They stared at him, still clearly unbelieving.
Joseph released a pent-up sob, his voice rising as he spoke again. “So then it was not you who sent me here, but God. He made me father to Pharaoh, lord of his entire household, and ruler of all Egypt. Now hurry back to my father and say to him, ‘This is what your son Joseph says: God has made me lord of all Egypt. Come down to me; don’t delay. You shall live in the region of Goshen and be near me—you, your children and grandchildren, your flocks and herds, and all you have. I will provide for you there, because five years of famine are still to come. Otherwise you and your household and all who belong to you will become destitute.’”
He stepped even closer to them. “You can see for yourselves, and so can my brother Benjamin, that it is really I who am speaking to you. Tell my father about all the honor accorded me in Egypt and about everything you have seen. And bring my father down here quickly.”
Unable to restrain himself any longer, Joseph embraced Benjamin. Their tears mingled and their weeping sounded like that of a wounded animal. Surely his entire household could hear them!
Benjamin clung to him, and Joseph felt as if the years had melted away. He was home again, one brother among many. Wanted. Loved.
He kissed each brother on both cheeks and wept over each one.
“It is really you,” Judah said when Joseph’s weeping had quieted.
Joseph held Judah’s gaze. “Yes.”
“I wish I could take back everything I did to you, my brother.” Judah’s dark eyes filled, and Joseph could see the tearstains on his cheeks. “I could not bear it, nor could I forget you. I left Father for over twenty years, for I could not bear to see the sorrow in his eyes over your loss.”
Joseph studied this brother who had once hated him the most. “Where did you go?” What had changed Judah so much that he would give his life for Benjamin’s?
“Canaan. I married, had three sons . . . then two more by my daughter-in-law.” Judah’s skin darkened, and he bowed his head as though he was ashamed.
Joseph clasped his hands behind his back, trying to make sense of Judah’s comment. “I don’t understand.”
Judah looked up. “It is a long story.”
“I want to hear it.”
“My wife and two oldest sons, the husbands of my daughter-in-law Tamar, had died. By rights, I should have given her to my third son so she could bear a son for my oldest. But I feared she was evil and had caused the deaths of the oldest two. So I withheld my third son from her.”
Joseph rubbed the back of his neck. So Judah’s life had carried its own hardship. “You have lost much.” A sense of sadness filled him, surprising him. Shouldn’t he be glad that the one who had hurt him the most had also suffered? But he wasn’t.
“You will ask me why I have two sons by my daughter-in-law.” Judah interrupted his musings and held Joseph’s steady gaze. There was no hint of the disdain he had portrayed in bygone years.
“You do not have to tell me.”
“Canaanites do not believe as we do. I thought I could run away from God in their land, but I found only trouble and sorrow.” He glanced at Benjamin. “I owed Tamar the right to bear a child, but instead I sent her home. Then my wife died, and a year later on my way to shear the sheep, Tamar dressed as a prostitute and met me at one of the towns along the road. I convinced her to let me sleep with her. When I later discovered she was pregnant by prostitution, I wanted her to die. To pay for the loss of my two sons.”
He paused, and Joseph touched his shoulder.
Judah shook his head. “I realized that when I hated someone, I wanted them to die. Like I did you.”
Joseph’s stomach twisted with the memories. Judah truly had hated him. He was filled with doubt that Judah’s love for their father had truly changed him so much.
“But the child was mine,” Judah continued, “and she proved it. It was then that I finally saw how cruel I had been to you, to Father, to Tamar, to my mother, to Dinah, and to God.”
Joseph stood still, his mind whirling. “I was hurt the most by you, Judah. After my mother died, I thought you cared. But then you didn’t.”
“I know. There is no excuse for what I did. I hope one day you can forgive me.”
A weighty silence fell between them while the conversations of their other brothers went on around them. Did they all have stories like this to tell? But Judah’s was the one Joseph had wanted to know the most.
“Did you ever care for me?” Joseph fairly whispered.
Judah straightened. “I would be lying if I told you that I did. When you were born, Father treated you as the only son and the rest of us as his servants. That may not have been what he thought, but it’s how his actions felt to us. To me. I was too immature to realize that you did not choose to be favored.”
“I was a little spoiled,” Joseph admitted, “so likely didn’t make myself easy to love.”
“Love is something I’m only beginning to understand,” Judah said.
“Did you marry Tamar?” The action wouldn’t seem strange to the Egyptians, who often married within the family to secure a kingdom or dynasty.
Judah shuddered. “No. Never. She had twins, which is why I have two sons by her.”
Joseph smiled. “I would like to meet these twins.”
“I would be honored for you to meet them, my lord . . . Joseph.” Judah gave him a quizzical look.
“I will always be Joseph to you, Judah, and to all of my family.” Joseph glanced at the others, who had stopped talking to listen. Judah’s words had shaken him. “You have changed.” He looked Judah up and down and could not mistake the deep regret in his gaze. A part of him fought the doubt that any of them could change so much. But hadn’t they proven themselves worthy? And didn’t God forgive sins? Who was he to question God’s ways? How could he do any less than forgive as God had forgiven him?
“I hope so, Joseph.” Judah put an arm around Benjamin. “I’m glad I lived to see this day when you could reunite with your brother.”
“Brothers.” Joseph looked over the group again. They still stared at him as though he were a foreigner. “You must not blame yourself.” He smiled. “It is as I said. God sent me here. Though he used your anger to cause you to sin against me, I do not blame you. I know everything happened for a reason. Perhaps to all of us. Now we know what that reason was.” He drank in the sight of each one, realizing that he had missed them, despite everything. He had missed them because he loved them.
“Father will not believe you still live,” Benjamin said.
“Then you must convince him.” Joseph stepped closer and hugged Benjamin again.
“I missed you,” Benjamin said softly, and Joseph saw again the baby brother he’d left behind. “I didn’t get the chance to grow old enough to know you, and suddenly you were gone. Father and Dinah did not let me forget you, and Father’s sorrow kept you always in my mind and heart.”
“But now you can come here, and we will have all the time we want.” Joseph released Benjamin, then once more met Judah’s humble gaze. “You truly would have given your life for his.”
Judah nodded. “I could not make Father’s life worse than I already had. Benjamin is his life. At least I could have given him that.” He glanced down as if he had yet to accept forgiveness from God. Perhaps he was waiting for Joseph to forgive him too.