The Gate of Heaven (53 page)

“Is something wrong, Judah?”

Judah hesitated. “I hate to bring this up, but it's something you really ought to know.” He paused, trying to find a way to put his words together, and finally said, “Some of your sons are jealous of the attention you pay to Joseph and now to Benjamin.”

Jacob looked at Judah. He knew his fourth son was a proud man and emotional, quick to laugh or to weep. He also resembled Jacob greatly, with his chestnut hair, and had Jacob's good singing voice. He was a man with a quick conscience, which was more than Jacob could say for some of his other sons.

“And what about you, my son? Do you resent me?”

“Of course not! It's only natural your heart would go out toward a younger son.”

Jacob passed his hand over the soft, silky hair of Benjamin and studied his face. Finally he collected his thoughts and said, “You have been a faithful son, but I am troubled.”

“About what?”

“I had always thought that the blessing and the birthright would go to the firstborn, to Reuben, but I cannot do that now that he has defiled my bed.”

“Father, he's such a simple man. Can't you forgive him?”

“Of course I can forgive him…and I still love him. But he has denied himself the birthright. So have Levi and Simeon. Their murderous attack on Shechem…” He shook his head and said, “I cannot overlook that.”

Judah nodded but said nothing.

Finally Jacob looked at Judah and said, “So Reuben, Simeon, and Levi cannot have the birthright. That leaves you, Judah.”

Judah was startled. “No, that can't be! My older brothers would resent it.”

“They have no right to resent anything. Besides, I strongly feel this is the way God would have it.”

Judah was disturbed by his father's words. He was not an ambitious man and had been quite content for Reuben to receive the blessing. He argued this for a time with Jacob but soon saw that his efforts were useless. Finally he said, “I must say something else, Father.”

“Speak, my son.”

“It's about Joseph. I love my younger brother, but the truth is, he is a little self-righteous. And we all know that he brings tales of any wrongdoing to you.”

“But never about you, my son,” Jacob said quickly.

“That doesn't matter. The others resent him, and it's not a good trait. You must talk with him about this, Father.”

“All right. I will speak with him.”

Joseph had been summoned to his father's tent, and now he sat listening as Jacob spoke about various things. Joseph knew, however, that his father was holding something back and it troubled him. He finally asked, “What is it, Father? You can speak straight out. Have I displeased you?”

Jacob lifted his head and met Joseph's eyes. He had always loved this son the best, and now he freely admitted that. “You have always been my favorite, Joseph. The son of the Beloved Wife. Perhaps this was wrong, but I have not been able to help it. And you have known it also, have you not?”

Joseph swallowed hard. “Yes, you always favored me…and Dinah.”

“Well, Dinah is a girl, and she's now gone with her husband. But you will always be here and be a part of the family.” Jacob hesitated, then said, “I see your mother in you so clearly.” Tears came to his eyes and rolled unchecked down his cheeks. “I cannot even speak her name without weeping.”

“I loved her too, Father.”

“We must always honor her, and I will go to my grave with loneliness, for no woman could take her place.”

Joseph watched as his father struggled to regain his composure, and finally Jacob said, “I must give you one warning, Joseph. You must no longer bring me tales of your brothers' wrongdoing.”

Joseph dropped his head and did not argue. “Yes, Father,” he said.

“You're a good boy in all except that. But you must make peace with your brothers. You must be one, all of you. Nothing except God himself is stronger than the family. Will you try to do this, Joseph?”

And Joseph, beloved son of Rachel, lifted his eyes to his father. “Yes,” he whispered, “I will try.”

In times of crisis Jacob had learned to go away from people and seek God alone. This meant going out into the wilderness, and now he was surrounded by nothing but the empty land before him and the endless space above. The sun was high in the sky, and all morning he had been praying. Judah's warning had disturbed him, and he had come out to see if God might give him some guidance.

Now as he waited and listened for God's voice, it was an intense struggle not to think of Rachel. He had to deliberately turn his mind away and direct his prayers to his sons. They were the ones who needed his help now.

After several hours he grew weary and was ready to leave. But at that very instant he saw a shimmering column of light, and he fell on his face, knowing that he was in the presence of God himself. He lay there for a time saying nothing. It was enough simply to be in the presence of his Creator.

Finally Jacob began to pray, “O God, please give me guidance! My sons need you as their God, and I need to know who will receive the medallion that I received from my grandfather Abraham. Which one of my sons will pass on the line from which the Redeemer will come?”

The voice came, and it was warm and filled with love.
“I chose your grandfather when he was an idolater, and I promised him that his seed would be as the sands of the sea. I renewed the promise to your father, Isaac, and now I renew it to you. From one of your sons will come the stream that will be as countless as the stars of the sky.”

Jacob could not speak, but he simply waited.

“You know that the world is evil, but I plan to renew it. One will come who will cleanse all sins. He will destroy evil and redeem a chosen people to rule with him forever.”

The voice of the Lord went on for some time, and Jacob knew that he was being permitted a glimpse of the future such as no man had ever seen. When it became quiet, he meekly asked, “Is it Joseph to whom I should give the medallion?”

Jacob waited, longing to hear God agree, for he loved this son of his. But God did not answer, and a great sadness came to Jacob. He continued to bow before the light and to wait, not understanding why God did not speak. But finally the voice came.

“I am the God of Gods, Jacob. I promised Adam and Eve that I would send the Redeemer. I promised Noah and Abraham and your own father. Believe in me, Israel my prince, and obey my voice. When the time comes, I will reveal which of your sons will bear the medallion.”

The voice faded, and Jacob slowly got to his feet. He turned from the place and stumbled away uncertainly. As he made his way homeward, the faces of his sons came into his mind clearly.

“One of my sons will be chosen of God, and the Redeemer will come through him.”

Reaching up, Jacob pulled the medallion by the cord that held it under his clothing. He stopped and stared at it. He did not understand the significance of the lion on one side or the lamb on the reverse, but suddenly a warmth came over him. He had no knowledge of the future except that which God had given him. He knew from God's promises that from his loins would come multitudes. He did not know who would be next in the line that would bring forth the Redeemer, but he stopped and stood and lifted his arms, with tears running down his cheeks, and he cried out with a voice of triumph, “God does all things well!”

Metus picked at his food and finally shoved the plate away. He was deep in thought, his brow furrowed.

“Aren't you hungry, Metus?”

Looking over to his wife, Theodora, Metus shook his head. “I don't have much appetite. Nothing's wrong with the food. It's me.”

The two sat there silently. The servants moved back and forth, but there was little to be done. Finally Metus said, “What did you do all day, wife?”

“Just the usual things.”

“You went to see Thea, didn't you?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Are the children all right?”

Theodora nodded. “Yes. They're fine.” She twisted her hands nervously and said, “They're all we have now that our boys are gone, Metus. I want us to spend more time with them. They're good children.”

“You're right about that. I think that tomorrow—” He broke off suddenly as his steward entered. “What is it, Phillip?”

“Someone to see you, sir.”

“Who is it?”

“I'm afraid I don't know, sir, but then I don't know many of your acquaintances.”

Phillip was a new servant, and Metus looked toward Theodora. “Are you expecting visitors?”

“Why, no. I can't imagine who it would be.”

“Send him in, Phillip.”

“Yes, sir, at once.”

Metus said irritably, “It's impolite to call without an invitation at this time of the night.”

“Perhaps it might be—” But Theodora never finished her sentence, for at that instant a figure appeared in the doorway, and Theodora uttered a sharp cry and jumped to her feet. “Demetrius!”

Metus jumped up as well and turned pale. He could not speak for a moment, and then when his son came forward, he cried out, “My son, you're back from the dead!”

Demetrius opened his arms, and his mother threw herself into his embrace. His father was behind him, his arm around his shoulders, patting him. Demetrius's eyes were misty, and he could not speak, his throat was so tight.

“Here, Mother, sit down.” He moved over to the chair, and when his mother sat down, he knelt beside her. She kept running her hand over his face, and she was weeping.

“I…I can't believe it,” she whispered brokenly. “I just can't believe it.”

Metus cleared his throat and turned away for a moment to wipe his eyes, and then he turned back and said, “Well, this is a miracle. I should be angry—but somehow I'm not.”

Demetrius kissed his mother's hand but did not rise from his knees. He turned, however, to face his father. “I'm sorry, Father. I wanted to send you news that I was alive and returning finally, but after years of captivity, I knew no one who could do it. Forgive me for giving you such a shock.”

“Where have you been, Demetrius?” His mother's voice was still shaky.

“Yes, sit down, boy, and tell us what has happened. We gave you up for dead a long time ago…although, in truth, your mother never gave up hope.”

“No, I didn't, and now you're home again,” Theodora said. She was wiping her tears away, but her eyes were fastened on her son. “Where have you been all this time?”

The two sat spellbound as Demetrius told the story of his shipwreck and of being captured by slavers and then sold.

“I'll make a special offering to the gods,” Metus said. “Such an offering as they've never had.”

Demetrius smiled but shook his head. “I must tell you one thing. I've become very fond of the one who bought me.”

Metus stared at him. “Fond of the villain that owned you? I can't believe it!”

“Was he cruel to you?” Theodora asked, compassion in her voice.

“Early on I was treated somewhat cruelly, but recently my owner has been very kind to me. As a matter of fact, I thought it might be best if you were to meet the one who owns me.”

“Owns you!” Metus gasped. “But…you must have escaped!”

“Not quite, Father. Would you like to meet my owner?”

“The scoundrel! I'll give him a lashing is what I'll do!” His eyes were burning. “I didn't bring my son up to be a slave.”

“Now?” Demetrius asked, his eyes dancing.

“He's outside? Bring the rascal in!”

Demetrius rose at once and left, and Theodora went to her husband. “Be calm, Metus. The important thing is our son is alive and he's home.”

“Own my son!” Metus said. He had an aristocratic streak in him, and the thought of Demetrius being owned by a wicked slave owner was more than he could take. “No doubt he humiliated our boy. Well, I'll take care of that!”