“Joseph should be returning soon with news of his brothers,” Jacob said to his father. “Perhaps his brothers will come with him.” It would be good to have his family all around him again.
“I look forward to hearing from all of them,” Isaac said, “though I particularly enjoy Joseph’s company. He is the most interested in learning about the things of the past.” A slight smile lifted the corners of his mouth, and Jacob wished not for the first time that he had returned home with his family far sooner than he had. If his children had grown up around his father instead of Laban, how much different might their lives have been?
But some things could not be changed.
The sound of someone running into the camp caught his attention, and he shaded his eyes to see one of his servants approach.
“My lord.” The young man fell to his knees at Jacob’s feet. In his outstretched arms he presented a cloak to Jacob. “My lord . . .” He paused, seeming reluctant, and Jacob looked more closely at the cloak, his mind reeling with recognition. “I received this with a message from your sons, asking if you recognize this as your son’s coat.”
Jacob’s body suddenly shook with violent force. He could barely lift his arms to take the coat from the servant. Tenderly he pulled it closer and saw the rips in the fabric, the dark stain of blood down the front of it. He rocked back and forth, unable to move or breathe. As though a deep pit opened to swallow him, he sensed that he was falling . . . falling . . .
“No!” He dropped the coat and raised shaking arms to grab the neck of his tunic. He pulled down with all of his strength, ripping the garment in two. “Joseph!” His voice sounded like the cry of a wounded animal. A thousand scenarios filled his mind. A lion or a bear must have mauled Joseph.
“What is it, my son?” His father’s voice came from some distant place.
Jacob turned his head, trying to make sense of his words. He stared at the servant as if in a dream. “You say my sons found this and sent it to me? Are they on their way?”
“Yes, my lord. They are coming quickly.”
Jacob stared at the lad, not really seeing him. “It is my son’s robe,” he said, his tone flat, as lifeless as he felt. “A wild animal must have eaten him. Joseph has clearly been torn to pieces!”
“What?” Isaac cried out, and Jacob realized his father was still sitting there hearing everything. “Impossible! Our God was with him. He would have protected him.”
Footsteps and the voices of women drew his attention from his father, and Dinah rushed to his side. “Abba! What is it?” She quickly turned her head away from her father’s exposed skin, jumped up, and hurried into his tent. She returned with the burlap he had worn for Rachel and covered him.
Her hand on his arm caused him to look into her teary eyes. “What happened, Abba?”
A guttural cry escaped his lips in response. “Joseph! My son, my son! If only I had died instead of you.”
He continued to weep and refused food and drink. Dinah did not speak again but sat beside him and took his hand, sitting in silence. Leah and his concubines also joined him in wearing burlap and sat in a circle of grief, each putting ashes on their heads.
No one spoke as Jacob continued to rock back and forth, his heart torn as if someone had ripped it from his chest. He drew breath, but it did not relieve the hard lump in his throat. Joseph! Joseph! Why, Adonai?
Time seemed to stand still, and he barely noticed his sons as they entered the camp. When at last they joined the circle with his wives, Jacob summoned his raw voice to ask, “Did you bring his body? I need to see his body.”
Reuben shook his head, but Judah spoke first. “We did not see a body, just the coat. We looked, but there was no sign of him.” His glance skipped from his father to his feet. Was he ashamed or embarrassed?
A thousand thoughts flitted through Jacob’s mind, but he could not land on one that made sense for why they could not find his son’s body. He wanted to give his Joseph a proper burial.
Of course, he couldn’t, because the animal probably left nothing to bury. The thought brought another deep moan from within him, and great sobs wracked his body.
“Abba,” Dinah said near his ear once his sobs had subsided and he managed to calm. “Joseph is with God now, Abba.” Her voice was a mere whisper. “We can take comfort in that, can’t we?”
“There is no comfort in this,” he said, looking into her large eyes and her tear-soaked face. “I will go to my grave mourning for my son.” He did not think he had any tears left within him, but they came again, and he could not stop the anguish that kept rolling over him in waves. If only he could lie in the dust and join Joseph and Rachel. Maybe Sheol would give him comfort.
13
EGYPT
Joseph’s ankles grew raw from rubbing against the iron shackles, and his eyes stung from the dust and tears he could not stop as he shuffle-walked the many miles to Egypt. At last, the Nile Delta came into view, and the atmosphere of the caravan of men lightened. They arrived at the marketplace, and one by one the men halted the camels and Joseph could at last stand still.
He looked around him, heard the sound of a strange tongue, a language he did not understand. The caravan master approached him after what seemed like hours and at last released him from the camel’s side and removed the shackles from his feet. He did not remove the iron collar, and though Joseph was strong and might have fought to free himself, he submitted instead. It would do no good for him to flee. He would die before he could ever reach his home in Hebron.
“This way,” the caravan master said, tugging not so gently on the chain and forcing Joseph forward.
They moved through the stalls of wares, the likes of which Joseph had never seen, and came to a stone platform. The other slaves, led by other men from the caravan, were being forced up the steps, and Joseph soon followed.
A crowd of men, soldiers, and well-dressed businessmen, among others, surrounded the platform while the caravan master spoke to them in their language. Joseph would be sold to one of these men as his slave. The thought was not new to him, as he’d considered it from the moment Judah had sold him to the Ishmaelite traders.
But he hadn’t expected what lay before him now. He watched, wary, his gaze moving from one man to another. Please, Adonai, let the man who purchases me be kind. If he were forced to do manual labor, he would do it. But he hoped they didn’t beat their slaves for failing to meet standards they could not know. How would he know what was expected if he could not understand their language?
A tall, well-dressed soldier, with no beard beneath the strap of his helmet and dark hair just visible above his brows, approached him and looked him up and down. He wore many gold and silver decorations, telling Joseph that this man was one of renown. Joseph kept his gaze averted, as he expected servants did. The man touched Joseph’s chin and forced his gaze to meet his. Joseph looked into his eyes, unwavering. The man walked around him, looked him up and down again, and at last said something to the caravan master. He then handed the man a pouch and retrieved a key from him, then took the chain attached to the collar around Joseph’s neck and led him down the steps.
The man handed the chain to a servant, who followed behind his master’s precise, quick steps. Joseph nearly matched the long strides and might have overtaken him if not for the collar.