Till Shiloh Comes

by Gilbert, Morris

  Only two of Joseph’s older brothers admired his achievements, Reuben and Judah. Although they said little about it to their other brothers, they often spoke about it to each other. “He’s got something in him that most young men don’t have,” Judah said once. He was an introspective man himself, who had some measure of discernment. However, he always seemed to carry a weight on his shoulders. He talked to no one about what it was that burdened him, but Reuben had come to believe that it had something to do with Judah’s early marriage to Abra, a young Canaanite woman, the daughter of Shua. She was a strange and sullen woman, and the three sons she’d borne to Judah were much the same.

  To a lesser extent than Joseph, but more so than his brothers, Judah also had dreams. They were frightful dreams, which he hated, but he spoke to no one about them, for he did not understand them. Now he and Reuben were speaking of Joseph’s dreams.

  “If Joseph would only keep quiet about his dreams,” Reuben said moodily. “One of these days Levi or Simeon are going to strangle him.”

  “They won’t do that,” Judah answered quietly. “But they do hate him for it.”

  ****

  Most of Joseph’s education was received in Jacob’s tent, where Jacob could listen in as Zimra guided Joseph through the intricacies of mathematics or foreign languages. The tent was made of woven black goat’s hair, stretched over nine stout poles and fastened by strong ropes to pegs driven into the ground. It was by far the most impressive and beautiful tent of any of the tribe, fitting for the head of the tribe to dwell in. Jacob now dwelt in it alone, having nothing anymore to do with Leah or his concubines. He was past all of that now and was content to spend much of his time alone in his beautiful tent. It was divided from front to back by curtains, and the floor was covered with beautifully worked carpets purchased from traveling merchants from Damascus and other faraway places. One of the rooms served as a general storehouse and supply chamber and was filled with camel saddles and traveling gear.

  The other half was the main dwelling place for Jacob and his guests, which were not many as a rule. The tent was open in front to the height of a man, and earthen lamps with ornamental bases and shallow bowls with short snouts for the wick were kept burning day and night. To one side was a tall-legged coffer with a vaulted lid, carved with intricate designs and filled with Jacob’s treasures. In the middle of the room a glowing brazier kept the tent warm when the temperatures dropped. Samples of gold-covered Syrian and Canaanite carvings decorated the interior.

  It was in this room that Joseph sat one morning listening to Zimra speak of the wonders of foreign places. But when he began to speak of Egypt, Jacob interrupted. “Speak not of Egypt, Zimra,” he said, “for it is an evil place.”

  “Evil, my lord?” Zimra said with feigned surprise, for he actually knew well the old leader’s thoughts on Egypt. “It is a place of men and women like any other.”

  “It is not,” Jacob said stubbornly. “It is a place where they go about clothed in garments made of air. You can see right through them.”

  “But, my lord—”

  “Speak no more of it. Did you know that they have no word for ‘sin’ in their language?” Jacob demanded. “What place could be more evil than that?”

  Zimra had learned long ago not to argue with the old man, and he at once changed the subject. After the teacher left, Jacob turned to Joseph and gave him a hard look. “Zimra knows much, but pay no attention to his teachings of Egypt. It is an evil place.”

  “As you say, Father,” Joseph said, although he was sure that his father knew no more about Egypt than he knew about the surface of the moon. Joseph had learned to agree with Jacob in all things, no matter what he himself thought.

  “You have done well. I have a present for you, my lamb.”

  “A present! How wonderful. Your lamb is grateful. What is it, Father?”

  Jacob got to his feet and limped over to the carved chest containing his treasures, opened the lid, and took out a large box. “I have made something special … something I’ve worked on for years. I am waiting until you are old enough to take care of it.” Coming back to Joseph, he opened the box and pulled out a garment. It was an outer robe designed to be worn over one’s normal dress for special occasions. Jacob held the garment high, and Joseph caught his breath at the interwoven gold threads and colorful embroidery glittering in the lamplight. Reds, blues, olive green, and rose colors formed the background on which were depicted trees, animals, and angels.

  “How beautiful!” Joseph cried, and he reached out and took the garment, clutching it to himself. “Is it really for me?”

  “Yes, and you will have it soon, but you must be very careful with it.”

  “Be careful not to spoil it or get it dirty?”

  “No, be careful not to boast of it before your brothers. You must wear it only for very special occasions, my son.”

  “But it’s so beautiful! Look—here is an embroidery of the face of a woman. Is that my blessed mother?”

  “Yes. That is the image of my beloved Rachel.”

  The two went on admiring the coat, and Jacob allowed the boy to try it on. Joseph strutted back and forth, his eyes flashing, thrilled with the garment, as he was with anything new.

  “Father, let me have it now.”

  “No, not yet.” Deep down in his heart, Jacob knew he was making a mistake. “Such a gift should really go to the firstborn, but I am not yet sure who will receive the blessing. Your brother Reuben fell away, and I had to take the rights of the firstborn away from him. Then Simeon and Levi became bloody men—I do not know yet.”

  “Oh, but it must be mine! Surely they would not appreciate it. Especially not with this image of my blessed mother. Surely you intended it for me from the very beginning.”

  Jacob leaned back and watched his beloved lamb move back and forth with the beautiful coat as it caught the reflection of the lamps and thought of his beloved Rachel. It must be his, he thought. It must be Joseph’s!

  Chapter 4

  Of the six red-eyed sons of Leah, Judah and Reuben were the closest. There was more in their features of Jacob than the other brothers, who strongly favored their mother. Although Reuben was the firstborn and Judah was the fourth, they often drew together to talk over the problems of the tribe and especially of their own part of the six.

  They met late one afternoon out in the fields while they watched over the flocks. Reuben was aware that Judah had said almost nothing for several days. He had been especially moody, so Reuben asked him, “What’s wrong with you, Judah?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I don’t believe you. I can see that something is wrong. What is it?”

  Judah looked up with misery in his eyes. “I married the wrong woman, Reuben.”

  “Why would you say that? You have three fine sons.”

  It was true that Abra had given Judah three sons, and when he had married, Judah had fancied himself in love with her. He had been surprised indeed when Jacob had given his permission for him to marry a Canaanite woman. But now he worried about his boys. For some reason they displeased him, though he was at a loss to explain why he felt that way. For the first time he expressed his fears to Reuben. “I’m worried about my boys.”

  “Why? What’s wrong with them? They’re healthy enough.”

  “I shouldn’t have married a Canaanite woman, Reuben. They’re a bad breed. They worship Baal and Molech and all sorts of terrible idols.” Looking distressed, he moaned, “I wish I had never married at all. It’s Father’s fault. He should have forbidden me to marry a Canaanite.”

  Reuben stared at his brother, unable to form an answer. He was powerful in body but not known for his deep thoughts. He had a dumb loyalty to his own wife and children, but the guilt of his behavior with Bilhah was such a continual burden he could never look people directly in the eye. “They’ll be all right. They’ll marry and give you grandsons,” he said gruffly, trying to comfort Judah.

  Judah shook his head, th
en changed the subject as if it were painful. “Have you talked yet with Joseph about that coat of his?”

  “Not yet, but I will.”

  “You have to. He’s making a show of it before all of us.”

  “Father said he can only wear it on special occasions.”

  “Special occasions!” Judah spat bitterly. “For him a special occasion is any occasion he wants. He’s wearing it all the time now, and you know what that coat means.”

  “You mean it’s a sign that Joseph is our father’s favorite, the one to whom he may give the blessing of the firstborn?”

  “Yes. Oh, brother, I’ve never spoken of it, but what a terrible thing it was that you had to sin with Bilhah. Why didn’t you go off and find a prostitute instead?”

  Reuben bowed his head and ground his teeth together. “I was insane,” he said. “I don’t know what came over me. It was just the one time.”

  “The one time was enough. If you hadn’t done that, you would have received the blessing of the firstborn. But now it’s obvious that Father thinks only of Joseph.”

  “I’ll talk to him about wearing that coat.”

  “Do it now. There he is. Go on. Do it now!”

  Reuben turned and walked away, his back straight as he approached Joseph, who was indeed strutting around in his colorful coat. The sunlight caught it, and as beautiful as it was, Reuben thought, I wish Father had never given him such a thing. He should’ve known what Joseph would do with it. “Joseph, come here.”

  Joseph turned with surprise, and a smile crossed his face. He was actually fond of Reuben, even though he thought him slow of mind, and when he came over to him, he had to lean his head backward and look up. “What is it, my brother?”

  “I must speak with you about that coat.”

  “It’s so beautiful! Don’t you think so, Reuben?”

  “You should not wear it. Didn’t Father command you to only wear it on special occasions?”

  Joseph did not want to be reminded of this. He had decided to wear the coat every day, regardless of his father’s wishes. “What does it matter whether I wear it today or not? Father gave it to me, so I can decide when I wear it.”

  “I don’t care who gave it to you. Can’t you see that you’re offending all of your brothers?”

  “I’m offending you? Why should it offend you because I wear a beautiful coat?”

  Joseph had little difficulty beating Reuben at the game of words. Words flowed from Joseph in an endless stream without need for thought. He was intelligent and witty, and it was child’s play for him to speak circles around his big brother until Reuben could only stand there tongue-tied. “So don’t worry about it, my brother,” Joseph went on. “You are making this a bigger issue than it should be.”

  Reuben could not answer. He knew something was wrong with what Joseph was doing, but to put the matter into words was beyond him. Joseph had mastered the magic of words, whether spoken or written, and Reuben could only say in a brokenhearted tone, “Joseph … Joseph, can you not see that by wearing that coat you insult all of your brothers? I beg you to put it away before it becomes a snare. It has lifted your heart up with pride.” Without another word, Reuben turned and walked away.

  Joseph watched him go, troubled for a moment, but it was only fleeting. He finally turned away, laughing and saying to himself, “Reuben worries too much.”

  ****

  Jacob had not known at first what to make of the young woman named Tamar. She had joined his tribe when she was only twelve, an orphan with no one to care for her. She was half-starved at the time and either would have died or been forced to become an immoral woman in order to survive. But Jacob had felt pity for the child and had commanded his people to care for her. Levi’s wife had taken her in, and Tamar had proved to be a hard worker, never shirking any task.

  She was also clever and affectionate and soon grew attached to Jacob. She enjoyed cooking special foods for him, and the old man was pleased with her attention. She in turn loved to sit at his feet and listen to his stories of the history of his people and of his God. She hung on to his words with such attention that Jacob often said, “I wish my sons paid as much attention to our history as you do, my child!”

  Early one afternoon Tamar brought Jacob a dish of tender-roasted kid and fresh dates covered in honey. The old man blessed her, and she sat at his feet as he ate, begging for more stories of El Shaddai and of the tribe. She was eighteen years old now and had blossomed into a womanly, dusky beauty. Jacob smiled and shook his head. “Daughter, you know all of my stories.”

  “Please tell me again about the ladder reaching up to heaven, master.”

  Jacob was always willing to tell of his encounters with the Lord, and he spoke for a long time, then finally reached over and touched the young woman’s crown of lustrous black hair. “Why do you love to hear about these things, Tamar?”

  “Because they’re so wonderful, master!” Tamar’s eyes glowed, and her lips were parted in wonder. “To think that El Shaddai has chosen your family to bring a Redeemer into the world! Is this not so?”

  “Yes, it is so. I call the One who is to come Shiloh.”

  “When will He come? In our lifetime?”

  “Only God knows that, child.”

  Tamar was silent for a moment; then she asked, “Will it be through your firstborn that Shiloh will come?”

  The question troubled Jacob, and he hesitated before answering, “I do not know that either. But I do not think so.”

  Tamar knew very well that Reuben was not Jacob’s choice to receive the blessing, even though he was the firstborn. She also knew that the old man had never forgiven Simeon and Levi for their murderous attack on the men of Shechem. For a long time she had considered the sons of Jacob, trying to understand which son would be chosen to bring Shiloh into the world.

  During the years she had lived with Jacob’s tribe, Tamar had slowly developed a desire to be an instrument in the family of Abraham, the man of faith. She had soaked up the history of his family, and as the years passed, she had developed a longing to be a part of the history of the Redeemer. How she came by this, not even Tamar herself could tell, but it was now the strongest force in her life.

  By a process of elimination, she had come to believe that the fourth son, Judah, would receive the birthright and the blessing from his father. She had pondered on this for many months now, and as she sat at Jacob’s feet, she decided to make a bold request.

  “Master, I am old enough to be a wife, am I not?”

  “Why, so you are, my child.” Jacob smiled. “Which young man has been looking on you with desire?”

  “I wish to be the wife of one of your people, for I have come to feel myself as one of them in spirit.”

  Jacob was pleased that she would identify so closely with his people. “Has one of the men spoken to you of marriage?”

  “I would like to be the wife of Er, the son of your fourth-born, Judah.”

  Now Jacob was indeed amazed! “Er? But why him, daughter?” He wanted to demand, “Why would any young woman desire such a weakling for a husband?” Both of Judah’s older sons, Er and Onan, were weak men. Even worse, they were immoral men, who could not be controlled either by Jacob or by their father.

  As for Tamar, she would have tried to have Judah for a husband, for she was convinced that he was the son through which the Redeemer would come. But Judah was already married, so Er, his oldest son, would carry the seed of the Promised One—at least so Tamar had come to firmly believe.

  “I will be a good wife to him,” Tamar said, her eyes brilliant as she faced Jacob. “Will you ask Judah to command his son Er to have me for his wife?”

  Jacob was reluctant to fulfill such a request, but at the same time, he knew that Er would not find a better wife than this young woman. And she would have children with the blood of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob!

  “I will speak with Judah—if you are certain this is what you wish.”

  Tamar smiled tri
umphantly. “Yes, master! It is what I want most of all things.”

  ****

  At first the engagement of Er to Tamar was the subject of much discussion, but after a few days the novelty of the union passed away. Er himself had no desire to marry, but his father had ordered him to agree. Er had said to his brother Onan, “Father can force me to marry her, but he can’t make me be faithful to her!”

  Two weeks after Tamar had spoken with Jacob, the time of harvest arrived. The late rains had been plenteous, and a fine wheat crop was thick in the fields. The harvesting always began with the reaping of the barley, a task most of the sons of Jacob enjoyed. Joseph was the exception, for he was not particularly given to hard labor. He had learned to get by with as little of it as possible, but at harvest time he joined in with his brothers. They all cut the bearded grain with a sickle, then gathered the stalks together and bound the sheaves with straw. Joseph was in one of his happy moods and did not notice his brothers’ sullen looks toward him. He had laid aside his coat of many colors, it not being suitable for working in the fields. He also stripped off his tunic, working only in a loincloth, and the sun gleamed against his smooth olive skin. On one level Joseph actually enjoyed working with his brothers on the harvest because it brought him into contact with them. It was strange that a young man so intelligent in so many ways could be so blind to the fact that he had alienated himself from his older brothers by all of his boasting. For his part, he loved them and counted on their love in return, but a veil had fallen over his understanding, and he could not see what had happened to their relationships.

  They worked for several days at the harvest, their bronzed bodies tanned even darker by the blazing sun. Patches of stubble were all that was left now of the barley, and on top of a small hill, Jacob’s servants used pitchforks to separate the stalks as they threshed out the grain, then tossed the stalks down before the oxen.

  By early afternoon Joseph was tired, having worked hard in his opinion, and he lay down in the shade of a terebinth tree.