Joseph Part 1: Exile
Principal Characters
Abida (a-bee’-da) – young merchant, husband of Fayed’s daughter, tells of two dreams
Ali (Ah-lee’) – merchant who traded with Petra for Joseph’s (Rachel’s) ring
Asenath (Aw-sa-nath’) - Wife of Joseph. abandoned infant, daughter of Dinah and Shechem, mother of Manasseh, Ephraim
Jacob/Israel – patriarch, son of Isaac, father of Joseph
Joseph (Joe’-sef, Hebrew Yo-sef’ “He will add”) - 1st son of Rachel, 11th son of Jacob/Israel
Kedar (Kay’dar) – Teyma’s son
Leah (Lee’ ah “mistress of the house”) – 1st wife of Jacob/Israel, mother of 6 sons of Jacob/Israel: Reuben, Simeon, Levi, Judah, Issachar and Zebulun.
Meera (Mee’-ra) - Temptress in the Tent of the gods
Miriam – Teyma’s daughter
Petra – Teyma’s helper
Rachel (Ray’-chull “ewe,”) – 2nd wife of Jacob/Israel, sons Joseph, Benjamin
Talia (Ta-lee’-ah) - Teyma’s wife
Teyma (Tay’-ma) – trader who buys Joseph from half-brothers
1.1 The End of an Age
Beneath the thorn Bush
There was no king in Canaan. At least, not in the sense that we think of them now.
Yes, there were men in cities of a few hundred souls who went by a title indicating they had power over others. But this had been true since soon after the time of Noah, when there were but 8 souls, and back far before the time of the Flood, as well. Wherever two or more are gathered, one seems to strive to establish his power.
Nomads who roamed the lands often found themselves at odds with those who had settled into communities, enclosed land, and sought to broaden their borders. Living free had its uncertainties, but a close alignment with nature that was free to everyone offered an attractive independence.
Teyma was the rare person who bridged both worlds.
His mother had died birthing a dead child, and his father had died of a cut that became infected, poisoning his body. The teenager learned the art of self-sufficiency by necessity. A knack for trading that earned him a surplus gave him independence, while the devastating experience of his losses had taught him compassion.
Teyma developed friendships easily. He had friends who lived in Canaan and the area northward almost to the Euphrates. There he traded for the spices, herbs, incense, and oils valued highly in Egypt.
Other small items of interest, from semi-precious stones to truly valuable gems, made his small inventory valuable, worth the months of travel to Egypt and then back through the land north of Canaan.
And occasionally he would find a person who would be of interest to bring to Egypt. He did not transport slaves for the mines or laborers for construction. These were of little value, and he abhorred the way the Egyptians treated such slaves as little more than animals.
But the men and women who offered value for their master, some skill or knowledge that would earn a high price, these he would transport. They would be valuable to their new owners and would be as members of the household, perhaps even becoming joined with the family itself.
And in return for the treasures brought from the north, the Egyptians would give soft linens, the unusual spices and oils of their own region, and artistic works in gold and silver, adornments for the wealthy among the lands northward. Coins of gold and silver were exchanged, as well, although Teyma preferred goods.
Yes, Teyma’s trade was an honorable profession, and he had gained a wife and a family, supporting them with the proceeds of his labor of love.
He traveled north in the summer months, more as a visitor among friends than a man at his labor. And he would winter in the warmth of Egypt, sharing his goods with those who wielded power and influence there.
At this particular time, he traveled south through Canaan with his wife, young son, and younger daughter, still nursing with her mother. The weather was clear, friends plentiful, and life was good.
They had encamped in a familiar place, waking to a beautiful day in a land rich with promise.
Teyma, propped up on one elbow on his mat, used his other hand to wipe the sleep from his eyes. The streaks of early morning light did not stretch into the tent, but he knew they were there, almost as if they carried their own scent.
Today was another travel day. He had done well on this journey, now carrying a great deal of goods for the Egyptians. Through friendship and years of listening, they had become friends and he knew the desires of their hearts, just as with his friends here in the north.
He stretched as he rose to a standing position and made his way to open the flap of the tent to the dawn. He glanced back toward his wife, surprised she had not yet stirred.
His son slept in the other compartment, but the small one lay sleeping on her mother. She was old enough not to have to stay with her mother all night, but the morning frequently found her with an arm thrown over her mother’s figure, resting in the rhythmic reassurance of the rising and falling of her mother’s breathing, stirring memories without pictures from before her birth.
Yes, he was grateful.
Teyma walked away from the tent to relieve himself, but he heard a whimper, almost like a crying child. There was not enough light yet to see anything other than dark forms, but he moved toward the sound, which became more insistent as he approached.
The cry seemed to come from a thorn bush. Asenath, he had heard the people farther north call this bush. Something stirred beneath the barbed limbs.
Stooping down, he saw a woolen bundle. With one hand he lifted a low branch while the other scooped up the small package. He felt the movement on the palm of his hand at the same time as a tiny cry cut through the coolness of the early morning air.
He held a child! Its face appeared in a small oval opening of the wool, blue eyes staring intently at the strange man.
Carefully he placed his other hand beneath the end opposite from which the cry had come. Attempting to give reassurance and calm this tiny infant, he rocked the woolen ball in his arms, cooing and speaking with his softest voice.
The soft bundle secure, Teyma became aware that there was another presence. The child had not been left there to die, but to be found.
Cooing to the child, gently rocking the ball of wool, Teyma paced in a small circle. His head faced downward, seemingly intent on the foundling, but his eyes searched the surroundings through the brush and his own bushy brows.
Yes, there he was! Teyma discerned a face peering through the limbs of a bush, hidden but exposed enough to see and to be seen. The eyes were old and the beard full gray, even in the sparse light creeping over the horizon.
A moment later, he remembered and he understood.
While in the land that had once belonged to Hamor, Teyma had heard the story of what had happened almost a year ago. The wedding of Hamor’s son, Shechem, had become a blood bath.
Incensed that Shechem already had lain with their sister and now presumed to take her as his wife, two sons of Jacob had tricked Hamor and Shechem. Agreeing to the marriage of their sister to Shechem, they had set only one condition: all the men must be circumcised.
While the men suffered the painful after effects of this cutting of flesh, the brothers murdered Hamor, Shechem, and the men of their household. The sons of Jacob had then plundered all that the family had owned.
The old man, Jacob, no doubt feared for the life of this bastard child at the hands of sons who were known to be bloodthirsty and heartless. The grandfather could not control the sons, but he could save his grandchild.
Teyma felt great empathy for the child and the grandfather. Loss of family for one, loss of legacy for the other, and neither loss was justifiable. Love was to be the casualty of heartless violence once again. But in an act of sacrificial love, an old man and an infant would give love and life another chance.
Turning back toward his tent, Teyma was honored to be part of this victory. He rocked the child gently, cooing and talking to it as if it were his own. The child seemed content, quietly looking at the face swaying above.
At the Bottom (some 10 years later)
Directly above him, the jagged edges of what appeared as a blue moon broke the blackness of what must be eternal night. Though the sky was so bright above, its golden sun somewhere out of sight, no light reached the darkened depths in which he stood.
Joseph’s neck ached from looking upward as he tried to discern some way out of the pit, this dry well. Though he had ample room on the rough rocky floor – the walls about him were beyond the fingertips of his outstretched arms – the opening above had been only slightly larger than his own body. His tomb was a pyramid of air within a frame of rock, unseen walls narrowing above him, funneling the darkness up into the blue.
Lowering his gaze from the impossible escape route above, his eyes again attempted adjustment to the blackness that engulfed him. Even at their best, his eyes could discern little around him. He took a step to his right and the wall leaped out at him, suddenly in his face just past his nose.
Turning 180 degrees, he was able to take two steps before coming face to stone again. Likewise, there were almost two paces across the floor as he moved from right to left across the faint light, barely discernable, falling limply through the darkness like a rainy mist so fine that it never hit the floor.
Were these rocks wet? He touched the walls again, and then the floor. The coolness felt damp, but there was no moisture on his fingertips.
The world above had been silent since his brothers had turned away from the opening, not a sound since their faces had disappeared. Weaker than the light, no sound was strong enough to reach his ears, giving up its flight far above him.
The last that he had heard of them was a hearty laugh by Simeon, the sound of a slap on the back, and then Levi joining in the laughter as he turned away. The voices had faded to silence within seconds. Were those to be the last sounds he would hear?
Joseph thought of the anger of his father when knowledge of this act of meanness reached his ears. These brothers would wish they had not been half so rash!
But again his plight returned to him. Who would tell his father of where he was, of what these evil sons of Leah had done? Who would speak for him?
Fear gripped him as he realized that he would never leave this pit.
Indeed, it had been a false kindness his brothers had shown in lowering him gently on a rope rather than throwing him into the opening and letting him break on this all too solid floor. The finality of the act was equally certain, but how long must he wait for life to end?
This was where his bones would rest. Yes, his own cave. The burial place was right, but the timing decades too soon.
He thought of the dreams, particularly those that had angered the brothers. Were they untrue, or would God turn this pit of despair into a well of hope?
Would the presence of God descend even into this darkness, so far from the light?
“Yahweh?” Always Joseph had assumed God’s presence, but the single word he blurted was a question.
He stretched his hand out to a wall. He felt the rough texture of rock, but little that offered a hand hold. Moving his hand higher he again felt the gentle slope inward of the wall.
Stepping sideways around his cell, all too soon his tomb, he felt the same rock face, only slightly uneven, almost smooth, streaked by crevices too narrow for his fingers, let alone his feet.
How long would he last without water? How many days would he endure this? Surely there was a way out, a means to escape the thirst and starvation!
He looked up again until his neck hurt.
Joseph sank to a sitting position in the middle of the almost smooth floor and stretched his feet. They did not reach the wall. Inching toward the wall on his bottom, he raised his feet so that his legs rested against the wall vertically, his feet pointing hopelessly toward freedom.
He gently lay his head back upon the hard floor so that he looked upward directly at the sky through the funnel of rock. The blue heaven now appeared infinitely more remote than on every other day of his life.
“Think!” he told himself, but his every thought was impractical.
The impossibility of escape was unbearable, too much, too soon. Only a few hours ago had been the beginning of a beautiful morning, walking the final hour to his destination, his brothers and the sheep under their care.
Anger welled up inside of him, flooding his brain from every pore in his upside down body. And from anger against his brothers sprang hate, first because of their hatred of him that had moved them to this act, and then for the immense injustice done to him.
He savored the anger, nursing it, his gaze remaining fixed on the heavens above. He found himself balanced on a point between anger and hopelessness, but it was the anger that gave him hope.
For a while.
But the anger burnt out. A bitterness of heart grew from a slowly rising tide of self-accusation. There came the first hint that his own actions had played a dark role, but he was not ready for that knowledge and shook it off, throwing it from him into the darkness.
He focused again on the sky above, indeed, the only thing that he could really see.
After they had lowered him to the bottom, when he had first looked up, he had seen only faceless outlines against the blue heaven above. His dungeon had been reflected back from their darkened heads facing down, marring that perfect sky.
Now he lay there looking up. He closed his eyes, imagining again those faceless outlines above.
Who would weep for him?
His mother was dead. And because he was the eldest son of the favorite wife, his father would weep, also. But his father would weep because he had loved Rachel. He loved her son because of her. And now his father’s focus would move to Rachel’s last son, her only other son, the son that was the intersection of her life and death, the child given life through her death.
Loneliness sent a chill through him. Tears began to seep through his closed eyelids.
Earlier in the Day
This day had started well enough.
Joseph walked through the land, this part of Canaan that he knew so well. Now a young man (although some would dispute this, noting that he had not yet made the transition from simply being an older boy), what he had not seen of this particular region of the world was still familiar to him, all of it a unity, an understandable order.
The plains yielded to gently rolling hills, all covered with a sea of grasses that fed the flocks. Trees and brush were merely outlines for the treasure of the fields.
Streams watered the land when the rains did not fall, and wells made up for streams that dried in summer. The rhythm of seasons was the rhythm of the flocks, and he walked in tune with it all.
In the distance stood the mountains, always in the distance, for they held no blessings for nomads like his family. Those peaks had little to offer the sheep except as fences to hold them in the grassy expanse. Beyond was an unknown world, and Joseph was content to let the mystery of distant lands remain so.
No king other than God ruled this world, and there was no family so blessed as that of Joseph’s father, once known as Jacob, now called Israel, he will rule of God. The flocks grew larger, and the animals grew fat on the land.
And wherever they roamed, Jacob assumed the vacant role of monarch. His flocks of sheep, the number and strength of his sons, plus the herdsmen who encamped about his tent, all combined to make his camp formidable in the eyes of those whom they passed.
Jacob had twelve sons, plus daughters, by four wives, or more accurately, two wives plus their handmaids.
Leah, mistress of the house, the first wife, ruled with her strong hands. She had given her husband six sons in the marathon of child-bearing. Her maidservant had given two sons during an interim when Leah thought she had given all she had.
Rachel, the ewe of the tent, a tender lamb compared to her elder sister, had yielded her strength to Leah and was the weaker in life for it. She, also, had given her maidservant to her husband so that, even if only through another, she might have an entry in the “sons” column. Two sons of her own followed two from her handmaid, but bringing forth her last son had also brought forth her dying breath.
Joseph thought of his brethren to whom he had been sent, the six sons of Leah. The other four sons were with flocks in another region, the flocks divided so that the sheep did not overgraze a smaller space. His younger full brother was not old enough for such an expedition.
Leah’s children were all older than he. His thought of them would have been based in fear if he had not had the love of the father of them all. As the oldest son of the favorite wife, he received blessings unknown to his ten older brothers. They saw the preference and were jealous, particularly these sons of Leah, but Joseph walked confidently to them, secure in his father’s love.
He walked confidently, until he was not. Standing on a slight rise in a field, Joseph searched the horizon. There was no sign of his brothers and the flocks. He did see a man walking toward him from the tree line, however.
“Are you lost, or are you looking for something?” the man called to him.
Walking closer to the fellow, Joseph spoke of his six brothers and the sheep under their care.
The man nodded, “Yes, they were near here. I spoke with them and they said that they were heading to Dothan.” He extended an arm in that direction.
“Thank you,” replied Joseph, eagerly following the man’s direction.
With that guidance, Joseph’s search at last bore fruit. He soon saw the flocks in the distance, some of his half-brothers visible among them.
One of the distant figures give a sign of recognition. The sign was not for Joseph, however, but was to alert the others of Joseph’s arrival. With his cloak of many colors, the gift of his father, he was easily identifiable, even at this great distance.
Pride washed over him, infusing him with energy and purpose. The coat was a sign of his special relationship with the father of them all.
Joseph made his way to the edge of the field where the six brothers had now gathered together. A wave of uncertainty threatened the pride of moments before, a hint of fear riding on its tail. He continued forward, striving to maintain his confidence.
The brothers appeared to be waiting for him, as if they had some evil deed in mind. Joseph lifted his head higher. Yes, they had an evil reputation, but what was that to him? They dare not hurt him.
Reuben spoke first.
“Welcome, dreamer. You have kept your pretty coat clean, but it is time to part with it.”
Simeon and Levi quickly stepped forward, each taking one of Joseph’s arms and raising it up. Simeon yanked the coat over Joseph’s head and outstretched arms. There was the sound of a tear as the fabric caught briefly on an elbow.
Levi stepped behind him and grabbed Joseph’s other arm, pinning them both behind Joseph’s back.
“We will not hurt you, little dreamer. We will not break a bone or pierce your flesh. We will just say, ‘Goodbye,’” Levi whispered into his ear.
The other four brothers had been blocking Joseph’s view of an old well behind them, a low threshold of stones lining a black hole gaping through the grasses near the edge of the field. Just beyond the stone rimmed hole a line of trees rose up.
From behind his back, Reuben brought into view a long thick rope. Handing the still coiled end to Simeon, he told Joseph to grab hold of the loose end.
“No! What are you doing?” asked Joseph, unmoving, fear and shock in his voice and visible on his face.
Reuben kept his arm extended. “This is a kindness. You can choose to be thrown into the pit, finding the bottom suddenly and violently, or you can be lowered by this rope, finding the bottom easily and comfortably.”
Joseph hesitated, looking at each brother in turn, seeking an ally. The blank stares of total strangers would have offered more hope. He grabbed the end of the rope.
Reuben began walking forward, forcing Joseph to step backward.
Simeon let out the rope as Joseph moved backward. He motioned for Levi to come grab the rope with him. Levi did not move.
“Come give a hand, Levi! We do not want to hurt the dreamer on his way down.”
Levi’s hands took hold behind Simeon’s as Joseph found himself at the precipice.
“Get over the edge of those rocks and let your feet lead you into the hole. You will not fall.”
Joseph was at the edge of the opening, Reuben giving him just enough room to maneuver over the stacked rocks, his hands tightly clutching the rope as he eased into the mouth of the well.
Feeble protests gave way to a frantic shout, “You can’t do this!” even as his feet already were dangling in mid-air above the darkness.
Judah observed, “I believe that we are doing this,” as Joseph’s trunk slid into the pit, only his head above ground level.
“Please!” He cried, but Simeon and Levi continued to let out rope, the line now pulling taut as Joseph’s full weight came to bear.
The two burly men continued to ease out the rope, Joseph now falling out of sight and into darkness.
Reuben proclaimed, “See, this is much more fun than simply killing the little dreamer.”
Joseph, looking upward, saw the receding faces looking down above him as he heard sounds of agreement.
By the time that he reached bottom, only the outline of Simeon was visible above. The voices were quickly fading as the others walked away, then Simeon telling Levi he could let go.
Simeon gave a jerk on the rope. “Let go, little dreamer!”
Joseph yelled, “You cannot leave me!”
“Let go!” The slack rope in Joseph’s hand suddenly became taut and was jerked from his grip. He sought to grab hold of the tail end but could not see it in the dark. The end of the rope appeared in the light far above and then quickly disappeared over the edge of the opening.
Simeon’s outline above disappeared, as well.
Joseph was still screaming to his brothers, but there was no response. He finally admitted to himself that they were gone.
A Bargain
Perhaps he fell asleep on the rough floor of the pit, but when his eyes opened, he saw the faceless figures above, dark outlines against the blue heaven.
He blinked. They were real! His brothers had returned!
“Are you still down there, little brother?”
The words drifted down with a soft echo. He recognized Judah’s voice.
“Are you still down there, little dreamer?”
The dark outlines of the heads above were not recognizable, but he knew Judah’s voice.
Joseph scrambled to his feet. No mocking retort or stinging rebuke came forth as it might have in earlier days and easier circumstances. A frightened voice responded, “Help me!”
“Yes, yes. Be patient.”
A rope end flew from the light into the darkness above him and hit Joseph in the face. He eagerly grabbed at it and held on tightly.
“Give me a hand, Simeon,” Joseph heard Judah command.
The rope began lifting him up. Joseph used his feet too almost walk up the wall to keep his body from banging against the hard rock as they pulled him upward. Levi’s hands reached out to help him climb out over the low rock rim, pulling his feet up over the edge.
Joseph did not know whether to be grateful or angry, but each breath of fresh air brought him closer to anger.
The brothers were talking quickly, and Joseph realized that this was a change in means of disposal of him rather than a rescue. In an instant, fear swallowed the growing anger.
The three were arguing over whether to tell their three brothers, especially Reuben, what they were doing.
Joseph did not understand what they were arguing about until Judah said, “Listen! I bargained with the trader and got 20 shekels for him. We now have 20 shekels and the dreamer gone. Why not get rid of him and be paid, as well?
“We will let the others know and share in the good fortune. Besides, we must have a story to tell father, and we must all be in agreement.”
As usual, Judah’s good sense swayed Simeon and Levi in the end.
“What do you mean that you got 20 shekels for me? What have you done?”
Joseph followed Judah’s arm, now pointing to a small caravan. Three donkeys tied together, two men, a woman, and perhaps two children stood on what passed as a road in this region, a path through the trees and out across the grassland.
“Come, little dreamer. Meet your new traveling companions.” Levi put his arm heavily across Joseph’s shoulders, pulling him toward the waiting strangers.
The three brothers, one on each side and Judah close behind, marched Joseph toward the older of the men, perhaps not yet 40, dressed in a brightly colored robe with a red kerchief bound by a cord on his head.
“Teyma, here is the lad.” Judah pushed Joseph forward so that he stood squarely in front of the man.
“He looks like a good man,” said Teyma as he walked around Joseph. He placed a hand on Joseph’s arm and then thumped his back. “Solid. Strong enough. Yes, he will find a good life with us.”
Teyma gave a nod to the younger man, who now approached Judah with a bag and passed it to him. “As we agreed,” confirmed the trader.
For Joseph, this chain of events was happening too rapidly, the sudden transitions from certain death in the pit, to rescue, and now to betrayal keeping him off balance, his mind stumbling for footing.
He finally had the presence of mind to exclaim, “You cannot sell me! I am your brother!”
“’Half-brother’, little dreamer. And when we pulled you from the pit, saving you from death, your life became ours. We own the life we save, and we sell it to the highest bidder.”
Judah laughed, and added, “You were fortunate that anyone would want you.”
Simeon and Levi had already walked several steps away. Now Judah turned and followed, calling over his shoulder, “Good journeys, Teyma. Take care of the little dreamer.”
For a moment, the group stood in silence, watching the three brothers depart, talking and laughing as they went.
Chapter 1.2
Principal Characters
Abida (a-bee’-da) – young merchant, husband of Fayed’s daughter, tells of two dreams
Ali (Ah-lee’) – merchant who traded with Petra for Joseph’s (Rachel’s) ring
Asenath (Aw-sa-nath’) - Wife of Joseph. abandoned infant, daughter of Dinah and Shechem, mother of Manasseh, Ephraim
Jacob/Israel – patriarch, son of Isaac, father of Joseph
Joseph (Joe’-sef, Hebrew Yo-sef’ “He will add”) - 1st son of Rachel, 11th son of Jacob/Israel
Kedar (Kay’dar) – Teyma’s son
Leah (Lee’ ah “mistress of the house”) – 1st wife of Jacob/Israel, mother of 6 sons of Jacob/Israel: Reuben, Simeon, Levi, Judah, Issachar and Zebulun.
Meera (Mee’-ra) - Temptress in the Tent of the gods
Miriam – Teyma’s daughter
Petra – Teyma’s helper
Rachel (Ray’-chull “ewe,”) – 2nd wife of Jacob/Israel, sons Joseph, Benjamin
Talia (Ta-lee’-ah) - Teyma’s wife
Teyma (Tay’-ma) – trader who buys Joseph from half-brothers
1.1 The End of an Age
Beneath the thorn Bush
There was no king in Canaan. At least, not in the sense that we think of them now.
Yes, there were men in cities of a few hundred souls who went by a title indicating they had power over others. But this had been true since soon after the time of Noah, when there were but 8 souls, and back far before the time of the Flood, as well. Wherever two or more are gathered, one seems to strive to establish his power.
Nomads who roamed the lands often found themselves at odds with those who had settled into communities, enclosed land, and sought to broaden their borders. Living free had its uncertainties, but a close alignment with nature that was free to everyone offered an attractive independence.
Teyma was the rare person who bridged both worlds.
His mother had died birthing a dead child, and his father had died of a cut that became infected, poisoning his body. The teenager learned the art of self-sufficiency by necessity. A knack for trading that earned him a surplus gave him independence, while the devastating experience of his losses had taught him compassion.
Teyma developed friendships easily. He had friends who lived in Canaan and the area northward almost to the Euphrates. There he traded for the spices, herbs, incense, and oils valued highly in Egypt.
Other small items of interest, from semi-precious stones to truly valuable gems, made his small inventory valuable, worth the months of travel to Egypt and then back through the land north of Canaan.
And occasionally he would find a person who would be of interest to bring to Egypt. He did not transport slaves for the mines or laborers for construction. These were of little value, and he abhorred the way the Egyptians treated such slaves as little more than animals.
But the men and women who offered value for their master, some skill or knowledge that would earn a high price, these he would transport. They would be valuable to their new owners and would be as members of the household, perhaps even becoming joined with the family itself.
And in return for the treasures brought from the north, the Egyptians would give soft linens, the unusual spices and oils of their own region, and artistic works in gold and silver, adornments for the wealthy among the lands northward. Coins of gold and silver were exchanged, as well, although Teyma preferred goods.
Yes, Teyma’s trade was an honorable profession, and he had gained a wife and a family, supporting them with the proceeds of his labor of love.
He traveled north in the summer months, more as a visitor among friends than a man at his labor. And he would winter in the warmth of Egypt, sharing his goods with those who wielded power and influence there.
At this particular time, he traveled south through Canaan with his wife, young son, and younger daughter, still nursing with her mother. The weather was clear, friends plentiful, and life was good.
They had encamped in a familiar place, waking to a beautiful day in a land rich with promise.
Teyma, propped up on one elbow on his mat, used his other hand to wipe the sleep from his eyes. The streaks of early morning light did not stretch into the tent, but he knew they were there, almost as if they carried their own scent.
Today was another travel day. He had done well on this journey, now carrying a great deal of goods for the Egyptians. Through friendship and years of listening, they had become friends and he knew the desires of their hearts, just as with his friends here in the north.
He stretched as he rose to a standing position and made his way to open the flap of the tent to the dawn. He glanced back toward his wife, surprised she had not yet stirred.
His son slept in the other compartment, but the small one lay sleeping on her mother. She was old enough not to have to stay with her mother all night, but the morning frequently found her with an arm thrown over her mother’s figure, resting in the rhythmic reassurance of the rising and falling of her mother’s breathing, stirring memories without pictures from before her birth.
Yes, he was grateful.
Teyma walked away from the tent to relieve himself, but he heard a whimper, almost like a crying child. There was not enough light yet to see anything other than dark forms, but he moved toward the sound, which became more insistent as he approached.
The cry seemed to come from a thorn bush. Asenath, he had heard the people farther north call this bush. Something stirred beneath the barbed limbs.
Stooping down, he saw a woolen bundle. With one hand he lifted a low branch while the other scooped up the small package. He felt the movement on the palm of his hand at the same time as a tiny cry cut through the coolness of the early morning air.
He held a child! Its face appeared in a small oval opening of the wool, blue eyes staring intently at the strange man.
Carefully he placed his other hand beneath the end opposite from which the cry had come. Attempting to give reassurance and calm this tiny infant, he rocked the woolen ball in his arms, cooing and speaking with his softest voice.
The soft bundle secure, Teyma became aware that there was another presence. The child had not been left there to die, but to be found.
Cooing to the child, gently rocking the ball of wool, Teyma paced in a small circle. His head faced downward, seemingly intent on the foundling, but his eyes searched the surroundings through the brush and his own bushy brows.
Yes, there he was! Teyma discerned a face peering through the limbs of a bush, hidden but exposed enough to see and to be seen. The eyes were old and the beard full gray, even in the sparse light creeping over the horizon.
A moment later, he remembered and he understood.
While in the land that had once belonged to Hamor, Teyma had heard the story of what had happened almost a year ago. The wedding of Hamor’s son, Shechem, had become a blood bath.
Incensed that Shechem already had lain with their sister and now presumed to take her as his wife, two sons of Jacob had tricked Hamor and Shechem. Agreeing to the marriage of their sister to Shechem, they had set only one condition: all the men must be circumcised.
While the men suffered the painful after effects of this cutting of flesh, the brothers murdered Hamor, Shechem, and the men of their household. The sons of Jacob had then plundered all that the family had owned.
The old man, Jacob, no doubt feared for the life of this bastard child at the hands of sons who were known to be bloodthirsty and heartless. The grandfather could not control the sons, but he could save his grandchild.
Teyma felt great empathy for the child and the grandfather. Loss of family for one, loss of legacy for the other, and neither loss was justifiable. Love was to be the casualty of heartless violence once again. But in an act of sacrificial love, an old man and an infant would give love and life another chance.
Turning back toward his tent, Teyma was honored to be part of this victory. He rocked the child gently, cooing and talking to it as if it were his own. The child seemed content, quietly looking at the face swaying above.
At the Bottom (some 10 years later)
Directly above him, the jagged edges of what appeared as a blue moon broke the blackness of what must be eternal night. Though the sky was so bright above, its golden sun somewhere out of sight, no light reached the darkened depths in which he stood.
Joseph’s neck ached from looking upward as he tried to discern some way out of the pit, this dry well. Though he had ample room on the rough rocky floor – the walls about him were beyond the fingertips of his outstretched arms – the opening above had been only slightly larger than his own body. His tomb was a pyramid of air within a frame of rock, unseen walls narrowing above him, funneling the darkness up into the blue.
Lowering his gaze from the impossible escape route above, his eyes again attempted adjustment to the blackness that engulfed him. Even at their best, his eyes could discern little around him. He took a step to his right and the wall leaped out at him, suddenly in his face just past his nose.
Turning 180 degrees, he was able to take two steps before coming face to stone again. Likewise, there were almost two paces across the floor as he moved from right to left across the faint light, barely discernable, falling limply through the darkness like a rainy mist so fine that it never hit the floor.
Were these rocks wet? He touched the walls again, and then the floor. The coolness felt damp, but there was no moisture on his fingertips.
The world above had been silent since his brothers had turned away from the opening, not a sound since their faces had disappeared. Weaker than the light, no sound was strong enough to reach his ears, giving up its flight far above him.
The last that he had heard of them was a hearty laugh by Simeon, the sound of a slap on the back, and then Levi joining in the laughter as he turned away. The voices had faded to silence within seconds. Were those to be the last sounds he would hear?
Joseph thought of the anger of his father when knowledge of this act of meanness reached his ears. These brothers would wish they had not been half so rash!
But again his plight returned to him. Who would tell his father of where he was, of what these evil sons of Leah had done? Who would speak for him?
Fear gripped him as he realized that he would never leave this pit.
Indeed, it had been a false kindness his brothers had shown in lowering him gently on a rope rather than throwing him into the opening and letting him break on this all too solid floor. The finality of the act was equally certain, but how long must he wait for life to end?
This was where his bones would rest. Yes, his own cave. The burial place was right, but the timing decades too soon.
He thought of the dreams, particularly those that had angered the brothers. Were they untrue, or would God turn this pit of despair into a well of hope?
Would the presence of God descend even into this darkness, so far from the light?
“Yahweh?” Always Joseph had assumed God’s presence, but the single word he blurted was a question.
He stretched his hand out to a wall. He felt the rough texture of rock, but little that offered a hand hold. Moving his hand higher he again felt the gentle slope inward of the wall.
Stepping sideways around his cell, all too soon his tomb, he felt the same rock face, only slightly uneven, almost smooth, streaked by crevices too narrow for his fingers, let alone his feet.
How long would he last without water? How many days would he endure this? Surely there was a way out, a means to escape the thirst and starvation!
He looked up again until his neck hurt.
Joseph sank to a sitting position in the middle of the almost smooth floor and stretched his feet. They did not reach the wall. Inching toward the wall on his bottom, he raised his feet so that his legs rested against the wall vertically, his feet pointing hopelessly toward freedom.
He gently lay his head back upon the hard floor so that he looked upward directly at the sky through the funnel of rock. The blue heaven now appeared infinitely more remote than on every other day of his life.
“Think!” he told himself, but his every thought was impractical.
The impossibility of escape was unbearable, too much, too soon. Only a few hours ago had been the beginning of a beautiful morning, walking the final hour to his destination, his brothers and the sheep under their care.
Anger welled up inside of him, flooding his brain from every pore in his upside down body. And from anger against his brothers sprang hate, first because of their hatred of him that had moved them to this act, and then for the immense injustice done to him.
He savored the anger, nursing it, his gaze remaining fixed on the heavens above. He found himself balanced on a point between anger and hopelessness, but it was the anger that gave him hope.
For a while.
But the anger burnt out. A bitterness of heart grew from a slowly rising tide of self-accusation. There came the first hint that his own actions had played a dark role, but he was not ready for that knowledge and shook it off, throwing it from him into the darkness.
He focused again on the sky above, indeed, the only thing that he could really see.
After they had lowered him to the bottom, when he had first looked up, he had seen only faceless outlines against the blue heaven above. His dungeon had been reflected back from their darkened heads facing down, marring that perfect sky.
Now he lay there looking up. He closed his eyes, imagining again those faceless outlines above.
Who would weep for him?
His mother was dead. And because he was the eldest son of the favorite wife, his father would weep, also. But his father would weep because he had loved Rachel. He loved her son because of her. And now his father’s focus would move to Rachel’s last son, her only other son, the son that was the intersection of her life and death, the child given life through her death.
Loneliness sent a chill through him. Tears began to seep through his closed eyelids.
Earlier in the Day
This day had started well enough.
Joseph walked through the land, this part of Canaan that he knew so well. Now a young man (although some would dispute this, noting that he had not yet made the transition from simply being an older boy), what he had not seen of this particular region of the world was still familiar to him, all of it a unity, an understandable order.
The plains yielded to gently rolling hills, all covered with a sea of grasses that fed the flocks. Trees and brush were merely outlines for the treasure of the fields.
Streams watered the land when the rains did not fall, and wells made up for streams that dried in summer. The rhythm of seasons was the rhythm of the flocks, and he walked in tune with it all.
In the distance stood the mountains, always in the distance, for they held no blessings for nomads like his family. Those peaks had little to offer the sheep except as fences to hold them in the grassy expanse. Beyond was an unknown world, and Joseph was content to let the mystery of distant lands remain so.
No king other than God ruled this world, and there was no family so blessed as that of Joseph’s father, once known as Jacob, now called Israel, he will rule of God. The flocks grew larger, and the animals grew fat on the land.
And wherever they roamed, Jacob assumed the vacant role of monarch. His flocks of sheep, the number and strength of his sons, plus the herdsmen who encamped about his tent, all combined to make his camp formidable in the eyes of those whom they passed.
Jacob had twelve sons, plus daughters, by four wives, or more accurately, two wives plus their handmaids.
Leah, mistress of the house, the first wife, ruled with her strong hands. She had given her husband six sons in the marathon of child-bearing. Her maidservant had given two sons during an interim when Leah thought she had given all she had.
Rachel, the ewe of the tent, a tender lamb compared to her elder sister, had yielded her strength to Leah and was the weaker in life for it. She, also, had given her maidservant to her husband so that, even if only through another, she might have an entry in the “sons” column. Two sons of her own followed two from her handmaid, but bringing forth her last son had also brought forth her dying breath.
Joseph thought of his brethren to whom he had been sent, the six sons of Leah. The other four sons were with flocks in another region, the flocks divided so that the sheep did not overgraze a smaller space. His younger full brother was not old enough for such an expedition.
Leah’s children were all older than he. His thought of them would have been based in fear if he had not had the love of the father of them all. As the oldest son of the favorite wife, he received blessings unknown to his ten older brothers. They saw the preference and were jealous, particularly these sons of Leah, but Joseph walked confidently to them, secure in his father’s love.
He walked confidently, until he was not. Standing on a slight rise in a field, Joseph searched the horizon. There was no sign of his brothers and the flocks. He did see a man walking toward him from the tree line, however.
“Are you lost, or are you looking for something?” the man called to him.
Walking closer to the fellow, Joseph spoke of his six brothers and the sheep under their care.
The man nodded, “Yes, they were near here. I spoke with them and they said that they were heading to Dothan.” He extended an arm in that direction.
“Thank you,” replied Joseph, eagerly following the man’s direction.
With that guidance, Joseph’s search at last bore fruit. He soon saw the flocks in the distance, some of his half-brothers visible among them.
One of the distant figures give a sign of recognition. The sign was not for Joseph, however, but was to alert the others of Joseph’s arrival. With his cloak of many colors, the gift of his father, he was easily identifiable, even at this great distance.
Pride washed over him, infusing him with energy and purpose. The coat was a sign of his special relationship with the father of them all.
Joseph made his way to the edge of the field where the six brothers had now gathered together. A wave of uncertainty threatened the pride of moments before, a hint of fear riding on its tail. He continued forward, striving to maintain his confidence.
The brothers appeared to be waiting for him, as if they had some evil deed in mind. Joseph lifted his head higher. Yes, they had an evil reputation, but what was that to him? They dare not hurt him.
Reuben spoke first.
“Welcome, dreamer. You have kept your pretty coat clean, but it is time to part with it.”
Simeon and Levi quickly stepped forward, each taking one of Joseph’s arms and raising it up. Simeon yanked the coat over Joseph’s head and outstretched arms. There was the sound of a tear as the fabric caught briefly on an elbow.
Levi stepped behind him and grabbed Joseph’s other arm, pinning them both behind Joseph’s back.
“We will not hurt you, little dreamer. We will not break a bone or pierce your flesh. We will just say, ‘Goodbye,’” Levi whispered into his ear.
The other four brothers had been blocking Joseph’s view of an old well behind them, a low threshold of stones lining a black hole gaping through the grasses near the edge of the field. Just beyond the stone rimmed hole a line of trees rose up.
From behind his back, Reuben brought into view a long thick rope. Handing the still coiled end to Simeon, he told Joseph to grab hold of the loose end.
“No! What are you doing?” asked Joseph, unmoving, fear and shock in his voice and visible on his face.
Reuben kept his arm extended. “This is a kindness. You can choose to be thrown into the pit, finding the bottom suddenly and violently, or you can be lowered by this rope, finding the bottom easily and comfortably.”
Joseph hesitated, looking at each brother in turn, seeking an ally. The blank stares of total strangers would have offered more hope. He grabbed the end of the rope.
Reuben began walking forward, forcing Joseph to step backward.
Simeon let out the rope as Joseph moved backward. He motioned for Levi to come grab the rope with him. Levi did not move.
“Come give a hand, Levi! We do not want to hurt the dreamer on his way down.”
Levi’s hands took hold behind Simeon’s as Joseph found himself at the precipice.
“Get over the edge of those rocks and let your feet lead you into the hole. You will not fall.”
Joseph was at the edge of the opening, Reuben giving him just enough room to maneuver over the stacked rocks, his hands tightly clutching the rope as he eased into the mouth of the well.
Feeble protests gave way to a frantic shout, “You can’t do this!” even as his feet already were dangling in mid-air above the darkness.
Judah observed, “I believe that we are doing this,” as Joseph’s trunk slid into the pit, only his head above ground level.
“Please!” He cried, but Simeon and Levi continued to let out rope, the line now pulling taut as Joseph’s full weight came to bear.
The two burly men continued to ease out the rope, Joseph now falling out of sight and into darkness.
Reuben proclaimed, “See, this is much more fun than simply killing the little dreamer.”
Joseph, looking upward, saw the receding faces looking down above him as he heard sounds of agreement.
By the time that he reached bottom, only the outline of Simeon was visible above. The voices were quickly fading as the others walked away, then Simeon telling Levi he could let go.
Simeon gave a jerk on the rope. “Let go, little dreamer!”
Joseph yelled, “You cannot leave me!”
“Let go!” The slack rope in Joseph’s hand suddenly became taut and was jerked from his grip. He sought to grab hold of the tail end but could not see it in the dark. The end of the rope appeared in the light far above and then quickly disappeared over the edge of the opening.
Simeon’s outline above disappeared, as well.
Joseph was still screaming to his brothers, but there was no response. He finally admitted to himself that they were gone.
A Bargain
Perhaps he fell asleep on the rough floor of the pit, but when his eyes opened, he saw the faceless figures above, dark outlines against the blue heaven.
He blinked. They were real! His brothers had returned!
“Are you still down there, little brother?”
The words drifted down with a soft echo. He recognized Judah’s voice.
“Are you still down there, little dreamer?”
The dark outlines of the heads above were not recognizable, but he knew Judah’s voice.
Joseph scrambled to his feet. No mocking retort or stinging rebuke came forth as it might have in earlier days and easier circumstances. A frightened voice responded, “Help me!”
“Yes, yes. Be patient.”
A rope end flew from the light into the darkness above him and hit Joseph in the face. He eagerly grabbed at it and held on tightly.
“Give me a hand, Simeon,” Joseph heard Judah command.
The rope began lifting him up. Joseph used his feet too almost walk up the wall to keep his body from banging against the hard rock as they pulled him upward. Levi’s hands reached out to help him climb out over the low rock rim, pulling his feet up over the edge.
Joseph did not know whether to be grateful or angry, but each breath of fresh air brought him closer to anger.
The brothers were talking quickly, and Joseph realized that this was a change in means of disposal of him rather than a rescue. In an instant, fear swallowed the growing anger.
The three were arguing over whether to tell their three brothers, especially Reuben, what they were doing.
Joseph did not understand what they were arguing about until Judah said, “Listen! I bargained with the trader and got 20 shekels for him. We now have 20 shekels and the dreamer gone. Why not get rid of him and be paid, as well?
“We will let the others know and share in the good fortune. Besides, we must have a story to tell father, and we must all be in agreement.”
As usual, Judah’s good sense swayed Simeon and Levi in the end.
“What do you mean that you got 20 shekels for me? What have you done?”
Joseph followed Judah’s arm, now pointing to a small caravan. Three donkeys tied together, two men, a woman, and perhaps two children stood on what passed as a road in this region, a path through the trees and out across the grassland.
“Come, little dreamer. Meet your new traveling companions.” Levi put his arm heavily across Joseph’s shoulders, pulling him toward the waiting strangers.
The three brothers, one on each side and Judah close behind, marched Joseph toward the older of the men, perhaps not yet 40, dressed in a brightly colored robe with a red kerchief bound by a cord on his head.
“Teyma, here is the lad.” Judah pushed Joseph forward so that he stood squarely in front of the man.
“He looks like a good man,” said Teyma as he walked around Joseph. He placed a hand on Joseph’s arm and then thumped his back. “Solid. Strong enough. Yes, he will find a good life with us.”
Teyma gave a nod to the younger man, who now approached Judah with a bag and passed it to him. “As we agreed,” confirmed the trader.
For Joseph, this chain of events was happening too rapidly, the sudden transitions from certain death in the pit, to rescue, and now to betrayal keeping him off balance, his mind stumbling for footing.
He finally had the presence of mind to exclaim, “You cannot sell me! I am your brother!”
“’Half-brother’, little dreamer. And when we pulled you from the pit, saving you from death, your life became ours. We own the life we save, and we sell it to the highest bidder.”
Judah laughed, and added, “You were fortunate that anyone would want you.”
Simeon and Levi had already walked several steps away. Now Judah turned and followed, calling over his shoulder, “Good journeys, Teyma. Take care of the little dreamer.”
For a moment, the group stood in silence, watching the three brothers depart, talking and laughing as they went.
Chapter 1.2