Joseph and His Brothers, page 65
The merchants promised they would and said farewell. Their camels rose up beneath them, and Joseph, the bartered slave, rode with Kedma, the old man's son. He kept his eyes lowered, just has he had done the whole time, even while eating lamb. And his brothers likewise stood there with downcast eyes while the caravan quickly vanished in the falling dusk. Then they all took a deep breath and puffed the air out again.
"Well, now he is no more!"
Ruben Comes to the Grave
But as dusk fell and murmuring evening arose with its great stars, Ruben, Leah's son, was driving his jackass, laden with everything needed, along byways leading from Dothan to Joseph's grave, so that he might carry out the decision he had made out of fear and love the night before.
His heart pounded in his chest, as broad and mighty as it was; for Ruben was strong, but also weak and excitable, and afraid that his brothers would catch him and prevent his work of rescue, which was also a work of purification and reinstatement. That was why his muscular face was pale in the darkness and the leather-strapped columns of his legs moved stealthily across the land. From his tightly pressed lips came no commands for his beast, but to keep it moving ahead, he would angrily poke the even-tempered animal's rump from time to time with the tip of his staff. For Ruben feared one thing above all: that it might be deathly still inside the well when he arrived and softly called out the name, that Joseph might not have held on to his soul this long, but have already perished, and that all his preparations would have been in vain, especially the rope ladder that he had had the rope maker in Dothan knot together while he looked on.
For that was the rescue apparatus that Ruben had finally decided upon. It was useful for various contingencies—if one had sufficient energy, one could climb up it from the bottom of the well, or, if that was not the case, sit between rungs and be drawn up above ground by Ruben's brawny arms, which had once embraced Bilhah and would surely be capable of pulling this lamb out of the depths for Jacob. There was a robe for the naked lad, and hung at the ass's flanks were provisions for five days—days of fleeing before his brothers, whom Ruben intended to betray, sending them all to the ash heap. And admitting as much, he bowed his head as he slunk to the grave by night. In doing good, was big Ruben behaving so badly? It was a good and necessary thing to rescue Joseph—his soul was filled with that certainty, and if something evil and self-serving had crept into his cause, then he simply had to make the best of it, that was the mix of life. Besides, K^uben wanted to turn evil to good.
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and was confident he could. If only he could stand before his father in good stead and be the firstborn once again, he would try to save his brothers as well and extricate them from their adversity—for his word would then carry weight, and he would use it to gain pardon for his brothers and spread the guilt to include everyone, including even his father, so that there would be a great shared insight, and mutual forgiveness and justice would reign forever.
That was how Ruben sought to quiet his pounding heart and console himself for the welter of motives that made life so murky. Arriving at the slope and the masonry walls, he looked about to see if anyone was watching, pulled out ropes and robe, and, brushing obstructing fig saplings aside, edged his way down to the broken steps that led to the well.
Stars shone down into the cracked tiled precincts, but not the moon. Watching his feet to keep from stumbling, Re'uben had already drawn breath into his tightened chest so that he could call out in a furtive, urgent voice, "Joseph! Are you alive?"—in joyful expectation of his brother's reply, in anxious fear that none might follow—when he suddenly was so startled it was as if he were flung back, and his fervent call became a hoarse cry of terror. He was not alone down here. Someone else was sitting there, a white shimmer in the starlight.
How could that be? Someone was sitting beside the well, and the cover had been removed. The two halves of the well stone lay on the tiles, one atop the other, and on them sat someone in a tunic, leaning on his staff, and gazing directly at Ruben with silent lips and sleepy eyes.
His legs still tangled from stumbling, big Ruben stood there, staring at this apparition. He was so dazed that the thought came to him for a moment that this was Joseph that he saw before him, that he had died and his ghost was sitting beside his grave. And yet the disturbing presence bore no resemblance to Rachel's son—even as a ghost he surely would not have been so inordinately tall nor, by human standards, would his neck have been so massive with that little head set atop it. But then why had the stone been rolled back from the well? Re'uben no longer understood anything.
"Who are you?" he stammered.
"One of many," the seated figure answered coolly, and the chin
that was now lifted beneath deHcate lips had a sculpted look. "I am nothing special, and you need not be afraid. But whom do you seek?"
"Whom do I seek?" Ruben repeated, losing his temper at this unexpected turn of events. "What I want to know first off is what you seek here?"
"You do, do you? I am the last to presume that there is anything to seek here. I have been put here as a watchman over this well, which is why I am sitting here watching. If you think that it gives me any special amusement and that I'm sitting in the dust for the sport of it, you are mistaken. One does one's duty and follows instructions and sets aside many a bitter question."
At these words, curiously enough, Ruben's anger over the stranger's presence abated. The fact that someone was sitting here was itself so annoying and unwelcome that he was glad to hear that the man did not enjoy doing it. It created a certain common bond between them. "But who put you here?" he asked, with more measured irritation. "Are you one of the people of the place?"
"Of the place, yes. It doesn't matter where such an order comes from. It usually passes through many mouths, and there is little benefit in tracing it to its original source—you must take up your position in any case."
"A position beside an empty well!" Ruben cried in a choked voice.
"Empty, to be sure," the watchman replied.
"And uncovered, too!" Ruben added and in his agitation pointed a trembling finger at the well's hole. "Who rolled the stone from the well? You perhaps?"
Smiling, the man looked down at himself, at his arm emerging nicely contoured but weak from his sleeveless linen tunic. No, that was certainly not the manly strength of an arm to roll the covering stone, either on or off.
"I've rolled the stone neither on or off," the stranger said, still smiling and shaking his head. "You know about the former, and you can see the latter. Others went to the trouble, and I would not have had to play watchman here if the stone on which I sit were still in place. But who can say what the true position for such a stone is? Sometimes it is over the hole; but must not the cover be rolled away if refreshment is to come from the well?"
"What are you talking about?" Ruben cried, racked with impatience. "I think you're just chattering away to steal precious time from me with your babble. How is a dry well supposed to provide refreshment—there's nothing but dust and rot inside."
"It all depends," the seated figure replied, calmly pouting his lips and tilting his little head, "on what has first been committed to the dust and lowered into its womb. If it was life, then life and renewal will come forth a hundredfold. A grain of corn, for example—"
"Listen, my man," Ruben interrupted with a quivering voice— the rope ladder shook in his hands, the robe Joseph would need still dangled over one arm—"it is intolerable for you to sit there and start talking about first principles that a child is taught at his mother's knee and that everyone knows by heart. I am asking you—"
"You are quite impatient," the stranger said, "and are, if you will allow me the comparison, like gushing water. But you should learn patience and expectation based upon first principles of concern to all creatures, for anyone who simply gushes forth out of expectation has nothing to seek either here or elsewhere. For fulfillment proceeds only slowly, and begins with first one attempt and then another, and its present is provisional both in heaven and on earth, not yet the true present, but merely a trial attempt and a promise. And so fulfillment rolls ponderously along, much like a stone, if it is heavy, rolled from a well. It would appear that people were here who went to the trouble of rolling the stone away. But they will have to roll it for a long time before it is truly rolled away from this hole, and I, too, am sitting here only provisionally and in a trial attempt."
"You should not sit here any longer at all!" Ruben shouted. "Do you finally understand? Begone, toddle on your way, for I wish to be alone with this well, which concerns me more than it does you, and if you do not get up this very moment, I shall help you to your feet. Do you not see, you weakling—who has to let other people do his rolling and can only sit there and gawk—that God has made me strong as a bear and that I have rope in hand besides, good for various things. Get up, vanish, or I shall gush straight for your throat!"
"Do not touch me!" the stranger said, extending a long, softly contoured arm toward the angry man. "Remember that I am of the place and that you will have to deal with all the others of the place if you lay a hand on me. Did I not tell you that I have been put here? I could indeed vanish, and with ease, but I am not about to do so at
your bidding, neglecting duty, which demands that I sit here and watch by way of practice. Here you come with your robe and rope-work and do not even notice how ridiculous you appear bringing all that to an empty well—empty by your own characterization."
"Empty as a well," Ruben explained vehemently. "Empty of water!"
"Completely empty," the watchman said. "The pit will be empty when you and yours come."
Ruben could contain himself no longer and rushed over to the well, bending down into it and calling into its depths in an urgent, muted voice, "My boy! Pssst! Are you alive, do you have any strength left?"
But the figure on the stone shook his head, smiling and clucking his tongue in sympathy. He even imitated Ruben, calling out, "Boy! Psst!" and clucked his tongue again. "Walks right up and talks to an empty hole," he then said. "What a lack of good sense. There is no boy here, my man, far and wide. If one was here, then this place did not hold him. Won't you finally stop making a fool of yourself with your gear and talking into an empty hole!"
Ruben was still standing over the gorge, from which no sound came in response.
"How horrible!" he groaned. "He is dead or gone. What shall I do? Ruben, what will you do now?"
And all his pain, all his disappointment and fear suddenly erupted.
"Joseph," he cried in despair, "I wanted to save you and help you out of this pit with my own arms. Here is the ladder, here is the robe for your body. Where are you? Your door is open. You are lost. I am lost. Where shall I go now that you are gone—stolen or dead? . . . Young man, you of this place!" he called out in unrestrained distress, "don't sit there mute on that stone that thieves rolled away, but advise and help me! There was a boy here, Joseph, my brother, Rachel's child. His brothers and I, we lowered him into his well three days ago as punishment for his arrogance. But his father is expecting him—his expectation is beyond all measure, and if they tell him that a lion has ripped his lamb apart, he will fall back in a faint. Which is why I have come with coat and cord to pull the boy from the well and take him to his father, for he must have him back. I am the eldest. How shall I come before my father's face if the boy
does not return, and where shall I go? Help me, tell me, who rolled the stone away, and what has happened to Joseph?"
"You see?" the stranger said. "When you entered the well's precincts you were annoyed at my presence and angry because I was sitting on the stone; but now you come to me for advice and consolation. You are quite right to do so, and perhaps it is for your sake that I have been put here beside this pit, so that I may bury one or two seed corns in your understanding, that it might silently preserve the germinating bud. The boy is here no more, as you can see. His house stands open, it could not hold him, none of you will see him anymore. But there should be one of you who will nurture the seed of expectation, and since you came to rescue your brother, then you shall be the one."
"What am I to expect, if Joseph is gone, stolen, and dead!"
"I don't know what you understand 'dead' and 'alive' to mean. You do not wish to hear about childish first principles, it's true, but allow me to remind you of the grain of wheat lying in the womb, and to ask what you think of 'dead' or 'alive' in regard to it. Those are mere words after all. For it is so, that if the seed falls into the earth and dies, it bears much fruit."
"Words, mere words," Ruben shouted, wringing his hands. "Those are mere words that you present to me. Is Joseph dead, or is he alive? That is what I must know!"
"Dead, evidently," the watchman retorted. "You have bedded him in the earth, so I hear, and then he was probably stolen besides—either that, or mutilated by wild beasts. You and your brothers have no other choice but to report it to your father and make it tangibly clear to him, so that he may grow used to it. But it will always remain a doubtful thing, not made for getting used to, but rather hiding within itself the seed of expectation. People do a great many things to approach the mystery, laboring to celebrate it. I saw a young man descend into the grave in festal garments and wreath, and they slaughtered an animal from the herd over him, letting the blood drip down upon him, until it drenched him entirely and he captured it with all his limbs and senses. And afterward, as he climbed out again, he was divine and had attained life—at least for a time. Then he had to descend into the grave again, for a man's life revolves several times, bringing the grave and birth with it once more. Man must become several times over, until he has fully become."
"Ah, the wreath and the festal garment," Ruben groaned, burying his face in his hands, "He ripped to shreds, and the boy went naked to his grave."
"Yes, and that's why you've come here with that robe," the watchman responded, "wishing to clothe him anew. God can do that as well. He, too, can clothe those stripped bare, and better than you. Which is why I advise: Go home and take your robe with you. God can provide even more garments to him who has not been stripped bare, and in the end the stripping of your boy did not matter all that much. With your permission, I would like to bury a seed of thought in your understanding—that this story is itself play and festival, like the lad spattered with blood, merely a beginning, an attempt at fulfillment, and a present not to be taken all too seriously, but is instead a jest and an allusion, so that in response we may nudge one another with a wink and a laugh. It could be that this pit is but a grave that comes with life's smaller revolution, that your brother may still be very much in the becoming and has not yet become at all, just as this entire story is still becoming and has not already become. Receive it, please, into the womb of your understanding and let it die peacefully there and germinate. But if it bears fruit, then give your father some for refreshment as well."
"Father, father!" Ruben cried. "Don't remind me! How shall I come before my father without the child?"
"Look up!" the watchman said. For it had grown brighter around the well, and the barque of the moon—its dark half traced invisibly visible against the sky, hidden and yet manifest—had just now floated up above them. "Look at it, how it moves along, shimmering to light the way of its brothers. Allusions are constantly occurring in the heavens and on earth. He who is not dull-witted but knows how to read them will live in expectation. But the night proceeds apace, and he who must not sit and play the watchman would do well to get some sleep, wrapped in his robe, his knees comfortably drawn up, so that he may rise again in the morning. Go, my friend. You haven't anything whatever to seek here, and I am not about to vanish at your bidding."
Shaking his head, Ruben now turned away and hesitantly plodded up the stairs and slope, returning to his animal. He kept on shaking his dazed head almost the entire way back to his brothers' tents.
half in despair, half in puzzled deep thought, hardly able to separate one from the other, but shaking his head.
The Oath
And so he arrived at their tents and roused the nine, snatching the drowsy first sleep from their eyes, and with trembhng lips said to them, "The boy is gone. But where shall I go?"
"You?" they asked, "You speak as if he were only your brother, yet he was that to us all. Where shall we all go? That is the question. And just what do you mean by 'gone'?"
"'Gone' means stolen, vanished, mutilated, dead," Ruben shouted. "Which means, lost to his father. The pit is empty."
"Were you at the pit?" they asked. "For what purpose?"
"For the purpose of investigation," he rejoined angrily. "The firstborn is surely free to do that much! Could what we have done leave a person in peace, and not unsettle him? In any case, I wanted to check on the boy and am now telling you that he is gone and that we must ask ourselves where we shall go now."
"Calling yourself the firstborn," they replied, "is rather bold, and mention of the name Bilhah should suffice for you to recall the facts. We were in danger of letting the rights of the firstborn fall to the Dreamer; but now it is the twins' turn, and Dan might also lay claim to the title, for he appeared in the same year as Levi."
They had, however, noticed the jackass with its robe and ladder, which Ruben had not even tried to conceal, and had no difficulty putting two and two together. So then, big Ruben had wanted to undermine them by stealing Joseph—had thought of raising up his own head and sending them to the ash heap. Now wasn't that pretty. They came to an understanding with glances. But that being the case—and their silent understanding included this as well—they did not owe Ruben an account of what they had done in the meantime. Betrayal for betrayal: Ruben did not need to know anything about the Ishmaelites and how they were on the verge of removing Joseph beyond all view. The man might well be capable of setting off after them. And so they said nothing, shrugged at his news, and declared their indifference.
