Signs and Wonders (19 page)

He said: “It is enough. Joseph, my son, is alive. I will go and see him before I die.”

Israel in Egypt

They journeyed out of Canaan. The men rode donkeys; the women and children rode in wagons. And those of Jacob’s household and his children and children’s children numbered sixty-seven souls, who went out of Canaan into Egypt. Judah rode before to guide them on their way, and they crossed into Egypt.

Joseph rode forth in his golden chariot to meet his father. Jacob saw him coming. The years fell away and he did not see a man in his prime, the governor of Egypt in court robes, but a slender youth, riding sheaves of light and clad in many colors. Jacob’s heart fainted with joy and he fell into Joseph’s arms and wept tears of rapture. Joseph embraced his father and let him go, only to embrace him again and kiss his face and neck. And they laughed and wept and clung to each other.

Jacob raised his wet face and cried: “O Master of Reunions who crowns loss with gain, I thank you! I thank you for bringing my son out of the darkness, clad in robes of glory. I thank you, Almighty God, and beg your forgiveness for being unable to discern the good that resides in evil.”

Now Joseph led forth his little sons, Manasseh and Ephraim, to meet their grandfather. Jacob said: “Beloved boy, I had not thought to see your face again, and now I see your sons. Praise the Merciful One!”

Joseph took his father and his brothers to the palace and led them into the presence of Pharaoh. Pharaoh looked at them in wonder. He looked upon Jacob and thought: This man, born a shepherd, is prouder than I, son of a thousand kings. Behold him standing there in his desert robes, face gouged by thought, eyes blazing with the sight of what cannot be seen. Behold the man! This ancient nomad, spinning ladders of fire out of his wizard beard, siring a wolf litter of mighty sons. The sight of him makes me believe the alien fables—that he has been strangely maimed into power, lamed by his god’s touch as he wrestled an angel. And his sons, also, maimed into power. For has not the gentlest of them climbed out of the dungeon to sit next to me on the throne? He spoke then to Jacob: “How old are you?”

Jacob answered: “My pilgrimage upon this earth has lasted a hundred and thirty years. Few and evil have been the days of my life. My fathers were better men; their years were many and fruitful.”

“In my eyes you have been fruitful enough,” said Pharaoh. “I am honored that you have come to sojourn in my land. Joseph, I bid you take your brothers to Goshen and give them the best of the land, even of the rich land of the Rameses, and let them graze the royal herds, also, as they graze their cattle.”

“I thank you, O Pharaoh,” said Jacob.

“I thank you, Prince Israel. I thank you for your son Joseph, who has been the savior of Egypt. And I thank you for your other mighty sons, who will add to my strength and my honor. Now bless me and depart.”

Jacob blessed Pharaoh and departed. He and his sons went to Goshen and dwelt there, and grazed their flocks, and begat many children, even during the years of famine.

Jacob was one hundred and forty-seven years old and knew that he was about to die. He called his sons to him and said: “Gather about my bed that I may tell you what shall befall in the last days.”

The twelve sons came about him to listen. His eyes were full of prophetic fire. Though he was feeble, his voice was strong and seemed to be coming from a long way off. They did not say a word or stir from their places as they listened to him tell the shape of things to come. He told them many things, very little of which they understood. But they listened to him hungrily; they knew these were the last words of his they would hear.

One by one Jacob called his sons to him, and kissed them and bade them farewell—Reuben first, Benjamin last. Then he sent them out of the room, but kept Joseph and Judah at his bed. He spoke first to Judah: “You are the chosen one. Chosen not by me but by God, the God of mysteries, whose intention can be read but not his reasons. The power passes to you, Judah. In the long scroll of years that unfolds before my eyes, I see God’s heavy burden falling upon your tribe. Hear me now, O Judah, chosen of God. The scepter shall not depart from you, nor the staff of power.”

His voice failed for a moment. Then he said: “Go now, son, and let me speak to Joseph.” Weeping, Judah kissed his father and left the room. Joseph knelt at the bed and took his father’s hand. Jacob said: “You, Joseph, beloved son, what can I give you now who have been all in all to me? May the God of your father bless you always. May He bless you with the blessings of heaven above, blessings of the deep that lies under, blessings of the breast and of the womb. O son of Rachel, my blessings gather strength from the blessings of my fathers unto the utmost bounds of the everlasting hills. And these blessings shall be upon your head, Joseph, on the crown of your head, O Prince, who have been separated from your brothers.”

He fell silent. His head dropped. Joseph lifted his head and put a cup to his lips and gave him wine to drink. Jacob spoke again: “Farewell, my son. Bury me with my fathers in the cave purchased by Abraham. Bury me in the land of Canaan where Abraham is buried, and Sarah and Isaac and Rebecca, and Leah, also. Do not bury me in Egypt.”

What Jacob had asked was done. His sons bore him to Canaan and buried him in the tomb of his fathers.

And the grain that Joseph had stored in the years of plenty saved Egypt from starvation. Pharaoh put all power into Joseph’s hands. Joseph governed the land, and his brothers dwelt in Goshen.

But there were men of high counsel in Egypt, priests and magicians and officers of the crown, who feared that Joseph had grown too powerful. They hated him, and they loathed his kindred, whom he had brought into the land and who were growing rich in flocks and herds—whose cattle were fatter than other cattle, whose fields yielded better crops, and who worshipped an invisible god. They hated Joseph and his kindred, these men of high station, but they could do nothing because Pharaoh esteemed Joseph beyond all others and extended his favor to the Israelites. So the priests waited.

Joseph lived to be a hundred and ten years old. On his deathbed he said to his sons: “Make me an oath that will be passed on to your sons and to your sons’ sons, even unto the generation of departure. The oath will be that they will remember me and take my bones from their vault and carry them up out of Egypt when they return to the land that God has given them.”

They swore this oath. Joseph died. He was embalmed and put in a coffin in Egypt.

The Bulrushes

T
HE CHILDREN OF ISRAEL
dwelt in Goshen, and prospered in that fertile land. They lived separately and followed their own ways and were very fruitful. About two hundred years had passed since Joseph had brought his brothers down into Egypt, and now they were a mighty horde, a nation within a nation. And the Egyptians began to fear that the Israelites would grow mightier yet, and take their country away from them.

A young Pharaoh was on the throne, and he hated and feared the Israelites. He spoke to his captains, saying, “That Hebrew of the old tale bewitched Pharaoh and stole his throne, and he took crops and cattle and sold them back to the people in the time of famine at an enormous profit. Yea, that Hebrew, that foul enchanter did bring all his kinsmen down from Canaan into our land, where they occupy the best acres and breed like rats and consume the harvest. We must master these Israelites or we perish. For two hundred years now, they have lived off the fat of the land. Yes, truly, they have eaten us down to the very bone. Now we will make them disgorge what they have eaten. We will take what they have and leave them nothing but their bodies, which we will use in our service.”

The captains were joyous. They raised their swords and shouted: “Pharaoh! Pharaoh! It shall be done, mighty King!”

It was done. Egyptian troops went into Goshen and robbed the Israelites of their herds and flocks and their plowed land. And took away their fine houses and gave them to Egyptians, and built huts for the Hebrews, hardly better than cattle stalls. They set taskmasters over the Hebrews and enslaved them and forced them to do all the heavy work in Egypt, and all the menial work. They made the lives of the Hebrews bitter, and delighted in their suffering. They made them field serfs and house serfs, and treated them like animals, but more harshly than animals were treated. And the Hebrews built the treasure cities of Pithom and Rameses, built roads and tombs and monuments for the Pharaoh.

But the Pharaoh was not content. He still feared the Hebrews, although they were enslaved. For they did not die under the yoke. They lived and bred and their numbers increased. It was most strange. Although the Hebrews were weaponless and enslaved and crushed under their burden, still the Pharaoh feared they would rise again, and throw off their chains, and vanquish their masters. And the Pharaoh feared the god of the Hebrews, of whom such tremendous tales had been told, but who had fallen silent. He feared that the god who had lifted Joseph out of the dungeon and set him to rule over Egypt would speak again and call his people to rise. And the Pharaoh determined to make an end to the Hebrews forever. He called the Hebrew midwives together and told them, “You who aid birth do my bidding. You shall attend the women’s labors as before, and help them deliver their children. But if a son is born, you must strangle him immediately. If a daughter is born, she shall live.”

But the words that God had spoken to Abraham at Moriah had become a law to the Israelites. They were not permitted to slay children. And the midwives feared God and did not do as the king of Egypt had commanded, but saved the male children. The Pharaoh called again upon the midwives and said: “Why have you done this thing? Why have you saved the male children?”

The midwives answered, “We have not disobeyed you, O lord. We have been unable to do what you said. The Hebrew women are not like the Egyptian women. They are lively during the birth pangs. They labor swiftly, and their children are born before we come to them.”

The Pharaoh dismissed the midwives and pondered. He did not wish to slaughter the Israelites, because they were useful as slaves, but he wished them to die out as a people by being deprived of male children. So he did nothing. And the Hebrews worked as slaves. But they were more fruitful than ever; their numbers multiplied and they were a mighty horde.

The Pharaoh instructed his captains again, saying, “Send a man to attend each Hebrew birth. Every son that is born alive you shall cast into the river; the daughters may live.”

Now, some years before this, a man named Amram, of the tribe of Levi, married his aunt, whose name was Jochebed. The man worked in the field making bricks; his wife was a slave in the house of the Pharaoh’s daughter. Their firstborn was a son, whom they named Aaron; three years later they had a daughter, and the daughter was named Miriam. Then, after five years, Jochebed conceived again, and was terrified—for now the Pharaoh’s word had gone out: “Kill the newborn males.”

She wore loose garments to hide her pregnancy, and toiled as hard as before, so that no one would know that she was with child. When her time was upon her, she stole away and bore her child in secret. It was a boy, as she had known it would be. She hid him in a small cave for three months, and went to the cave to suckle him.

But then he grew too big to hide, and she was afraid. She cast about for a way to save her child. She thought of her mistress, the Pharaoh’s daughter. This daughter was a beautiful young princess, and her husband was a prince, but they had no children. Each morning the princess came down to the river to bathe, and her maidens attended her. Thinking of this, Jochebed hit upon a desperate scheme.

She awoke her daughter at dawn and they went to the river’s edge. They picked reeds called bulrushes, and Jochebed wove them into a tiny boat. She caulked the boat with mud and set it upon the water. It floated. She put in a stone and it still floated, and she knew it was good. She hid the tiny boat in the reeds and went to the cave and suckled her son. Then she took him to the river and waited there, hidden in the reeds, until she saw the princess coming down to bathe.

Jochebed kissed her infant and put him in the ark made of bulrushes. She put the boat upon the water, and shoved it out into the river until the current caught it and began to float it gently downstream.

She took Miriam by the shoulder and whispered, “Be quick and be silent. Creep along the bank and follow the ark until it is taken. Then do as I have told you.”

The princess was removing her garments on the riverbank when she saw something floating past. “Go fetch it,” she said, and a maiden swam out, caught the bulrush boat, and carried it to shore. The princess looked into it and wept. The baby howled, as if echoing her. She snatched him out of the boat and kissed him. “This is one of the Hebrews’ children,” she said.

A little girl slipped through the circle of maidens quick as a cat and went to the princess. It was Miriam. She said: “If you are looking for someone to suckle the child, I know a woman of the Hebrews whose son was taken, and she is full of milk.”

“Fetch her,” said the princess.

Miriam ran back and summoned her mother, who came to the princess. “I have saved this child from death,” said the Pharaoh’s daughter. “And I shall raise him as my own. Will you suckle him for me?”

“I have just lost my baby,” said Jochebed. “Behold, lady, my breasts are big with milk. I will suckle him, and care for him as if he were my own.”

And the Pharaoh’s daughter was a foster mother to the boy, whom she named Moses, meaning “draw out,” for she had drawn him out of the water. She loved him like a son. He lived in her house and was brought up like an Egyptian prince. And he loved his wet nurse, also. As soon as he was old enough to understand, she told him the secret of his birth, and he knew himself to be her son.

He was huge of frame like his ancestor Levi, and very powerful in his body. He learned to be a warrior and handled spear and sword, and was counted one of the royal house. Yet he knew himself to be a Hebrew, and he saw the Hebrews living as slaves under the yoke of the Egyptian, and he was of divided mind. A great confusion fell upon him, muffling his wits and slowing his speech. He envied the Egyptians, and he envied the Hebrews, the slaves—for even in their servitude they knew who they were and were unconfused.