Jacob walked toward his father’s tent. Enough time had passed since his talk with Reuben that his attempt to force his sons’ attitudes to change toward Joseph should have shown by now. But they hadn’t. Why was it so hard for them to get along? Even Leah and Rachel had become friends later in life. But men and women did not think alike, of that he was sure!
He moved slowly, his limp more pronounced today. He could not walk without aid, not since that night when he had wrestled with the Lord and felt His touch near his hip. He would never be vigorous again or able to run as he had in his youth. It was the price he had paid for wanting God to bless him, and for thinking he could force God to do his will. Was he still doing the same thing?
He entered his father’s tent and nodded to the servant to leave them. He came in slowly. “Father, it is I, Jacob. I have come to speak with you.”
“Jacob. Come, come. Sit here and rest awhile.” Isaac’s voice had grown thin with age, but when Jacob took his hand, he found his grip still strong.
Jacob lowered himself onto a plush cushion and laid the staff on the ground beside him.
“Tell me, now, my son. What brings you to my tent in the middle of the day?”
“I need your advice.” Jacob folded his hands in his lap and tugged on his belt. “I am having a problem with my sons and the way they treat Joseph. I want them to respect Joseph because he is my intended heir. When I die, he will be in charge of all I have. But his brothers treat him with disdain even in my presence, despite my insistence that they do not.”
Isaac nodded, his white hair wispy about his ears and his beard hanging long and thick. “How well I remember,” he said, his blind eyes looking into a distance that only his mind could see. “If I had listened to your mother and accepted what the Lord had said, that the older would serve the younger, you would not have faced Esau’s hostility. We should not have favored different sons. Esau should have been taught from birth that you were my heir.”
“Abraham faced the same problem between you and Ishmael,” Jacob said, trying to soften his father’s regrets.
“Yes, but my father sent all my half brothers away, including those born to Keturah after my mother died. I alone lived to inherit all that he had.” Isaac faced Jacob and reached to pat his knee.
“But now I have twelve sons from four different mothers. I cannot send ten of them away and give all I have to Joseph and Benjamin. But Joseph will get a double portion. And he should be given the knowledge of how to run my estate. But even as I give him authority, my other sons do not recognize it. What can I do, Father?” Jacob did not expect to sound so desperate, but he did not want to see Joseph sent away because of the hostility of his brothers, as he himself had been when Esau’s anger threatened his life.
“Why not show them outright that Joseph will receive the rights of the firstborn by giving him an object that sets him apart now?” Isaac said, his words coming slow and wobbly, as though he had already said more than he had strength for.
“An object? Do you have a suggestion?”
Isaac reached for the goatskin at his side and took a drink from it. He swallowed, silence falling between them. Jacob waited. He knew better than to grow impatient with his aged father.
“Perhaps give him your signet ring or your cords.”
Jacob searched his father’s face, wishing in that moment that they could make eye contact. “I don’t know . . .” He wasn’t ready to give those personal items to anyone. He intended to live a good deal longer before he gave such a blessing to Joseph. Hadn’t his father done so too soon? How different his life could have been.
Then again, there was the coat he’d been planning, though he did not intend to give it to Joseph for some time yet. Not until he was older, married, with sons of his own. By then his brothers would have settled down, and perhaps they would all get along better. Surely he still had plenty of time for such decisions.
“Have you something else in mind?” Isaac asked, interrupting his thoughts.
Jacob glanced toward Elkan’s tents where the wool was kept. “I have had something in mind, but I have not thought the time right.”
“Tell me,” Isaac said, turning to face Jacob, his expression earnest.
Jacob closed his eyes, envisioning a plan that had formed in his mind several years before. A plan he had thought foolish at the time. He wasn’t really going to give in to it, was he? He drew a breath. What could it hurt to tell his father?
“I have been saving the best of the wool to have a colorful coat made for Joseph, one with gold threads woven within the fabric. But I did not plan to give it to him until he is older. Much older.”
“It sounds like something a king might wear.” Isaac’s brows knit ever so slightly. Did he disapprove of Jacob’s desire?
“I would not want it to be as elaborate as a king’s cloak. Perhaps I should leave out the gold threads, but a robe that blends many colors . . .” He paused, not sure how else to describe what he imagined.
“Your other sons will be jealous, Jacob, no matter how long you wait. You know they will.”
His father’s words did not sit well with him. He had expected his father to support him.
“Was it not your idea to give him a symbol to set him apart? What better way to show it? My ring will be his when I leave this earth, but what good will my items of authority do him while I yet live? I should think those would be worse for Joseph than a simple coat.” Jacob heard the terseness in his voice and drew in a breath to realign his thoughts.
“I suppose you make a good point. But I might caution you to not make the coat too colorful or too different from what his brothers wear. Just enough.” Isaac smiled, and though his father couldn’t see it, Jacob returned the gesture.
“Thank you, Father. I will see to it then. I will have to decide who to weave it for me. I cannot ask Leah, though her weaving is superb. It will have to be a servant, I think.” He scratched his beard.
“Leah does make fine garments. Perhaps Dinah would enjoy the work.”
Dinah. She already took care of Benjamin and was kind to Joseph above all others in the family. Yes, perhaps she could make it. Would he have to tell her why or whom it was for?
“I will think on it,” Jacob said, slowly rising. “Thank you, Father. I must be going now, but your advice has helped me.”
“It is always good to see you, Son.” Isaac did not attempt to rise, so Jacob bent to kiss his cheeks, then bid him farewell again and left the tent.
He would not seek out Dinah. Not yet. His mind whirled with the conversation. Was a special coat a good idea? It pleased him, as Joseph pleased him, but still . . . what would Dinah say? Or Leah?
5
Joseph emerged from his tent to find Dinah approaching, Benjamin in tow.
“Peace be upon you today, Joseph,” Dinah said, releasing Benjamin’s hand, allowing him to run toward their father’s tent. “He is anxious to see his father today.” She smiled, though Joseph always found a hint of sadness in her eyes.
“And upon you, my sister.” He took her hand. “I hope you are well.”
She nodded and lowered her gaze. “I am as well as I will ever be.” She looked up as he let go of her hand.