left Jacob’s camp to set up their own?
The thought was ludicrous and he knew it. Some of them had wives they would not have left behind, and they would not steal their father’s livestock.
He looked from left to right, turned in a circle, and looked more. He spotted a man walking toward him, probably from one of the neighboring villages that lay in the shadow of Mount Gerizim.
“What are you looking for?” the man asked as he came within earshot of Joseph. He was dressed in the manner of those who tended livestock, though he had no animals following him at the moment.
“I’m looking for my brothers,” Joseph said, straightening to his full height. The man did not intimidate him, but he had learned from his dealings with his brothers that it was always better to show confidence. “Do you know where they are pasturing their sheep?”
“Yes,” the man said, looking Joseph up and down. “There were ten of them?”
“Yes, ten men with many sheep and goats.”
The man nodded. “They have moved on from here, but I heard them say, ‘Let’s go on to Dothan.’”
“Dothan?” That was only another day’s walk north and west. He could be there by early tomorrow.
“Yes,” the man said. “They seemed eager to leave this place.” His look told Joseph that he had recognized his brothers from their years of sojourning here. Perhaps they had feared to stay in a place where the inhabitants of the neighboring towns had long memories and unfriendly faces.
Joseph assessed the man, wondering if he had intimidated his brothers into leaving. “Thank you for your help.” He touched his head in respect and waited for the man to do the same.
“You looked like you needed some. Glad to be of service to you, my lord.” The man turned and walked away, his words catching Joseph off guard. My lord?
He glanced at his robe. Had the man thought him a prince? And yet, why else would he address him in such a manner? Joseph waited until the man was some distance beyond him, then turned and began his journey toward Dothan.
10
DOTHAN
Judah looked up from examining one of the lambs that had gotten caught in a bramble bush and peered in the direction of Shechem. They’d been in Dothan for over a week now, and no one from the area of Shechem had followed them. He had rested more easily last night, knowing they were safer here.
But sudden movement like a dark shadow caught his eye, and he lifted a hand to shade his view. Someone was coming from the area of Shechem. Had he grown comfortable too quickly? Yet it was not an army of men who approached but a lone figure.
Judah straightened and sent the lamb back to join the others while he strode slowly closer to the person walking toward them. He blinked twice as his vision grew clearer, and his ever-present anger rose within him. Joseph! He would recognize that coat from any distance.
What was he doing here?
Judah whirled about and walked toward his brothers. Most of them had spread out to watch the flocks, but he motioned with a wave of his arm for them to join him.
“What is it?” Reuben asked once they had gathered.
Judah turned and pointed toward Joseph, who grew closer and more visible. “Here comes the dreamer!” he said.
“What is he doing here?” Simeon asked, his tone harsh. “Come to check up on us so he can tell Father everything we are doing wrong?”
“Maybe he wants to join us so we will bow to him!” Asher laughed, but no one else joined him.
“We should rid ourselves of him for good!” Dan said, eagerness in his gaze.
“Yes, let’s kill him!” Naphtali said. “We can kill him and throw him into one of these cisterns.” He pointed to a dry well a short distance away. “We can tell our father, ‘A wild animal has eaten him.’ Then we’ll see what becomes of his dreams!”
“No!” Reuben fairly shouted. He lowered his voice. “Let’s not kill him.” He was clearly attempting to remain calm—and keep them all calm. “Why should we shed any blood? Let’s just throw him into the empty cistern here. Then he’ll die without our laying a hand on him.”
Judah studied his oldest brother. There was something more to his suggestion than he was letting on. Perhaps Reuben intended to rescue the boy before he perished in the pit. It would put him back in the good graces of their father, especially after he’d been so foolish to take their father’s wife as though she were his own.
Judah shook his head, and a murmur of conversation erupted.
“Do you disagree with Reuben?” Levi asked. “I do! I say kill him and be done with it. Father will think he perished on the way if we return and make no mention of having ever seen Joseph.”
Judah held up a hand. “No. I do not disagree with Reuben. It is better for us not to shed the boy’s blood. How would we ever be free of bloodguilt even if our father never knew? Better to let him die in the pit.”
One by one the brothers slowly nodded in agreement. They spread out again to make Joseph think they were simply tending the sheep and goats. But the moment he arrived in their camp, Simeon and Levi grabbed him, while Dan and Judah stripped him of his robe. Then the four of them, with Reuben watching nearby, carried Joseph, screaming, toward the cistern and threw him into it. They walked away without a backward glance.
Joseph’s whole body trembled. He felt his head where it had hit the sides of the cistern on his tumble to the bottom. Blood smeared his fingers, but the gash did not seem to drip onto his tunic. He removed his turban, still shaking so badly his teeth knocked together, and felt more blood where his head began to pound.
He could barely see in the darkness in this depth, but he noticed rips in his tunic and felt the sting of scrapes on his shins and knees. He closed his eyes, still reeling from the rush of anger that had exploded against him once he set foot in the camp. His brothers had sprinted toward him from all directions, and their hands had grabbed him so quickly that he’d had no time to use his staff in defense or even consider whipping a stone into his sling.
As his ears cleared from the pounding in his head, he heard laughter in the distance and the voices of his brothers growing louder. As if they were giddy over what they had just done to him.
Had they left him here to die? He tried to move in the narrow cistern and finally managed to get his legs beneath him to stand. He leaned against the cool dirt wall, chest heaving and body shaking from the effort. He willed his limbs to obey him again as his mind whirled with a thousand questions.
Why would they do this to him? In his wildest imaginings he would not have thought them capable of such hurt toward one of their own flesh and blood. Toward others, yes. Hadn’t they destroyed the town of Shechem? But they’d been angry over Dinah’s rape. And on some level, he understood why. But sinners or not, people made in God’s image should be treated with respect.
Did they hate him as much as they’d hated the men of Shechem?