Settling Goshen

When we left them last week, Jacob's family had finally gotten back in touch. Joseph, sold into slavery by his brothers twenty-two years earlier, has embraced them and expressed a desire to reconnect with his long-lost father. “Hurry and ascend to my father and say to him, 'Thus says your son Joseph: God has set me as lord of all Egypt! Come down to me; don't delay! You shall dwell in the land of Goshen, and you shall be near me'” (Genesis 45:9-10). Goshen was apparently a region of the east Nile Delta, a “stretch of wetlands along the easternmost of the Nile's distributaries.”¹ As one of the first parts of Egypt you'd reach coming down through the desert from Canaan, it was already a popular area for new arrivals.² “I'll support you there..., lest you and your house and all that's yours come to poverty..., for there are still five years of famine” (Genesis 45:11). It's a tougher time than Jacob and his sons had thought; Joseph has foreknowledge that this has been just the tip of the pyramid. Nobody so far has asked, “Why?” But it all started with: “Cursed is the ground for your sake! In toil shall you eat of it all the days of your life.... By the sweat of your nose shall you eat bread until you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken” (Genesis 3:17-19). Famines – even this one – are “a prime instance of the curse.”³ The curse began a couple chapters into the book of Genesis; now it climaxes as we near the end.

As Joseph talks with his brothers, meanwhile word reaches the palace that these men who've arrived are, in fact, the brothers of Joseph. That “was good in the eye of Pharaoh and in the eye of his servants” (Genesis 45:16), Joseph being deeply popular in palace circles. Pharaoh's liked and trusted Joseph for nine years now; given that Joseph views himself as something of “a father to Pharaoh” (Genesis 45:8), it might be that this Pharaoh is actually somewhat younger than Joseph.⁴ As Joseph has just dictated a message for his brothers to give their father, Pharaoh now summons Joseph and dictates a message for Joseph to give his brothers.⁵

Joseph tells his brothers to “hurry and bring my father down here” (Genesis 45:13), and Pharaoh similarly asks that they “load your beasts and depart, go to the land of Canaan, and take your father and your houses, and come to me” – it's less than clear if the 'me' is Joseph or Pharaoh (Genesis 45:17). Joseph assures his father that “I'll support you” (Genesis 45:11); Pharaoh says, “I'll give you the good of the land of Egypt, and you'll eat of the fat of the land” (Genesis 45:18). So far, it's a pretty nice match. But there's a big difference still. Joseph's original invitation is for Israel to come down to Egypt and bring “your flocks and your herds and all that you have” (Genesis 45:10). Pharaoh commands that Joseph's brethren “let not your eye pity your stuff, for the good of all the land of Egypt is yours” (Genesis 45:20). Where Joseph invites the flocks and herds, Pharaoh makes no mention of animals, just “your little ones and your wives.” Where Joseph mentions the family's moveable property – tents, clothes, pots and pans, all that – Pharaoh directly (and unknowingly) contradicts him. Pharaoh says they can just abandon those in Canaan, because they'll gain better Egyptian goods on arrival. As they come, Pharaoh pictures them coming as blank slates ready to be rechiseled in hieroglyphics – ready to be acculturated, assimilated, absorbed by this new Egypt with arms wide open to the world on Egypt's terms.⁶

Pharaoh authorizes Joseph's brothers to take wagons in order to transport this anticipated human cargo (Genesis 45:19). “And the sons of Israel did so, and Joseph gave them wagons according to the mouth of Pharaoh” (Genesis 45:21). We heard last Sunday, at the end of a very long story, how Jacob at first couldn't believe what his sons were telling him; but, once he'd heard Joseph's message as they relayed it and “saw the wagons that Joseph had sent to carry him, the spirit of their father Jacob came to life; and Israel said, 'It is enough: Joseph my son is still alive! I will go and see him before I die'” (Genesis 45:27-28). He's been talking about death a lot lately, but for now he's got something vital to live for. He just needs to go and see.

So “Israel lifted up with all that was his” – a clue that he hasn't decided to leave everything behind, as Pharaoh wants – “and he came to Beersheba” (Genesis 46:1). This Well of the Oath is where Abraham cut a covenant with Abimelech (Genesis 21:31-32), where Isaac heard the LORD and built an altar (Genesis 26:23-25), where Jacob himself grew up and where he saw his mom for the very last time (Genesis 27:10). So here he's come yet again, to this familiar southern limit of Canaan, and – no doubt on his dad's altar – “he sacrificed sacrifices to the God of his father Isaac” (Genesis 46:1). Later Jews speculated that Jacob paused there on Pentecost and, remembering his dream where God had placed such a premium on bringing him back to the land from Aram (Genesis 28:15), “he was afraid to go down into Egypt,” and considered asking Joseph to come meet him there in Canaan instead.⁷ His own father Isaac had been forbidden by a direct revelation to ever go down to Egypt at all (Genesis 26:2). Who's to say that isn't a law binding on Jacob now? And if they go, will they be risking their claim on this land?⁸ Might they forever “remain in Egypt and thus bring the promise to nought?”⁹

If Israel's hoping that this spot where his dad was reassured by the God of Isaac is a place where Israel can get a similar comfort and guidance, his hope doesn't disappoint him. That night, in a vision in the sleepy darkness, a voice urgenly calls for him: “Jacob, Jacob!” – the same voice that had called from heaven to the mountain, “Abraham, Abraham!” (Genesis 22:11). Now as then, the hearer responded, “Here am I,” ready and receptive (Genesis 46:2). The voice in the night identifies himself as “the El, the God of your father,” and tells Israel, “Do not be afraid to go down to Egypt” (Genesis 46:3). What was forbidden to Isaac isn't forbidden to Israel. Isaac's just wasn't the right time. God had pledged, long ago, to Abraham that “I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you..., so that you will be a blessing” (Genesis 12:2); and now, the voice tells Israel, Egypt is the forge where it's to happen: “for into a great nation will I make you there” (Genesis 46:1).

God has spoken. We won't hear him go on the record again for centuries, until he breaks his deafening silence by calling out, “Moses, Moses!” (Exodus 3:4). Awaiting that far-off name, “Jacob rose up from Beersheba, and the sons of Israel carried their father and their little ones and the wives in the wagons that Pharaoh had sent to carry him” (Genesis 46:5). Before the revelation, Jacob saw “wagons that Joseph had sent to carry him” (Genesis 45:27); now, they're Pharaoh-sent. But, bucking Pharaoh's script, “they also took their livestock and their acquisitions which they'd acquired in the land of Canaan, and they came into Egypt” (Genesis 46:6).

While on the way, Israel had dispatched the son he trusted best – none other than Judah, who'd proven himself through Benjamin's safe return – to run on ahead, to visit Joseph one-on-one and arrange for a rendezvous with the family, not at Joseph's house, but in this nearer borderland. “He sent Judah before his face to Goshen, to point out before his face to Goshen; and they came into the land of Goshen. And Joseph harnessed his chariot and ascended, to meet Israel his father, to Goshen” (Genesis 46:28-29). Joseph's eagerness to see his father, to hear his father's voice, can hardly be contained. Joseph is so proud of the man he's become, and wants Jacob to be proud of him, too. It's an utterly human instinct.

So we read that, there in Goshen, Joseph “appeared to him” (Genesis 46:29). Throughout the Old Testament, this phrase, 'he appeared to him,' never has a human subject except here. So far it's always been, “The LORD appeared to Abram” (Genesis 12:7), “God appeared to Jacob” (Genesis 35:9) – and now it's used of Joseph? Well, that fits with his insistence that his brothers “tell my father all my glory in Egypt” (Genesis 45:13). As he rides up in his large, stately chariot, wearing finest linens and loaded with the purest gold adornments, Joseph's aiming to manifest his glory like an Egyptian god, awe-inspiring and radiant.¹⁰ But no sooner does the aspiring deity manifest his glory to his father than he hugs him tight and, in the sight of his brothers and sisters-in-law and nephews, he breaks down into extended sobs. It's a touching scene, but not much of a divine appearance. You'll notice that we read “no reciprocal show of emotion on Jacob's part,” no hint that he also cries on Joseph's neck – can he recognize his lost son as found yet, or not?¹¹ But he says he can die at peace now that he's at least seen Joseph's face and has confirmed for a fact that the son reported dead is alive after all (Genesis 46:30).

A question hovers over the place they meet: now that they're together at last, does Jacob become a character in Joseph's Egyptian story, or does Joseph become a character in Israel's Abrahamic story – or is there a third way yet to be found?¹² Joseph sees that the whole family is there – we skip right past all the introductions of the youngsters to Uncle Joseph the Bald, the smoothest-skinned son of Jacob the Smooth (cf. Genesis 27:11) – and knows that there's work to be done. For all Joseph's bragging of being “ruler over all the land of Egypt” (Genesis 45:8), he needs to secure their right to settle in Goshen – and that means talking to Pharaoh, whose invitation had not only not named a district but had also avoided words like 'settle,' 'dwell,' or even 'sojourn.'

So Joseph lays out his plan. He'll first lay out the basic facts before Pharaoh, sharing essential information on the family's arrival and lifestyle and also explaining – perhaps a bit apologetically – that, despite Pharaoh's kind offer, they've hauled all their stuff down with them (Genesis 46:31-32). Next, Joseph predicts that Pharaoh will want to hear from some of them, and that Pharaoh will ask them about the work they do, despite Joseph having already told him. When he does, Joseph wants them to follow a very precise script: “Men of livestock have your servants been, from our youth and until now, both we and our fathers” (Genesis 46:33-34). He explains to them that upper-class Egyptians don't like to associate with anyone “shepherding a flock,” so while Joseph will admit that to Pharaoh before making the introductions, they'd best not repeat it when asked, but should simply lay claim to an unbroken family tradition of breeding livestock.¹³ This way, Pharaoh should let them “dwell in the land of Goshen,” an area ideal for that lifestyle, while staying on the fringes of society at a comfortable distance from most Egyptians. That'd be most agreeable to Pharaoh, and will also help them slow the process of being digested into Egypt. They'll “keep their distance from those who worship sheep.”¹⁴ But is that enough?

As chapter 47 opens, Joseph does as he said he would. He seeks an audience with Pharaoh and says much of what he said he'd say – almost. He'd told them he'd say that the arrivals were “my brothers and the household of my father” (Genesis 46:31), but he mentions only “my father and my brothers,” as if confining the group to a smaller size (Genesis 47:1). He told them he'd say they “have come to me” (Genesis 46:31), but he actually just says that they “have come” and are presently in Goshen (Genesis 47:1). Most pivotally, while Joseph follows through on admitting that his family's brought “their flocks and their herds and all that's theirs,” he backs down from using that dreaded word 'shepherd' (Genesis 47:1). Then, “from among his brothers, he took five men” – likeliest to leave a decent impression¹⁵ – and these men “he presented to the face of Pharaoh” (Genesis 47:2).

Pharaoh follows the script unknowingly but perfectly. He asks the men exactly what Joseph had guessed he'd ask them: “What is your work?” But with Joseph having gone off-script, so do his brothers. Literally the first word out of their mouth is 'shepherd'! “Shepherding flocks, your servants are, both we and also our fathers” (Genesis 47:3).¹⁶ Then, after an awkward pause, they add: “To sojourn in the land we have come, for there is no pasture for your servants' flocks, for heavy is the famine in the land of Canaan.” They leave the impression they just want to ride out the famine where there's some pastureland left. “And now please let your servants dwell in the land of Goshen,” they plead (Genesis 47:4). Their words manage to assure Pharaoh that “they have no political interests or ambitions,” and would be content to be unobtrusive guests at the edge of the kingdom.¹⁷

Pharaoh doesn't answer the brothers, doesn't say one word to them. Instead, he speaks straight to Joseph. What does he say? “Your father and your brothers have come to you.” That makes them your problem, Joe.¹⁸ “The land of Egypt is before your face,” at your disposal. So, by all means, “in the best of the land, settle your father and your brothers; let them settle in the land of Goshen,” as you've hinted and they've asked (Genesis 47:5-6). They're welcome to settle down there – but only because they're blood relatives of Joseph, who has Pharaoh's continuing esteem.¹⁹ Pharaoh even, surprisingly, tells Joseph that “if you know any among them to be men of skill, set them as princes of livestock over what's mine!” (Genesis 47:6). It's a fitting offer, given that Asiatics like them often got “involved in cattle administration or herding in Egypt,”²⁰ but if any are found fit to do this, they'd be low-level “officers of the crown” and have a sturdier legal standing.²¹

We've skipped over, thus far, everyone's favorite surprise when reading the Bible: a census! There's a listing of the members of Jacob's clan taking up a big chunk in the middle of chapter 46. It's not only a dizzying batch of names, it's not easy to get the math to line up like it's supposed to. The names don't all match other copies of this same list in Numbers and Chronicles. It's got some people in it who can't be there. For example, Judah can't be older than forty-five, and his sons Er and Onan grew up and died out before his twin boys Perez and Zerah were even conceived, so they should be toddlers when carted into Egypt – yet this list gives Perez his two sons awhile (Genesis 46:12). The list gives Benjamin ten sons (Genesis 46:21), but Moses says later that a few of them are actually grandsons (Numbers 26:40) – but, either way, Benjamin's in his mid-twenties, so ten sons is a tough stretch anyway! Ultimately, St. Augustine commented here that “all these things, which seem insoluble, undoubtedly have an important purpose; but whether they can all be literally consistent..., I do not know.”²²

But step back from the names, and maybe we can see the bigger picture. The conclusion of this little census is that “all the souls of the house of Jacob who came to Egypt were seventy” (Genesis 46:27). That must have meant something near and dear to the Israelites, because the Bible's next book opens the way the census does here and promptly posits that “all the souls who went out from the thigh of Jacob were seventy souls” (Exodus 1:3). Moses later preaches that “with seventy souls your fathers went down to Egypt” (Deuteronomy 10:22). It mattered even to Stephen in the New Testament, though his Greek Bible had different numbers (Acts 7:14).²³ Why? Remember that the other year, we looked at the tenth chapter of Genesis, which represented the nations of the known world as a family tree descending from Noah's sons. And how many nations did Jews count as they read Genesis 10? Seventy.²⁴ So here, at the tail end of Genesis, Israel's family is being shaped as the seed of a new world, an Abraham-shaped world, bursting onto the scene and “set among the seventy nations.”²⁵

If the buried secret of chapter 46 is this census, there's a secret in chapter 47, too, and it's domestic policy of the kind you might hear about on C-SPAN. We've been skipping mostly past Joseph's way of handling the crisis he was put in office to address. Remember his original pitch to Pharaoh: first, there should be one “discerning and wise man” with plenary authority to coordinate the crisis response; second, under him should be “overseers of the land” who implement the plan at a regional level; third, during the first seven years, the overseers should mobilize the land for emergency preparedness and “gather all the food of these good years that are coming, and store up grain under the hand of Pharaoh, food in the cities, and let them guard it: it shall be the food as a supply to the land for the seven years of famine that will be in the land of Egypt” (Genesis 41:32-36).

So, once Pharaoh put Joseph in charge, what did Joseph do? He went all over Egypt and, since the seven years of plenty were so lavish, “he gathered up all the food of these seven years... and he put the food in the cities; the food of the field in every city which surrounded them, he gave into its midst. And Joseph stored up grain like the sand of the sea, so much that he ceased to count it, as it couldn't be counted” (Genesis 41:46-49).

As the famine took hold in northeast Africa and southwest Asia, “in all the land of Egypt there was bread” at first (Genesis 41:54), but when private stockpiles were depleted and “all the land of Egypt was famished, the people cried to Pharaoh for bread; and Pharaoh said to all Egypt, 'Go to Joseph. Whatever he says to you, do!'” (Genesis 41:55). Joseph then became “the one who sold to all the people of the land,” who had authority to distribute the national grain reserve dispersed throughout all Egypt's cities (Genesis 42:6). As the one man in the land with near-exclusive control over the basic staples of existence during these years, one reader sees him “exercising his god-like power over life and death” in the way he deals with the people.²⁶

As Joseph reveals himself to his brothers, two years of the famine are past, and the third is soon to be underway, with four more to come (Genesis 45:6). By this point, “there was no bread in the land, for the famine was very heavy, so that the land of Egypt and the land of Canaan fainted from the face of the famine” (Genesis 47:13). It seems like a death sentence, certain to return all in Canaan and in Egypt to the ground whence they were formed from the first. The sweat running down their noses couldn't scratch up bread to feed their families. But in the face of this disaster, we read how “Joseph gave them bread,” that “he comforted them with bread” (Genesis 47:17). When all's said and done, Egypt as a whole speaks to Joseph with one voice, crying out to him, “You have sustained us alive!” (Genesis 47:25). It's language we haven't heard since God told Noah to bring into the ark living creatures “to sustain them alive” (Genesis 6:19). Egypt is hailing Joseph as the world's new Noah, who's preserved the seed of life through the disaster, making Egypt itself an ark of safety for all lands.²⁷

But maybe the devil's in the details. How's this sausage made? Joseph doesn't give bread; he sells it. Egyptians – like all the foreigners descending in desperation to their land – have to purchase grain from the government. So, during these earlier years of the famine, “Joseph collected all the silver that was found in the land of Egypt and in the land of Canaan for the grain that they bought; and Joseph,” rather than embezzle this profit for his own ends, “brought the silver to the house of the Pharaoh” (Genesis 47:14). He's faithful and zealous on his boss's behalf, using his role “to further augment and consolidate Pharaoh's power.”²⁸ Then what? Time passes, and “the silver was spent in the land of Egypt and in the land of Canaan.” And so “all Egypt came to Joseph, saying, 'Provide us bread! Why should we die in front of you? For the silver has ceased'” (Genesis 47:15).

Here's the crucial moment. There's no more silver to collect – not at the high prices Joseph must have been able to charge for grain, now that he's got a food monopoly. Here are the starving people, without money, asking to be fed. He could distribute the bread freely, as an entitlement of citizenship or even just as human kindness. On the other hand, “a person who is able to exploit someone else's assets ceases to bother with his own.”²⁹ Trying to give grain freely by rationed amounts per person could give rise to black markets; anybody slipping through the cracks could starve.³⁰ And so Joseph makes a decision: no free lunches. Considering that all this grain was confiscated by the government from the Egyptian people in the first place, effectively Joseph's demanding that “the very farmers who produced and harvested the food buy back their own product.”³¹ So, without silver as a currency, he turns to a barter system with moveable property: “Provide your livestock, and I'll give it to you for your livestock, if the silver has ceased” (Genesis 47:16). And so “they brought their livestock to Joseph, and Joseph gave them bread in exchange for the horses and for the livestock of the flock and for the livestock of the herd and for the donkeys; and he comforted them with bread for all their livestock that year” (Genesis 47:17).

That year ended. But the famine didn't. In this next year, Egypt turned to Joseph yet again. Their rations were gone. They had no silver left, and now their livestock was all state property. Egypt laments, “Nothing remains before the face of my lord but our bodies and our ground! Why should we die before your eyes, both we and our ground? Buy us and our ground for bread, and we with our ground will be slaves to Pharaoh; and give us seed, that we may live and not die, and that the ground may not be desolate!” (Genesis 47:18-19).

This time, it was their suggestion; Joseph merely accepted their terms gladly. “Joseph bought all the ground of Egypt for Pharaoh, for Egypt sold every man his field,” not freely but “because the famine prevailed upon them; and the land became Pharaoh's” (Genesis 47:20), so as “to build up the stock of property which lay in the public domain.”³² The sole exception was that “the ground of the priests he did not buy, for the priests had a statutory ration from Pharaoh, and they ate the rations that Pharaoh gave them; on this basis, they didn't sell their grounds” (Genesis 47:22). As for the people, there are questions about what the original text said.³³ The Hebrew text passed down to us says that “he made them pass over into the cities from one end of the territory of Egypt to the other” by a population transfer (Genesis 47:21).³⁴ But some ancient copies apparently read instead that “the people he enslaved for himself as servants.”³⁵ So “he took possession of all the land for Pharaoh at the same time as he reduced all the Egyptians into slavery.”³⁶ Thus “freedom was taken away in all the land of Egypt,” so that Egypt “became the house of bondage” even to its own people.³⁷

It's an alarming picture, that the boy sold by his brothers into slavery could so easily allow his adopted nation to sell themselves into slavery. When similar policies were introduced at Jerusalem, so that fields were mortgaged and people sold into slavery to afford grain during a famine, Nehemiah was outraged and “brought charges against the nobles and the officials” (Nehemiah 5:1-7); what words might Nehemiah have for Joseph?³⁸ Some readers today worry that, in what seems like his “crafty, unforgiving leadership,”³⁹ Joseph “outpharaohs Pharaoh” as he “centralizes all ownership,”⁴⁰ as “the Egyptians must literally sacrifice all ownership of the means of production in order to survive,”⁴¹ as he “strips them of their dignity.”⁴² If God declared to Jacob that “in you and in your seed shall all the families of the ground be blessed” (Genesis 28:14), what does it mean when Joseph takes the ground away from the families of Egypt? Does he bless them, or break them... or both?

What's happening here is the transformation of Egypt into an anti-Israel.⁴³ In Egypt, the people sell themselves into slavery for generations; in Israel, one who sold himself into slavery would, in the seventh year at the latest, “go out free, for nothing” (Exodus 21:2). In Egypt, Joseph keeping the Egyptians alive authorized the statute; in Israel, the statutes are commanded “for our good all the days, that [God] might keep us alive” (Deuteronomy 6:24). In Egypt, the land is given up to Pharaoh, with the exception of the priests as the sole other landowners; in Israel, “no portion is given to the Levites in the land, but only cities to dwell in” (Joshua 14:4), for “it is Pharaoh who wishes his priests... to work at the cultivation of the soil, not of the soul.”⁴⁴ In Egypt, Pharaoh lays claim to a fifth of every harvest; in Israel, the LORD himself lays claim to simply a tenth (Leviticus 23:30).

At the same time the native Egyptians are surrendering silver, stock, soil, and self, how are things with Goshen's newest settlers? Quite well: Joseph engineered things to “cause them to live in considerable prosperity.”⁴⁵ Just before we heard that there was no bread in the land, we read that “Joseph sustained his father and his brothers and all the house of his father with bread, according to the mouth of the little one” (Genesis 47:12), possibly meaning that he assigns each individual a sufficient ration. Where the Egyptians go into slavery to afford bread, the first Israelite immigrants are given bread for free, courtesy of the Egyptian government.

Thus, “Israel settled in the land of Egypt, in the land of Goshen, and they seized possession in it, and they were fruitful and they multiplied exceedingly” (Genesis 47:27). We'll hear the same thing early in the next book, that “the Sons of Israel were fruitful and teemed and multiplied and became very, very numerous, and the land was filled with them” (Exodus 1:7). Back at Bethel, God had urged Jacob to “be fruitful and multiply” (Genesis 35:11), as Isaac had prayed would happen (Genesis 28:3); but that was echoing God's commitment to make Abraham “exceedingly fruitful” (Genesis 17:6), which was a plan built on God's blessing on the sons of Noah that they “be fruitful and multiply and fill the land” (Genesis 9:1), which repeated God's blessing on humanity at the dawn of creation, that we “be fruitful and multiply and fill the land” (Genesis 1:28).⁴⁶ But notice that not once, in all of Genesis until now, have we explicitly heard fruitfulness come to fruition – we've heard blessings of the hopes of fruitfulness, encouragements to multiply and fill, but here it's become an accomplished fact.

So when we read that phrase again, we're thrown back to before the ground was cursed, before the ground was forfeit. You know, the word 'ground' has scarcely shown up at all since the days of Noah, and suddenly here, in this chapter, we get over 25% of the 'ground' in Genesis – twice as many uses as there were before the fall. Then, in Genesis 3, humanity evicted from the garden was sentenced to “slave for the ground from which he'd been taken” (Genesis 3:23). Now, forty-four chapters later, as Egyptians give themselves and their ground alike into slavery, Israel teems and swarms in Goshen like they're frolicking in Eden, as though Joseph's bread were tasty fruit from the tree of life. If Adam's so-called 'knowledge' brought a deadly curse onto the ground, Joseph has a wisdom from God that, at least in part, triumphs over the curse and leads to life.⁴⁷

And so “Jacob lived in the land of Egypt seventeen years” (Genesis 47:28). The first five of those correspond to the final five years of famine; that means Jacob and his family stayed when the famine ended. They stayed as the Nile rose to restore the land to life, to let the Egyptians' seed become viable crops. Israel stays settled in the land of Goshen, because God has spoken. And during Jacob's last years and beyond, there are just two groups who aren't somehow slaves of the state: the priesthoods, and the Children of Israel. To the average Egyptian farmer, how might this look? He owes new taxes at every harvest, and has less than his father because he's had to sell everything just to survive those tough years. But that immigrant ghetto over yonder spent those same years getting fat off government handouts – eating for free the grain he grew in the good years and had to pay to taste. Now those foreigners continue exempt from these new taxes, while those like him whose ancestors have walked this land for millennia are at risk of losing their country? Well, something's got to be done!

Unwittingly, it seems like Joseph has created a reason for Egyptians to resent the Hebrews and has built the machinery of state oppression that, a few generations down the line, will be ready and available to aim at the Hebrews. See, eventually there'll rise “a new king over Egypt, who knew not Joseph” (Exodus 1:8). Famously, during this season of Egyptian history, significant parts of the country were taken over by pharaohs who weren't even Egyptian, whose parents were settlers from north of Canaan; the Egyptians dubbed them 'rulers of foreign lands.' This broke down the Middle Kingdom, and a New Kingdom couldn't begin until a ten-year-old prince from Waset came to power and, in his quarter-century reign as Ahmose, led a campaign to reconquer Lower Egypt from the 'rulers of foreign lands' and reunite Egypt again as one.⁴⁸ Ahmose or one of his successors would be a new king who knew not Joseph; Egyptian “dread in the face of the Sons of Israel” would express itself in hate and, using the power established here, would make them labor on the grand projects of the New Kingdom. Arguably, Joseph “set the scene for hundreds of years of suffering,”⁴⁹ having created “the conditions for the eventual bitter enslavement and oppression of his own people.”⁵⁰ Try as he might, Joseph's Goshen can't be Eden. It can only be a crucible for forging a nation for greater dreams by far (Genesis 15:12-16).

In the midst of this swirl of confusion, there's one key moment at the eye of the storm. Before the family settles fully in Goshen, “Joseph brought in Jacob his father and stood him before the face of Pharaoh” (Genesis 47:7). Unlike Joseph's brothers, Jacob doesn't use 'lord' and 'servant' language as he speaks with the king of all Egypt; he certainly doesn't bow before Pharaoh.⁵¹ Jacob has no need to quake before this young man who takes himself for the earthly manifestation of a god; Israel has wrestled God in the dark, Israel has met God in visions of the night, and Israel – at Israel's best – will accept no imitations. Though Jacob at his advanced age is carried to and fro, he exits Pharaoh's presence at his own initiative, without asking permission, and under his own power, without seeking help. But before he goes, what does he do? He blesses Pharaoh (Genesis 47:10). Israel imposes a blessing onto the head of this friendly neighborhood god-king, so called. And “it is beyond dispute that the inferior is blessed by the superior” (Hebrews 7:7). Israel, without bravado, simply blesses. He blesses Pharaoh king of Egypt, because Israel's called to bless. So bless Israel does, without compromise.

In Joseph we see a glimpse – however imperfect – of “the Lord Jesus, taking pity on the hungers of the world,”⁵² the “Christ who subjugates all things to himself by the gift of wheat.”⁵³ He gives more freely than Joseph could, and more abundantly than Joseph could – but the price is, yes, that, “having been set free from sin, we become slaves,” not of Pharaoh, but “of righteousness” (Romans 6:18). “What do we get from refusing to have such a master?” asked St. Augustine. “We shall only remain under the devil, and also suffer from the famine, and still not escape from the authority of our true Lord.”⁵⁴ Jesus goes straight not for our silver or stock or soil, but for our souls – he wants our heart, he wants our all, to be at his service. It's not because he wants to dominate us, but because he wants to liberate us. And he stakes his claim to us by feeding our lives on every word from the mouth of God (Matthew 4:4), and most fully by the Bread of Life on his altar (John 6:53).

The cross is steady as the world turns – that's the great saying.⁵⁵ The ways of this world aren't stable, any more than the conditions and policies of ancient Egypt. As we're sent into the world, we have to be careful – as Jacob was – not to become of it (John 17:14-16). We don't leave behind all we've been graced with, in expectation that the world has something better. Instead, we come and find our place where we can live as Christians in this Egypt, where we can put love into practice, where we can be disciples bearing fruit for God. Then we multiply; then we teem; then, from seventy souls, we become as the very sand beneath or stars above. Refusing to be co-opted, we nevertheless stay close enough to bring a blessing – to feed hungry bodies and hungry souls, to supply justice where once was none, to do mercy, to lift up, to sustain life where death lays claim to reign. This can be our Goshen – until all things are made new, and every hunger is satisfied for good, and the best of all heaven is held before us by the King of Kings, our Good Shepherd at last adored by all creation. Amen!

Looking for New Leaves

What a twisted road it's been, these last twenty-two years since the envy and wrath of older brothers boiled over and Joseph was sold to a merchant caravan as a slave. Carted off in grief to Egypt, the teenager had prospered in Potiphar's employ, been accused and imprisoned, aided a royal official and been forgotten, then hauled out of jail by none other than the king and raised to high station. That was nine years ago. Zaphenath-paneah, as he prefers to be known now, is a 39-year-old married father of two, and quite busy dispensing grain as the savior of the nations; he's in hot demand. He resolved ages ago to simply forget where he came from, his father's house. For all he knew, his father and brothers had died, and good riddance. His dad never came looking for him. He was even in on it, for all Joseph knew, having sent him to his brothers with just such ends in mind. He felt bad for little Benny, the only other last piece of their lovely mom; but the brothers had probably offed him, too.

Meanwhile, his father's house had fallen on hard times. The famine had freshly hit. Judah's come back home after his misadventures in the highlands; he's learned a lot through losing two kids and a wife, then gaining two kids in the strangest of ways, having been duped by his daughter-in-law Tamar dressed up by the roadside. The brothers are all in their forties now, all married with kids; even Benjamin's in his mid-twenties. Their father Jacob has never been the man he used to be, never recovered from being shown the bloodied robes of Joseph in tatters, the coat he himself wove together in love. His grief had been inconsolable, tearing at the hearts of all his sons. Benjamin had never known him any other way than this. As he'd grown, Jacob had turned all his fatherly attention on him, clinging to him as his reason for living; it was the only thing that had kept Jacob going.

As a second famine year gets underway, Jacob finds his sons taking no initiative, just looking blankly back and forth in despair. He's heard from neighbors, though, that they've found grain supplies in the Egyptian market, that there were still reserves there, so he insists his forty-something sons “go down to there and buy grain for us from there, and we will live and not die” (Genesis 42:1-2). This is a life-or-death mission. But despite that, still Jacob “did not send Benjamin, brother of Joseph, with his brothers” (Genesis 42:4). After so many losses (of Rachel and Joseph), Jacob's developed a paranoid overprotectiveness of Benjamin, that “harm will meet him” if he leaves Jacob's sight. So only “ten brothers of Joseph descended to buy grain in Egypt” (Genesis 42:3).

As these “sons of Israel” join the flow of Canaanites making their way to and from the Egyptian grain depot, they make their first appearance before this grain czar: Zaphenath-paneah. Now, no sooner has Joseph seen the ten than he knows them, recognizing them as surely as his dad recognized his stolen coat (Genesis 37:33). They, on the other hand, see him and can't recognize their little brother Joseph (Genesis 42:8). Not only do they assume Joseph's likely dead, but this potentate before them is decades older, clean-shaven with no eyebrows but heavy eyeliner, wearing a wig and finest linens and dazzling gold, speaking in Egyptian while relying on a translator to interact with the Asiatics in their assorted Semitic dialects. But in failing to recognize their brother, they're akin to blind Grandpa Isaac not recognizing his disguised son (Genesis 27:33).

As they bow themselves down before Zaphenath-paneah “with their noses to the land” (Genesis 42:6), Joseph is confronted with memories he's tried to blot out – dreams from his youth (Genesis 42:9), of his ten older brothers binding sheaves of grain by his sides, only theirs collapsed and bowed to his full sheaf (Genesis 37:6-7); as those ten brothers now bow and beg for his grain, he considers the dream fulfilled before his very eyes. His second dream, of sun, moon, and eleven stars bowing before his cosmic presence, this doesn't look like that. But alongside the memories resurfaces the pain – their jealousies, hostilities, hatreds, their mockery of his fear and mortal terror, their betrayal in reducing him to chattel, their selling him away to be rid of him forever. Now here they are, in their hour of need, oblivious who he is. How the tables have turned.

So Joseph, who recognized them, “treated them as strangers,” recognizing them as alien to Egyptian society and hence to the new Egyptian him; accordingly, he “spoke harshly to them” (Genesis 42:7), foreshadowing the “harsh” servitude of the sons of Israel under Egyptian rule (Exodus 6:9). He starts interrogating the brothers, insisting repeatedly that they must be spies come “to see the nakedness of the land” as Canaan's father Ham saw his father Noah's nakedness (Genesis 42:9, 12; cf. 9:21). It's topsy-turvy, because when we do finally meet Israelite spies, it's always on Canaan, never on Egypt (Deuteronomy 1:24). But Zaphenath-paneah accuses the ten men of being enemy agents gathering intelligence on weaknesses in Egypt's defenses in preparation for hostile action; they're a threat to state security, and need to be dealt with accordingly.

He throws out this knowingly false accusation to put them on the defensive. They have to humble themselves and deny the charge, insisting they're honest men, true and above-board in their aims, only here to buy grain; as sons of one father, no father would risk all his sons as spies (Genesis 42:10-11). Doubling down on this defense as Zaphenath-paneah keeps accusing, the stress they're twelve brothers – minus the youngest, safe at home with their dad, and minus one other missing member who “is no more” (Genesis 42:13), as Reuben had said when he found the pit empty of Joseph (Genesis 37:30). Joseph's reason for interrogating them was “to discover news of his father... and to learn the fate of his brother Benjamin.”¹ Did Dad never come looking because he got sick or died? Seemingly not. Had his brothers slain or expelled little Benny? No, they claim – but how to know?

As Zaphenath-paneah, he for a third time accuses the ten sons of Israel before him of a crime, but says he'll let them defend their innocence with a corroborating witness: their absent younger brother. “You shall be tested..., your words shall be tested, whether there is truth in you” (Genesis 42:14-16). For Joseph, it's the only way to be sure Benjamin hasn't “suffered the same fate at their hands” as he had.² They must choose one of them to go home and retrieve the youngest brother, but the other nine will be detained, bound in prison, on suspicion of the crime of espionage. Having written the script, Zaphenath-paneah adds them together – it sounds like his lost name 'Joseph' – and keeps them in custody for three days (Genesis 42:17), giving them a brief but fitting taste of the three years or more that Joseph spent in a prison pit just like this one.³ As Potiphar maybe used Joseph to eavesdrop on other prisoners, maybe Joseph has eyes and ears in there with them, to find out if they turn on each other as they debate which of them will alone be set free. Joseph needs to know if they've changed.

On the third day, he has them brought back out to tell them he's changing the terms: instead of detaining nine to send one, he'll detain one and release nine. Maybe this was the plan all along, or maybe he's cooled off enough to think through the consequences. They've come down here because everyone back home – Dad, them, and their wives and kids – are facing famine; ten brothers came with ten donkeys because they need all that to transport sufficient grain. If Joseph only lets one go back, he won't be able to bring enough grain. So, he says as Zaphenath-paneah, he'll let nine of them “carry grain for the famine of your houses” (Genesis 42:19). After all, he says, “I fear the God” – or is it 'the gods'? If they're the honest men they claim to be, then this way “you will live,” he says, “and you will not die” (Genesis 42:18-20), unwittingly echoing his dad (Genesis 42:2).

Still, the predicament is stressful. They know they're innocent of this charge, but also that they're no innocents; talking among themselves in a way they wouldn't dare if they knew Zaphenath-paneah's first language were Hebrew, they confess how “in truth we're guilty concerning our brother” (Genesis 42:21).⁴ The “unswerving judgment of conscience” has awakened in them, after years of inner torment by their father's palpable grief.⁵ Now Joseph can hear that, at the very least, they privately acknowledge that what they did to him back then was wrong. Not only that, but they link their present “distress” to Joseph's “distress of soul... when he begged us and we did not listen,” as effect to cause. They accept their present trouble is them finally reaping what they then sowed – that this is “God's chastisement for their plots against [Joseph]..., God who afflicted it to avenge him.”⁶ Reuben, aloof from the pity-party, comes in hot with a big-brotherly 'told-you-so,' uncharitably preening how he'd tried to save Joseph, how this whole mess resulted from their not having heeded his leadership.⁷ For their sins against Joseph, “his blood, behold, it is required” (Genesis 42:22), a fated blood-for-blood reckoning.

Joseph now knows the firstborn stuck up for him, they all feel guilty, they assume he's dead – and he has the first of three major confrontations with emotional turmoil. As tears well up in his eyes, he has to turn aside so they don't see; Zaphenath-paneah shouldn't know what they're saying and would have no reason to shed tears over it even if he did. Resuming his stony Egyptian persona, he orders the detention of Simeon, the second-oldest; Joseph makes an example of him (Genesis 42:23-24), “to test them carefully and see if they showed any signs of affection for him.”⁸ Behind the scenes, Zaphenath-paneah gives three commands to his staff: first, to fill their vessels with the grain they'd come to buy; second, to refund the purchase price by slipping each man's silver back into his bag; third, to also add an extra supply to sustain them on the week-long journey back to Canaan. The first is just to be expected, the third is hardly unwelcome, but what does the second mean? Is it an act of mercy, a generous gift of food on the house? Or is it a further trial – having sold Joseph for twenty pieces of silver, is he testing whether they'd rather reclaim their silver or their brother (Genesis 42:25)? Is he testing them by repeating their acquisition of “silver that they do not deserve and should not rightfully possess”?⁹

When one finds his silver again during their travels, it causes no shortage of commotion. “Their hearts left them, and they trembled, each man to his brother, saying, 'What is this that God has done to us?'” (Genesis 42:28). Trembling at the divine hand they feel upon them, just as Grandpa Isaac trembled whenhis blessing was diverted from the intended Esau (Genesis 27:33), they're dismayed rather than relieved, since if the silver's still with them, they've effectively stolen all this grain and will be considered not just spies but thieves. Reaching Canaan at the end of the week, they relate a version of events to their dad Jacob, emphasizing the harshness of “the man, the lord of the land,” how he'd accused them of being “spies of the land,” how they'd defended their honor as “honest men..., twelve brothers, sons of our father” (Genesis 42:29-31). They recount their ordeal, bypassing the three-day imprisonment and the threat of capital punishment; they note the demand to “bring your youngest brother” if they want to see Simeon again – and they invent an offer of free “trade in the land,” echoing the perk dangled before them a quarter-century ago at Shechem (Genesis 42:32-34; cf. 34:21).

After the full silver is exposed, Jacob's positively apoplectic. Having returned with both grain and their original silver, how can he be sure they didn't sell Simeon for the food instead?¹⁰ He condemns them as having made him childless (as if they aren't your children too, Jacob?). “Joseph is no more” – so we've heard – “and Simeon is no more” – his dad's given up on him real fast – and, in all this, “now you would take Benjamin” and put his life at risk? Collapsing into self-pity, this broken old man cries that “everything has come against me” (Genesis 42:36), the fate his mom had feared for herself when her twin sons courted a dismal destiny (Genesis 27:45).

Twenty-two years ago, we saw the pattern: Reuben tries to exert his imperious leadership, and only later, at a more considered time, does Judah persuade and inspire. Reuben now tries to fix things his way. He insists that his dad should turn Benjamin over into his power – “put him in my hands, and I will bring him back to you,” once he's served his purpose as the key to Simeon's jail. And to convey just how seriously Reuben takes the responsibility, he puts his own flesh-and-blood on the line: if Reuben should fail to bring Benjamin back safely, he tells his father, “put my two sons to death” (Genesis 42:37)!

What a generous thought, Reuben, that if you make Jacob lose a third son, you'll even things out by letting him kill a couple grandsons too. Yes, that's sure to be appealing, Reuben! The grotesque thought inspires in Jacob zero confidence that Benjamin would be safe in Reuben's hands; it only hardens his resistance to releasing his 25-year-old baby boy from his sight.¹¹ “My son shall not go down with you,” with any of you, “for his brother is dead, and he alone is left.” Jacob speaks as though only his sons by Rachel ever really counted in his eyes, making Benjamin effectively an only child; his loss would finish what Joseph's presumed death began, dragging Jacob to the underworld with sorrow and grief in his vulnerable, venerable years (Genesis 42:38; cf. 37:35).

Tensions are running higher now. It's not time to continue the conversation. Then the famine deepens, and they “finished to eat the grain that they had bought from Egypt.” Jacob tells his sons to go back and “buy us a little food” (Genesis 43:1-2). Judah's been biding his time to step up, speak up: Egypt's grain czar “solemnly warned us” that “you shall not see my face unless your brother is with you” (Genesis 43:3). Benjamin is key to getting any grain at all. There's no point in a week's trip down and a week's trip up if Jacob won't let Benjamin go. “If you send our brother with us, we will go down and buy you food” – Dad, your own supper rides on this decision – but “if you won't send him, we won't go down” (Genesis 43:4-5). The ball's in your court.

Well, Dad ain't happy with that answer. Backed into a corner, he lashes out, accusing them of crafting his ruin by having let slip to the man down there that up here was another brother – as if Benjamin's existence were meant to be a carefully guarded secret (Genesis 43:6)? By letting the cat out of the bag, they've treated him poorly, unjustly, evilly – his strong language seems nearly to compare their exposure of Benjamin to the evil deeds of the men of Sodom (Genesis 19:9)! As a group, the sons defend themselves maybe less than honestly against their father's unreason. When we earlier read their dialogue with the grain czar, they volunteered family information in the course of their defense; here, they claim that the man pried for family information, and they'd answered innocently with the truth, having no suspicion it could lead to any jeopardy (Genesis 43:7).

Now Judah steps in again to settle things. Where Reuben demanded their father surrender Benjamin into his oh-so-trustworthy clutches, Judah invites Israel to “send the lad with me, and we will arise and go” (Genesis 43:8). His language here echoes the picture of Abraham taking his lad Isaac and arising to go to the land of Moriah on a most holy mission (Genesis 22:1-5). Judah bolsters his case by quoting his dad's own words back to him: “we may live and not die” (Genesis 43:8; cf. 42:2), but expanding them by stressing that it isn't just a group of ten brothers at risk; it's also Jacob, it's also Benjamin, it's also the wives, it's also the little children of their group.

Where Reuben offered to let Israel execute some of those little ones to avenge harm on Benjamin, Judah has the wisdom of experience. He's speaking to a man who's lost two sons and is now overprotective of the youngest – and Judah's past few years have trained him to relate: he watched his sons Er and Onan die, one after the other, and then himself withheld his youngest son, Shelah, from all risk. But then his shortsightedness and injustice were humbled, exposed, by the deeds of Tamar. So as he appeals to his father, he gets why Israel struggles to see past his fear; but, equally, he's also learned that unless Israel risks despite his fear, the losses of the past can never be redeemed.¹² So, as he once handed over his staff and seal as a pledge for payment (Genesis 38:17-18), Judah now offers to be that staff, to be that seal, to be a pledge for payment.¹³ He subtly reminds his dad of when he had to defend himself to Laban. Then, Jacob had insisted he'd never brought any torn animals to Laban, but had himself borne the blame or sin of it, since Laban even required from Jacob's hand whatever was stolen (Genesis 31:39). Judah, having heard and remembered, now quotes some of that back: Dad, you can be a Laban to me, you can require Benjamin from my hand, and if I let you down and anything happens to him, even what I can't control, I'll bear the blame forever; I bind myself, on pain of sin beyond forgiveness, to do everything to keep Benjamin safe and bring him back to you, untorn, alive, into your arms (Genesis 43:9).

Judah wraps up his speech by chiding their whole group – and, implicitly, their shot-calling father – for such a long delay. “If we hadn't delayed, we would've returned time and again by now” (Genesis 43:10). Benjamin would be back. Simeon would be back. It'd all be over with. The family would be in safety. Instead, matters are drawn out, making them only more dangerous – like when grandpa's cousin Lot delayed and delayed to get his family out of the doomed city in time (Genesis 19:16), so Israel is now delaying to free Simeon from the city in Egypt. And if Judah's got to be the angel taking him by the hand and talking sense, so be it.

Where Israel was only hardened by Reuben's ham-fisted attempt, he's shamed by Judah's standing up to him and reassured by his pledges. Not wanting to be a mere follower, Israel now takes charge and prescribes how to make their mission a success. In their gear, they've got to take a sampling of Canaan's best agricultural products, whatever they can give (Genesis 43:11). Israel rattles off a list of six things, and unbeknownst to him, three are the very merchandise the Ishmaelites sold in Egypt alongside Joseph (Genesis 37:25). Israel specifies that these goodies should be packaged “as an offering” to the lord of the land (Genesis 43:11). Anyone else feeling deja vu? It's the same strategy Jacob used with Esau, by sending ahead a lavish offering to appease his anger and secure his favor (Genesis 32:13-21). Not only that, but Israel tells them to take double as much silver (Genesis 43:12). Then, if they must, “take your brother, and arise, return to the man” (Genesis 43:13).

Israel closes his message by invoking the God who sheltered and prospered him in his decades of exile: “May El Shaddai give you mercy in the face of the man, and may he send your other brother – and Benjamin!” But Israel's words don't ring with the confidence of faith any more – since the loss of Joseph, he's been shaken, if not altogether shattered. “As for me, if I'm made childless, I'm made childless” – he's already resigning himself to the worst-case outcome, one where El Shaddai's mercy isn't enough to bring his sons home (Genesis 43:14).

Again, ten sons go down to Egypt; Joseph, hopeful of meeting his long-lost little brother, makes arrangements. He approaches his steward, “the one over his house,” who serves him in the same capacity Joseph once served Potiphar; he explains that this group of men must eat that day in Joseph's personal residence, so he should go get them, but also then butcher some animal for lunch meat (Genesis 43:15-16) – an echo of Potiphar, “chief of the butchers” (Genesis 39:1). When the steward fetches the sons of Israel, they can only assume this relates to “the matter of the silver which was returned into our bags the first time.” Surely they've been convicted in absentia of theft! The wrathful lord of Egypt has summoned only “to roll upon us and fall upon us” suddenly, aggressively; then he'll seize them and their donkeys (Genesis 43:18). In hopes of getting out ahead of things, upon reaching the door they approach the steward, telling him they've found their silver replaced in their bags, that they don't know how it got there, and that as they've now brought other silver to cover the present grain purchase, they've also brought back the full amount they owe for the prior grain and want to return it, as honest men should (Genesis 43:19-22). Thus they pass the test: their old greed is trumped by their new honesty.

The steward no doubt confuses them when he claims he got their payment in full already – that the bill was settled, and that this silver isn't what they brought, but a treasure hidden in their bags by the generous will of “your God and the God of your father” (Genesis 43:23), maybe a belated reward for their father's having hidden away the foreign idols at Shechem (Genesis 35:4). He bids them be at peace – an ironic twist for the brothers who'd refused to speak peace to Joseph (Genesis 37:4).¹⁴ Cleared of suspicion of theft, they breathe a sign of relief. The steward leads them in, reuniting them with Simeon; he supplies fodder for their donkeys and water to wash their feet, a standard measure of hospitality like what Grandma Rebekah's family gave the servant of Abraham (Genesis 24:32). Refreshed and told of the upcoming luncheon with Zaphenath-paneah, the eleven brothers make ready their offering while the steward and staff make ready the meal (Genesis 43:24-25), as God had 'made ready,' fixed and established, the years of plenty and the years of want (Genesis 41:32).

At last, in strides the mighty lord of the land; and, as their father “bowed himself to the land” while approaching Esau (Genesis 33:3), now the sons present an offering and “bow down to [Zaphenath-paneah] unto the land,” presenting themselves as his servants (Genesis 43:26). As Esau asked about Jacob's family (Genesis 33:5), now Zaphenath-paneah asks about their family – “Is your father well, the elder you said about? Is he still alive?” (Genesis 43:27). Joseph's relieved again to hear that Israel's alive and well. Then the eleven brothers bend and bow to him (Genesis 43:28), as Abraham's servant had in grateful worship unto the LORD (Genesis 24:26), and Joseph feels himself a giant leap closer to the moon, sun, and stars of his second dream (Genesis 37:9).

As he surveys the prostrate men, his eyes land on the one he most wants to see: “Benjamin, his brother, the son of his mother.” He asks if this is the “youngest brother,” the one they'd mentioned, but he doesn't wait for them to answer. He can't bear to, nor does he need to. He can feel in his bones that this is little Benny, whom Joseph hasn't seen since he was barely more than a toddler. Joseph had once been shown by Jacob to Esau as one of “the children with whom God has graced your servant” (Genesis 33:5); now, Joseph blurts out to Benjamin, “God be gracious to you, my son!” (Genesis 43:29). Does Joseph want to be a father to Benny?

He speaks these words, not all calm, cool, and collected, but as a man about to burst. “The stings of a great love swiftly prick the heart.”¹⁵ Overcome with emotion for the second time, he hurries himself out of the room in his embarrassment. “His compassion,” his mercy, “warmed toward his brother” (Genesis 43:30), the same potent emotional reaction Solomon recognized in a true mother toward her endangered baby boy (1 Kings 3:26). Fleeing to his bedroom, Joseph broke down in tears. This time, he couldn't just wipe them away; he needed to wash his face, reapply his eyeliner, and struggle for self-control to resume his facade (Genesis 43:31).

By now, it's lunch time. Three tables are set up – one for Zaphenath-paneah, overlooking the hall; one for these Hebrew guests, the eleven sons of Israel; and one for the house's Egyptian staff, to whom sharing a table with Hebrews was “an abomination” – high-ranked Egyptians were very fastidious about table manners and about foods that mustn't be eaten, and almost never ate with strangers (Genesis 43:32).¹⁶ But the important bit is that the table settings for the sons of Israel were arranged properly by birth order, “the firstborn according to his birthright and the littlest according to his littleness; and the men were astounded, a man toward his neighbor” (Genesis 42:33). Except Benjamin, they're all in their forties. The odds of guessing their order by chance are about one in almost forty million. How did Zaphenath-paneah get this totally right? What great magic is this? The host even has portions of food from in front of his face delivered to the sons of Israel, but most especially to the youngest, five times as much. That's a hefty helping, especially in year two of a famine! Joseph's no doubt watching how the brothers handle seeing their little half-brother get preferential treatment.

Having “drank and got drunk with him,” the Hebrew men are drowsy, calling an early night; that gives Joseph the chance to summon his steward again, and again command him two of the three jobs from last time: fill their bags with all the food they can fit, and slip in their purchase price, fully refunded. But in lieu of provisions for a long journey, Joseph directs for his own silver goblet to be stuffed into Benjamin's bag, as though pilfered in the aftermath of yesterday's drinking party (Genesis 44:1-2). Dawn breaks. Eleven sons of Israel are sent forth, their donkeys laden with grain. As far as they're concerned, the nightmare's over. They've been cleared of all criminal charges, they received treasure and life-saving supplies, they were honored on their second visit to make up for the humiliation of their first, and their homeward bound. It's all good.

Or so they think. Before they can get far, Joseph orders his steward to chase them down, catch up to them, to pursue and overtake them the same way Laban pursued and overtook Jacob in Gilead (Genesis 31:23; 44:4). He does just that – pursues, overtakes, and catches the brothers, and he accuses them directly of a sacrilegious theft: the divination goblet of Zaphenath-paneah (Genesis 44:5). The only time we've heard of divination so far was when Laban “divined” that Jacob's presence mediated divine prosperity (Genesis 30:27). The steward's charges of them stealing this pagan artifact echo Laban's accusations that Jacob stole his teraphim (Genesis 31:30). And this, says the steward, is repaying evil for good, a malicious act of betrayal (Genesis 44:6; cf. Psalm 35:12).

Of course, the band of brothers has no clue what he's talking about. They swear they'd never do anything like that, and that the accusation makes no sense after they already freely returned misplaced silver (Genesis 44:7-8). They sound a bit like Jacob indignantly firing back at Laban. And, to cement the parallel, they declare – certain of their innocence – that any among them found in possession of the missing goblet should die (Genesis 44:9), just like Jacob hastily said the same of the teraphim, unaware his wife Rachel had taken them (Genesis 31:32).¹⁷ The steward downgrades the sentence as he repeats it: the guilty one will be enslaved, the rest will be released; and, as the brothers gladly accept the terms, they lower their bags for inspection, one by one, as when Jacob let Laban search one-by-one through the tents in his camp (Genesis 44:10-12; cf. 31:33-34).

Then, Laban had searched but hadn't found, because his guilty daughter Rachel so outwitted him that her guilt couldn't be proven (Genesis 31:35). But here, the steward searches and does find, because guilty Rachel's innocent son Benjamin has been framed with planted evidence – just as Rachel's son Joseph was framed by the false evidence construed by Potiphar's wife (Genesis 39:16-18), and his death established by his elder half-brothers on false evidence of an animal attack (Genesis 37:31-32). The evidence here is shocking, irrefutable, and unbelievable. By their own word, this spells the detention and enslavement of their little brother in Egypt – again. Benjamin is set up to share the dark fate they themselves imposed on Joseph. This time, though, they imitate their dad, who rent his clothes over the death he presumed for Joseph (Genesis 37:34; 44:13).

It's the next phase of the test. Joseph's thought of everything. He's engineered a scenario where a son of Rachel is being hauled away to be enslaved in an Egyptian house. And all they have to do is let it happen. They're free to go, the steward said. They can walk. They can leave Benjamin there; they did with Joseph twenty-two years ago. But now they choose otherwise. One and all, they load their bags back on their donkeys and retrace the morning's steps, accompanying their younger brother as he's arrested and dragged to a house of captivity under Zaphenath-paneah. The test now is “whether they would take Benjamin's side when he was unjustly accused.”¹⁸

When they arrive, falling before the overlord's face to the land, Judah's listed at their head, in the leading role. And when Zaphenath-paneah, through his translator, bluffs that they were fools to steal his goblet when “a man such as I” surely would divine the truth, Judah's the one who speaks for their defense (Genesis 44:14-16). But he doesn't, actually – he says they have no defense. Seizing on Zaphenath-paneah's attribution of the deed to all of them together, Judah can find no way for them to justify themselves, just as he had to admit the other year that Tamar rather than he was justified, vindicated as righteous in the trial (Genesis 38:26; 44:15-16). Just so, “the God has found the iniquity of your servants” – not the fictitious theft of the goblet, but the more distant crime of which the elder ten are actually guilty: plotting the destruction of Joseph.¹⁹

By spreading the guilt around, Judah's got a trick up his sleeve. Since all of them participate in the guilt that led them here, all should be punished together, “both we and he in whose hand the goblet has been found” (Genesis 44:16). Judah, what are you doing? He's pressing for over-the-top justice to make it more absurd. He's hoping that, if they stand together as a unit, their judge would prefer clearing them all over crushing them all.²⁰ In this, he recaptures something of his great-grandpa Abraham's argument with God over the fate of that city down below. Abraham had insisted that collective punishment of righteous and wicked together was profane, far from the character of the LORD who judges justly (Genesis 18:25). Joseph, aping the divine judge, adopts Abraham's argument: “Far be it from me to do this” (Genesis 44:17). He insists on separating Benjamin and brothers.

So Judah draws near, with the same daring with which Abraham drew toe-to-toe with the Almighty to contend over the meaning of justice (Genesis 18:23). And despite the pressure, Judah delivers one of the Bible's most eloquent speeches. Like Abraham, he begs for indulgence from the lord's flaring anger – after all, he says to Zaphenath-paneah, “you are such as to be like Pharaoh” (Genesis 44:18; cf. 18:30). Is it flattery, highlighting his power and privilege? Or does it hit Joseph's ears like an indictment, thrusting a mirror before him?

Judah opens by retelling their first interview, but with lots of changes. He skips the charges of spying and the question of honesty, having Zaphenath-paneah interrogate whether they have “a father or a brother” (Genesis 44:19). They could answer the first half straightforwardly: “We have a father, an old man.” But here they don't claim to have a brother. They have a father, and that father has “a child of his old age, a youngster” (Genesis 44:20), much as Joseph and Isaac were so described (Genesis 21:7; 37:3). That child, says Judah, once had a brother, but “his brother is dead” – decisive confirmation for Joseph why no one came looking for him – and, in the wake of that tragedy, the child “alone remains to his mother, and his father loves him” (Genesis 44:20), positioning Benjamin as a beloved son like Joseph and Isaac (Genesis 22:2; 37:3). But Judah forthrightly tells of their father's special love for this boy, and there's no jealousy or resentment in his voice any longer.²¹

As Judah retells the interview, when Zaphenath-paneah heard there was an irreplaceable child beloved by his father in Canaan, he demanded to have the child brought before him, “that I may set my eyes on him” (Genesis 44:21). Judah portrays it as if the lord of Egypt were demanding the child for his pleasure to behold. But the other sons here, in Judah's version, interceded, saying that it'd be fatal for “the lad” to “forsake his father” (Genesis 44:22). Yet, despite being warned of such lethal consequences, Zaphenath-paneah demanded anyway to have the beloved son of Israel dragged down to him, sacrificed to him; if not, “you shall not add to see my face” again (Genesis 44:23). In Hebrew, it sounds like Judah just said Joseph's name. Shocked by the long-lost sound, and horrified to see himself a tyrant through the eyes of others, Joseph feels the power of Judah's story.

Now Judah leaps beyond this man's eyes and ears. “We ascended to your servant, my father,” says Judah, “and we told him the words of my lord” (Genesis 44:24). Skipping Jacob's initial resistance and Reuben's ridiculous offer, he quotes instead Israel's plea for food and Judah's own ultimatum, though here he shares it with his brothers (Genesis 44:25-26). But the father's answer is loftier, more poignant. Israel tells them that his one true wife had given him only two children, and no more (Genesis 44:27). Judah bases his case on his own secondary status. As for those two sons, “the one went out from me, and I said, 'Surely he has been torn to pieces,' and I have never seen him until now” (Genesis 44:28; cf. 37:33). Joseph can hardly believe what he's hearing. All this time, he's had to wonder bitterly what happened after he was sold. Now he knows the truth.

It's time for Judah to land the donkey in its stall. He paints a picture of Judah and brothers returning home per Zaphenath-paneah's orders, with Benjamin left behind. He'd bade them go up in peace to their father, but what kind of peace could it be? Israel's very life and soul are bound up with this boy; when he sees them return and Benjamin's not there, “he will die” – as he said, his venerable gray hair will sink sorrowfully to Sheol, that gloomy grave of no return. And whose fault will that be? “Your servants” – us, but only insofar as we're acting under your compulsion, as your instruments, Zaphenath-paneah.²² If we do as you've commanded, it will be lethal for this noble old man – and that guilt will be shared by you (Genesis 44:30-31).

Atop this, Judah adds a second basis for his appeal. Judah has already “pledged the lad with my father, saying, 'If I don't bring him back to you, then I've sinned against my father all the days'” (Genesis 44:32). Judah's put himself, his honor and place in the family, totally on the line for Rachel's last son, for his apparent rival for his father's love. And in light of this pledge, Judah has a proposition to make Zaphenath-paneah: Take me. Let the boy go; take me. “Let your servant remain instead of the lad as a slave to my lord, and let the lad ascend with his brothers,” says Judah (Genesis 44:33). Can Joseph even breathe, hearing this? He's created the closest possible parallel to that fateful day twenty-two years ago, but as he runs the simulation, the very same brother who proposed selling Joseph into slavery is now willing to himself be enslaved – leaving his sons behind – to rescue the new Joseph, Benjamin, from that exact same fate, “glad to endure anything to save his brother.”²³

Judah's words resound with echoes from the mountain top – the one where his great-grandpa spied a ram in the thorns, a ram he could sacrifice “instead of his son,” making the ram “ascend as an ascension offering” to the LORD (Genesis 22:13). Judah is as good as declaring, “I'll be the ram! I'll be sacrificed in the lad's stead! I'll be the one burned away, left behind, abandoned below, so that the lad can ascend to his father alive and well!” For how could it be otherwise? How could Judah ascend without Benjamin, “lest I see into the evil that would find my father?” (Genesis 44:34). Judah, attentive to Zaphenath-paneah's recurring inquiries about their father's life and welfare, leverages it to the full.²⁴ Having opened with deference to the Egyptian potentate as 'my lord,' he closes by committing his full loyalty to 'my father' – in a speech using the word 'father' twice seven times.

As Judah closes, Joseph is convinced, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Judah cares deeply for his father, the very father whom they'd so harshly grieved by faking Joseph's death. Joseph also now knows that these elder half-brothers of his have turned over the new leaves he's been looking for. Pressed to turn on each other, to prefer profit and security over a risky redemption, to be envious of the preference given to Benjamin, to walk away and leave Benjamin behind, they didn't. Instead, not only did Judah appeal passionately for him, but he expressed a willingness to take his place, to be a substitute in punishment out of love for him and, even more so, out of love for the father who so loved him. Clearly, these men standing before Joseph now aren't men who'd envy Joseph, hate Joseph, betray Joseph, slay Joseph. These – finally – are the brothers he's wanted all along to have. His efforts to forget all his father's house are shattered by the staff of Judah's self-sacrificial love.

Again, a mighty wave of emotion swells in Joseph's soul. The first time, he turned and returned; the second time, he washed away the evidence and buckled down; but this third time, “Joseph could not control himself before all who stood by him” (Genesis 45:1). Banishing every Egyptian from the hall, including his translator, he “gave a voice of weeping” and revealed himself to his brothers (Genesis 45:2; Acts 7:13), identifying himself in Hebrew as Joseph (Genesis 45:3-5). Reassuring them of his forgiveness, yearning for reunion with his father, he – as Esau did on Jacob (Genesis 33:4) – “fell on Benjamin his brother's neck and wept, and Benjamin wept on his neck; and he kissed all his brothers and wept over them” (Genesis 45:14). “Joseph did not hold a grudge against us,”²⁵ but “he loved us as his own life.”²⁶

As this long drama winds down, we've seen Joseph go through many changes of clothes: from the beloved son in a coat of many colors, to stripped as a slave, to garbed as a house steward, to stripped as a prisoner, to dressed to meet Pharaoh, to invested now with finest linens; and it's finally his turn to give his brothers new clothes, to elevate these brethren to whom he's been reconciled (Genesis 45:21-23). The eleven brothers of Joseph, united, leave Egypt on a mission, ascending to their father as messengers, reporting incomprehensible news: “Joseph is still alive, and he is ruler over all the land of Egypt” (Genesis 45:25-26).

What can this mean to the man who handled the bloodstained coat, who pronounced Joseph dead, who grieved for two decades and more – and now they're telling him that not only has the dead man been alive, but he's been leading a secret life running one of earth's mightiest kingdoms? “His heart stopped, for he did not believe them” (Genesis 45:26). How could he? Well, this is how. His sons keep teaching, confessing before him “all the words of Joseph which he had said to them.” And alongside them, Jacob can see for himself “the wagons that Joseph had sent to carry him,” and the Egyptian clothes on his eleven sons. In view of the evidence, and no doubt with the confession of what his ten elder sons did, “the spirit of their father Jacob came to life; and Israel said, 'It is enough: Joseph my son is still alive! I will go and see him before I die!'” (Genesis 45:27-28).

These four chapters add up to a thrilling story, full of ups and downs, with hidden motives and mistaken identity and the touching battle between revenge and reconciliation. The ten older brothers are provoked to repentance – Joseph hears their contrition, elicits a confession, proves their amendment of life. Joseph becomes an image of the Lord whose “eyelids test the sons of men” (Psalm 11:4), and his brothers those who live “to please God who tests our hearts” (1 Thessalonians 2:4). But also, Joseph is himself won back – back to the memory of his father's house, back to the identity he'd once shed. And what did it? Judah's testimony of self-sacrificial love reawakened Joseph to his first love, and to his brotherhood. What Reuben's confession barely scratched, what the blessing of Benjamin pushed hard, Judah's pledge and proposal tore through, opening the floodgates of the eyes of the lord of Egypt to remember himself as a brother in need of his father. Obviously when we read Judah's offer to be sacrificed in the place of his father's other son, we can't help but see an image of the greatest descendant of Judah: Jesus Christ, offering himself, willing to die for our ascent to the Father.

When they'd approached the steward at the door, the brothers of Joseph had protested their innocence of theft, had pled for mercy and for understanding. But the steward had assured them that their gain was all grace, that their debt had been paid, that they could dispense with their fears and savor peace, that a banquet was being made ready for them, that they should enter the master's house and wait while all things were made ready. And what does that sound like, if not the gospel?²⁷ We've pled for mercy, and those who stand at the door assure us that it's all grace. The debt's been paid. Set aside your slavish fears; peace has been made by the cross! And on the basis of that cross, a banquet's being prepared at the Master's expense. So enter his house unafraid. Things are being made ready. All there is to do is ready our offering, a holy and living sacrifice of ourselves, for him.

Well, one more thing to do. The brothers ultimately go forth to Canaan, seeking out their father, and they share some good news with him: the one we once thought dead, the one you've grieved and lost hope in, is alive after all – alive and reigning! And though he at first disbelieves, their proclamation of the beloved son's words and deeds is enough, enough to revive the dead heart of an old man, to give him new life, to make him say that this good news is sufficient, and that if he does just one thing while he still has breath, it's to go and see for himself. And what is that, if not a perfect precedent for what we see as the Gospels close: disciples mourning what they had hoped as they walk the lonely roads, disciples disbelieving for joy, the apostles sent forth to proclaim all that Christ had taught them? They proclaim that this Jesus, who was dead, is alive, is enthroned in the far country, is both King of Kings and Beloved Son of God. This gospel is for shocking hearts to life, to stir spirits to faith, to suffice for every ill of the soul, and to demand our journey to go and see him, to see the Risen Christ where he is, at the right hand of the Majesty on high “For whosoever believes Christ has been restored to life, quickly searches for him, comes to him with devotion, and worships God with his [or her] inmost heart.”²⁸

When Joseph his brethren beheld, afflicted with trembling and fear,
   His heart with compassion was fill'd, from weeping he could not forbear.
Awhile his behavior was rough, to bring their past sin to their mind;
   But when they were humbled enough, he hasted to shew himself kind.
How little they thought it was he, whom they had ill treated and sold!
   How great their confusion must be, as soon as his name he had told!
“I am Joseph, your brother,” he said, “and still to my heart you are dear.
   You sold me, and thought I was dead, but God, for your sakes, sent me here.”
Though greatly distressed before, when charg'd with purloining the cup,
   They now were confounded much more, not one of them durst to look up.
“Can Joseph, whom we would have slain, forgive us the evil we did?
   And will he our households maintain? O this is a brother indeed!”
Thus dragg'd by my conscience, I came, and laden with guilt, to the Lord;
   Surrounded by terror and shame, unable to utter a word.
At first he looked stern and severe – what anguish then piercéd my heart,
   Expecting each moment to hear the sentence, “Thou curséd, depart!”
But oh! what surprise when he spoke, while tenderness beam'd in his face;
   My heart then to pieces was broke, o'erwhelmed and confounded by grace:
“Poor sinner, I know thee full well, by thee I was sold and was slain;
   But I died to redeem thee from hell and raise thee in glory to reign.
I am Jesus, whom thou hast blasphem'd, and crucify'd often afresh;
   But let me henceforth be esteem'd thy brother, thy bone and thy flesh:
My pardon I freely bestow, thy wants I will fully supply;
   I'll guide thee and guard thee below, and soon will remove thee on high.
Go, publish to sinners around, that they may be willing to come,
   The mercy which now you have found, and tell them that yet there is room.”
Oh, sinners, the message obey! No more vain excuses pretend;
   But come, without farther delay, to Jesus our Brother and Friend.²⁹