A Bit of Historical Fiction

A portion of the story of Joseph from the perspective of his brother Judah

Tired but mirthful, I walked home with my brothers. The work of the day had been long and exhausting, but the joke we played on that Midianite family almost made up for the fatigue. Never before have I played such a successful practical joke! I'm sure the whole group was certain they were being hotly pursued by wolves. If Asher hadn't started laughing, they might still be running.

Chatting merrily, our minds still on our adventures of the afternoon, we entered the main tent and nearly barreled directly into Father. He was standing directly inside the entrance with his arms folded over his chest, staring at us sternly. We were instantly silenced.

"My sons, is it true that you left the sheep alone today?" he queried with an expression and tone of voice that belied the affectionate address.

None of us were eager to answer, but finally Reuben, being the oldest, replied, "Yes, Father, we did; however, it was only for a short time, and we counted the sheep when we returned. None were missing."

Father's wrinkled brow did not relax. "It has been the will of the Lord this day to protect me from loss. However, all of you are no less guilty of neglect. Return to your tents."

Sullenly, we headed to our shelters. As I turned to follow the others, I caught a glimpse of a smiling Joseph reclining on the thick rugs of the pavilion and watching us with despicable glee as we were banished from our father's presence. Instantly, I felt a surge of anger swell up in my heart. So that was how Father knew of our roguery! No doubt Joseph had related every detail of our mischief with great accuracy except where exaggeration would seem credible.

I spent the night lying awake in my bed, staring at the sky. I could not get over my fury. What had been an unusually enjoyable afternoon had turned into a nightmare of an evening, thanks to Joseph. I had always known that Father loved Joseph more than he loved the rest of us, but I was beginning to believe that he hardly loved his other sons at all. Certainly, the affection he bore for the rest of us was inconsequential relative to his love for Joseph.

My conclusion was confirmed the next morning after breakfast. Before the other family members began dispersing to prepare for another day in the fields, Father arose from the meal and presented Joseph with a gorgeous coat. He must have paid a tremendous sum for it, for it was woven from the finest materials and dyed many magnificent hues. I admit I was a bit envious of Father's generous gift, but what most bothered me was Joseph's smug expression as he accepted it.

As the other brothers and I trudged out to the fields for yet another day of watching sheep, we argued relentlessly. Why had none of us ever received such an amazing gift? What was the occasion for such a treasure being given to Joseph? We spent the day bickering and returned fatigued and bitter.

Several weeks passed, and my resentment of Joseph softened somewhat, and I began to learn to tolerate – or at least ignore – him. Before my bitterness could completely disappear, however, Joseph ensured that it returned in full by relating a couple of his "dreams." Apparently, each of us was a sheaf of wheat and he was the most important one, for we all bowed down to him. I nearly lost my temper when he related it to us, so condescending were his tone and manner.

Joseph must have been deliberately trying to provoke me, for although I am sure he had seen how angry his story made me, the next day he made up another one. This dream was similar to the first one, except that this time we were all stars bowing down to him. He even had the audacity to include Father and his mother, represented by the sun and the moon, among the heavenly bodies making obeisance to him. Father quickly put a stop to that, but I noticed that he didn't go so far as to reprimand Joseph for inventing such preposterous tales.

Several days later, I left with my brothers (except Joseph and Benjamin) for Shechem, where we were to pasture our flocks. The fields of Canaan were worn down from constant grazing, and the sheep needed fresh grass. As we tramped along the road, a sickening thought struck me. What if the dreams were not imagined? What if Joseph really was going to rule over us all? The idea seemed absurd, but I could not put it from my mind.

The pasture land at Shechem was not as good as our servants had reported. The ground was dry and dusty, and the grass was far from lush. One of the residents of Shechem, a merchant with a shop outside the city gates, told us that the fields of Dothan, which was not far away, were quite verdant that year, and that there might be plenty of grazing land for all our livestock. Thanking him for his kind advice, we guided the flock in that direction. Dothan was just as the merchant had described it. We reached the fields tired from the journey, but it was not long before we had set up camp and retired for the night.

The next morning was beautiful. The dewy hills sparkled in the sun, the twittering birds sang joyful songs, and a fresh, warm breeze blew in from the east. Nevertheless, I was almost oblivious to the surrounding loveliness, for even then my mind was still dwelling on Joseph and his dreams. Imagine, therefore, my vexation when that afternoon Naphtali shouted, "Here comes the dreamer!" Joseph was coming toward us over the fields.

I could not contain my anger any longer. "What is he coming here for? " I shouted. "No doubt Father has sent him to check on our work. Well, I don't see any reason for enduring Joseph's condescending reprimands anymore. What's the use of enduring him, anyway? To see that he gets a chance to irritate us more later?" My impromptu speech was met with general approval among my brothers, and we decided that Joseph would never again return home. I wanted to dispose of him immediately, but Reuben had different ideas.

"He is, after all our brother. Let us leave him in that pit." He gestured toward an old, dried-up well that lay several hundred feet away. "That way we will be rid of him, but we will still be innocent of his blood."

I was hesitant, but Reuben's logic could not be denied. Surely we would not regret losing Joseph, but our minds would rest more easily if we were not guilty of his murder. We decided to follow Reuben's plan, and it was not long before Joseph came strutting over the top of the hill. He greeted us in his usual cocky way, but we did not return his salutation. Puzzled by our silence, he sauntered down to us, a questioning look in his eyes. As soon as he was within reach, Simeon and I grabbed his arms and dragged him to the pit. He pleaded with us, begging us to let him go, but we were resolved. We tossed him mercilessly into the hole and left him still begging for his release.

With the exception of Reuben, who went to buy us a lunch in the city, each of us returned to his chores as though nothing had happened. The same sun was still shining, and the same birds were still twittering, but now I noticed them in a fresh way. My frustration of the morning melted, for now I had the upper hand! Admittedly, I felt a sharp pang of guilt, but I overlooked it and allowed myself to dwell solely on my triumph.

As I was sitting on the grass, watching the herds and enjoying the beauty of nature, I spotted an Ishmaelite caravan heading toward the south. Immediately a thought struck me: why not sell Joseph? That way there would be no chance of his return. Furthermore, we would be free from guilt, for if any harm came to him, it would not be our fault directly. Most importantly, we would enjoy significant monetary gain, for obnoxious as Joseph was, he was both strong and handsome. I was sure he would fetch a good price. Cheerfully, I laid my proposition before my brothers, and they all agreed that it was the best plan. I hailed the leader of the caravan, and within a few minutes the deed was done. Joseph was on his way to Egypt for a new life, and our life at home would be drastically different as well. I was ready for the change.