Part 3 Another Resurrection
Additional Principal Characters
Asenath (aw-sa-nath’) - Abandoned infant, daughter of Dinah and Shechem; wife of Joseph and mother of Manasseh, Ephraim.
General Djar (d’jar) – Head of Egyptian Army
Khusebek (koo-se-beck’) – Head of procurement and construction of granaries
Neferhotep – Soldier and overseer of the Place of Confinement (Joseph’s prison)
Neferu (ne-fe-roo’) – Head of construction projects for the king
Potiphera (po’-tee-fa-ra’) - Chief Priest to sun god, Ra, in city of On (Heliopolis), P-hotep-ra means gift/offering of Ra; the priests of On were responsible for the calendar, the “keepers of time;” Asenath’s “father.”
Sebek-khu (se-beck’-koo) – head of transportation for grain storage
Senusret II (se-noirs-ret’ the Second) – King of Egypt c. 1897-1878 BC
Tem – Companion/servant of Asenath
Zaphnath-Paaneah (sof-nath'-pah-nay'-ah) Egyptian name given to Joseph by King Senusret II; “the Revealer of Hidden Things”
Only a Man among Men (and Women)
Feet of Clay
Joseph’s rise under Captain Potiphar had occurred over only a few years, about eight by now, a meteoric rise within the ranks of slavery. But if he was a man with power, he was in fact still a slave.
This is in no way a contradiction, that he was a slave under the power of another, and yet also a slave with power over others. This is little different from his master, Captain Potiphar, who was under the command of King Senusret II, king of Egypt, and yet over much within the king’s domain.
There were moments when Joseph remembered his life as a nomad, a time receding into a past that had been another lifetime. This past seemed as if it had not been his own childhood but that of another man. How different had been the freedom with God as Master, as Overseer of nature and dwelling among men who tended their flocks.
Surely this must have been God’s intention from Creation: a man lived in God’s providence, guiding his flock of sheep through a life of peace and security, an imitator of God guiding mankind. How far Egypt seemed from that simple time!
But Joseph knew that he idealized what he had experienced. He had banished thoughts of his half-brothers, and of the tension that had existed beneath the calm surface. He did not think of the family of his uncle, Esau, and of all the extended families of Abraham. Such remembrances marred the ideal that he cherished on dark lonely nights.
Yes, even a man who has succeeded on the level of Joseph suffered these human desires for things ordained to man but missing from his existence.
There was a sense of family among many of those with whom he lived and worked. He belonged as they belonged to this larger group with a single purpose, a single master.
As a leader, Joseph knew their strengths and weaknesses. He knew what tasks fulfilled them, what assignments gave outlet to their gifts and purpose to their labor.
As mentor, perhaps even friend, he knew the fears and desires of their hearts.
But as a man, he revealed almost nothing of himself. Like much of the story presented above, he was but a caricature of a successful man. Like the pictures on the walls of the tombs he had seen, the depth of his identity was missing, hidden behind the surface of mere actions, ‘the works of his hands.”
Teyma had seen the lost boy beneath the façade. But to those before whom he had forged an identity in Egypt – Shabaka, Pawara, and the others - Joseph was a confident man with a purpose and a focus on the future. He was an entity with a single facet, an engine for the accomplishment of the goals set before him.
Even his relationships with those around him were a reflection of this one facet, this single perspective he allowed to be seen. Leader, mentor, friend – Joseph suspected that each one was merely a role assumed in pursuit of a goal.
And although he had at heart the well-being of each person he met on his journey, the man inside his persona, the man behind his perpetual mask, was a cipher, an unknown. Like a diamond pressed into the ground with only the one side gleaming in the sunlight, the full value lay in what was largely hidden.
Do we make of our heroes such inhuman beings that they have no faults or weaknesses so that they might better fulfill some role as idol? This thought struck a chord.
Finally, with that word “idol,” he was reminded of the tent of the gods, the marketplace for superhuman beings carved in stone and wood. Joseph had been so appalled when Meera had held up the bronze statue of himself, raised him up as a god before men!
Thus had been revealed the human tendency to set on a pedestal a human being made of clay, formed in the womb of the furnace in the image of man. Though we may not call him “god,” yet we put ourselves under his dominion.
Let us remember the boy that Teyma had rescued and helped to remold.
Let us remember the education of that boy in a surreal week of discovery of his true nature.
Let us see the man who has risen in the eyes of his fellows, but does not realize that his value is just as great as ever it was, and no more than that for all that he has done.
We see a Joseph. That is, we see the name of a man in the accomplishments attributed to that name. But we do not see the inner man made by God in His image, one who struggles with what is normal to mankind: identity, value, and purpose; the desire to belong and to be a part of something larger; the longing to know what is his future, and will it be acceptable, even desirable.
Let us look at one void in Joseph’s life, here in Egypt now for some eight years: There has been no woman.
God’s division of Adam, splitting him in half so that he had a helper and a corresponding equal with whom to commune, was a symbolic act. He could have made a man and a woman “in the beginning.” The result would have been very different, however.
There had been no mistake that God had to correct. There was simply the evidence presented of a need that must be met, and the divine gift of woman was the fulfillment of that need. Without ever realizing the need for that which was missing, man would never have been able to fully value woman, nor the woman to understand the value of the man.
Joseph’s story, passed down through the ages, leaves the impression that Joseph was somehow immune to this need until a more advanced age. This adds to his idol status, his larger than life representation.
But Joseph was a man, we know. And if he channeled his energy into his work, filled his time with purpose and action, there were yet moments of reflection and thinking, resting and being. There were moments of humanity, long moments.
In those moments, he may have remembered a cousin or half-sister, drenched by a spring rain so that her suitably modest clothing had become a thin veneer revealing, without the need for imagination, her feminine form.
Or he may have thought again of Meera who had tempted him in the temple of the gods. Her charms had been barely concealed, and she had made her intent plain. He had looked into her dark eyes in that one instant and seen the dark prison of desire in its truest form.
Not all goes smoothly, even as events seem to move inexorably toward the best of all possible worlds.
Senen’s death had been a severe blow, but the following years had gone well, the floods adequate and the produce of the farms increasing with the aggressive utilization of the canal and the increased number of irrigation ditches. Food was increased enough for the poorest to feel some relief in their perpetual labor to build a small reserve against hunger.
At the end of Joseph’s fifth full year in Egypt, Ruia had disappeared.
“Disappeared” is not quite accurate. The official word was that Ruia and his family had been relocated to the king’s new lands in Nubia to perform the work there that he had been doing in the fields of The Residence and the Fayum.
The suddenness of the move sent another message through the ranks of workers. It had been said that news took a week on a fast moving flood to travel from Thebes to Itj-tawy, but that gossip required only a day!
Rumors of the true reason for the sudden departure of Ruia abounded. He had stolen goods, or he had taken a bribe, or he had been lax in his supervision.
These were indeed all punishable offenses, but there also were established rules for meting out judgment and punishment in these matters. Moving to another location was not an established punishment for a crime of any nature as far as anyone knew.
Only much later did Joseph suspect that Ruia had been entrapped like a fly in a spider’s web, showing too much attention in the wrong direction.
Additional Responsibilities
Just moments before the announcement of Ruia’s sudden departure, Captain Potiphar called Joseph to meet with him.
Joseph was taken into the same room where he had passed from Teyma’s hand to Captain Potiphar’s hand.
The room was unchanged. But the captain’s face of weathered stone showed some signs of the passage of time: lines deepened in flesh now sagging, subject to that same gravity that pulls all things inexorably to the earth below, the longing of dust for dust’s return.
No doubt Joseph also showed the signs of aging, but with that forgiving nature adorning the young man while mocking the older one: a firm build of tanned muscle set in full masculine maturity.
Captain Potiphar told Joseph of the upcoming announcement regarding Ruia. The position that Ruia had held required that someone be appointed.
He paused and let the news sink into Joseph’s thoughts.
Joseph, having learned something of men’s ways and also of the virtue of patience and silence, waited for the captain to continue.
“You have done well in every task that you have been given, Joseph. You have spoken of the presence of your God as being with you always. I believe that to be true because He has made you always to prosper.
“Now we need a position filled with which you are very familiar. Your work on managing the flood waters has integrated well with the management of the crops and the herds. Indeed, you have integrated all that is under my command with regard to the land of The Residence and the properties in the Fayum.
“The households of myself and the king are the only areas where you lack direct experience. But here we have Farid in place, now and for many years past. He knows all that must be done and requires little guidance.
“You are aware of my extended absences, both with the king and in his stead. My oversight of these areas mentioned has been less than it should have been. I intend to correct this error by placing all that I have, all of these responsibilities, into your hands.”
Joseph could not help but feel pleasure in this expression of his master’s confidence. Indeed, the captain seemed less a master than a co-worker, albeit one who more often led than followed.
Joseph had been given the largest portion of the captain’s responsibility.
Yes, the captain would maintain charge over any trade with other countries, oversight of the sepats (nomes) - the numerous administrative districts within Egypt - and of the day to day matters of government. The position of counselor to the king perhaps was greater than all other tasks combined, for these were matters most important to the king and his effective power.
Yet what the captain gave to Joseph was what a father would give a son that the son might one day succeed to his position.
Joseph looked around at these walls that had watched as his life had been exchanged for some unknown payment those many years before. Today’s exchange was not a transaction; this was a gift.
“Of course, sir. Your command is mine to follow. And I will do everything within my power to fulfill your expectations.”
“Good, I knew you would accept. There is no better person to assume these responsibilities.”
The captain rose and reached across the table, clasping Joseph’s hand.
“The power of my hand is in your hand, Joseph. Use it to the king’s advantage first.”
The hand pressed tightly against Joseph’s hand, as if transferring that power, impressing it into the flesh that would perform its work. Joseph returned the grip in acknowledgment and acceptance.
“This is a major change and I must understand your priorities beyond those that you have had for the irrigation work. I will assume responsibility when I have received your direction.”
The captain smiled and began with an outline.
The Future – An Interlude
Joseph worked to ensure that the confidence of the captain in him was not misplaced. Equally, he worked to ensure that the confidence of those beneath him was not misplaced.
As he assumed the responsibilities that Potiphar relinquished, Joseph found the days too short to accomplish all that must be done.
He must first delegate the tasks that he had come to know so intimately that they were second nature.
To give up oversight of a maintenance project on the canal or organizing the beginning of harvest was like leaving old friends to the care of another person. But he knew who could become as new friends to his old friends, delegating what he must, and so he prepared himself to become as a new friend to the new tasks.
For this, he must come to understand these new areas of responsibility. He must become again a beginning slave to see the order that existed and the chaos that undermined the good work done.
One thing he had learned was that the rhythm of the work changed with the time and with the people. As a youth with his father’s flock, he had seen the nature of the task of shepherd change with the season, and also with the personality of the sheep.
Yes! The personality of the sheep changed as the spring brought new lambs, lambs became sheep, and the adults went through the process of aging.
Strangers to the world of the shepherd look at a flock, and they see identical replicas, exact reproductions without distinction or personality. They would treat the flock almost as impersonally as a pile of brick, and they would find difficulty their constant companion.
But the shepherd knows his flock in all its variety. He comforts the skittish, reigns in the bold, and prods the overly content. So he does with each sheep, adjusting to the season and the terrain, the quality of the grass and the presence of predators, and the nature of the one and the many before him.
The change of the many variables from one day to another requires an understanding of what is required and what is available, and bringing the two into harmony. This fills the good shepherd’s day.
Now imagine that the sheep are people, far more unique in their personalities, in their abilities, and in the tasks required of them, and perhaps even more sensitive (although even sheep are well aware and respond to the mood of their shepherd).
Such was Joseph’s first year in the expanded responsibility over the captain’s domain, adapting to his new flock, adjusting for the threats to their well-being, and moving them into a new future.
Dreams always had been a part of Joseph’s life. He had not understood how to handle them when he was younger, and this had worked to his detriment.
But he had come to understand that their purpose was to prepare himself, not to afflict others.
And there were times when other people told of their own dreams and sought understanding. He knew the dreams were to guide that person, to prepare them for their own future.
He had one of his most memorable dreams.
He was in Potiphar’s house adjoined to The Residence.
One hallway was not like the others. Rather than doorways and walls, tents lined both sides of the corridor, with the largest tent at the end.
He walked toward the large tent. The flap was closed. There was no opening, no markings except for the colored stripes that adorned the tent, thin lines at the top expanding to wide panels at the bottom.
Front and center was a deep red panel. The bottom opened as a flap was thrown to the side. Inside was the deep and mysterious darkness of any windowless enclosure. If he reached out and touched the black interior, Joseph imagined that a soft warmth would enclose about his hand.
As he neared, Meera emerged!
Yes, the woman of the tents of the gods that he had encountered when he first traveled with Teyma; the woman with the bewitching dark eyes who seemed to carry with her the soft beat of distant music; the voice that had lulled his mind and soothed all his senses as she had stood in the tent of the gods of fertility.
Her body swayed as in a gentle breeze. There was no movement of the air, but it was to that silent rhythm that could not quite be heard that her body swayed. She held the flap of the tent open with her left arm, and beckoned him forward with an outstretched right hand.
“Enter, my lord, and receive your rest and your reward.”
He found himself walking toward her beckoning hand, his legs moving by a power not his own, moving toward the gaping darkness within the tent. Suddenly, Joseph felt himself being lowered into the depths of the dry well.
His legs stopped. The spell broke! He found his voice.
“No! Thanks be to God that he has brought me thus far and no farther.” His voice was clear and strong, the response of a man who had left boyhood behind long ago.
Meera did not cajole and persuade as she had done in their first encounter.
She hissed and said, “Then you are cursed!”
Arms grabbed Joseph from behind and drew him to the center of the corridor between the tents. A hole appeared in the floor, and he found himself at the bottom, laying in darkness, a full moon of soft light filtering into the top of his prison shaft.
The light changed to dark and to light again three times. Three days he lay in this pit of despair, this vertical cave whose only exit was far beyond his reach.
On the third day, the sun appeared directly overhead, flooding his prison and making the darkness run.
A rope fell down, which he grabbed with both hands. He was raised from this second tomb and brought into the light, far too bright to see so that he must close and shield his eyes.
And then the light dimmed to what filtered through the open window across his room and onto his bed.
The dream stayed firmly in his mind, a picture of his future. As with the strange dream of death, there was concern for the near future, but the reassurance of God’s love and presence came at the end.
Knowledge of the end does not make the pain and loss of the trial less, but it is the trial that is without hope that destroys the soul.
The Future Becomes the Present
Time passed, but Joseph was young, and he did not count the time.
Joseph’s work was respected, and he respected the many who completed their tasks, who met their goals, who accomplished what had been set before them.
He became more familiar with the comings and goings at The Residence as part of his added responsibilities. Farid was so accomplished in his role that little oversight was necessary in that domain.
Joseph came to be considered as one of the free men who handled responsibilities for the king: the treasurer, the scribe, the head of security, the captain, and Joseph. This occurred more because of Joseph’s competence and confidence than the position necessarily, for he still reported to Captain Potiphar.
And even if his standing among those highest in government – the king, Captain Potiphar, the General of the Army, and those others of the highest rank – was somewhere between slave (in fact) and trusted colleague (in practice), his estimation among those of the household and of the servants was as high as anyone who was not the king himself.
Being lifted to greater heights gives a man a greater view, but this also raises him in the view of others.
Zelicha, Potiphar’s wife, began to see Joseph.
One of her young women, a girl from the east named Meera, played a role in this. Although somewhat older than the other girls in Zelicha’s service, and more experienced in the ways of the world, this woman (for she definitely was not merely a girl) remarked on Joseph’s handsome features, his manliness and power.
This is not meant to say that Zelicha began to meet with him. She began to see him in the sense that he was no longer a servant, a slave, one of the invisible cogs within the mechanism that keeps the household functioning.
In her eyes, Joseph actually became a person.
And she saw that he was endowed with youth – he was younger than she, and far younger than her husband.
And she saw that he was a very attractive young man – adjectives that had not applied to her husband in many years.
And a long time had passed since she had had a secret admirer, a man who would bow to her wishes and jump at her command. Her vanity sought subjection of others to prove her beauty and power, desired that others fall under her spell.
Yes, her husband raised quite a row over her coquettish acts. But nothing terrible had come of it, except that a least one man had disappeared from service at The Residence.
She suddenly wondered, “Why have I waited so long?”
And she began to give him glances when she passed him with her servants and women. And she made sure to pass by him often, her eyes meeting his so that he would understand the words she could not speak.
Yet this slave did not respond. Perhaps he was too intimidated by her role as his master’s wife.
And so she found opportunities to say those things that could not be said.
She said he must come and speak with her about suggestions for the gardens. It was an opportunity she had planned well as far as her own attendants were concerned, for she waited alone. And yet Joseph had brought two men with him so that they would all better understand her wishes.
She whispered once to him when none could hear but him, saying that she required his services because of her husband’s absence. And yet Joseph gave no recognition, no understanding of her meaning, saying that he had been summoned by one of the king’s ministers and he must leave her.
Her husband returned from his travels, but her growing obsession with this attractive slave continued unabated.
Encouraged by comments about Joseph from her eastern female servant, she began to think of ways to entice this Joseph, this star that had risen so quietly among men that she had not even noticed him until he was ascendant.
As always, keeping such a thing quiet, unseen, was a difficult problem for a woman such as herself. She was a woman who always desired the companionship of others, almost always with her own women, and sometimes even the queen and the queen’s women. Her activities were not those practiced alone behind closed doors, for she relished gatherings and public outings and festivities.
Discovery of an affair (although there had been those dalliances at festivals, pleasurable enough, but never passing beyond serious flirtations) would destroy her high position, but she determined to be discreet, discerning in her plans. Then her release and abandon could be all the greater!
She watched and waited, but patience was not her strength and hours seemed like days once she had fixed upon Joseph as her goal.
A feast day was coming, and everyone on the grounds of The Residence would go to celebrate. She had heard that Joseph never participated in such. He had his own god or some such thing to which he gave precedence.
This could be used to her advantage. And so the time was to be the feast day, and the place was to be her own, of course. All she needed was the excuse to draw him into her den.
The festival was tempting. After all, those almost anonymous encounters with men could be quite pleasurable. Yet even this possibility seemed wearisome in comparison. No, she would miss this trip to Memphis and make this an opportunity for something more with Joseph.
And a Present Destroys the Future
The flood was at near full stage, and it was another good flood for Egypt. The New Year had been celebrated at the beginning of the month, and the workers were back to their tasks. The diversion of water, the filling and draining of fields, and the continuing task of maintaining open channels, all these were being accomplished throughout the lands of king around The Residence and throughout the Fayum.
This was a busy time for Joseph, primarily ensuring that the men who reported to him kept their focus on work. He had learned early in his Egyptian sojourn (he still called it that, even though he saw no hope of ever leaving) that the first month of the flood contained too many celebrations.
The next major celebration was the Tekh Festival, more popularly known as “The Day of Drunkenness.” Begun at Thebes, the festival had become popular in Memphis now. The allure of paying tribute to “The Lady of Drunkenness,” Hathor, during which drunken revelry was encouraged, was hard for the great majority of Egyptians to resist.
The Procession of Osiris only two days later prolonged the original celebration for some, so Joseph had resigned himself to a period of planning and preparation while his workers were occupied in their diversion.
At first, he had been amazed at the strange gods of the Egyptians (even a crocodile god!) and these bizarre celebrations, but the culture so thoroughly embraced these practices that he could see no way to change them. Such a group mindset denied rational self-examination, a prerequisite for change.
Potiphar’s house, and The Residence and its surrounding buildings, were almost deserted by the evening before the celebration, and by early the next morning the remainder of the men and women intent on revelry were on their way to the Nile. They would go to Memphis where the largest supply of beer north of Thebes would be found.
Joseph found the solitude a welcome change, a rare moment in his Egyptian life compared with the more frequent moments alone, chosen or required, of his nomadic life.
His room was now along a corridor on the upper floor of Potiphar’s house, an area shared by few, of whom none remained. He had received some parchments with information on field acreage and planting requirements from Irsu, who had taught Joseph the art of being a scribe. He would use this island of unscheduled time to prepare himself by studying the information.
Across the building, on the other side of the central indoor garden, ran a similar corridor. There Zelicha waited. She had positioned herself on a seat overlooking the garden. She had seen the last group of celebrants depart, and continued watching for Joseph to emerge through his doorway, unaware that he had left the building much earlier.
She had grown impatient while waiting for people to leave. The one woman who had remained with her the night before had joined the last caravan of travelers, and now Zelicha was alone.
All morning she had thought of Joseph. The woman who had just left her was that delightfully naughty young thing, the only Asiatic woman in her service. This woman, more like a co-conspirator in intrigue, had been the one who had first noticed Joseph. She had often shared stories of her adventures in traveling through the east, where she had led a life full of all the pleasures one might imagine.
This morning, her servant/confidante had revealed something that had further aroused Zelicha’s interest in pursuit of Joseph: many of the eastern men were circumcised! The interest in this peculiar custom, and the difference that it might make in the intimate moments, had stoked the embers of the smoldering fire whose warmth already threatened to consume her.
As the Asiatic servant had spoken of one such encounter, Zelicha had listened intently, mesmerized by the vision the words created, consumed by their ardor. She realized that her mouth was open and dry, her heart raced, and her…her whole being was aroused with desire.
At last, the woman left with the others. The whole house was silent.
Zelicha was about to go down into the garden when she saw Joseph pass through and go up to his room. Not knowing that he had left early, she felt an overwhelming sense of relief. To have had to have gone looking for him would have made an encounter much more awkward.
She ignored the full length gowns for everyday wear and looked through the garments for wear within her apartment only. She found a short and simple gown without much adornment, one accentuating her figure. Her excuse for not attending the festival had been a great tiredness. This attire seemed both appropriate and minimal.
She thought of her clothing as the wrapping of a gift: enough to tantalize and encourage a peek inside, but not so much as to cause needless delay.
Zelicha went down the ramp into the garden. A lounge – a sturdy wooden frame with strong reeds provided support, covered with soft pillows for comfort – stood by a pool landscaped with large rocks and flowering plants. This was in the center of the garden, amidst the tall trees stretching above the roof line and providing shade throughout the midday.
She made herself comfortable on the lounge, pulling her legs onto the soft pillows and arranging the lower part of her gown to reveal a bit more than polite society would deem appropriate.
Joseph had come through the passageway on his side of the garden only moments before. It was probable that he would not have seen her even if she had been on the lounge.
She called up to him, “Joseph, is that you who passed by?”
In the silence of the open space, she was sure that he could hear.
The seconds after her last word ticked by slowly. At last, through the branches above she saw him step through his doorway.
Joseph looked down into the garden, but the foliage seemed to hide the person who had called. “Hello?” His response was a dual question as to who had called and where they were.
Zelicha was pleased that he was so innocent, so unaware. “This is Zelicha. Would you attend me here on the lounge in the center of the garden?”
She could have commanded, but she preferred his voluntary response to a request for his aid.
Joseph could now see her, stretched upon the lounge beneath the shade of the limbs above. Obedient, he came down to her.
“How may I be of service?” he asked as he arrived before her.
Zelicha did not rush. She savored this moment of anticipation, seeing he was both surprised she had remained here and unsure what he could provide as aid to his master’s wife.
“I had felt unwell, too weak to want to attend the festival, but I feel my strength returning.”
She sat up slowly, allowing her gown to reveal as much as possible. “But I do feel the need for something to drink. I think there is some wine on the service counter and it would fortify me, give me more strength.”
She stretched as if to show her improving strength, as well as to give his imagination a bit of a stretch, as well.
Joseph did not notice her movement, avoiding eye contact as much as possible. She had made him aware of her the last few weeks, and he felt very uncomfortable. Her intense eye makeup, the revealing gown, her scent, and his awareness of no one else present did not bode well.
As she raised herself from her reclining pose, he was already moving toward the service counter at the edge of the garden closest to the kitchen. He returned with the jug and a cup a moment later, pouring the cup half full.
“Thank you, Joseph.” She took a small sip. With bright eyes and a full smile, as if the wine had brought full recovery from her weakness, she continued, “Would you like to have a cup, also?”
“Thank you, but I must refuse. I have figures from Irsu to prepare for the planting season, and that work is laid out in my room.”
“You are a tireless worker, Joseph. But do you not relax, even play sometimes?” She spoke with all of the allure she could muster, the last words an invitation that surely the young man could not miss.
And yet Joseph responded as if oblivious to the implication of her remarks, “This is the season of my work, and I know that God has led me to this place for this purpose. There is play, as you call it, even in work, and relaxation in a job accomplished and well done.”
The thought crossed her mind that he was playing with her, seeing how far she would throw herself toward him. Well, she could play at that game, too! If a man resisted a woman, one thing that he could not resist was to speak of his achievements, to brag a bit, to show how big and great he was. Let him get a bit full of himself and then see what happens!
“Your work has won great approval throughout the land! Everyone speaks of the Waterway of Joseph and of how the flood once mastered Egypt, but now Joseph masters the flood.
“You have had success, the play of your work and the relaxation of a job well done.”
Zelicha lifted the cup to her lips and took a long draught. She held the cup up to Joseph and added, “Is it not time to partake of the fruit of your labor?”
Joseph’s intention to interact with his master’s wife on the level of servant to master, as between himself and the captain, now had reached a fork in its path. Whichever path he chose had negative consequences, and he saw no way to achieve a successful conclusion.
He stalled again in hopes of an alternative path. The parallel with the Fall in Eden could not escape him, and he sought to maintain balance on the side of God without alienating the hand that offered the forbidden fruit to him.
“I have come to understand that the moving of boundary markers in Egypt is a great offense, taken more seriously perhaps than elsewhere in the world. To do so would be to take the fruit from another man’s hand, a theft of life, we might even call it.
“God has given me the work of my hands to do, and the fruit of that labor is what I am given to enjoy.”
Zelicha held back the anger that threatened to overwhelm her. How dare this slave speak so to her! Or was he so naïve? She resolved one more approach.
“All of this talk has made me weary again, Joseph,” she said, putting her forearm against her brow. She lifted that arm to him, “Help me to my room.”
Joseph hesitantly took her hand and forearm in his hands, supporting her gently as she slowly rose. She stumbled as she took the first step, putting an arm around his neck for support.
“I will be alright,” she said softly. “Just assist me up the walkway.”
As they walked upward to her room, the icy hand of fear gripped Zelicha’s heart, and it spoke the curse that she had thus far refused to hear: “Your beauty is gone, and all power with it.”
Denial was her natural reaction. This must not be true!
She leaned heavily on Joseph, and he supported much of her weight as they ascended to her room. As they entered, he maneuvered her so that she could sit on her bed.
As she sat, she slid the arm from around his neck and grasped the cloak that he wore. She saw that the yellow flower was a poppy and thought this strange, for poppies were red!
Holding a fistful of the garment, she spoke in a husky voice, pulling Joseph toward her, “Lie with me.”
At last, there was no subterfuge, no masked intentions or subtle innuendoes. The statement was a command wrapped in a plea, need masked in desire, and fear counterfeited as courage.
Joseph could not delay his refusal without risking succumbing to his own desires. Her eyes held him, perhaps more than her hand. He had seen these bewitching dark eyes before, and he felt the power of their spell.
He said, “Look, my master has entrusted all that he has into my hands. He has not withheld anything from my management, nothing except for you, for you are his wife. How could I do such wickedness as this to my master and my God?”
Her expression held no sign of understanding as she raised her lips toward his while simultaneously pulling him toward her with the hand holding his coat.
He jerked away from the lips rising toward him, forcefully pulling himself backward and turning toward the door.
Zelicha momentarily lost her grip on his coat as he turned away. Reaching out again, she grabbed the back of the garment. The cloth of his ten year old coat ripped as he moved away, tearing at the seam across the back.
Held by the remaining seams, he lowered a shoulder and the coat slid away. She was left holding an empty garment in her outstretched hand.
That there is no greater wrath than that of a woman scorned often is considered a trite saying, a cliché to those who have not known its reality. Joseph felt its truth and intensity in an instant, the violence of her curses pummeling him relentlessly.
Accept the barely exaggerated statement that he flew down the corridor and ramp in his eagerness to escape. In spite of the speed of his feet, he knew he could not outrun the consequences of the path that he had chosen.
To acquiesce, to submit to her desire, would have forestalled the anger expressed and the revenge that was to come. But he knew that at some point, both the literal and the figurative devil would have received his reward.
Joseph returned to his room. The neglected information from Irsu was spread on the floor. All of it was now as meaningless to Joseph as his title and whatever good he had accomplished.
There was nowhere for him to run, nowhere to hide, no way to escape.
All that he could do was to commune with God. Facing the open window high above, he knelt. He prayed, but mostly he listened, as he had learned to do.
The recent dream assured him that all would be well in the future. His task now was to endure the time until then.
God knew of events, and He understood the intentions of men. How things would play out was in the hands of men, but perhaps there would be leniency, the mercy God gives to all, the mercy He intends to be passed to others.
Yes, Joseph prayed for mercy, even as the rage across the garden continued.
There were a few guards left at the neighboring building, The Residence, one of whom stood watch from the roof.
Zelicha had asked earlier that he call out to her when he saw the first sign of any return from the festival so that she might prepare herself for her husband. She had had the foresight to avoid a compromising situation should there be an early return.
Now she called out to that guard from the roof of her own house. She cried for help because of the attack of an Asiatic slave. She used every epithet she had ever heard, decrying the nature of both the stereotype of those barbarians and the demeaning act this slave had attempted.
She was a woman violated, a victim demanding justice be carried out with its full force.
If she could have commanded an execution and have been obeyed, she would have done so!
The guard upon the roof rushed to her aid, as did a couple of others within the sound of her voice. The violent expression of her charges adequately conveyed the gross attempt made upon her person by a slave.
“Look! See what my husband has done, bringing an Asiatic as slave in this house, a barbarian near whom no decent woman is safe.
“This trash from the east tried to force himself upon me. I cried out while pushing him away, and he ran.
“See! I hold the garment he wore as proof!” She held up Joseph’s coat with its poppy and daffodil, the garment known to be Joseph’s.
Although surprised that the perpetrator was Joseph, the same Joseph who had been celebrated for his accomplishments in the service of the king, the vigor with which Zelicha denounced her attacker left no room for doubt as to their actions. The armed men immediately went to Joseph’s room and arrested him.
The men had no need to speak. The curses and accusations still streaming across the open courtyard spoke condemnation of the eastern slave. Joseph submitted without a word.
The small group went down into the cellar of The Residence. The cellar was a single large room for storage. Pieces of furniture, tools used in the original construction, statues of gods, and a miscellany of other items filled half the space.
This room that served as Joseph’s cell was not meant for habitation. It was, quite simply, a storage room, but the door had a lock and it could serve as Joseph’s temporary prison until the captain decided Joseph’s ultimate fate.
There were narrow slits near the ceiling for ventilation of the cavernous room. These could not have been far above ground, but they were far beyond Joseph’s reach from the cellar floor.
Now, scarcely an hour after having heard Zelicha’s call from the garden below, Joseph sat alone in what was effectively a prison.
Thick stone walls separated him from the land pressing round this manmade cave.
Stone pillars supported thick floors separating him from life above.
And the anger of a woman scorned separated him from the life that he had known.
There was nothing to do, quite literally, except to wait.
Continue reading
Additional Principal Characters
Asenath (aw-sa-nath’) - Abandoned infant, daughter of Dinah and Shechem; wife of Joseph and mother of Manasseh, Ephraim.
General Djar (d’jar) – Head of Egyptian Army
Khusebek (koo-se-beck’) – Head of procurement and construction of granaries
Neferhotep – Soldier and overseer of the Place of Confinement (Joseph’s prison)
Neferu (ne-fe-roo’) – Head of construction projects for the king
Potiphera (po’-tee-fa-ra’) - Chief Priest to sun god, Ra, in city of On (Heliopolis), P-hotep-ra means gift/offering of Ra; the priests of On were responsible for the calendar, the “keepers of time;” Asenath’s “father.”
Sebek-khu (se-beck’-koo) – head of transportation for grain storage
Senusret II (se-noirs-ret’ the Second) – King of Egypt c. 1897-1878 BC
Tem – Companion/servant of Asenath
Zaphnath-Paaneah (sof-nath'-pah-nay'-ah) Egyptian name given to Joseph by King Senusret II; “the Revealer of Hidden Things”
Only a Man among Men (and Women)
Feet of Clay
Joseph’s rise under Captain Potiphar had occurred over only a few years, about eight by now, a meteoric rise within the ranks of slavery. But if he was a man with power, he was in fact still a slave.
This is in no way a contradiction, that he was a slave under the power of another, and yet also a slave with power over others. This is little different from his master, Captain Potiphar, who was under the command of King Senusret II, king of Egypt, and yet over much within the king’s domain.
There were moments when Joseph remembered his life as a nomad, a time receding into a past that had been another lifetime. This past seemed as if it had not been his own childhood but that of another man. How different had been the freedom with God as Master, as Overseer of nature and dwelling among men who tended their flocks.
Surely this must have been God’s intention from Creation: a man lived in God’s providence, guiding his flock of sheep through a life of peace and security, an imitator of God guiding mankind. How far Egypt seemed from that simple time!
But Joseph knew that he idealized what he had experienced. He had banished thoughts of his half-brothers, and of the tension that had existed beneath the calm surface. He did not think of the family of his uncle, Esau, and of all the extended families of Abraham. Such remembrances marred the ideal that he cherished on dark lonely nights.
Yes, even a man who has succeeded on the level of Joseph suffered these human desires for things ordained to man but missing from his existence.
There was a sense of family among many of those with whom he lived and worked. He belonged as they belonged to this larger group with a single purpose, a single master.
As a leader, Joseph knew their strengths and weaknesses. He knew what tasks fulfilled them, what assignments gave outlet to their gifts and purpose to their labor.
As mentor, perhaps even friend, he knew the fears and desires of their hearts.
But as a man, he revealed almost nothing of himself. Like much of the story presented above, he was but a caricature of a successful man. Like the pictures on the walls of the tombs he had seen, the depth of his identity was missing, hidden behind the surface of mere actions, ‘the works of his hands.”
Teyma had seen the lost boy beneath the façade. But to those before whom he had forged an identity in Egypt – Shabaka, Pawara, and the others - Joseph was a confident man with a purpose and a focus on the future. He was an entity with a single facet, an engine for the accomplishment of the goals set before him.
Even his relationships with those around him were a reflection of this one facet, this single perspective he allowed to be seen. Leader, mentor, friend – Joseph suspected that each one was merely a role assumed in pursuit of a goal.
And although he had at heart the well-being of each person he met on his journey, the man inside his persona, the man behind his perpetual mask, was a cipher, an unknown. Like a diamond pressed into the ground with only the one side gleaming in the sunlight, the full value lay in what was largely hidden.
Do we make of our heroes such inhuman beings that they have no faults or weaknesses so that they might better fulfill some role as idol? This thought struck a chord.
Finally, with that word “idol,” he was reminded of the tent of the gods, the marketplace for superhuman beings carved in stone and wood. Joseph had been so appalled when Meera had held up the bronze statue of himself, raised him up as a god before men!
Thus had been revealed the human tendency to set on a pedestal a human being made of clay, formed in the womb of the furnace in the image of man. Though we may not call him “god,” yet we put ourselves under his dominion.
Let us remember the boy that Teyma had rescued and helped to remold.
Let us remember the education of that boy in a surreal week of discovery of his true nature.
Let us see the man who has risen in the eyes of his fellows, but does not realize that his value is just as great as ever it was, and no more than that for all that he has done.
We see a Joseph. That is, we see the name of a man in the accomplishments attributed to that name. But we do not see the inner man made by God in His image, one who struggles with what is normal to mankind: identity, value, and purpose; the desire to belong and to be a part of something larger; the longing to know what is his future, and will it be acceptable, even desirable.
Let us look at one void in Joseph’s life, here in Egypt now for some eight years: There has been no woman.
God’s division of Adam, splitting him in half so that he had a helper and a corresponding equal with whom to commune, was a symbolic act. He could have made a man and a woman “in the beginning.” The result would have been very different, however.
There had been no mistake that God had to correct. There was simply the evidence presented of a need that must be met, and the divine gift of woman was the fulfillment of that need. Without ever realizing the need for that which was missing, man would never have been able to fully value woman, nor the woman to understand the value of the man.
Joseph’s story, passed down through the ages, leaves the impression that Joseph was somehow immune to this need until a more advanced age. This adds to his idol status, his larger than life representation.
But Joseph was a man, we know. And if he channeled his energy into his work, filled his time with purpose and action, there were yet moments of reflection and thinking, resting and being. There were moments of humanity, long moments.
In those moments, he may have remembered a cousin or half-sister, drenched by a spring rain so that her suitably modest clothing had become a thin veneer revealing, without the need for imagination, her feminine form.
Or he may have thought again of Meera who had tempted him in the temple of the gods. Her charms had been barely concealed, and she had made her intent plain. He had looked into her dark eyes in that one instant and seen the dark prison of desire in its truest form.
Not all goes smoothly, even as events seem to move inexorably toward the best of all possible worlds.
Senen’s death had been a severe blow, but the following years had gone well, the floods adequate and the produce of the farms increasing with the aggressive utilization of the canal and the increased number of irrigation ditches. Food was increased enough for the poorest to feel some relief in their perpetual labor to build a small reserve against hunger.
At the end of Joseph’s fifth full year in Egypt, Ruia had disappeared.
“Disappeared” is not quite accurate. The official word was that Ruia and his family had been relocated to the king’s new lands in Nubia to perform the work there that he had been doing in the fields of The Residence and the Fayum.
The suddenness of the move sent another message through the ranks of workers. It had been said that news took a week on a fast moving flood to travel from Thebes to Itj-tawy, but that gossip required only a day!
Rumors of the true reason for the sudden departure of Ruia abounded. He had stolen goods, or he had taken a bribe, or he had been lax in his supervision.
These were indeed all punishable offenses, but there also were established rules for meting out judgment and punishment in these matters. Moving to another location was not an established punishment for a crime of any nature as far as anyone knew.
Only much later did Joseph suspect that Ruia had been entrapped like a fly in a spider’s web, showing too much attention in the wrong direction.
Additional Responsibilities
Just moments before the announcement of Ruia’s sudden departure, Captain Potiphar called Joseph to meet with him.
Joseph was taken into the same room where he had passed from Teyma’s hand to Captain Potiphar’s hand.
The room was unchanged. But the captain’s face of weathered stone showed some signs of the passage of time: lines deepened in flesh now sagging, subject to that same gravity that pulls all things inexorably to the earth below, the longing of dust for dust’s return.
No doubt Joseph also showed the signs of aging, but with that forgiving nature adorning the young man while mocking the older one: a firm build of tanned muscle set in full masculine maturity.
Captain Potiphar told Joseph of the upcoming announcement regarding Ruia. The position that Ruia had held required that someone be appointed.
He paused and let the news sink into Joseph’s thoughts.
Joseph, having learned something of men’s ways and also of the virtue of patience and silence, waited for the captain to continue.
“You have done well in every task that you have been given, Joseph. You have spoken of the presence of your God as being with you always. I believe that to be true because He has made you always to prosper.
“Now we need a position filled with which you are very familiar. Your work on managing the flood waters has integrated well with the management of the crops and the herds. Indeed, you have integrated all that is under my command with regard to the land of The Residence and the properties in the Fayum.
“The households of myself and the king are the only areas where you lack direct experience. But here we have Farid in place, now and for many years past. He knows all that must be done and requires little guidance.
“You are aware of my extended absences, both with the king and in his stead. My oversight of these areas mentioned has been less than it should have been. I intend to correct this error by placing all that I have, all of these responsibilities, into your hands.”
Joseph could not help but feel pleasure in this expression of his master’s confidence. Indeed, the captain seemed less a master than a co-worker, albeit one who more often led than followed.
Joseph had been given the largest portion of the captain’s responsibility.
Yes, the captain would maintain charge over any trade with other countries, oversight of the sepats (nomes) - the numerous administrative districts within Egypt - and of the day to day matters of government. The position of counselor to the king perhaps was greater than all other tasks combined, for these were matters most important to the king and his effective power.
Yet what the captain gave to Joseph was what a father would give a son that the son might one day succeed to his position.
Joseph looked around at these walls that had watched as his life had been exchanged for some unknown payment those many years before. Today’s exchange was not a transaction; this was a gift.
“Of course, sir. Your command is mine to follow. And I will do everything within my power to fulfill your expectations.”
“Good, I knew you would accept. There is no better person to assume these responsibilities.”
The captain rose and reached across the table, clasping Joseph’s hand.
“The power of my hand is in your hand, Joseph. Use it to the king’s advantage first.”
The hand pressed tightly against Joseph’s hand, as if transferring that power, impressing it into the flesh that would perform its work. Joseph returned the grip in acknowledgment and acceptance.
“This is a major change and I must understand your priorities beyond those that you have had for the irrigation work. I will assume responsibility when I have received your direction.”
The captain smiled and began with an outline.
The Future – An Interlude
Joseph worked to ensure that the confidence of the captain in him was not misplaced. Equally, he worked to ensure that the confidence of those beneath him was not misplaced.
As he assumed the responsibilities that Potiphar relinquished, Joseph found the days too short to accomplish all that must be done.
He must first delegate the tasks that he had come to know so intimately that they were second nature.
To give up oversight of a maintenance project on the canal or organizing the beginning of harvest was like leaving old friends to the care of another person. But he knew who could become as new friends to his old friends, delegating what he must, and so he prepared himself to become as a new friend to the new tasks.
For this, he must come to understand these new areas of responsibility. He must become again a beginning slave to see the order that existed and the chaos that undermined the good work done.
One thing he had learned was that the rhythm of the work changed with the time and with the people. As a youth with his father’s flock, he had seen the nature of the task of shepherd change with the season, and also with the personality of the sheep.
Yes! The personality of the sheep changed as the spring brought new lambs, lambs became sheep, and the adults went through the process of aging.
Strangers to the world of the shepherd look at a flock, and they see identical replicas, exact reproductions without distinction or personality. They would treat the flock almost as impersonally as a pile of brick, and they would find difficulty their constant companion.
But the shepherd knows his flock in all its variety. He comforts the skittish, reigns in the bold, and prods the overly content. So he does with each sheep, adjusting to the season and the terrain, the quality of the grass and the presence of predators, and the nature of the one and the many before him.
The change of the many variables from one day to another requires an understanding of what is required and what is available, and bringing the two into harmony. This fills the good shepherd’s day.
Now imagine that the sheep are people, far more unique in their personalities, in their abilities, and in the tasks required of them, and perhaps even more sensitive (although even sheep are well aware and respond to the mood of their shepherd).
Such was Joseph’s first year in the expanded responsibility over the captain’s domain, adapting to his new flock, adjusting for the threats to their well-being, and moving them into a new future.
Dreams always had been a part of Joseph’s life. He had not understood how to handle them when he was younger, and this had worked to his detriment.
But he had come to understand that their purpose was to prepare himself, not to afflict others.
And there were times when other people told of their own dreams and sought understanding. He knew the dreams were to guide that person, to prepare them for their own future.
He had one of his most memorable dreams.
He was in Potiphar’s house adjoined to The Residence.
One hallway was not like the others. Rather than doorways and walls, tents lined both sides of the corridor, with the largest tent at the end.
He walked toward the large tent. The flap was closed. There was no opening, no markings except for the colored stripes that adorned the tent, thin lines at the top expanding to wide panels at the bottom.
Front and center was a deep red panel. The bottom opened as a flap was thrown to the side. Inside was the deep and mysterious darkness of any windowless enclosure. If he reached out and touched the black interior, Joseph imagined that a soft warmth would enclose about his hand.
As he neared, Meera emerged!
Yes, the woman of the tents of the gods that he had encountered when he first traveled with Teyma; the woman with the bewitching dark eyes who seemed to carry with her the soft beat of distant music; the voice that had lulled his mind and soothed all his senses as she had stood in the tent of the gods of fertility.
Her body swayed as in a gentle breeze. There was no movement of the air, but it was to that silent rhythm that could not quite be heard that her body swayed. She held the flap of the tent open with her left arm, and beckoned him forward with an outstretched right hand.
“Enter, my lord, and receive your rest and your reward.”
He found himself walking toward her beckoning hand, his legs moving by a power not his own, moving toward the gaping darkness within the tent. Suddenly, Joseph felt himself being lowered into the depths of the dry well.
His legs stopped. The spell broke! He found his voice.
“No! Thanks be to God that he has brought me thus far and no farther.” His voice was clear and strong, the response of a man who had left boyhood behind long ago.
Meera did not cajole and persuade as she had done in their first encounter.
She hissed and said, “Then you are cursed!”
Arms grabbed Joseph from behind and drew him to the center of the corridor between the tents. A hole appeared in the floor, and he found himself at the bottom, laying in darkness, a full moon of soft light filtering into the top of his prison shaft.
The light changed to dark and to light again three times. Three days he lay in this pit of despair, this vertical cave whose only exit was far beyond his reach.
On the third day, the sun appeared directly overhead, flooding his prison and making the darkness run.
A rope fell down, which he grabbed with both hands. He was raised from this second tomb and brought into the light, far too bright to see so that he must close and shield his eyes.
And then the light dimmed to what filtered through the open window across his room and onto his bed.
The dream stayed firmly in his mind, a picture of his future. As with the strange dream of death, there was concern for the near future, but the reassurance of God’s love and presence came at the end.
Knowledge of the end does not make the pain and loss of the trial less, but it is the trial that is without hope that destroys the soul.
The Future Becomes the Present
Time passed, but Joseph was young, and he did not count the time.
Joseph’s work was respected, and he respected the many who completed their tasks, who met their goals, who accomplished what had been set before them.
He became more familiar with the comings and goings at The Residence as part of his added responsibilities. Farid was so accomplished in his role that little oversight was necessary in that domain.
Joseph came to be considered as one of the free men who handled responsibilities for the king: the treasurer, the scribe, the head of security, the captain, and Joseph. This occurred more because of Joseph’s competence and confidence than the position necessarily, for he still reported to Captain Potiphar.
And even if his standing among those highest in government – the king, Captain Potiphar, the General of the Army, and those others of the highest rank – was somewhere between slave (in fact) and trusted colleague (in practice), his estimation among those of the household and of the servants was as high as anyone who was not the king himself.
Being lifted to greater heights gives a man a greater view, but this also raises him in the view of others.
Zelicha, Potiphar’s wife, began to see Joseph.
One of her young women, a girl from the east named Meera, played a role in this. Although somewhat older than the other girls in Zelicha’s service, and more experienced in the ways of the world, this woman (for she definitely was not merely a girl) remarked on Joseph’s handsome features, his manliness and power.
This is not meant to say that Zelicha began to meet with him. She began to see him in the sense that he was no longer a servant, a slave, one of the invisible cogs within the mechanism that keeps the household functioning.
In her eyes, Joseph actually became a person.
And she saw that he was endowed with youth – he was younger than she, and far younger than her husband.
And she saw that he was a very attractive young man – adjectives that had not applied to her husband in many years.
And a long time had passed since she had had a secret admirer, a man who would bow to her wishes and jump at her command. Her vanity sought subjection of others to prove her beauty and power, desired that others fall under her spell.
Yes, her husband raised quite a row over her coquettish acts. But nothing terrible had come of it, except that a least one man had disappeared from service at The Residence.
She suddenly wondered, “Why have I waited so long?”
And she began to give him glances when she passed him with her servants and women. And she made sure to pass by him often, her eyes meeting his so that he would understand the words she could not speak.
Yet this slave did not respond. Perhaps he was too intimidated by her role as his master’s wife.
And so she found opportunities to say those things that could not be said.
She said he must come and speak with her about suggestions for the gardens. It was an opportunity she had planned well as far as her own attendants were concerned, for she waited alone. And yet Joseph had brought two men with him so that they would all better understand her wishes.
She whispered once to him when none could hear but him, saying that she required his services because of her husband’s absence. And yet Joseph gave no recognition, no understanding of her meaning, saying that he had been summoned by one of the king’s ministers and he must leave her.
Her husband returned from his travels, but her growing obsession with this attractive slave continued unabated.
Encouraged by comments about Joseph from her eastern female servant, she began to think of ways to entice this Joseph, this star that had risen so quietly among men that she had not even noticed him until he was ascendant.
As always, keeping such a thing quiet, unseen, was a difficult problem for a woman such as herself. She was a woman who always desired the companionship of others, almost always with her own women, and sometimes even the queen and the queen’s women. Her activities were not those practiced alone behind closed doors, for she relished gatherings and public outings and festivities.
Discovery of an affair (although there had been those dalliances at festivals, pleasurable enough, but never passing beyond serious flirtations) would destroy her high position, but she determined to be discreet, discerning in her plans. Then her release and abandon could be all the greater!
She watched and waited, but patience was not her strength and hours seemed like days once she had fixed upon Joseph as her goal.
A feast day was coming, and everyone on the grounds of The Residence would go to celebrate. She had heard that Joseph never participated in such. He had his own god or some such thing to which he gave precedence.
This could be used to her advantage. And so the time was to be the feast day, and the place was to be her own, of course. All she needed was the excuse to draw him into her den.
The festival was tempting. After all, those almost anonymous encounters with men could be quite pleasurable. Yet even this possibility seemed wearisome in comparison. No, she would miss this trip to Memphis and make this an opportunity for something more with Joseph.
And a Present Destroys the Future
The flood was at near full stage, and it was another good flood for Egypt. The New Year had been celebrated at the beginning of the month, and the workers were back to their tasks. The diversion of water, the filling and draining of fields, and the continuing task of maintaining open channels, all these were being accomplished throughout the lands of king around The Residence and throughout the Fayum.
This was a busy time for Joseph, primarily ensuring that the men who reported to him kept their focus on work. He had learned early in his Egyptian sojourn (he still called it that, even though he saw no hope of ever leaving) that the first month of the flood contained too many celebrations.
The next major celebration was the Tekh Festival, more popularly known as “The Day of Drunkenness.” Begun at Thebes, the festival had become popular in Memphis now. The allure of paying tribute to “The Lady of Drunkenness,” Hathor, during which drunken revelry was encouraged, was hard for the great majority of Egyptians to resist.
The Procession of Osiris only two days later prolonged the original celebration for some, so Joseph had resigned himself to a period of planning and preparation while his workers were occupied in their diversion.
At first, he had been amazed at the strange gods of the Egyptians (even a crocodile god!) and these bizarre celebrations, but the culture so thoroughly embraced these practices that he could see no way to change them. Such a group mindset denied rational self-examination, a prerequisite for change.
Potiphar’s house, and The Residence and its surrounding buildings, were almost deserted by the evening before the celebration, and by early the next morning the remainder of the men and women intent on revelry were on their way to the Nile. They would go to Memphis where the largest supply of beer north of Thebes would be found.
Joseph found the solitude a welcome change, a rare moment in his Egyptian life compared with the more frequent moments alone, chosen or required, of his nomadic life.
His room was now along a corridor on the upper floor of Potiphar’s house, an area shared by few, of whom none remained. He had received some parchments with information on field acreage and planting requirements from Irsu, who had taught Joseph the art of being a scribe. He would use this island of unscheduled time to prepare himself by studying the information.
Across the building, on the other side of the central indoor garden, ran a similar corridor. There Zelicha waited. She had positioned herself on a seat overlooking the garden. She had seen the last group of celebrants depart, and continued watching for Joseph to emerge through his doorway, unaware that he had left the building much earlier.
She had grown impatient while waiting for people to leave. The one woman who had remained with her the night before had joined the last caravan of travelers, and now Zelicha was alone.
All morning she had thought of Joseph. The woman who had just left her was that delightfully naughty young thing, the only Asiatic woman in her service. This woman, more like a co-conspirator in intrigue, had been the one who had first noticed Joseph. She had often shared stories of her adventures in traveling through the east, where she had led a life full of all the pleasures one might imagine.
This morning, her servant/confidante had revealed something that had further aroused Zelicha’s interest in pursuit of Joseph: many of the eastern men were circumcised! The interest in this peculiar custom, and the difference that it might make in the intimate moments, had stoked the embers of the smoldering fire whose warmth already threatened to consume her.
As the Asiatic servant had spoken of one such encounter, Zelicha had listened intently, mesmerized by the vision the words created, consumed by their ardor. She realized that her mouth was open and dry, her heart raced, and her…her whole being was aroused with desire.
At last, the woman left with the others. The whole house was silent.
Zelicha was about to go down into the garden when she saw Joseph pass through and go up to his room. Not knowing that he had left early, she felt an overwhelming sense of relief. To have had to have gone looking for him would have made an encounter much more awkward.
She ignored the full length gowns for everyday wear and looked through the garments for wear within her apartment only. She found a short and simple gown without much adornment, one accentuating her figure. Her excuse for not attending the festival had been a great tiredness. This attire seemed both appropriate and minimal.
She thought of her clothing as the wrapping of a gift: enough to tantalize and encourage a peek inside, but not so much as to cause needless delay.
Zelicha went down the ramp into the garden. A lounge – a sturdy wooden frame with strong reeds provided support, covered with soft pillows for comfort – stood by a pool landscaped with large rocks and flowering plants. This was in the center of the garden, amidst the tall trees stretching above the roof line and providing shade throughout the midday.
She made herself comfortable on the lounge, pulling her legs onto the soft pillows and arranging the lower part of her gown to reveal a bit more than polite society would deem appropriate.
Joseph had come through the passageway on his side of the garden only moments before. It was probable that he would not have seen her even if she had been on the lounge.
She called up to him, “Joseph, is that you who passed by?”
In the silence of the open space, she was sure that he could hear.
The seconds after her last word ticked by slowly. At last, through the branches above she saw him step through his doorway.
Joseph looked down into the garden, but the foliage seemed to hide the person who had called. “Hello?” His response was a dual question as to who had called and where they were.
Zelicha was pleased that he was so innocent, so unaware. “This is Zelicha. Would you attend me here on the lounge in the center of the garden?”
She could have commanded, but she preferred his voluntary response to a request for his aid.
Joseph could now see her, stretched upon the lounge beneath the shade of the limbs above. Obedient, he came down to her.
“How may I be of service?” he asked as he arrived before her.
Zelicha did not rush. She savored this moment of anticipation, seeing he was both surprised she had remained here and unsure what he could provide as aid to his master’s wife.
“I had felt unwell, too weak to want to attend the festival, but I feel my strength returning.”
She sat up slowly, allowing her gown to reveal as much as possible. “But I do feel the need for something to drink. I think there is some wine on the service counter and it would fortify me, give me more strength.”
She stretched as if to show her improving strength, as well as to give his imagination a bit of a stretch, as well.
Joseph did not notice her movement, avoiding eye contact as much as possible. She had made him aware of her the last few weeks, and he felt very uncomfortable. Her intense eye makeup, the revealing gown, her scent, and his awareness of no one else present did not bode well.
As she raised herself from her reclining pose, he was already moving toward the service counter at the edge of the garden closest to the kitchen. He returned with the jug and a cup a moment later, pouring the cup half full.
“Thank you, Joseph.” She took a small sip. With bright eyes and a full smile, as if the wine had brought full recovery from her weakness, she continued, “Would you like to have a cup, also?”
“Thank you, but I must refuse. I have figures from Irsu to prepare for the planting season, and that work is laid out in my room.”
“You are a tireless worker, Joseph. But do you not relax, even play sometimes?” She spoke with all of the allure she could muster, the last words an invitation that surely the young man could not miss.
And yet Joseph responded as if oblivious to the implication of her remarks, “This is the season of my work, and I know that God has led me to this place for this purpose. There is play, as you call it, even in work, and relaxation in a job accomplished and well done.”
The thought crossed her mind that he was playing with her, seeing how far she would throw herself toward him. Well, she could play at that game, too! If a man resisted a woman, one thing that he could not resist was to speak of his achievements, to brag a bit, to show how big and great he was. Let him get a bit full of himself and then see what happens!
“Your work has won great approval throughout the land! Everyone speaks of the Waterway of Joseph and of how the flood once mastered Egypt, but now Joseph masters the flood.
“You have had success, the play of your work and the relaxation of a job well done.”
Zelicha lifted the cup to her lips and took a long draught. She held the cup up to Joseph and added, “Is it not time to partake of the fruit of your labor?”
Joseph’s intention to interact with his master’s wife on the level of servant to master, as between himself and the captain, now had reached a fork in its path. Whichever path he chose had negative consequences, and he saw no way to achieve a successful conclusion.
He stalled again in hopes of an alternative path. The parallel with the Fall in Eden could not escape him, and he sought to maintain balance on the side of God without alienating the hand that offered the forbidden fruit to him.
“I have come to understand that the moving of boundary markers in Egypt is a great offense, taken more seriously perhaps than elsewhere in the world. To do so would be to take the fruit from another man’s hand, a theft of life, we might even call it.
“God has given me the work of my hands to do, and the fruit of that labor is what I am given to enjoy.”
Zelicha held back the anger that threatened to overwhelm her. How dare this slave speak so to her! Or was he so naïve? She resolved one more approach.
“All of this talk has made me weary again, Joseph,” she said, putting her forearm against her brow. She lifted that arm to him, “Help me to my room.”
Joseph hesitantly took her hand and forearm in his hands, supporting her gently as she slowly rose. She stumbled as she took the first step, putting an arm around his neck for support.
“I will be alright,” she said softly. “Just assist me up the walkway.”
As they walked upward to her room, the icy hand of fear gripped Zelicha’s heart, and it spoke the curse that she had thus far refused to hear: “Your beauty is gone, and all power with it.”
Denial was her natural reaction. This must not be true!
She leaned heavily on Joseph, and he supported much of her weight as they ascended to her room. As they entered, he maneuvered her so that she could sit on her bed.
As she sat, she slid the arm from around his neck and grasped the cloak that he wore. She saw that the yellow flower was a poppy and thought this strange, for poppies were red!
Holding a fistful of the garment, she spoke in a husky voice, pulling Joseph toward her, “Lie with me.”
At last, there was no subterfuge, no masked intentions or subtle innuendoes. The statement was a command wrapped in a plea, need masked in desire, and fear counterfeited as courage.
Joseph could not delay his refusal without risking succumbing to his own desires. Her eyes held him, perhaps more than her hand. He had seen these bewitching dark eyes before, and he felt the power of their spell.
He said, “Look, my master has entrusted all that he has into my hands. He has not withheld anything from my management, nothing except for you, for you are his wife. How could I do such wickedness as this to my master and my God?”
Her expression held no sign of understanding as she raised her lips toward his while simultaneously pulling him toward her with the hand holding his coat.
He jerked away from the lips rising toward him, forcefully pulling himself backward and turning toward the door.
Zelicha momentarily lost her grip on his coat as he turned away. Reaching out again, she grabbed the back of the garment. The cloth of his ten year old coat ripped as he moved away, tearing at the seam across the back.
Held by the remaining seams, he lowered a shoulder and the coat slid away. She was left holding an empty garment in her outstretched hand.
That there is no greater wrath than that of a woman scorned often is considered a trite saying, a cliché to those who have not known its reality. Joseph felt its truth and intensity in an instant, the violence of her curses pummeling him relentlessly.
Accept the barely exaggerated statement that he flew down the corridor and ramp in his eagerness to escape. In spite of the speed of his feet, he knew he could not outrun the consequences of the path that he had chosen.
To acquiesce, to submit to her desire, would have forestalled the anger expressed and the revenge that was to come. But he knew that at some point, both the literal and the figurative devil would have received his reward.
Joseph returned to his room. The neglected information from Irsu was spread on the floor. All of it was now as meaningless to Joseph as his title and whatever good he had accomplished.
There was nowhere for him to run, nowhere to hide, no way to escape.
All that he could do was to commune with God. Facing the open window high above, he knelt. He prayed, but mostly he listened, as he had learned to do.
The recent dream assured him that all would be well in the future. His task now was to endure the time until then.
God knew of events, and He understood the intentions of men. How things would play out was in the hands of men, but perhaps there would be leniency, the mercy God gives to all, the mercy He intends to be passed to others.
Yes, Joseph prayed for mercy, even as the rage across the garden continued.
There were a few guards left at the neighboring building, The Residence, one of whom stood watch from the roof.
Zelicha had asked earlier that he call out to her when he saw the first sign of any return from the festival so that she might prepare herself for her husband. She had had the foresight to avoid a compromising situation should there be an early return.
Now she called out to that guard from the roof of her own house. She cried for help because of the attack of an Asiatic slave. She used every epithet she had ever heard, decrying the nature of both the stereotype of those barbarians and the demeaning act this slave had attempted.
She was a woman violated, a victim demanding justice be carried out with its full force.
If she could have commanded an execution and have been obeyed, she would have done so!
The guard upon the roof rushed to her aid, as did a couple of others within the sound of her voice. The violent expression of her charges adequately conveyed the gross attempt made upon her person by a slave.
“Look! See what my husband has done, bringing an Asiatic as slave in this house, a barbarian near whom no decent woman is safe.
“This trash from the east tried to force himself upon me. I cried out while pushing him away, and he ran.
“See! I hold the garment he wore as proof!” She held up Joseph’s coat with its poppy and daffodil, the garment known to be Joseph’s.
Although surprised that the perpetrator was Joseph, the same Joseph who had been celebrated for his accomplishments in the service of the king, the vigor with which Zelicha denounced her attacker left no room for doubt as to their actions. The armed men immediately went to Joseph’s room and arrested him.
The men had no need to speak. The curses and accusations still streaming across the open courtyard spoke condemnation of the eastern slave. Joseph submitted without a word.
The small group went down into the cellar of The Residence. The cellar was a single large room for storage. Pieces of furniture, tools used in the original construction, statues of gods, and a miscellany of other items filled half the space.
This room that served as Joseph’s cell was not meant for habitation. It was, quite simply, a storage room, but the door had a lock and it could serve as Joseph’s temporary prison until the captain decided Joseph’s ultimate fate.
There were narrow slits near the ceiling for ventilation of the cavernous room. These could not have been far above ground, but they were far beyond Joseph’s reach from the cellar floor.
Now, scarcely an hour after having heard Zelicha’s call from the garden below, Joseph sat alone in what was effectively a prison.
Thick stone walls separated him from the land pressing round this manmade cave.
Stone pillars supported thick floors separating him from life above.
And the anger of a woman scorned separated him from the life that he had known.
There was nothing to do, quite literally, except to wait.
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