Till Shiloh Comes

by Gilbert, Morris

  ****

  Asenath sat beside Joseph, holding one of his hands in both of hers. He had come home in a strange mood. She knew at once that he was troubled, so she had listened carefully as he had repeated what Rashidi had told him of his visit with Simeon. He could not be still but twisted his shoulders back and forth and spoke more rapidly and in a less fluid manner than was usual for him.

  “And so the poor fellow is there in prison. He’s on the edge of despair, and he’s pretty sure that my brothers will never come back.”

  “Why would he think that, Joseph?”

  “Because my father has an obsession with Benjamin. He had it about me once, but now that he thinks I’m dead, it’s Benjamin he protects. Simeon believes my father will never let Benjamin out of his sight, so all he can see is a slow, lingering imprisonment here for the rest of his life.”

  “He must think better of his brothers than that.”

  Joseph did not answer her directly, thinking about the dreadful treatment he received at the hands of his own brothers. “I wish I could do more to help Simeon, but I had to keep one of them here. I thought it was the only way I would ever get to see Benjamin again.”

  “He’s very special to you, isn’t he?”

  “Yes. We were very close. I was almost like a father to him, holding his hand wherever we went. He was very trusting, and he loved me greatly.”

  “He’s a man now, though. He might have changed.”

  “That’s possible,” Joseph admitted, “but I don’t think so. There was a sweetness in Benjamin.”

  “If your brothers don’t come back, what will you do to Simeon?”

  Joseph shook his shoulders restlessly. “Oh, I’ll let him go when it’s obvious they’re never coming back.”

  Asenath studied her husband’s face. It was tight with emotions, and his lips were drawn into a thick line. There were shadows in his eyes, and she asked curiously, “What will you do if they come back? Will you take your revenge on them?”

  “Of course not, Asenath! You don’t understand at all. I’m doing all this so I can help my family.”

  “It seems a roundabout way of doing it.”

  “Maybe it is, but you know I’ve been thinking about the way God dealt with some of my ancestors. He seems to be a God who works in roundabout ways.”

  “Tell me about that.” Asenath had become fascinated with Joseph’s God. She herself still went through rituals for the Egyptian gods, but she had no heart in it. “Tell me about how he works in a roundabout way.”

  “Why, there’s the matter of the Redeemer, the One that is to come and save us all. My father called him Shiloh. I think I have told you that.”

  “Yes, you have.”

  “If you or I were going to choose some man to save his people, we would go find the most powerful, strongest man alive to do it, wouldn’t we?”

  “I think we would.”

  “But God chose a simple man named Noah and told him that He was going to flood the whole earth and destroy everything, except for Noah and his family.”

  “Why, we have a myth like that in our own history!” Asenath exclaimed.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, the Babylonians have one too. Most cultures do, but this is no myth. This is history.”

  “So what did Noah do?”

  “Well, he probably didn’t know much about boat building, but he built a boat large enough to carry a pair of every kind of animal. Then he and his family got on it, and the floods came, the waters fell from heaven, and every human being died on earth except for Noah and his family.”

  “How terrible!”

  “But Noah was saved, and his three sons and their wives and all the people on the earth now are descendants from one of those three sons. I would say that’s a pretty roundabout way of saving the earth.”

  “So, then, you think God would have you forgive your brothers?”

  “He forgives me,” Joseph said simply. “Therefore, I must forgive them.”

  As Asenath listened to Joseph speak, she remembered that he had never taken revenge on Lady Kesi or on Ufa—nor even on her. She held his hand tightly and listened as he continued to speak, and she tried hard to think of some way she might help him through this difficult time.

  ****

  One day, just when Joseph was close to giving up all hope of his brothers’ return, Rashidi burst into Joseph’s quarters. “They’re back!” he cried with excitement. “There are ten of them.”

  “Yes, I’ve already had word from the guards,” Joseph said. His eyes were glowing, and he could barely contain himself. “My brother Benjamin must be with them.”

  “I think that’s possible. You won’t be able to fool them this time.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I mean you can disguise your face and talk gruffly, but I’ve heard you talk about this younger brother of yours. Your voice gets soft, and your eyes begin to mist over.” Rashidi shook his head. “They will never believe that the Lord of Egypt would weep over a man he does not know—especially a Hebrew.”

  “Well, I must deceive them for a little while longer.”

  “Will you receive them in the hall of audience?”

  “No, this time I want to have them here at my home for a meal. Go make provisions for it, and invite some people in.”

  “Which people?”

  “Oh, it doesn’t matter. Some of the hangers-on. They all want something from me. It doesn’t matter which ones.” Joseph paced the floor as he continued. “And another thing. I’ve made out a list here. I want you to seat my brothers in this order.”

  Rashidi took the list and asked, “What is this?”

  “That’s the age of my brothers. Big Reuben first and little Benjamin last.” He suddenly laughed. “Little Benjamin. He may be larger than I am now, but I always think of him as a child.”

  “Very well, but won’t they wonder how you would know such a thing?”

  “Exactly! I want them to wonder.”

  “You’re a fox, Provider!”

  Chapter 31

  Benjamin enjoyed the trip to Egypt immensely! He felt a freedom he had never experienced, and throughout the trip he sang and talked nonstop.

  His joy, however, was not shared by the rest of the company. Most of them spent a great deal of time handling Benjamin as if he were made of glass. After all, the trip would be utterly meaningless without him. Fear drove the brothers, and a sense of gloom pervaded them.

  Benjamin, however, seemed oblivious to all of this. He wore his best clothing—a fine, colorful robe with fringes—and his hair was anointed until it looked like a shiny helmet. He laughed and said to his brothers, “I make the rest of you look like paupers.”

  “You won’t be so lighthearted when you stand in front of the Great Provider,” Judah warned.

  Benjamin only laughed again.

  As soon as they arrived in the land, they faced difficulties. They were commanded to go to the Provider’s private home. This shook all of them—except for Benjamin, of course, who said, “Well, that doesn’t sound to me like a cruel man. Having us to his own home—that says something about him.”

  “It means something, but it’s not good,” Dan grunted, and the others nodded their assent.

  “You’re all worried about the money in your sacks,” Benjamin said. “Don’t worry about it. It was just a mistake of some kind, and we’ve brought it back, haven’t we?”

  When they reached the Great Provider’s home, a gracious villa in the best section of town, and the brothers tied up their animals where they were directed in the courtyard, the Provider’s lieutenant came to greet them, with the Hebrew interpreter close by his side.

  “Welcome back,” Rashidi said. “It is good to see you again.”

  Judah spoke up quickly. “Sir, we must tell you something at once. There has been a terrible mistake.”

  “A mistake? I cannot imagine what.”

  “We do not how it happened, but when we were on our way ho
me with the grain we bought, we found the money we had used to pay for it in our sacks. Here—we have brought it all back again, along with money to buy more grain.”

  “That sounds serious. I cannot understand it,” Rashidi said, keeping a straight face.

  Suddenly they all began talking, and Rashidi held up his hand. “Be calm, my friends. I’m sure it will all be straightened out. Perhaps this god of yours was amusing himself by playing a joke on you.”

  “Certainly not!” Judah said indignantly. “Our God would never do such a thing.”

  “Well, come along. It will all be straightened out, I’m sure. Now I am sure you would like to see your brother, and then you will have a meal with the Great Provider.”

  They were led to a sumptuous meeting room, where Simeon waited for them, and they all gathered around him, talking at the same time. Simeon’s face shone, and he asked them question after question, but his eyes lit up most when he saw Benjamin. “You’re here, little Benjamin! Thank God for that.”

  “It’s been a wonderful trip,” Benjamin said. “You’re looking fine, Simeon.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t be looking fine if you hadn’t come.”

  “Come along,” Rashidi said to the brothers. “You must prepare yourselves for dinner. You can wash and put on a change of clothing.”

  When this was done, Rashidi led them into the elegant banquet hall. Benjamin could not take it all in at once. His eyes fell first on the long table filled with spiced delicacies and sugarcoated fruits and nuts, and then he studied the guests in their fine clothing and expensive jewelry.

  A few moments after the brothers had entered, Benjamin looked up to see a man enter the room, and his heart gave a little lurch. This was the Great Provider, the second greatest man in all of Egypt! He had thought of little else but this man since his brothers had brought him the strange report that the Provider must see him before he would deal any further with the sons of Jacob.

  Everyone fell down before the Great Provider, including Benjamin, but then Joseph commanded, “Greetings to all of you. Stand up and let me see your faces. You have had a long journey, but I am happy you are back.” He smiled then and said, “You notice that I am speaking to you now in your own tongue. I see you are shocked and amazed, but a man like me can do things like this. I decided it was worth my while to learn your language. First tell me, is your old father still alive?”

  Judah spoke up. “Yes, lord, he is alive and very well.”

  Joseph then turned and hesitated, his eyes fixed on Benjamin’s face. “And is this the youngest brother you told me about?” His language was somewhat clumsy, for he had not used it in twenty years. He moved forward slowly until he stood directly in front of Benjamin. He took in the clear eyes, the sensitive features, and said quietly, “May God bless you. I wish—”

  Suddenly the guests, including the brothers, were shocked when the Provider broke off with a cough, put his hand before his face, whirled, and left the room.

  “What have we done?” Reuben asked in dismay.

  “Nothing at all,” Rashidi said quickly. “The Provider has had a slight illness. He will be back at once, I’m sure.”

  Indeed, Joseph did return shortly, with his back held straight. “Let me introduce these travelers to you,” Joseph said in Egyptian to his guests. “This tall one here is Reuben….” He named them all off, ending with the youngest. “And this is Benjamin.” Then he addressed the brothers in Hebrew, telling them the names of each of his Egyptian guests. Finally he commanded the whole company to sit down.

  The servants began to bring out the food on golden platters, and the guests ate. The brothers were amazed at the sumptuous spread. All of them sat in comfortable chairs with footstools at a large table, but each of them also had their own small table by their side. The servants continued to pile the tables high with rich foods, the likes of which the Hebrews had never seen. Benjamin was astonished at the variety and freshness of the fruits, cakes, vegetables, meats, and pastries.

  From time to time Joseph would send special foods to various guests, a roast duck or perhaps a new type of jelly. He sent most of these to Benjamin’s table, and soon Benjamin’s place in front was full and so was the smaller table by his side. He laughed and said, “Sir, I could not eat all of this in a month.”

  Despite Benjamin’s pleasant demeanor, in truth he was upset. Something about the presence of the Great Protector had done it. Time after time Benjamin would steal glances at the face of the man who sat at the head of the table. He would look into those black eyes that met his and seemed to sparkle with an inner joy but would then grow veiled as if they were concealing something.

  An old peculiar feeling came to Benjamin he could not explain—something that went all the way back to his childhood. Even though it troubled him, it also gave him a strange and almost exotic sense of pleasure. During the meal Joseph spoke more to Benjamin than to anyone else. He asked him question after question about his life, his father, his wife and his children, and then he talked to him of his own sons, Ephraim and Manasseh.

  Finally Benjamin said, “May I ask you a question, Most Exalted One?”

  “Certainly.”

  “I cannot understand how you knew our ages. You introduced us in order and our places at the table are set in that way. How could you know such a thing?”

  “A man such as I has many abilities,” the Provider said, smiling slightly. He picked up the silver cup in front of him, drank from it, and said, “Do you see this cup?”

  “Yes, sir, of course.”

  “There are times when I look into this cup, at the wine that’s in it, and knowledge comes to me. I believe it is the way that I know things. It’s a mere superstition, of course. We grow foolishly fond of certain items. Perhaps you are the same way.”

  “Yes, I am very fond of a garment I had when I was a small child. I still have it and take it out often to look at it, wondering where the small child is who wore it before me, for he is no more.”

  “What sort of a garment is it?”

  “It’s a simple blue tunic. Nothing fancy. It reminds me of …”

  “Reminds you of what, my son?”

  “Oh, it just reminds me of my childhood, and …” Benjamin stumbled over his words and looked down at the table. “And it reminds me of my brother.”

  “Which of your brothers?”

  “Not one that’s here. My brother Joseph, who is dead. I was wearing that small garment the last time I saw him, and when I learned he was dead, I cried myself to sleep. And I put the garment away and never wore it again.”

  Joseph could not speak. He took out his handkerchief and coughed and blew his nose. “I have this illness. It’s destroying me,” he said finally, getting control of himself.

  “I am sorry, but you must have good physicians here in Egypt.”

  “None that are able to solve the particular ailment I have,” Joseph said evasively.

  Joseph continued to converse with Benjamin as the meal continued. Eventually the Egyptian guests grew bored, and one by one they made their excuses and left. Finally only the sons of Jacob were left, with Rashidi looking on as Joseph spoke almost exclusively to Benjamin.

  Finally Joseph looked around and seemed startled. “Well, the guests have all left, but you gentlemen are still here.” He stood to his feet. “You will probably be gone by the time I rise in the morning, for you must leave early. Rashidi, I would ask you to send back a double portion of grain. Provide animals if necessary.” He turned to the men, who had also risen to their feet, and studied them carefully. “Perhaps you should consider coming to live in Egypt.”

  A startled cry leaped to the lips of Judah. “Leave our homes and come to Egypt?”

  “It’s a possibility you should consider,” Joseph said quietly. “The famine may go on for many years. There are how many of you—seventy, I believe you said? I think grazing grounds could be found for your flocks, and, after all, you are a migrant people.”

  “Our fath
er would never leave our home,” Judah said firmly.

  “That is unfortunate. Well, I must say good-bye now.” He looked around, his eyes lingering on Benjamin, and then he turned and walked away without another word.

  As soon as he was gone, Rashidi said, “Come, gentlemen, I will see that you have accommodations for the night. As the Provider says, you will want to get an early start.”

  “We have brought money for the grain.”

  “Certainly, we will take care of the business tonight, and you will leave at first light tomorrow.”

  ****

  “Are you certain this is what you want to do, Joseph?”

  “I have thought it over carefully. Take my silver cup and put it in my brother Benjamin’s sack.”

  “But why?”

  Joseph seemed triumphant after the meal with his brothers. “The play is not yet over. There is still one more act.”

  “I do not understand you. You talk like a poet.”

  “No, the thing is clear to me, but I shall not explain it. Put the silver cup in Benjamin’s feed sack. When they have been gone one day, come upon them after they have made camp.”

  “And what shall I do to the young man?”

  “You must tell the others that they can go back, but Benjamin must remain here forever.”

  “That’s a hard thing,” Rashidi said slowly. “I’m surprised at you.”

  “You are a poet. Figure it out,” Joseph said gruffly. “Now go!”

  ****

  The brothers were in better spirits than they had been at any point of their journeys. They were carrying heavily loaded animals back with twice as much grain as they had paid for, and with a lightness of heart they laughed and joked—all except Benjamin. Though he had been the most lively and joyous on the trip to Egypt, he was now silent. Reuben noticed this, and as the sun was going down, he brought his animal close to the younger man and said, “Why are you so sad, Benjamin?”