Heeding the Warning…or Not
Providing for the Stranger from Afar
Joseph found Captain Potiphar with Neferu in that same room where years ago Teyma and the captain had bargained over Joseph.
The two men were discussing the construction of storage facilities in each of the nomes: general location, number of storage units based on production and population, amount of material needed, and a host of other details, tedious but a necessary exercise.
Seeing the hand drawn map of Egypt with locations marked, Joseph noticed the borders of Egypt. How were they to prepare both for sales to foreigners (whose requirements they did not know) and still have enough grain for the Egyptians (whose requirements they could calculate)?
Joseph allowed them to reach the end of their discussion before posing the question.
Potiphar replied, “The king and his agents alone are responsible for sales to foreigners of any products. The thought had occurred to me that the king’s people would handle all distribution, and having a single location to handle all foreign sales will work much better. We do not want local people seeing grain going out to foreigners from the same location that they see as their own store.”
“Shall we set up a larger storage center at Memphis for these foreign sales? The location would make good use of the river, both for construction materials and grain arriving,” suggested Neferu.
“Yes,” said Potiphar. “And the nearness to Itj-tawy will help ensure proper oversight. The question of how much should be made available for sale to foreigners is the major question.”
Addressing Joseph, Neferu said, “We were discussing larger storage units of grain for the larger population centers, but this one should be the largest of all. I was describing how to effectively store grain for a long period of time, and then to release the oldest reserves first.”
A new thought seemed to appear to him and he asked Joseph, “Are you aware of how the granaries are usually constructed?”
Joseph nodded. “Generally. They are long buildings twenty feet or so wide, not quite so tall, with a curved roof. Their length can vary depending on how much will be stored.”
“Those are the basics, yes,” said Neferu, smiling at the somewhat rough sketch drawn by Joseph’s words. “And those work well for smaller storage sites where adding or withdrawing grain is not constant or in great volume. For the larger storage units where people will be continually withdrawing both small and large amounts, we will need a more efficient way to accurately dispense the grain needed.”
Neferu then described for Joseph how tall silos could be arranged close to one another. The narrative was much improved as Neferu pointed to a sketch as he talked. Each silo would be loaded from the top but would feed from the bottom into a chute that would drop another several meters into a common chute. Release would occur below that point into the container for removal by the buyer.
“The station for dispensing the grain into a bag or other container would be below ground, about twenty feet or so. There will be the work of carrying the grain back up these stairs, but we also can think of this as an added security measure.”
Pointing at the cylinders rising above the ground in the drawing, he added, “The mud brick silos covered in plaster would reflect sunlight and be cool relative to the outside air. Since humidity is always low, the grain should store well for long periods.”
Joseph could see the advantages of the larger silos. There was the extra work of digging below the base of the silos to allow for traffic down and up from the dispensing platform, but letting the grain fall into containers rather than having to shovel it was much more efficient while also allowing the oldest grain to be withdrawn first.
He nodded. “Will this construction be used in the areas of the larger cities, as well?”
“Yes. Djedet and Sais in the delta; On and Memphis and The Fayum in the north central; Amarna and Abydos in the south central; and Thebes and Elephantine in the south. Other areas will have multiples of the standard smaller construction, as needed.”
Joseph saw the distance of Memphis from the eastern border, the most likely entrance point for foreigners requiring grain. This long trek for foreigners through Egyptian land left him uneasy.
“We need the larger silos in Memphis for the Egyptians of that area. We have already agreed that we do not want foreigners coming to the same granary as the Egyptians.”
Pointing to a general area on the map, he continued, “And we do not want large numbers of non-Egyptians traveling so far into Egypt. Why not build one of the larger silos in the eastern delta closer to the Asiatic border?”
Potiphar agreed. “That is a good point. This would remove the need for large number of Asiatics to enter deeply into Egypt. For this unit, we will need a larger guard and a more rigorous process ensuring proper payment and also limiting how much grain goes to foreign individuals.”
Confirming what he had heard, Neferu asked, “So we proceed as discussed with the larger and smaller granaries for Egypt, and then find a location in the eastern delta for one large granary for foreign sales?”
Joseph said, “That sounds good for what we know now. You and the captain finish your discussion and I won’t interrupt.”
Potiphar and Neferu spent another hour on more specifics of material needs for each type of construction, as well as the necessary manpower that would need to be conscripted from the local population.
As they continued to discuss these plans for the buildings, Joseph saw the necessity of someone like the captain or himself monitoring sales to foreign buyers for several reasons.
First, there would be a limited supply of grain to spread over seven years. They must not run out too soon, although neither did they want excess at the end of the famine that might have saved more people.
Second, the payment must be in copper or gold, or perhaps some other item with a recognized value in Egypt such as wood. They could not barter grain for animals, for example, because this would increase the demand for grain in Egypt. The physical disposition of large amounts of material goods and animals received in barter would require great resources and manpower.
And third, the king’s power must not be undermined when foreign rulers or nobles sought to make deals with people other than the king or his direct representatives.
When Neferu had completed his business and gone, Joseph suggested to Potiphar that they have something to eat and discuss the issue of making all of Egypt not only aware of the coming famine but of becoming actively involved in creating a total solution. In spite of the one-fifth tax rate on grain in the good years, the king’s granaries alone would not be sufficient for the years of famine.
First Meeting
The two chariots with Captain Potiphar and Joseph were halfway to Memphis. The pace of the horses had been held back to the pace of the accompanying guards. The vision of riding in a chariot had lost its grandeur within moments of leaving Itj-tawy. Moving at a pace no faster than the men, Joseph longed to be walking with them, but that would not be viewed as acceptable.
He and the captain had spoken about the men whom they were traveling to meet before leaving. Potiphar had made other comments soon after starting the journey, but everyone had been quiet for the last half hour. The chariots and their horses made enough noise that voices had to be raised somewhat to be heard. In addition, the bouncing of the chariot platform as they rolled over rough roads often jarred the speaker enough to distort his words.
Frustrated at having to stand still and move no faster than the men walking, Joseph said loudly, “I am going to stretch my legs a bit.”
He dismounted and stepped forward, taking hold of the horse’s reins. He proceeded to lead, the horse following behind him as he took long strides, stretching his leg muscles.
Potiphar stepped down from his chariot and was soon walking beside him.
“You know,” said the captain with a conspiratorial smile, “these chariots are much better when you can let the horses run.”
Joseph’s expression brightened. “Shall we?”
Potiphar did not answer but climbed back onto his chariot. To the leader of the escort, he said, “We will wait for you at the well.”
Potiphar was urging his horses forward before Joseph had regained his position in his chariot. He urged his two horses to catch up with the captain.
This was more like what he had expected: the wind in his hair, the ground below rapidly moving behind him, the feeling of speed without effort.
Joseph held the reins loosely, concentrating on keeping his balance. Within a few minutes, he no longer had to think about steadying himself, but moved subconsciously with the rhythm of the chariot and the horses.
Potiphar stayed ahead on the well-travelled road – worn by the large amount of travel to and from The Residence. The horses were content to maintain the pace of Potiphar’s team and followed the captain’s chariot. Joseph maintained his loose hold on the reins and watched the scenery passing rapidly by him as his horses obediently followed Potiphar.
The fast pace may have lasted fifteen minutes. They arrived at the well and came to a halt. After drawing water for the horses and themselves, Joseph, Potiphar, and the four horses relaxed in the shade of the palm trees as they waited for the soldiers to catch up.
The captain used the time to review who they would see in Memphis, and they discussed again the general outline of the presentation.
By that time, the contingent of guards had arrived. After the guards had drunk and rested, they proceeded on the last part of the journey.
Joseph had visited Memphis several times in his previous role as supervisor of the flood and irrigation. The name was from the old Egyptian language meaning “the enduring and the beautiful.” Indeed, the city seemed as old as time itself, far older than any city in Canaan.
The whitewashed walls always gleamed in the sun. He would have named it “the shining city.”
There were pyramids not far away, another example of beautiful buildings. The pyramids housed the bones of the dead, while the buildings of Memphis housed the flesh of the living. This fabulous city, like the pyramids, was a tribute to the works of the hands of men.
They made their way to one of the older parts of town. The city was built against the Nile, and so its center was actually along the edges of the river itself.
Not far from the river was the “center of the center” of Memphis, grand old buildings from a long ago time. This was their destination.
When they had stepped down from their chariots and given the reins to two guardsmen, Potiphar asked Joseph if he was familiar with this area.
“I had little reason to come here. The men with whom I met worked from buildings in the more modern commercial areas.”
Potiphar nodded. “Those were not the halls of power, just as those men were not those in highest authority.
Referring to the gleaming white palatial building in front of them, he said, “This was the building that had been the palace of kings long ago, during dynasties before the times of trouble, a period characterized by low floods and poor crop yields. Famine undermined authority as the king was powerless against the continued assault of this foe against whom he had neither weapons nor strategy.
“Now it is the official residence of the governor of this region. Menna is the governor now. As you may guess, his is the wealthiest family in this region, perhaps even wealthier than the king. And as with most of the wealthy that you and I will be visiting, he is not keen on taking orders from the king without some clear benefit to himself.”
Potiphar smiled and added, “We are entering the realm of ‘give and take’ with these people. They see how much you will give, and then try to take the rest.”
Joseph nodded. He had enough experience in the world of men to understand the workings of power.
They mounted the steps and were admitted through the large wooden doors. Potiphar had sent ahead advising of their visit and asking for time from the governor.
A servant ushered them through the high ceilinged entry and toward a corridor beyond a beautifully landscaped interior that, although on a smaller scale, was as beautiful as the interior garden of The Residence.
The room to which they were ushered was modest in size. The high ceiling seemed to make it larger while the many scenes of gods and kings on the walls crowded upon the center of the room. History was all around them.
Menna arrived shortly after the attendant left. He was a man of Potiphar’s age, and they seemed to have known each other most of their lives. They greeted one another with the familiarity of friends, but also with the awareness of combatants assessing one another before the competition. After all, he saw any gain by the king as a loss for him, and vice-versa.
Potiphar made the introduction of Zaphnath-Paaneah, although Menna did have a vague recollection of meeting “a Joseph during his flood taming years.” Menna smiled at Joseph as he spoke the former slave’s old name.
The governor offered them drink, but the visitors chose only water. Menna followed suit and they engaged in a general conversation on recent events until the glasses had been brought and the servant had left.
Joseph later summarized the meeting, as follows, but the visit was actually much longer, the discussions more intense.
“The message from your king was most surprising, Potiphar. He is putting a great amount of faith in young Joseph here,” he added, gesturing loosely toward Joseph.
At the age of 30, Joseph flinched at the “young Joseph” reference, thinking that surely he had matured in years beyond that.
Potiphar quickly rejoined, “Your king, like all of us in Egypt who recognize the power of the gods, respects the messages of dreams and those who can interpret them accurately.” Potiphar gave special emphasis to the pronoun, “your.”
“’Young Joseph,’ as you call him, was in my service for over a decade. I can attest not only to his accuracy as an interpreter of dreams, but as a practical man who understands the nature of men. You already know of his mastery of the Nile. Permit him to give you a greater understanding of what the future holds for us.”
Menna turned to Joseph. “Well, speak up young man. Tell me yourself of what your” - pausing and looking at Potiphar, he corrected himself- “what our king commands in this letter.”
“As I recall, you own a great amount of land. You have many fields of grain and vegetables, and a large workforce at your command.”
The governor interrupted, showing some level of irritation, “Yes, I do! And that is why I am concerned that the king asks for 20% of my yield.”
Joseph thought an object lesson would serve better than an argument based on logic.
“This is a beautiful building. I had seen it only from a distance, but the beauty is even greater upon a closer viewing.”
The governor smiled and gave a nod of appreciation at the compliment.
“This has been the palace of kings, has it not?” asked Joseph.
“Yes, indeed. This building has contained the halls of power for centuries, back to kings early in our history.” He smiled as he talked, seeming to have forgotten the purpose of this meeting as he went on for a few minutes concerning the storied history of the walls around them.
When Joseph was allowed to speak, he asked, “And yet events occurred over which these halls held no power. When the famine came, those who thought they wielded power found themselves powerless.
“Potiphar and I are here today to forestall a reoccurrence of those events. Had the kings of old looked ahead and seen the coming failure of the crops and the food shortages, wisdom would have urged them to prepare in advance.
“We have spoken of what you now possess. And we can look at the arc of the past and say that your wealth and good fortune will continue. But arcs do not last forever. They come again full circle. What is born will spring from the earth and live, but then it will die and return to the earth.”
Joseph could see that he had Menna’s attention. After the briefest of pauses which allowed for an interruption that did not come, he continued.
“We have the opportunity to prolong that arc. Everything you have could be lost within the next seven to fourteen years, or you may preserve what you have.
“You could lose all of the crops and livestock, and own nothing productive. You could lose many of your workers to death by famine or in escape to another land that has food. You could be reduced to the poverty of a street beggar.
“You have the freedom to choose your future,” Joseph concluded.
The drastic events Joseph depicted clearly had taken most of the wind out of Menna’s sails, but he tightened the flagging canvas and came around to reestablish control.
“You do speak persuasively, Joseph, but it is easy to make an argument on a possibly disastrous future without a shred of proof that such die events will occur. Your king spreads stories of famine to steal our grain.”
Menna clearly felt that he had regained control, both of Joseph and of the hypothetical catastrophe before which the king would have all of the governors and nobles bow down.
Joseph was now ready to use the logic of his argument. Menna had regained his balance from the evidence of historical precedent, but his counterargument had been relatively weak. Now for a blow that was feather light but against which he would have difficulty arguing.
“The king heard the interpretation of his two dreams, the two dreams that were a single dream with a single message. He saw the future of his people in jeopardy, and he resolved to save them from their plight.
“Note that he will build storage centers for grain at his own expense, and he will pay for the labor to transport the grain and load the silos at his own expense.
“As we see the seven years of good harvests pass before us, the first half of the interpretation will be proven. If there happen to be years of poor harvests, we will see the dream interpretation disproven. By this you will know the truth of what has been foretold.
“What happens to the price of grain when the harvest is abundant?” Joseph asked.
The simple question’s answer was so obvious that Menna answered as if his intelligence had been insulted.
“The price of grain goes low, of course.”
“Yes, it does go down. So the king will have an abundance of cheap grain, an asset of very little value. Indeed, had you sold this part of your surplus, you would hardly be any wealthier for it. This, too, is part of the risk that the king takes.”
The wealthy man’s thoughts clearly had followed the logic of the argument, and Joseph could see already that the shrewd man’s mind was working busily on his alternative solution.
The calculating mind completed its work, and Menna said, “So I should store food, also.”
He shifted in his chair, his hand to his chin. Joseph could almost hear the rush of ideas flowing through the man’s head.
“The price of grain will go quite high in a famine. If I do not have my own reserve, I will have to pay this exorbitant price to the king.” Resolution was settling into his mind. “I must have my own storage.”
Joseph replied, “That would be wise. The people who depend on you would still be yours, and you will have saved them for themselves and for you.”
He stated the by now obvious summary solution: “All you have to do is to continually store reserves in the good years.”
Waving his hand toward the walls around him, Joseph said, “The losses of the calamities of the past do not have to be lost again to the future.”
Menna looked at the history and religion on the walls surrounding them. Joseph noticed Menna focus on a scene depicting the god of the Nile River, Hapi, looking over a scene below him: the Nile flowing through Egypt, grain growing on both sides with happy workers harvesting the plentiful grain along both sides of the river.
Menna turned to Potiphar. His expression had changed and his question came out more as an accusation.
“Potiphar, we have known each other a long time. We have worked together, even though sometimes we have been on different sides of an issue. Look me in the eye and answer me – why must I give the king 20% of my harvest when I should be saving grain for my own people? Why should the king take so much wealth from all of us for himself?”
The question hung in the air, the two men looking one another squarely in the eye.
The captain’s response began in a slow soft voice, reducing the tension suddenly permeating the room.
“You have asked two questions, my friend. But, indeed, there is one answer to both of them.
“From what you call your grain comes the grain that feeds your people. From your grain also comes the grain that you sell to the baker here in town. He in turn sells the grain in the form of bread to the craftsmen and merchants.
“We now see that the answer to your question involves a new question: When the famine comes, will you still have grain for the baker to feed himself, the craftsmen and the merchants?
“Will you also have grain for the poor farmer in the field of his own, the man who has no storage facility to protect him from starvation? Will you have grain for the widow and the orphan?
“I see that my one question has become three questions. But they are all the same question: Are you prepared to feed all of Egypt in seven consecutive years of famine?”
Potiphar’s voice had remained calm. Even in the last question he spoke as friend to friend as they attempted to solve a common problem.
Menna averted his gaze and shifted uneasily on his chair. He stroked his chin, glancing at Joseph and then looking back at Potiphar.
“I cannot argue against your logic in good conscience, but I can protest the amount of the king’s tax. If the year has a good harvest, this will be a hefty tax!
“I can ask also if the grain he collects from me will be for Egypt alone. Or will he sell to foreigners and keep the profits?”
The captain looked at Joseph as if to pass the question to him. An honest answer would undermine the argument just made, but a false answer would poison the relationship when the inevitable truth was revealed.
Joseph accepted Potiphar’s referral and addressed Menna’s question.
“First, one does not have to be a sage to understand that holding back one-fifth of the grain for each of seven years allows only one-fifth to be available for each of the seven years of famine. The one-fifth provides a buffer against starvation.
“Second, have you been to war, Menna?”
“Of course not. That is for the soldiers.”
“War is for soldiers and the king, Menna. The king must finance the army, as well as lead the men into battle.
“There are wars enough already that protect the Egyptian here in the middle of the country. Those who have seen the battles waged near them against the Libyans, or the Nubians, or the Asiatics – all hordes who would devour Egypt - attest to the value of a king who leads and protects a whole nation.
“You have the responsibility of the people on your lands. The king has the responsibility of the people on all the lands of Egypt.
“When the famine comes and Egypt has grain because the God of heaven has given the king fair warning and the king has heeded His warning, the people of Egypt will be grateful.
“But the people of the nations around Egypt who hunger will look to Egypt with envy, and hunger will turn that envy into war.”
Joseph moved across the room to stand beneath another depiction upon the wall. Above him, the god Ptah stood against a horde of people from the east. Behind Ptah, all was ma’at, the harmony of Egypt. In front of him, all was disorder, the chaos of the east.
“What will avert that war is the wisdom of the king who will sell enough grain to the other nations to forestall war, yet save enough to keep the people of Egypt full. You and the other 100 wealthy landowners of Egypt could not each accomplish so much alone, and I know that for so many to work together in trust is not realistic.
“There is the answer to your question. Let it suffice that the king’s solution is the best for the people of Egypt, including yourself, your people, and your estate.”
Menna had listened attentively. He had no argument against Joseph’s speech and plainly said as much, but he addressed his reservations to Potiphar. “I still am not happy about the level of the tax you put upon me.”
“Remember that you will possess 80% of the bountiful harvests of seven years. Your share will be more than a normal year. If a tax of 20% seems high, is this not a small price to pay to save everything?”
Menna maintained his focus on Potiphar, clearly uncomfortable with the question. At last, he grudgingly yielded, although without surrendering.
“Again, your argument is hard to refute, but still I am unhappy with the level of the tax. We will talk more of this later.”
Menna had made clear his answer to both men, shifting his gaze to Joseph and back to Potiphar again.
Addressing Potiphar, he offered a thin smile, “But friends can remain friends even when not in full agreement. Come and we will break bread together.”
Menna again included Joseph as he turned to him. “All this talk of grain has made me hungry. Join me for a glass of wine and a crust of bread.”
Menna had planned ahead, for at his command two servants brought food for the three men. There was more than a crust of bread, but it was not a luxurious meal. Both Joseph and Potiphar saw that Menna’s expectations of the meeting had not warranted a celebratory feast.
Any tension was gone, the conversation more tactical regarding the years of plenty and the famine, and less about the larger strategy involving taxes and profits. Menna mined his two guests for information on the best means of preparation.
After they had left Menna and again were in their chariots accompanied by their guards (who had been left to partake of the rations they had packed), Joseph asked, “Do you think that Menna will store sufficient reserves against the famine?”
The captain considered for a moment. “I think he will store an increasing amount as the good yields remain high from one year to the next. Whether he will remain consistent from the first year through the seventh, I have my doubts.”
“Yes,” thought Joseph. “A verbal commitment now is easy, but let’s see what he does when the first good harvest comes. Will he have prepared with granaries? And will he be willing to forego sales now for food later?”
Second Meeting
Their next visit was to the priest at the Temple of Ptah, Neferti, the father of Meri-ptah.
Joseph had spent little time in Memphis, possibly more with Teyma years ago than on any subsequent visit. Each experience in the bustling city reminded him of the contrasting peace of the nomadic life. Even around The Residence, with all of the servants and people coming and going, there was a feeling of belonging and a sense of order.
As they cut through a less prosperous part of the town, waste was strongly evident. The nomad could leave the circle of tents and dig a hole some distance away for his waste. Even in The Residence, there were pots that were taken outside the perimeter and the contents buried. But in the city, no such care was taken, no one had responsibility.
On the outskirts of town was the site where much of the discarded material, general trash, and even waste was deposited. Small huts that would hardly be considered as shelters for animals were scattered around the perimeter, and there were people sifting through the contents of this dumping ground, searching for anything valuable or edible.
These poor who lived on the margins of society – how would they survive in a period of sustained famine? What would they find when no one cast away anything, when everyone was hungry? They looked barely alive even in these relatively good times.
Here was yet another reason why all who could do so must prepare for the seven lean years.
The temple was far outside of the oldest district, but the building itself was of an age similar to Menna’s palatial home. A modest statue of Ptah outside the entrance gave evidence of the particular god honored here. The heavy doors were open, the gaping blackness within standing in stark contrast to the bright sunlit outer walls.
They passed through the open doorway, and then crossed a short open space of perhaps thirty feet. The huge doorless entryway into the great room of the temple consigned the foyer to a minor role.
An unseen priest, probably one of the men serving his tour of temple duty of one month out of every four months, had stepped from the darkness to walk beside them.
The priest spoke in a soft tone, “Neferti has been expecting you. He awaits in the room beyond the statue of Ptah.”
The statue of Ptah so dominated even the great room that there was little question of where they were to focus their attention. Adorned with brightly colored garments of chiseled stone, the seated Ptah appeared to be presiding over his empty court, lifeless eyes staring straight ahead above the heads of any mere mortals who passed below.
Their footsteps echoed in the silence as they traversed the largely empty space.
At the open doorway to a room beyond the colossal stone figure, Neferti stood with arms folded on his chest. He wore the full regalia of the High Priest of Ptah, obviously considering this a formal meeting of some importance.
Joseph had never quite understood the tenuous relationship between the priesthood and the king. Although the king appointed the high priests, he seemed to have little actual control over the priesthood, and possibly little control over who he chose.
The High Priest of Ptah was a particularly important position. His primary role was to maintain ma’at in the land by performing the rituals required by Ptah. As the creator god who spoke the material world into existence, Ptah was also the god who could allow all to fall into chaos. And thus this high priest’s position was of paramount importance to the Egyptians.
When they came to a halt before Neferti, the captain bowed and gave his respects. He then introduced Zaphnath-Paaneah.
“Welcome, Zaphnath-Paaneah,” Neferti said, his tone of voice reminding Joseph of when his brothers had taunted him as “the dreamer.” The old man made clear his disregard for “the Revealer of Hidden Things” just as his half-brothers had done.
Although Joseph had spoken once with Meri’s father in the garden at The Residence, the priest did not connect the Joseph before him with the slave that had bordered on insolence long ago.
Neferti invited them into the room. The great room had numerous paintings on the walls of Ptah engaged in his various roles. This smaller room had similar but smaller paintings with the same theme. Not surprisingly, one represented Ptah defending the ma’at of Egypt against the chaos of the foreigner.
Waiting for them was another priest, whom Neferti introduced.
“This is my eldest son, Hakore-ankh,” indicating the man of some thirty plus years of age. “He assists me in my later years and will succeed when Ptah determines the time.”
Indeed, Neferti’s age showed through his makeup, as well as his head leaning somewhat forward, as if it might soon become detached from the stooped shoulders. A persistent cough caused frequent interruptions in the conversation.
The four men sat on rugs arranged in the center of the room so that the two priests faced their two guests. Neferti began with inquiries concerning the well-being of the king and news from The Residence. Following this, Potiphar enquired similarly of the priest and his news.
This eventually led to a discussion of the letter from the king regarding the future years of abundance followed by famine.
“The king’s letter speaks of his dreams and of the interpretation of them by Zaphnath-Paaneah.” Neferti spat out the name, giving Joseph a glance before returning his focus to Potiphar, a man with whom he had dealt for years.
“The king makes known that the temple lands are exempt from his tax of 20%, as they have been exempt from his regular taxes, but that we should build reserves for the years of famine that will follow the years of plenty.
“Do I understand correctly?”
“You understand well, wise one,” responded Potiphar with a nod of respect to the priest.
“This is a matter of great importance. Such a message through a dream surely is sent by the gods.” Speaking as if Joseph were not present, he continued, “I am given to understand that Zaphnath-Paaneah was the interpreter of the king’s dream. Is this correct?”
Although the question was addressed to Potiphar, Joseph answered, “Yes, you are correct. God has given to me the understanding of dreams on many occasions, and God is always correct in what He foresees.”
Still fixed on Potiphar, Neferti continued, “I do not doubt the ability of the gods to give us the dream and the understanding of the dream. But such an interpretation necessarily would come through the priests and not through (“forgive me for not understanding fully what position you held for the king,” he spoke in a softer voice to Joseph) a foreign born man who oversees the digging of ditches.” The old man turned his head for another coughing spell.
Joseph knew his answer again would be dismissed and watched the captain as he took the challenge.
“Tradition is ancient, as Egypt is ancient. The gods have served us, as the priests have served the gods.
“We seek ma’at in this world, and the peace and joy of ma’at in the life to come. The priests set the standard for the people of Egypt in living the best life here that we may live the best life there.”
Potiphar paused and gave a nod of appreciation, which the priest accepted with a thin smile, obviously waiting for an answer to his challenge.
“You honor the gods for Egypt. Your life’s work is to maintain ma’at for all of Egypt. And thus the king honors you with exemption from the service due him by the people, for your service to Egypt is great.
“The coming famine is larger than a famine of Egypt alone. The gods tell us this by bringing a man from another land to interpret the dream. Consider, if you had interpreted the dream, we would have foreseen a famine for Egypt alone.
“By giving the interpretation through Zaphnath-Paaneah, our thoughts of how we are to prepare must be larger, must consider the foreigners who see how Egypt has prepared and has food while they do not.”
Neferti had become increasingly agitated throughout Potiphar’s speech, and here he could contain himself no longer.
“You speak blasphemy, captain! Take heed lest the gods tear down all that the king has for your disparaging remarks!”
The priest was shaking with anger by this point, and his son had drawn closer to put an arm around his shoulders to keep him steady as Neferti had a coughing fit.
“My father disputes your words, captain, as we are sure the gods do, also. We are faithful in our duties to Ptah, and he would not be guilty of such actions as you describe. He would speak through his servants.”
Neferti began coughing again, bending over further. Hakore-ankh stopped his speech to assist his father.
As the coughing spell diminished and Neferti sat up straight again with the help of his son, Joseph spoke.
“I hear your anger, Neferti, High Priest of Ptah. Your life’s work has been in the service of the people of Egypt, that they may experience ma’at, the peace and joy here on earth that speaks of the afterlife. That you care for the well-being of your people and have served them in the name of Ptah shows that all has not been in vain.”
For an instant, thoughts of Teyma speaking to the young dreamer, the boy Joseph, flashed through Joseph’s mind. When Joseph had asked Teyma how do you teach a man a new thing, how do you teach him of God, Teyma had said, “There is no better way than to show them. Words do not travel very far, but actions of character convey what mere words cannot.”
Joseph reached out and took Neferti’s hands in his own, and continued.
“As a boy in Canaan, I heard people speak of the god of this mountain, and the goddess of this city, and the god of this people. Over and over I heard about different gods.
“People built large statues, like the one of Ptah in this temple. They drew pictures, like those that cover the walls of the homes and temples of Egypt. They told stories of what this god or that goddess had done.”
Joseph’s eyes remained focused, looking directly into the eyes of Neferti. The old man had calmed and was intent on listening to Joseph’s gentle but impassioned voice.
“Each of us, whether a boy in Canaan or a man in Egypt, searches for the God who created all and is over all.
“You see him as Ptah. Others see Sobek, a god like a crocodile and a man combined. And there are innumerable gods between these.
“Different lesser gods are ascribed one part of the character of the one God. The one you worship you call Ptah, the one whose hands created all, and the one who prevents order from falling into chaos. The one who worships the crocodile calls it Sobek. And yet there is but one God who made all and rules all.”
Joseph still held the priest’s dry frail hands within his own strong hands, and here he gave a reassuring pressure to them as he said, “The next seven years will be good harvests, and the seven that follow will fail. Here you will experience the certainty of who God is. If the prophecy is not true, then the words I speak are not true.”
The old priest returned the grip on Joseph’s hands. “I have served the people and kept them safe.” Tears welled up in the deep sockets of the man’s eyes. “I have served the people and kept them safe,” he repeated.
Joseph realized that the man had probably not even heard much or any of what else Joseph had said. But this was enough.
The old man put both hands down on his mat and eased himself back into a sitting position.
Nodding, he said, “Yes. I will hold back 20% of our grain each year. I will keep our people safe from starvation.”
He looked at his son who was still standing. “I will not live to see all fourteen years. You have heard what was spoken. Keep the people safe from the famine.”
The old priest nodded again as he looked at Joseph. “I remember you now. You were in the king’s garden. It seems so long ago. Were you but a slave then?”
He paused, but Joseph did not answer. This was not a true question, just a searching of the memory.
“You talked of Meri-ptah, and I did not want to hear it.”
Neferti leaned toward Joseph for emphasis, pleading for understanding. “I did only what seemed best for him, putting him in the king’s service.”
The old man went quiet. Hakore-Ankh had risen during Joseph’s speech, whether to walk out or to initiate blows was unclear. He now lowered himself to comfort his father. “You took care of all of your sons, father, including Meri-ptah.’
He called out for a servant who arrived a moment later. Helping his father to his feet, he said, “Go, father, and rest. I will come to you soon.”
With a hand on the servant’s arm, the old man walked out of the room. He turned at the entryway and said, “Thank you, Zaphnath-Paaneah.” There was no derisiveness when he spoke Joseph’s Egyptian name.
After the footsteps of the servant and his father could no longer be heard, Captain Potiphar observed, “I had not seen your father for many months. He appears to be aging rapidly.”
“You are correct, captain. I see him losing more of himself almost daily,” stated Hakore-ankh with a bit of a sigh.
Making a transition from son to priest, he turned so that he stood directly in front of the captain and Joseph, clearly assuming the vacated position of his father.
“What you speak of the gods is heresy, Zaphnath-Paaneah, but for what you have done to reassure my father, I give you thanks.
“No, I do not believe what you speak about a God over all who is different from Ptah. But what you say of the future proving or disproving your prediction is sensible. Perhaps the message is larger than Egypt. We will see the truth over these next seven years.”
Addressing both visitors, he continued, “The king’s use of Meri-ptah as captain of a temple guard under the king’s control was a devastating blow to my father. And though I have no enmity toward my brother, the effect of the king’s action on the temple and on my father causes me great distrust in any dealings with the king.”
“I understand, Hakore-ankh,” said Joseph. “When we – and by ‘we’ I mean myself, and you, and the king, everyone – when we do not understand God or other people or even ourselves, we are the creators of misunderstanding. And this is the source of chaos.
“Captain Potiphar and I are here today not to attempt to rule over the priests of the temple, nor to diminish your power. Indeed, we are here to bolster your power, to give you the information you need so that you are able to serve your people and to care for them in the lean years to come. To the degree that you store grain for those years of famine, you will increase your standing and maintain your position.
“This is not a contest to see who has the most power. This is the union of the temple and the palace in saving the people.”
“You mentioned that the famine would go beyond Egypt’s borders. What does that mean for Egypt, that there will be no help from neighboring lands?”
“Worse than that,” replied Joseph. “Because Egypt will prepare for the famine, the other nations will not only not be able to help, they will seek grain from Egypt. We must be sure that they seek grain with payment and not with force.”
“Ah,” Hakore-ankh nodded. “We must make enough grain available to them so that they do not have reason to invade and steal it.”
“You understand, I see. Yes, we willingly share to avoid the war they will bring to us.”
“But you are not an Egyptian,” the priest said. “Why do you advise Egypt what is for Egypt’s good?”
Sitting in his Egyptian garb, complete with eye paint and the symbol of the king on the chain around his neck, and addressed by his Egyptian name, Joseph smiled.
With no foreign accent to his speech, he said, “The series of events that brought me to Egypt seemed unfortunate at the time but, as you see, I have been blessed at every turn. The strategy that Egypt takes will be what saves not only Egypt, but those who look to Egypt for food, even the people of my one time home, Canaan.”
With arms folded on his chest, the priest’s body language showed that he still had reservations. “I had doubts concerning this visit, and planned to make plain to Captain Potiphar the anger of not only the priests of Ptah, but of all the priesthood of Egypt. For now, I will reserve judgment.”
Dropping his arms to his side, he added, “You have given us fair warning of what is to occur. And we will watch what you and the king do. And we will watch to see if events follow the course that you have foretold, Zaphnath-Paaneah.”
He concluded with a slight smile, “As you know, there is nothing like the evidence of reality to affirm faith.”
“So you will trust, but look for reality to verify that trust. Fair enough,” said Joseph with a smile. “We cannot ask for more.”
“Rather than call for the servant, I will walk you to the door.”
After this none too subtle offer, Hakore-ankh, began walking toward the door, putting a hand behind the shoulder of the captain and then of Joseph, guiding them back toward the front of the building.
The captain asked as they were leaving, “You have several brothers other than Meri-ptah. Do they serve in the temple, also?”
“Yes,” Hakore-ankh replied. “They all serve in positions under me.”
Joseph almost laughed. Indeed, Meri coming to the king had been to give him a better life, just as Joseph’s sale to Teyma had resulted in a better life for him. How often things work out better because we are not in control.
After the chariots had been brought to them and they were again alone, Joseph asked the captain’s assessment of the visit.
“Hakore-ankh appears to be prepared to take his father’s place. The time is not far off. I am sure that the king will affirm the succession, particularly since there is no open hostility, no reason to make a different choice.
“You spoke well to him. My presence was unnecessary. And your assessment?”
“As long as events go as expected and he does not perceive that he has been misled, Hakore-ankh will be sure they are prepared for the lean years.
“He reminds me that there always will be tension between religion and civilian rule until we understand that the spiritual world and the material world are not enemies but are allies.”
Potiphar considered for a moment and then commented, “The spiritual and the physical appear to be two entirely different realms that overlap in mankind where the spirit inhabits the physical. But they are so different! How are they to have peace in one place?’
“You have said the answer, my friend: ‘the spirit inhabits the physical.’”
“Yes, but we do not see them existing there peacefully. One always wants to dominate the other!”
“So you see their battle in the individual somewhat like the undeclared battle between the king and the priests?”
“So it seems to me,” said the captain. “The tension in the world at large between the secular man and the religious man is the same tension we find inside between our spiritual nature and our physical nature, is it not?”
Joseph did not immediately answer. Finally, he responded with a question of his own. “So is the battle over who is in control?”
“Yes, that is one way of putting the issue. There is a battle for control between the two.”
“My friend, if we talk about control, we must bring in a third party, the one who is all about control.”
“What do you mean, Joseph? Who is this third party?”
“The ego.”
Potiphar did not respond immediately, but then he laughed. “How is it that where I see two choices, you provide a third?”
The horses were walking along at the pace of the accompanying guards. The captain appeared to be absorbed in thought with this revelation of the role of the ego. Joseph would have preferred to dismount his chariot and walk, but they had not far to go.
Their destination was the building reserved for the king during his frequent visits to Memphis. He used it either as a destination when his business was in Memphis, or as the point of departure on a ship to distant places.
A previous king had chosen not to use the old palace now occupied by Menna. His counselors had advised that the place was associated with a monarch’s failure in the past rather than the glory of the king of the present.
Arriving at the king’s second palace (there was a somewhat grander third palace in Thebes), Joseph recognized the true refuge and shield such places provided. The high walls effectively shut out the larger world with its teeming thousands, each one an individual struggling with their own needs and cares. Stone barriers divided the world of need and competition from an acre of peace and plenty.
The king kept the palace fully staffed for his occasional visits, and also for the flow of ministers and commanders carrying orders out from The Residence or returning with the twin riches of revenue and information.
The building and grounds were magnificent. Menna’s palace had the aura of antiquity, but the space within these walls spoke riches and power. Although not of the same caliber as The Residence, the Memphis palace held sufficient grandeur to host a king. They would rest well before departing in their separate directions in the morning.
The South
The visits with Menna and the priests had been instructive, helping Potiphar and Joseph to shape their presentations to other powerful men as they made their separate ways through the land. The captain would proceed north to the delta, and Joseph south as far as the old Nubian border, the first cataract of the Nile. Below this was the kingdom of Kush, the northernmost tribe of the black men of the south known collectively as Nubians.
The two men reviewed their travel plans and talking points over a meal in the palace. They would be on the river for some weeks. Other than the Fayum area, there were no large populations or large agricultural areas distant from the river. The sands of the desert were not hospitable to large numbers of people.
The king had provided a barge for each of them on their journey. Their chariots and horses, as well as the accompanying guards, would travel easier and faster via boat on the Nile.
As with all other vessels traveling the river, the barges were low craft with no storage area below the deck surface. Everyone and everything was on deck throughout the voyage. With low draft but sufficient width, the barges were not prone to capsizing, even with relatively heavy loads.
Joseph’s barge set out first. The sails were ready to be hoisted to catch the prevailing northerly wind. With sails alone, they would make headway against the prevailing current of the Nile, even at this point when the flood was still on the rise. The potential for a good year was very realistic at this point.
Joseph noted that these sails were not fixed. Only when they had gone far up river and the Nile flowed from east to west rather than south to north did Joseph see the advantage. There was still a northerly wind, but the wind was useless to a vessel with fixed sails. The arms holding these sails were adjusted for the ship to move eastward, catching the wind from the side but propelling them forward. Having no experience with sailing, he was impressed with the ingenuity.
Progress would have been slow depending upon the sail alone, however, so a dozen rowers had been added to the otherwise small crew. The rowers guided the barge out into the river, and with the help of the helmsman turned the craft into the current. At this point, the sails were raised and the boat leapt forward with a jolt.
The humidity of the river added to the heat of the mid-morning sun, very like working in the canal and irrigation ditches. Joseph was glad to be standing in the bow with the man who regularly checked the depth, looking for mudbars in the shifting river channel.
The air felt clean and refreshing. The cliffs of Memphis behind lush green vegetation would soon begin to give way to a slightly larger flood plain bounded by not too distant hills. This scenery would dominate for a while, and then the hills and cliffs become more prominent again as they neared the southern border.
The number of governors of the districts of the south was greater than the number of meetings that Joseph wanted to hold. He had sent a message ahead for meetings to occur at the larger cities, the wealthy noblemen summoned to hear the details accompanying the king’s edict for a tax. Rather than listening, it was clear that these men came to protest the tax rather than understand it. The meeting with Menna had been good practice for similar though often harsher complaints.
Thebes was the farthest south of these meetings and the turning point for his return. To proceed farther up the Nile would have required portage around the first cataract, the shoals that were impassable to boats. Joseph asked the few landowners closest to the Kushite border to come to him at Thebes. This was also an opportunity to see Ruia, still manager of the king’s farmland in the south.
His final official meeting on the return would be at Tebtunis on the edge of the Fayum Basin not far from the Nile. This was a relatively recent city, having grown substantially during the canal construction. The thin river from the Nile to The Fayum had been enhanced to enlarge the lake and the benefits of the Nile to that region.
The city had maintained its size even when construction had been completed. Maintenance projects were modest, but the increased traffic of merchandise and food both to and from The Fayum via the canal had created permanent job opportunities. The governor of the district was second only to the king in the extent of his holdings.
Not far away was the workers’ city of Lahun. This was the first city ever built expressly for workers for a king’s pyramid. Joseph had been impressed with Senusret’s attention to the needs of the workers, availing them of the benefits of a city in what had been a wilderness.
Joseph also planned a visit to the rural area of The Fayum region where he had labored in the fields many years earlier. This trip was more personal than official and he would make that visit later, but before his trip north to the area where Potiphar now traveled.
And so Joseph began his journey south, the wind at his back filling the sails, and the rowers adding speed against the modest current.
Joseph’s visits with Menna, as governor, and Neferti and his son, as priests were representative of the visits Joseph made alone in the south.
This is not to dismiss one-third of Egypt as irrelevant (two-thirds of the population resided in Memphis and northward), but more a commentary on the nature of mankind. There were three dominant elements in every visit.
First and foremost was the view that the king’s tax of one-fifth of the produce was a grab for wealth and power. Joseph’s arguments, first for protection from foreigners seeking Egypt’s stockpile of grain and second, the king’s responsibilities for equity, were accepted although not thoroughly embraced.
The second issue was change. Change from the routine upsets ma’at, and in times of change, power may shift. Resistance to the new tax next took the form of disbelief in the predictions for the future. After all, interpretation of two dreams by the king precipitated all of these extreme measures. Joseph countered that each governor (and any others present) would see the seven good harvests as confirmation.
The final issue consistently raised (although never plainly and not in so many words) amounted to how the people currently in power would maintain (or increase) their control in the face of the king’s heavy tax. The clear answer was that each would need to do what the king was doing: stockpiling grain to be available to their people for the famine.
As with so many other events in the lives of men and women, change was occurring. Adjustment to change requires a change in perspective and then adjustments to action.
In the last dozen years, Joseph had seen change of dramatic proportions. He knew how difficult the adjustments to a new reality could be. He urged them to consider, to see things from the perspective of the country, of their district, and of the individual people involved. This would be the beginning of understanding, and when understanding had come, action would follow.
The changes in Joseph’s life, first into slavery and then into prison, had arrived without choice.
Unfortunately, the governors and priests had a degree of choice. The governors, and each of the other landowners large or small, had no choice as to whether they would pay the tax, but neither they nor the priests had to save for the future. This topic became Joseph’s final exhortation, to prepare for the inevitable on the basis of the actual. Again, the seven good years would be proof of the seven bad years, and waiting until the seventh year for action would not be sufficient.
Roughly a dozen meetings with governors (often two or even three together) and five weeks later, Joseph and his personal barge embarked again on the Nile, this time heading north to Memphis from Thebes.
The sun was shining in a clear blue sky. With the sail down as they rowed with the current, he felt the strong north wind on his beardless face, the smells of the river mixed with the lush greenery, all carried in a humid tropical heat.
The horses and chariot, which he admitted to have been a helpful symbol of authority, rode peacefully on the water. He looked at the king’s ring on his hand. That, too, had not gone unnoticed.
Joseph reminded himself that these were merely symbols, and that even the power of a king was symbolic, given only for a time. Nothing that a king could touch or see was permanent. Whatever power came to Joseph had one source, and he must be obedient to the one God who oversaw all.
Yes, the chariot and ring were but reminders of the temporal nature of all things. His coat of many colors came to mind, and Talia’s coat, as well, both long gone. The boy and the young man who had worn them was gone, also.
These symbols now in his hands gave him the opportunity to guide people to better lives. Yes, an opportunity, for the people and for himself. This was the change that he had chosen, the change that had not been forced upon him. His thirty years had been in preparation for this moment in time.
Standing next to the man checking the river’s depth from the bow, Joseph smiled. He had been given many helpers on the journey.
And this thought brought to mind Asenath, his bride of a few days and then a distant partner for many weeks. By the time of his return in three weeks or so, he would have been absent for over two months.
She had been another change that had not been a choice. But now he would choose her. Not just accept her with the sense of inevitability as on the first day when the king presented her as his wife, but as at that moment when he had felt a bond beginning. He wanted that bond to grow.
But he also had the task of traveling in the delta, promoting preparation for the future there as he had done in the south. He actually was rather anxious to see what steps had been taken since Captain Potiphar had spoken with them.
He must allow at least a month more before going to the delta. Then he could better see how time had been taken as an opportunity either for action or for dismissal of the prediction. This would still be well before the time of harvest, but preparations for grain storage must be well under way by then.
He also must visit some old friends in The Fayum. There he could talk with the people in the fields. There were people who knew him as Joseph, slave of Potiphar and worker in the fields, rather than as Zaphnath-Paaneah, “revealer of hidden things” and vizier of the king. From them he could hear an honest representation of the minds of those who were not in power, the laborers of the fields.
Joseph went to the horses. He talked with them and gave them attention, sure they were as anxious to be traveling on dry land as he. All three of them would have to wait.
Though at times the sun seemed to stand still in the sky, this period of time passed also. Eventually they arrived again at Memphis. Joseph learned that Potiphar had passed through a few days earlier and had proceeded to The Residence.
Joseph gladly followed, although at least half of the time he walked beside the horses rather than ride in the chariot.
He found himself anxious to be back at the starting point of this journey. For the first time in over a dozen years, someone waited for him at the end of his journey. He felt as if he was headed home.
Continue reading
Providing for the Stranger from Afar
Joseph found Captain Potiphar with Neferu in that same room where years ago Teyma and the captain had bargained over Joseph.
The two men were discussing the construction of storage facilities in each of the nomes: general location, number of storage units based on production and population, amount of material needed, and a host of other details, tedious but a necessary exercise.
Seeing the hand drawn map of Egypt with locations marked, Joseph noticed the borders of Egypt. How were they to prepare both for sales to foreigners (whose requirements they did not know) and still have enough grain for the Egyptians (whose requirements they could calculate)?
Joseph allowed them to reach the end of their discussion before posing the question.
Potiphar replied, “The king and his agents alone are responsible for sales to foreigners of any products. The thought had occurred to me that the king’s people would handle all distribution, and having a single location to handle all foreign sales will work much better. We do not want local people seeing grain going out to foreigners from the same location that they see as their own store.”
“Shall we set up a larger storage center at Memphis for these foreign sales? The location would make good use of the river, both for construction materials and grain arriving,” suggested Neferu.
“Yes,” said Potiphar. “And the nearness to Itj-tawy will help ensure proper oversight. The question of how much should be made available for sale to foreigners is the major question.”
Addressing Joseph, Neferu said, “We were discussing larger storage units of grain for the larger population centers, but this one should be the largest of all. I was describing how to effectively store grain for a long period of time, and then to release the oldest reserves first.”
A new thought seemed to appear to him and he asked Joseph, “Are you aware of how the granaries are usually constructed?”
Joseph nodded. “Generally. They are long buildings twenty feet or so wide, not quite so tall, with a curved roof. Their length can vary depending on how much will be stored.”
“Those are the basics, yes,” said Neferu, smiling at the somewhat rough sketch drawn by Joseph’s words. “And those work well for smaller storage sites where adding or withdrawing grain is not constant or in great volume. For the larger storage units where people will be continually withdrawing both small and large amounts, we will need a more efficient way to accurately dispense the grain needed.”
Neferu then described for Joseph how tall silos could be arranged close to one another. The narrative was much improved as Neferu pointed to a sketch as he talked. Each silo would be loaded from the top but would feed from the bottom into a chute that would drop another several meters into a common chute. Release would occur below that point into the container for removal by the buyer.
“The station for dispensing the grain into a bag or other container would be below ground, about twenty feet or so. There will be the work of carrying the grain back up these stairs, but we also can think of this as an added security measure.”
Pointing at the cylinders rising above the ground in the drawing, he added, “The mud brick silos covered in plaster would reflect sunlight and be cool relative to the outside air. Since humidity is always low, the grain should store well for long periods.”
Joseph could see the advantages of the larger silos. There was the extra work of digging below the base of the silos to allow for traffic down and up from the dispensing platform, but letting the grain fall into containers rather than having to shovel it was much more efficient while also allowing the oldest grain to be withdrawn first.
He nodded. “Will this construction be used in the areas of the larger cities, as well?”
“Yes. Djedet and Sais in the delta; On and Memphis and The Fayum in the north central; Amarna and Abydos in the south central; and Thebes and Elephantine in the south. Other areas will have multiples of the standard smaller construction, as needed.”
Joseph saw the distance of Memphis from the eastern border, the most likely entrance point for foreigners requiring grain. This long trek for foreigners through Egyptian land left him uneasy.
“We need the larger silos in Memphis for the Egyptians of that area. We have already agreed that we do not want foreigners coming to the same granary as the Egyptians.”
Pointing to a general area on the map, he continued, “And we do not want large numbers of non-Egyptians traveling so far into Egypt. Why not build one of the larger silos in the eastern delta closer to the Asiatic border?”
Potiphar agreed. “That is a good point. This would remove the need for large number of Asiatics to enter deeply into Egypt. For this unit, we will need a larger guard and a more rigorous process ensuring proper payment and also limiting how much grain goes to foreign individuals.”
Confirming what he had heard, Neferu asked, “So we proceed as discussed with the larger and smaller granaries for Egypt, and then find a location in the eastern delta for one large granary for foreign sales?”
Joseph said, “That sounds good for what we know now. You and the captain finish your discussion and I won’t interrupt.”
Potiphar and Neferu spent another hour on more specifics of material needs for each type of construction, as well as the necessary manpower that would need to be conscripted from the local population.
As they continued to discuss these plans for the buildings, Joseph saw the necessity of someone like the captain or himself monitoring sales to foreign buyers for several reasons.
First, there would be a limited supply of grain to spread over seven years. They must not run out too soon, although neither did they want excess at the end of the famine that might have saved more people.
Second, the payment must be in copper or gold, or perhaps some other item with a recognized value in Egypt such as wood. They could not barter grain for animals, for example, because this would increase the demand for grain in Egypt. The physical disposition of large amounts of material goods and animals received in barter would require great resources and manpower.
And third, the king’s power must not be undermined when foreign rulers or nobles sought to make deals with people other than the king or his direct representatives.
When Neferu had completed his business and gone, Joseph suggested to Potiphar that they have something to eat and discuss the issue of making all of Egypt not only aware of the coming famine but of becoming actively involved in creating a total solution. In spite of the one-fifth tax rate on grain in the good years, the king’s granaries alone would not be sufficient for the years of famine.
First Meeting
The two chariots with Captain Potiphar and Joseph were halfway to Memphis. The pace of the horses had been held back to the pace of the accompanying guards. The vision of riding in a chariot had lost its grandeur within moments of leaving Itj-tawy. Moving at a pace no faster than the men, Joseph longed to be walking with them, but that would not be viewed as acceptable.
He and the captain had spoken about the men whom they were traveling to meet before leaving. Potiphar had made other comments soon after starting the journey, but everyone had been quiet for the last half hour. The chariots and their horses made enough noise that voices had to be raised somewhat to be heard. In addition, the bouncing of the chariot platform as they rolled over rough roads often jarred the speaker enough to distort his words.
Frustrated at having to stand still and move no faster than the men walking, Joseph said loudly, “I am going to stretch my legs a bit.”
He dismounted and stepped forward, taking hold of the horse’s reins. He proceeded to lead, the horse following behind him as he took long strides, stretching his leg muscles.
Potiphar stepped down from his chariot and was soon walking beside him.
“You know,” said the captain with a conspiratorial smile, “these chariots are much better when you can let the horses run.”
Joseph’s expression brightened. “Shall we?”
Potiphar did not answer but climbed back onto his chariot. To the leader of the escort, he said, “We will wait for you at the well.”
Potiphar was urging his horses forward before Joseph had regained his position in his chariot. He urged his two horses to catch up with the captain.
This was more like what he had expected: the wind in his hair, the ground below rapidly moving behind him, the feeling of speed without effort.
Joseph held the reins loosely, concentrating on keeping his balance. Within a few minutes, he no longer had to think about steadying himself, but moved subconsciously with the rhythm of the chariot and the horses.
Potiphar stayed ahead on the well-travelled road – worn by the large amount of travel to and from The Residence. The horses were content to maintain the pace of Potiphar’s team and followed the captain’s chariot. Joseph maintained his loose hold on the reins and watched the scenery passing rapidly by him as his horses obediently followed Potiphar.
The fast pace may have lasted fifteen minutes. They arrived at the well and came to a halt. After drawing water for the horses and themselves, Joseph, Potiphar, and the four horses relaxed in the shade of the palm trees as they waited for the soldiers to catch up.
The captain used the time to review who they would see in Memphis, and they discussed again the general outline of the presentation.
By that time, the contingent of guards had arrived. After the guards had drunk and rested, they proceeded on the last part of the journey.
Joseph had visited Memphis several times in his previous role as supervisor of the flood and irrigation. The name was from the old Egyptian language meaning “the enduring and the beautiful.” Indeed, the city seemed as old as time itself, far older than any city in Canaan.
The whitewashed walls always gleamed in the sun. He would have named it “the shining city.”
There were pyramids not far away, another example of beautiful buildings. The pyramids housed the bones of the dead, while the buildings of Memphis housed the flesh of the living. This fabulous city, like the pyramids, was a tribute to the works of the hands of men.
They made their way to one of the older parts of town. The city was built against the Nile, and so its center was actually along the edges of the river itself.
Not far from the river was the “center of the center” of Memphis, grand old buildings from a long ago time. This was their destination.
When they had stepped down from their chariots and given the reins to two guardsmen, Potiphar asked Joseph if he was familiar with this area.
“I had little reason to come here. The men with whom I met worked from buildings in the more modern commercial areas.”
Potiphar nodded. “Those were not the halls of power, just as those men were not those in highest authority.
Referring to the gleaming white palatial building in front of them, he said, “This was the building that had been the palace of kings long ago, during dynasties before the times of trouble, a period characterized by low floods and poor crop yields. Famine undermined authority as the king was powerless against the continued assault of this foe against whom he had neither weapons nor strategy.
“Now it is the official residence of the governor of this region. Menna is the governor now. As you may guess, his is the wealthiest family in this region, perhaps even wealthier than the king. And as with most of the wealthy that you and I will be visiting, he is not keen on taking orders from the king without some clear benefit to himself.”
Potiphar smiled and added, “We are entering the realm of ‘give and take’ with these people. They see how much you will give, and then try to take the rest.”
Joseph nodded. He had enough experience in the world of men to understand the workings of power.
They mounted the steps and were admitted through the large wooden doors. Potiphar had sent ahead advising of their visit and asking for time from the governor.
A servant ushered them through the high ceilinged entry and toward a corridor beyond a beautifully landscaped interior that, although on a smaller scale, was as beautiful as the interior garden of The Residence.
The room to which they were ushered was modest in size. The high ceiling seemed to make it larger while the many scenes of gods and kings on the walls crowded upon the center of the room. History was all around them.
Menna arrived shortly after the attendant left. He was a man of Potiphar’s age, and they seemed to have known each other most of their lives. They greeted one another with the familiarity of friends, but also with the awareness of combatants assessing one another before the competition. After all, he saw any gain by the king as a loss for him, and vice-versa.
Potiphar made the introduction of Zaphnath-Paaneah, although Menna did have a vague recollection of meeting “a Joseph during his flood taming years.” Menna smiled at Joseph as he spoke the former slave’s old name.
The governor offered them drink, but the visitors chose only water. Menna followed suit and they engaged in a general conversation on recent events until the glasses had been brought and the servant had left.
Joseph later summarized the meeting, as follows, but the visit was actually much longer, the discussions more intense.
“The message from your king was most surprising, Potiphar. He is putting a great amount of faith in young Joseph here,” he added, gesturing loosely toward Joseph.
At the age of 30, Joseph flinched at the “young Joseph” reference, thinking that surely he had matured in years beyond that.
Potiphar quickly rejoined, “Your king, like all of us in Egypt who recognize the power of the gods, respects the messages of dreams and those who can interpret them accurately.” Potiphar gave special emphasis to the pronoun, “your.”
“’Young Joseph,’ as you call him, was in my service for over a decade. I can attest not only to his accuracy as an interpreter of dreams, but as a practical man who understands the nature of men. You already know of his mastery of the Nile. Permit him to give you a greater understanding of what the future holds for us.”
Menna turned to Joseph. “Well, speak up young man. Tell me yourself of what your” - pausing and looking at Potiphar, he corrected himself- “what our king commands in this letter.”
“As I recall, you own a great amount of land. You have many fields of grain and vegetables, and a large workforce at your command.”
The governor interrupted, showing some level of irritation, “Yes, I do! And that is why I am concerned that the king asks for 20% of my yield.”
Joseph thought an object lesson would serve better than an argument based on logic.
“This is a beautiful building. I had seen it only from a distance, but the beauty is even greater upon a closer viewing.”
The governor smiled and gave a nod of appreciation at the compliment.
“This has been the palace of kings, has it not?” asked Joseph.
“Yes, indeed. This building has contained the halls of power for centuries, back to kings early in our history.” He smiled as he talked, seeming to have forgotten the purpose of this meeting as he went on for a few minutes concerning the storied history of the walls around them.
When Joseph was allowed to speak, he asked, “And yet events occurred over which these halls held no power. When the famine came, those who thought they wielded power found themselves powerless.
“Potiphar and I are here today to forestall a reoccurrence of those events. Had the kings of old looked ahead and seen the coming failure of the crops and the food shortages, wisdom would have urged them to prepare in advance.
“We have spoken of what you now possess. And we can look at the arc of the past and say that your wealth and good fortune will continue. But arcs do not last forever. They come again full circle. What is born will spring from the earth and live, but then it will die and return to the earth.”
Joseph could see that he had Menna’s attention. After the briefest of pauses which allowed for an interruption that did not come, he continued.
“We have the opportunity to prolong that arc. Everything you have could be lost within the next seven to fourteen years, or you may preserve what you have.
“You could lose all of the crops and livestock, and own nothing productive. You could lose many of your workers to death by famine or in escape to another land that has food. You could be reduced to the poverty of a street beggar.
“You have the freedom to choose your future,” Joseph concluded.
The drastic events Joseph depicted clearly had taken most of the wind out of Menna’s sails, but he tightened the flagging canvas and came around to reestablish control.
“You do speak persuasively, Joseph, but it is easy to make an argument on a possibly disastrous future without a shred of proof that such die events will occur. Your king spreads stories of famine to steal our grain.”
Menna clearly felt that he had regained control, both of Joseph and of the hypothetical catastrophe before which the king would have all of the governors and nobles bow down.
Joseph was now ready to use the logic of his argument. Menna had regained his balance from the evidence of historical precedent, but his counterargument had been relatively weak. Now for a blow that was feather light but against which he would have difficulty arguing.
“The king heard the interpretation of his two dreams, the two dreams that were a single dream with a single message. He saw the future of his people in jeopardy, and he resolved to save them from their plight.
“Note that he will build storage centers for grain at his own expense, and he will pay for the labor to transport the grain and load the silos at his own expense.
“As we see the seven years of good harvests pass before us, the first half of the interpretation will be proven. If there happen to be years of poor harvests, we will see the dream interpretation disproven. By this you will know the truth of what has been foretold.
“What happens to the price of grain when the harvest is abundant?” Joseph asked.
The simple question’s answer was so obvious that Menna answered as if his intelligence had been insulted.
“The price of grain goes low, of course.”
“Yes, it does go down. So the king will have an abundance of cheap grain, an asset of very little value. Indeed, had you sold this part of your surplus, you would hardly be any wealthier for it. This, too, is part of the risk that the king takes.”
The wealthy man’s thoughts clearly had followed the logic of the argument, and Joseph could see already that the shrewd man’s mind was working busily on his alternative solution.
The calculating mind completed its work, and Menna said, “So I should store food, also.”
He shifted in his chair, his hand to his chin. Joseph could almost hear the rush of ideas flowing through the man’s head.
“The price of grain will go quite high in a famine. If I do not have my own reserve, I will have to pay this exorbitant price to the king.” Resolution was settling into his mind. “I must have my own storage.”
Joseph replied, “That would be wise. The people who depend on you would still be yours, and you will have saved them for themselves and for you.”
He stated the by now obvious summary solution: “All you have to do is to continually store reserves in the good years.”
Waving his hand toward the walls around him, Joseph said, “The losses of the calamities of the past do not have to be lost again to the future.”
Menna looked at the history and religion on the walls surrounding them. Joseph noticed Menna focus on a scene depicting the god of the Nile River, Hapi, looking over a scene below him: the Nile flowing through Egypt, grain growing on both sides with happy workers harvesting the plentiful grain along both sides of the river.
Menna turned to Potiphar. His expression had changed and his question came out more as an accusation.
“Potiphar, we have known each other a long time. We have worked together, even though sometimes we have been on different sides of an issue. Look me in the eye and answer me – why must I give the king 20% of my harvest when I should be saving grain for my own people? Why should the king take so much wealth from all of us for himself?”
The question hung in the air, the two men looking one another squarely in the eye.
The captain’s response began in a slow soft voice, reducing the tension suddenly permeating the room.
“You have asked two questions, my friend. But, indeed, there is one answer to both of them.
“From what you call your grain comes the grain that feeds your people. From your grain also comes the grain that you sell to the baker here in town. He in turn sells the grain in the form of bread to the craftsmen and merchants.
“We now see that the answer to your question involves a new question: When the famine comes, will you still have grain for the baker to feed himself, the craftsmen and the merchants?
“Will you also have grain for the poor farmer in the field of his own, the man who has no storage facility to protect him from starvation? Will you have grain for the widow and the orphan?
“I see that my one question has become three questions. But they are all the same question: Are you prepared to feed all of Egypt in seven consecutive years of famine?”
Potiphar’s voice had remained calm. Even in the last question he spoke as friend to friend as they attempted to solve a common problem.
Menna averted his gaze and shifted uneasily on his chair. He stroked his chin, glancing at Joseph and then looking back at Potiphar.
“I cannot argue against your logic in good conscience, but I can protest the amount of the king’s tax. If the year has a good harvest, this will be a hefty tax!
“I can ask also if the grain he collects from me will be for Egypt alone. Or will he sell to foreigners and keep the profits?”
The captain looked at Joseph as if to pass the question to him. An honest answer would undermine the argument just made, but a false answer would poison the relationship when the inevitable truth was revealed.
Joseph accepted Potiphar’s referral and addressed Menna’s question.
“First, one does not have to be a sage to understand that holding back one-fifth of the grain for each of seven years allows only one-fifth to be available for each of the seven years of famine. The one-fifth provides a buffer against starvation.
“Second, have you been to war, Menna?”
“Of course not. That is for the soldiers.”
“War is for soldiers and the king, Menna. The king must finance the army, as well as lead the men into battle.
“There are wars enough already that protect the Egyptian here in the middle of the country. Those who have seen the battles waged near them against the Libyans, or the Nubians, or the Asiatics – all hordes who would devour Egypt - attest to the value of a king who leads and protects a whole nation.
“You have the responsibility of the people on your lands. The king has the responsibility of the people on all the lands of Egypt.
“When the famine comes and Egypt has grain because the God of heaven has given the king fair warning and the king has heeded His warning, the people of Egypt will be grateful.
“But the people of the nations around Egypt who hunger will look to Egypt with envy, and hunger will turn that envy into war.”
Joseph moved across the room to stand beneath another depiction upon the wall. Above him, the god Ptah stood against a horde of people from the east. Behind Ptah, all was ma’at, the harmony of Egypt. In front of him, all was disorder, the chaos of the east.
“What will avert that war is the wisdom of the king who will sell enough grain to the other nations to forestall war, yet save enough to keep the people of Egypt full. You and the other 100 wealthy landowners of Egypt could not each accomplish so much alone, and I know that for so many to work together in trust is not realistic.
“There is the answer to your question. Let it suffice that the king’s solution is the best for the people of Egypt, including yourself, your people, and your estate.”
Menna had listened attentively. He had no argument against Joseph’s speech and plainly said as much, but he addressed his reservations to Potiphar. “I still am not happy about the level of the tax you put upon me.”
“Remember that you will possess 80% of the bountiful harvests of seven years. Your share will be more than a normal year. If a tax of 20% seems high, is this not a small price to pay to save everything?”
Menna maintained his focus on Potiphar, clearly uncomfortable with the question. At last, he grudgingly yielded, although without surrendering.
“Again, your argument is hard to refute, but still I am unhappy with the level of the tax. We will talk more of this later.”
Menna had made clear his answer to both men, shifting his gaze to Joseph and back to Potiphar again.
Addressing Potiphar, he offered a thin smile, “But friends can remain friends even when not in full agreement. Come and we will break bread together.”
Menna again included Joseph as he turned to him. “All this talk of grain has made me hungry. Join me for a glass of wine and a crust of bread.”
Menna had planned ahead, for at his command two servants brought food for the three men. There was more than a crust of bread, but it was not a luxurious meal. Both Joseph and Potiphar saw that Menna’s expectations of the meeting had not warranted a celebratory feast.
Any tension was gone, the conversation more tactical regarding the years of plenty and the famine, and less about the larger strategy involving taxes and profits. Menna mined his two guests for information on the best means of preparation.
After they had left Menna and again were in their chariots accompanied by their guards (who had been left to partake of the rations they had packed), Joseph asked, “Do you think that Menna will store sufficient reserves against the famine?”
The captain considered for a moment. “I think he will store an increasing amount as the good yields remain high from one year to the next. Whether he will remain consistent from the first year through the seventh, I have my doubts.”
“Yes,” thought Joseph. “A verbal commitment now is easy, but let’s see what he does when the first good harvest comes. Will he have prepared with granaries? And will he be willing to forego sales now for food later?”
Second Meeting
Their next visit was to the priest at the Temple of Ptah, Neferti, the father of Meri-ptah.
Joseph had spent little time in Memphis, possibly more with Teyma years ago than on any subsequent visit. Each experience in the bustling city reminded him of the contrasting peace of the nomadic life. Even around The Residence, with all of the servants and people coming and going, there was a feeling of belonging and a sense of order.
As they cut through a less prosperous part of the town, waste was strongly evident. The nomad could leave the circle of tents and dig a hole some distance away for his waste. Even in The Residence, there were pots that were taken outside the perimeter and the contents buried. But in the city, no such care was taken, no one had responsibility.
On the outskirts of town was the site where much of the discarded material, general trash, and even waste was deposited. Small huts that would hardly be considered as shelters for animals were scattered around the perimeter, and there were people sifting through the contents of this dumping ground, searching for anything valuable or edible.
These poor who lived on the margins of society – how would they survive in a period of sustained famine? What would they find when no one cast away anything, when everyone was hungry? They looked barely alive even in these relatively good times.
Here was yet another reason why all who could do so must prepare for the seven lean years.
The temple was far outside of the oldest district, but the building itself was of an age similar to Menna’s palatial home. A modest statue of Ptah outside the entrance gave evidence of the particular god honored here. The heavy doors were open, the gaping blackness within standing in stark contrast to the bright sunlit outer walls.
They passed through the open doorway, and then crossed a short open space of perhaps thirty feet. The huge doorless entryway into the great room of the temple consigned the foyer to a minor role.
An unseen priest, probably one of the men serving his tour of temple duty of one month out of every four months, had stepped from the darkness to walk beside them.
The priest spoke in a soft tone, “Neferti has been expecting you. He awaits in the room beyond the statue of Ptah.”
The statue of Ptah so dominated even the great room that there was little question of where they were to focus their attention. Adorned with brightly colored garments of chiseled stone, the seated Ptah appeared to be presiding over his empty court, lifeless eyes staring straight ahead above the heads of any mere mortals who passed below.
Their footsteps echoed in the silence as they traversed the largely empty space.
At the open doorway to a room beyond the colossal stone figure, Neferti stood with arms folded on his chest. He wore the full regalia of the High Priest of Ptah, obviously considering this a formal meeting of some importance.
Joseph had never quite understood the tenuous relationship between the priesthood and the king. Although the king appointed the high priests, he seemed to have little actual control over the priesthood, and possibly little control over who he chose.
The High Priest of Ptah was a particularly important position. His primary role was to maintain ma’at in the land by performing the rituals required by Ptah. As the creator god who spoke the material world into existence, Ptah was also the god who could allow all to fall into chaos. And thus this high priest’s position was of paramount importance to the Egyptians.
When they came to a halt before Neferti, the captain bowed and gave his respects. He then introduced Zaphnath-Paaneah.
“Welcome, Zaphnath-Paaneah,” Neferti said, his tone of voice reminding Joseph of when his brothers had taunted him as “the dreamer.” The old man made clear his disregard for “the Revealer of Hidden Things” just as his half-brothers had done.
Although Joseph had spoken once with Meri’s father in the garden at The Residence, the priest did not connect the Joseph before him with the slave that had bordered on insolence long ago.
Neferti invited them into the room. The great room had numerous paintings on the walls of Ptah engaged in his various roles. This smaller room had similar but smaller paintings with the same theme. Not surprisingly, one represented Ptah defending the ma’at of Egypt against the chaos of the foreigner.
Waiting for them was another priest, whom Neferti introduced.
“This is my eldest son, Hakore-ankh,” indicating the man of some thirty plus years of age. “He assists me in my later years and will succeed when Ptah determines the time.”
Indeed, Neferti’s age showed through his makeup, as well as his head leaning somewhat forward, as if it might soon become detached from the stooped shoulders. A persistent cough caused frequent interruptions in the conversation.
The four men sat on rugs arranged in the center of the room so that the two priests faced their two guests. Neferti began with inquiries concerning the well-being of the king and news from The Residence. Following this, Potiphar enquired similarly of the priest and his news.
This eventually led to a discussion of the letter from the king regarding the future years of abundance followed by famine.
“The king’s letter speaks of his dreams and of the interpretation of them by Zaphnath-Paaneah.” Neferti spat out the name, giving Joseph a glance before returning his focus to Potiphar, a man with whom he had dealt for years.
“The king makes known that the temple lands are exempt from his tax of 20%, as they have been exempt from his regular taxes, but that we should build reserves for the years of famine that will follow the years of plenty.
“Do I understand correctly?”
“You understand well, wise one,” responded Potiphar with a nod of respect to the priest.
“This is a matter of great importance. Such a message through a dream surely is sent by the gods.” Speaking as if Joseph were not present, he continued, “I am given to understand that Zaphnath-Paaneah was the interpreter of the king’s dream. Is this correct?”
Although the question was addressed to Potiphar, Joseph answered, “Yes, you are correct. God has given to me the understanding of dreams on many occasions, and God is always correct in what He foresees.”
Still fixed on Potiphar, Neferti continued, “I do not doubt the ability of the gods to give us the dream and the understanding of the dream. But such an interpretation necessarily would come through the priests and not through (“forgive me for not understanding fully what position you held for the king,” he spoke in a softer voice to Joseph) a foreign born man who oversees the digging of ditches.” The old man turned his head for another coughing spell.
Joseph knew his answer again would be dismissed and watched the captain as he took the challenge.
“Tradition is ancient, as Egypt is ancient. The gods have served us, as the priests have served the gods.
“We seek ma’at in this world, and the peace and joy of ma’at in the life to come. The priests set the standard for the people of Egypt in living the best life here that we may live the best life there.”
Potiphar paused and gave a nod of appreciation, which the priest accepted with a thin smile, obviously waiting for an answer to his challenge.
“You honor the gods for Egypt. Your life’s work is to maintain ma’at for all of Egypt. And thus the king honors you with exemption from the service due him by the people, for your service to Egypt is great.
“The coming famine is larger than a famine of Egypt alone. The gods tell us this by bringing a man from another land to interpret the dream. Consider, if you had interpreted the dream, we would have foreseen a famine for Egypt alone.
“By giving the interpretation through Zaphnath-Paaneah, our thoughts of how we are to prepare must be larger, must consider the foreigners who see how Egypt has prepared and has food while they do not.”
Neferti had become increasingly agitated throughout Potiphar’s speech, and here he could contain himself no longer.
“You speak blasphemy, captain! Take heed lest the gods tear down all that the king has for your disparaging remarks!”
The priest was shaking with anger by this point, and his son had drawn closer to put an arm around his shoulders to keep him steady as Neferti had a coughing fit.
“My father disputes your words, captain, as we are sure the gods do, also. We are faithful in our duties to Ptah, and he would not be guilty of such actions as you describe. He would speak through his servants.”
Neferti began coughing again, bending over further. Hakore-ankh stopped his speech to assist his father.
As the coughing spell diminished and Neferti sat up straight again with the help of his son, Joseph spoke.
“I hear your anger, Neferti, High Priest of Ptah. Your life’s work has been in the service of the people of Egypt, that they may experience ma’at, the peace and joy here on earth that speaks of the afterlife. That you care for the well-being of your people and have served them in the name of Ptah shows that all has not been in vain.”
For an instant, thoughts of Teyma speaking to the young dreamer, the boy Joseph, flashed through Joseph’s mind. When Joseph had asked Teyma how do you teach a man a new thing, how do you teach him of God, Teyma had said, “There is no better way than to show them. Words do not travel very far, but actions of character convey what mere words cannot.”
Joseph reached out and took Neferti’s hands in his own, and continued.
“As a boy in Canaan, I heard people speak of the god of this mountain, and the goddess of this city, and the god of this people. Over and over I heard about different gods.
“People built large statues, like the one of Ptah in this temple. They drew pictures, like those that cover the walls of the homes and temples of Egypt. They told stories of what this god or that goddess had done.”
Joseph’s eyes remained focused, looking directly into the eyes of Neferti. The old man had calmed and was intent on listening to Joseph’s gentle but impassioned voice.
“Each of us, whether a boy in Canaan or a man in Egypt, searches for the God who created all and is over all.
“You see him as Ptah. Others see Sobek, a god like a crocodile and a man combined. And there are innumerable gods between these.
“Different lesser gods are ascribed one part of the character of the one God. The one you worship you call Ptah, the one whose hands created all, and the one who prevents order from falling into chaos. The one who worships the crocodile calls it Sobek. And yet there is but one God who made all and rules all.”
Joseph still held the priest’s dry frail hands within his own strong hands, and here he gave a reassuring pressure to them as he said, “The next seven years will be good harvests, and the seven that follow will fail. Here you will experience the certainty of who God is. If the prophecy is not true, then the words I speak are not true.”
The old priest returned the grip on Joseph’s hands. “I have served the people and kept them safe.” Tears welled up in the deep sockets of the man’s eyes. “I have served the people and kept them safe,” he repeated.
Joseph realized that the man had probably not even heard much or any of what else Joseph had said. But this was enough.
The old man put both hands down on his mat and eased himself back into a sitting position.
Nodding, he said, “Yes. I will hold back 20% of our grain each year. I will keep our people safe from starvation.”
He looked at his son who was still standing. “I will not live to see all fourteen years. You have heard what was spoken. Keep the people safe from the famine.”
The old priest nodded again as he looked at Joseph. “I remember you now. You were in the king’s garden. It seems so long ago. Were you but a slave then?”
He paused, but Joseph did not answer. This was not a true question, just a searching of the memory.
“You talked of Meri-ptah, and I did not want to hear it.”
Neferti leaned toward Joseph for emphasis, pleading for understanding. “I did only what seemed best for him, putting him in the king’s service.”
The old man went quiet. Hakore-Ankh had risen during Joseph’s speech, whether to walk out or to initiate blows was unclear. He now lowered himself to comfort his father. “You took care of all of your sons, father, including Meri-ptah.’
He called out for a servant who arrived a moment later. Helping his father to his feet, he said, “Go, father, and rest. I will come to you soon.”
With a hand on the servant’s arm, the old man walked out of the room. He turned at the entryway and said, “Thank you, Zaphnath-Paaneah.” There was no derisiveness when he spoke Joseph’s Egyptian name.
After the footsteps of the servant and his father could no longer be heard, Captain Potiphar observed, “I had not seen your father for many months. He appears to be aging rapidly.”
“You are correct, captain. I see him losing more of himself almost daily,” stated Hakore-ankh with a bit of a sigh.
Making a transition from son to priest, he turned so that he stood directly in front of the captain and Joseph, clearly assuming the vacated position of his father.
“What you speak of the gods is heresy, Zaphnath-Paaneah, but for what you have done to reassure my father, I give you thanks.
“No, I do not believe what you speak about a God over all who is different from Ptah. But what you say of the future proving or disproving your prediction is sensible. Perhaps the message is larger than Egypt. We will see the truth over these next seven years.”
Addressing both visitors, he continued, “The king’s use of Meri-ptah as captain of a temple guard under the king’s control was a devastating blow to my father. And though I have no enmity toward my brother, the effect of the king’s action on the temple and on my father causes me great distrust in any dealings with the king.”
“I understand, Hakore-ankh,” said Joseph. “When we – and by ‘we’ I mean myself, and you, and the king, everyone – when we do not understand God or other people or even ourselves, we are the creators of misunderstanding. And this is the source of chaos.
“Captain Potiphar and I are here today not to attempt to rule over the priests of the temple, nor to diminish your power. Indeed, we are here to bolster your power, to give you the information you need so that you are able to serve your people and to care for them in the lean years to come. To the degree that you store grain for those years of famine, you will increase your standing and maintain your position.
“This is not a contest to see who has the most power. This is the union of the temple and the palace in saving the people.”
“You mentioned that the famine would go beyond Egypt’s borders. What does that mean for Egypt, that there will be no help from neighboring lands?”
“Worse than that,” replied Joseph. “Because Egypt will prepare for the famine, the other nations will not only not be able to help, they will seek grain from Egypt. We must be sure that they seek grain with payment and not with force.”
“Ah,” Hakore-ankh nodded. “We must make enough grain available to them so that they do not have reason to invade and steal it.”
“You understand, I see. Yes, we willingly share to avoid the war they will bring to us.”
“But you are not an Egyptian,” the priest said. “Why do you advise Egypt what is for Egypt’s good?”
Sitting in his Egyptian garb, complete with eye paint and the symbol of the king on the chain around his neck, and addressed by his Egyptian name, Joseph smiled.
With no foreign accent to his speech, he said, “The series of events that brought me to Egypt seemed unfortunate at the time but, as you see, I have been blessed at every turn. The strategy that Egypt takes will be what saves not only Egypt, but those who look to Egypt for food, even the people of my one time home, Canaan.”
With arms folded on his chest, the priest’s body language showed that he still had reservations. “I had doubts concerning this visit, and planned to make plain to Captain Potiphar the anger of not only the priests of Ptah, but of all the priesthood of Egypt. For now, I will reserve judgment.”
Dropping his arms to his side, he added, “You have given us fair warning of what is to occur. And we will watch what you and the king do. And we will watch to see if events follow the course that you have foretold, Zaphnath-Paaneah.”
He concluded with a slight smile, “As you know, there is nothing like the evidence of reality to affirm faith.”
“So you will trust, but look for reality to verify that trust. Fair enough,” said Joseph with a smile. “We cannot ask for more.”
“Rather than call for the servant, I will walk you to the door.”
After this none too subtle offer, Hakore-ankh, began walking toward the door, putting a hand behind the shoulder of the captain and then of Joseph, guiding them back toward the front of the building.
The captain asked as they were leaving, “You have several brothers other than Meri-ptah. Do they serve in the temple, also?”
“Yes,” Hakore-ankh replied. “They all serve in positions under me.”
Joseph almost laughed. Indeed, Meri coming to the king had been to give him a better life, just as Joseph’s sale to Teyma had resulted in a better life for him. How often things work out better because we are not in control.
After the chariots had been brought to them and they were again alone, Joseph asked the captain’s assessment of the visit.
“Hakore-ankh appears to be prepared to take his father’s place. The time is not far off. I am sure that the king will affirm the succession, particularly since there is no open hostility, no reason to make a different choice.
“You spoke well to him. My presence was unnecessary. And your assessment?”
“As long as events go as expected and he does not perceive that he has been misled, Hakore-ankh will be sure they are prepared for the lean years.
“He reminds me that there always will be tension between religion and civilian rule until we understand that the spiritual world and the material world are not enemies but are allies.”
Potiphar considered for a moment and then commented, “The spiritual and the physical appear to be two entirely different realms that overlap in mankind where the spirit inhabits the physical. But they are so different! How are they to have peace in one place?’
“You have said the answer, my friend: ‘the spirit inhabits the physical.’”
“Yes, but we do not see them existing there peacefully. One always wants to dominate the other!”
“So you see their battle in the individual somewhat like the undeclared battle between the king and the priests?”
“So it seems to me,” said the captain. “The tension in the world at large between the secular man and the religious man is the same tension we find inside between our spiritual nature and our physical nature, is it not?”
Joseph did not immediately answer. Finally, he responded with a question of his own. “So is the battle over who is in control?”
“Yes, that is one way of putting the issue. There is a battle for control between the two.”
“My friend, if we talk about control, we must bring in a third party, the one who is all about control.”
“What do you mean, Joseph? Who is this third party?”
“The ego.”
Potiphar did not respond immediately, but then he laughed. “How is it that where I see two choices, you provide a third?”
The horses were walking along at the pace of the accompanying guards. The captain appeared to be absorbed in thought with this revelation of the role of the ego. Joseph would have preferred to dismount his chariot and walk, but they had not far to go.
Their destination was the building reserved for the king during his frequent visits to Memphis. He used it either as a destination when his business was in Memphis, or as the point of departure on a ship to distant places.
A previous king had chosen not to use the old palace now occupied by Menna. His counselors had advised that the place was associated with a monarch’s failure in the past rather than the glory of the king of the present.
Arriving at the king’s second palace (there was a somewhat grander third palace in Thebes), Joseph recognized the true refuge and shield such places provided. The high walls effectively shut out the larger world with its teeming thousands, each one an individual struggling with their own needs and cares. Stone barriers divided the world of need and competition from an acre of peace and plenty.
The king kept the palace fully staffed for his occasional visits, and also for the flow of ministers and commanders carrying orders out from The Residence or returning with the twin riches of revenue and information.
The building and grounds were magnificent. Menna’s palace had the aura of antiquity, but the space within these walls spoke riches and power. Although not of the same caliber as The Residence, the Memphis palace held sufficient grandeur to host a king. They would rest well before departing in their separate directions in the morning.
The South
The visits with Menna and the priests had been instructive, helping Potiphar and Joseph to shape their presentations to other powerful men as they made their separate ways through the land. The captain would proceed north to the delta, and Joseph south as far as the old Nubian border, the first cataract of the Nile. Below this was the kingdom of Kush, the northernmost tribe of the black men of the south known collectively as Nubians.
The two men reviewed their travel plans and talking points over a meal in the palace. They would be on the river for some weeks. Other than the Fayum area, there were no large populations or large agricultural areas distant from the river. The sands of the desert were not hospitable to large numbers of people.
The king had provided a barge for each of them on their journey. Their chariots and horses, as well as the accompanying guards, would travel easier and faster via boat on the Nile.
As with all other vessels traveling the river, the barges were low craft with no storage area below the deck surface. Everyone and everything was on deck throughout the voyage. With low draft but sufficient width, the barges were not prone to capsizing, even with relatively heavy loads.
Joseph’s barge set out first. The sails were ready to be hoisted to catch the prevailing northerly wind. With sails alone, they would make headway against the prevailing current of the Nile, even at this point when the flood was still on the rise. The potential for a good year was very realistic at this point.
Joseph noted that these sails were not fixed. Only when they had gone far up river and the Nile flowed from east to west rather than south to north did Joseph see the advantage. There was still a northerly wind, but the wind was useless to a vessel with fixed sails. The arms holding these sails were adjusted for the ship to move eastward, catching the wind from the side but propelling them forward. Having no experience with sailing, he was impressed with the ingenuity.
Progress would have been slow depending upon the sail alone, however, so a dozen rowers had been added to the otherwise small crew. The rowers guided the barge out into the river, and with the help of the helmsman turned the craft into the current. At this point, the sails were raised and the boat leapt forward with a jolt.
The humidity of the river added to the heat of the mid-morning sun, very like working in the canal and irrigation ditches. Joseph was glad to be standing in the bow with the man who regularly checked the depth, looking for mudbars in the shifting river channel.
The air felt clean and refreshing. The cliffs of Memphis behind lush green vegetation would soon begin to give way to a slightly larger flood plain bounded by not too distant hills. This scenery would dominate for a while, and then the hills and cliffs become more prominent again as they neared the southern border.
The number of governors of the districts of the south was greater than the number of meetings that Joseph wanted to hold. He had sent a message ahead for meetings to occur at the larger cities, the wealthy noblemen summoned to hear the details accompanying the king’s edict for a tax. Rather than listening, it was clear that these men came to protest the tax rather than understand it. The meeting with Menna had been good practice for similar though often harsher complaints.
Thebes was the farthest south of these meetings and the turning point for his return. To proceed farther up the Nile would have required portage around the first cataract, the shoals that were impassable to boats. Joseph asked the few landowners closest to the Kushite border to come to him at Thebes. This was also an opportunity to see Ruia, still manager of the king’s farmland in the south.
His final official meeting on the return would be at Tebtunis on the edge of the Fayum Basin not far from the Nile. This was a relatively recent city, having grown substantially during the canal construction. The thin river from the Nile to The Fayum had been enhanced to enlarge the lake and the benefits of the Nile to that region.
The city had maintained its size even when construction had been completed. Maintenance projects were modest, but the increased traffic of merchandise and food both to and from The Fayum via the canal had created permanent job opportunities. The governor of the district was second only to the king in the extent of his holdings.
Not far away was the workers’ city of Lahun. This was the first city ever built expressly for workers for a king’s pyramid. Joseph had been impressed with Senusret’s attention to the needs of the workers, availing them of the benefits of a city in what had been a wilderness.
Joseph also planned a visit to the rural area of The Fayum region where he had labored in the fields many years earlier. This trip was more personal than official and he would make that visit later, but before his trip north to the area where Potiphar now traveled.
And so Joseph began his journey south, the wind at his back filling the sails, and the rowers adding speed against the modest current.
Joseph’s visits with Menna, as governor, and Neferti and his son, as priests were representative of the visits Joseph made alone in the south.
This is not to dismiss one-third of Egypt as irrelevant (two-thirds of the population resided in Memphis and northward), but more a commentary on the nature of mankind. There were three dominant elements in every visit.
First and foremost was the view that the king’s tax of one-fifth of the produce was a grab for wealth and power. Joseph’s arguments, first for protection from foreigners seeking Egypt’s stockpile of grain and second, the king’s responsibilities for equity, were accepted although not thoroughly embraced.
The second issue was change. Change from the routine upsets ma’at, and in times of change, power may shift. Resistance to the new tax next took the form of disbelief in the predictions for the future. After all, interpretation of two dreams by the king precipitated all of these extreme measures. Joseph countered that each governor (and any others present) would see the seven good harvests as confirmation.
The final issue consistently raised (although never plainly and not in so many words) amounted to how the people currently in power would maintain (or increase) their control in the face of the king’s heavy tax. The clear answer was that each would need to do what the king was doing: stockpiling grain to be available to their people for the famine.
As with so many other events in the lives of men and women, change was occurring. Adjustment to change requires a change in perspective and then adjustments to action.
In the last dozen years, Joseph had seen change of dramatic proportions. He knew how difficult the adjustments to a new reality could be. He urged them to consider, to see things from the perspective of the country, of their district, and of the individual people involved. This would be the beginning of understanding, and when understanding had come, action would follow.
The changes in Joseph’s life, first into slavery and then into prison, had arrived without choice.
Unfortunately, the governors and priests had a degree of choice. The governors, and each of the other landowners large or small, had no choice as to whether they would pay the tax, but neither they nor the priests had to save for the future. This topic became Joseph’s final exhortation, to prepare for the inevitable on the basis of the actual. Again, the seven good years would be proof of the seven bad years, and waiting until the seventh year for action would not be sufficient.
Roughly a dozen meetings with governors (often two or even three together) and five weeks later, Joseph and his personal barge embarked again on the Nile, this time heading north to Memphis from Thebes.
The sun was shining in a clear blue sky. With the sail down as they rowed with the current, he felt the strong north wind on his beardless face, the smells of the river mixed with the lush greenery, all carried in a humid tropical heat.
The horses and chariot, which he admitted to have been a helpful symbol of authority, rode peacefully on the water. He looked at the king’s ring on his hand. That, too, had not gone unnoticed.
Joseph reminded himself that these were merely symbols, and that even the power of a king was symbolic, given only for a time. Nothing that a king could touch or see was permanent. Whatever power came to Joseph had one source, and he must be obedient to the one God who oversaw all.
Yes, the chariot and ring were but reminders of the temporal nature of all things. His coat of many colors came to mind, and Talia’s coat, as well, both long gone. The boy and the young man who had worn them was gone, also.
These symbols now in his hands gave him the opportunity to guide people to better lives. Yes, an opportunity, for the people and for himself. This was the change that he had chosen, the change that had not been forced upon him. His thirty years had been in preparation for this moment in time.
Standing next to the man checking the river’s depth from the bow, Joseph smiled. He had been given many helpers on the journey.
And this thought brought to mind Asenath, his bride of a few days and then a distant partner for many weeks. By the time of his return in three weeks or so, he would have been absent for over two months.
She had been another change that had not been a choice. But now he would choose her. Not just accept her with the sense of inevitability as on the first day when the king presented her as his wife, but as at that moment when he had felt a bond beginning. He wanted that bond to grow.
But he also had the task of traveling in the delta, promoting preparation for the future there as he had done in the south. He actually was rather anxious to see what steps had been taken since Captain Potiphar had spoken with them.
He must allow at least a month more before going to the delta. Then he could better see how time had been taken as an opportunity either for action or for dismissal of the prediction. This would still be well before the time of harvest, but preparations for grain storage must be well under way by then.
He also must visit some old friends in The Fayum. There he could talk with the people in the fields. There were people who knew him as Joseph, slave of Potiphar and worker in the fields, rather than as Zaphnath-Paaneah, “revealer of hidden things” and vizier of the king. From them he could hear an honest representation of the minds of those who were not in power, the laborers of the fields.
Joseph went to the horses. He talked with them and gave them attention, sure they were as anxious to be traveling on dry land as he. All three of them would have to wait.
Though at times the sun seemed to stand still in the sky, this period of time passed also. Eventually they arrived again at Memphis. Joseph learned that Potiphar had passed through a few days earlier and had proceeded to The Residence.
Joseph gladly followed, although at least half of the time he walked beside the horses rather than ride in the chariot.
He found himself anxious to be back at the starting point of this journey. For the first time in over a dozen years, someone waited for him at the end of his journey. He felt as if he was headed home.
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