“I Am Joseph!”
The big reveal finally happens—one of the great shocks in human history. But bigger than the revelation was forgiveness. Forgiveness for an abuse that brought twenty years of pain.
Joseph planted a silver cup in Benjamin’s sack to get him and the brothers back. Once they arrived back at his house Joseph bellowed in Egyptian, “Why have you stolen?”
The brothers fell prostrate. Judah mumbled into the sandstone, “We’ll become your slaves.”
“I don’t want you all as slaves. Just the one who stole.”
Judah stood and cautiously approached Joseph. “May I speak to you, even though you are equal to Pharaoh himself?”
Joseph nodded.
“When we first appeared before you, you asked about our family. We told you we had an old father and that he had a young son. Benjamin was his name. You insisted we return with him to prove we weren’t lying. But our father refused. He couldn’t bear losing the son born to him in his old age.”
Joseph’s heart dropped at the mention of his father’s pain.
“But the famine continued, my lord. We suffered. Father finally let Benjamin accompany us. Then he said something I will never forget. ‘Benjamin’s mother bore me two sons. One died, torn to pieces. And now, if Benjamin comes to harm, you will bring my gray head down to the grave in misery.’”
Tears flooded Joseph’s eyes at the mention of his mother. He turned away.
Judah cried, “So I guaranteed Benjamin’s safety. I promised him back or I’d bear the blame all my life.” Judah plunged to his knees, "So please, please, let me be your slave in his place. I’ll work for you all my life; I’ll do anything you ask; I’ll be the best slave you’ve ever had. Just let the boy return to his father.”
When Joseph saw the humility and self-sacrifice of Judah, he realized that this is what he had been looking for from his brothers. This was the surrender he needed to see before revealing himself.
“Have everyone leave my presence!” he shrieked in Egyptian. All the servants scattered like cockroaches.
He collapsed into a chair, weeping so loudly that Egyptians peeked around doors. He waved his brothers toward him and they approached like skittish dogs. Joseph breathed in deeply. He hadn’t spoken Hebrew in twenty years.
Then he said it: "I am Joseph!”
Faces froze. Breath was held.
Pointing to his chest he said, "I am Joseph. Is my father really still alive?”
Lips parted. Heads tilted. Eyes scrunched.
“I don't want to see his gray head go down to the grave in sorrow either.”
Benjamin was the first to break the spell. His eyes softened; the edge of his lips curled up; he nodded knowingly.
"Come close to me," Joseph motioned. He wiped dark kohl from around his eyes with a wet cloth. “See?” Then he extended his arm, "Touch me. See this skin, these hands—they're the same as yours. And this scar on my arm—do you remember it—it’s from that mountain lion that attacked me when I was ten."
Trembling fingers reached for the jagged scar and ran along it. Simeon mumbled, “The mountain lion … I remember it … Joseph … is this really you?”
Faces began to relax. Glances were exchanged. Heads bobbed. Smiles appeared.
“Yes, it’s me.” He smiled. “It’s really me.”
As brothers leaned back on their calves and spoke with one another he said, “I am your brother Joseph … the one you sold into Egypt!
Everything stopped. Faces froze again. Eyes widened and mouths hung open. ‘Sold into Egypt’ echoed in the room.
Joseph let the words linger for a beat as he leaned back in his chair. He wanted them to hang in the air. He wanted them to do their work. He’d waited twenty years to say those words.
“And now,” he continued, “do not be distressed or angry with yourselves for selling me here. I’m not looking to get back at you. This little meeting is not about retribution.”
There was a slight cut in the air, a slight release. He saw some shoulders relax. He thought he heard some breathing.
He leaned back in his chair and gazed at the dark ceiling. He thought about the hours he’d spent working through this moment if it ever came, the prayers he’d prayed, the hours he’d walked with Asenath, the wrestling he did with his own soul. He let the silence stretch, wanting his brothers to sit with their thoughts.
When the right time came, he leaned forward, met eyes with each man individually, and said, “Because it was to save lives that God sent me ahead of you.”
He also let this one linger for a minute. “Yes, in some way known only to God, I think it was him who sent me ahead of you, to prepare for this famine that has been going on for two years. We are still in for five more years of no plowing or reaping. So think about it this way: God sent me ahead of you to preserve for you a remnant on earth to save your lives by a great deliverance.”
Judah softened his face. Reuben chuckled. Benjamin grinned.
“So to put it all together, at least how I now see it, it was not you who sent me here, but God. He made me father to Pharaoh, lord of his entire household and ruler of all Egypt.”
Simeon was still struggling. Joseph moved to grasp his face between his hands. “Simeon! I know how hard this is for you. You, more than anyone else, are responsible for what happened to me.”
Simeon didn’t flinch. He didn’t pull away. His eyes remained comfortably on Joseph’s.
“But you’ve changed. I can see it.”
Joseph let him go and leaned back to address the group. “All of you have changed. You know what you did. You know the pain it brought father. You know the pain it brought God. And if I wanted revenge, I would take it. Do you know how easy that would be? But I learned my lesson about revenge. I almost took it with Potiphar. Asenath reminded me that that was God’s job.”
Tears came to Simeon’s eyes but he let them flow without wiping them away. He cried unabashedly until Joseph extended his arms for a hug.
Joseph announced, “Hurry back to father and say, ‘God has made me lord of all Egypt. Come to this place and I will give you land in Goshen so you can be near your children and grandchildren, and your flocks and herds. I will provide for all of you because five years of famine remain.”
He threw his arms around Benjamin and wept. He kissed all his brothers and wept over them.
Jacob, Dinah, and sixty-four others traveled from Canaan to Egypt. They planned to meet Joseph in Goshen near the rich land Pharaoh had promised the family.
As soon as Joseph saw Jacob, he tackled him with a hug and they both wept. Jacob proclaimed, “Now I am ready to die, since I have seen for myself that you are still alive.”
As Jacob visited with his new daughter-in-law, Asenath, and his grandsons, Manasseh, and Ephraim, Joseph felt a hug from behind. The arms were thin but strong, wrapped around him with a fierce desperation. The person pulled him backward, away from the reunion. He followed without resistance, knowing who it was.
He twisted so he could hug her, but her grip tightened.
Once a safe distance from the others, tears wet the back of his tunic and the hugger trembled. He squeezed the hands clasped around his waist and pressed them into his stomach. "Oh, I missed you, my dear sister. I missed you so much."
The sobbing increased, hot against his back.
"You ... you ... don't know," she choked out in a muffled voice. "You don't know what it's been like. What I've become."
His voice cracked, "I know, I know."
When the grip didn’t loosen, he realized his mistake. "No, you're right, I don't know. I don’t know what it’s been like."
"No one knows," she sputtered, her words barely audible. “No one knows how hard it’s been to be a foreigner in my own family.”
His heart dropped. A foreigner. Alone. He relaxed into her embrace.
Minutes later, he felt a loosening. He stood motionless. Then the arms fell away.
He breathed in deeply and readied himself for what he might see when he faced her. He turned and there before him stood this beautiful woman, staring humbly at him, her face pale yet attentive, her eyes watery yet bright. A smile broke through, her white teeth glimmering, and strands of mucus stretched between her lips. It was the most perfect imperfect sight he’d ever seen. This was the person he most longed to see. He crushed her with a hug.
He moved her to arm’s length and said, “Dinah, no one knows what you’ve been through. No one knows what you’ve become on the inside. But God has a strange way. He’s had it with me and I think he’ll have it with you.”
He grabbed both her hands. "You, my sister, were like a mother to me. You raised me. You taught me about God. And it was an onyx eye in Pharaoh’s staff that reminded me of the bronze eye you gave me. I knew you were praying for me and it emboldened me before him.”
Tears flooded her eyes.
“So now, dear sister … now that I can … now that I run this country … I'm going to take care of you … I'm going to give you the best land in all of Egypt … I'm going to build you the finest house.”
“Dinah, you are the person who helped me most in the whole world—now it’s my turn."