We’ve had some rugged weather these last few days, and it’s not that much fun to be outside. A three mile walk seems like an unnecessary form of punishment, but I do miss the exercise on days like this. The Schwinn Airdyne feebly calls my name from the chilly basement family room, but it goes unheeded. It’s just one of those days to take a break. That’s allowed about once a week.
Last evening after settling into my lazy-boy with a blanket and a cat on my lap, it seemed good to re-read one of my favorite stories. “The biography of Joseph Jacobson.” Author: Moses Amramson. It takes place in Genesis 37 through 47.
This amazing story has everything: The dynamics and consequences of a father having a favorite son. Strange dreams, jealous brothers, conspiracy, intrigue, human trafficking and slavery, false imprisonment, broken promises, unprecedented power and wealth, forgiveness and redemption. Throw in some temptation and betrayal, a famine, skinny cows eating fat cows, starving people, and long trips across the desert. In the end, the emotions run deep as those who deserve to be punished, are forgiven. This is a story that draws us in, and the pages turn themselves.
Jacob, who lost his son more than twenty years earlier to what he believed was death-by-wild-animal, learns that his son is alive after-all, and is ruling the nation of Egypt. Talk about stranger than fiction. No one could have planned it like that. This took divine planning. Makes you wonder how God would have accomplished this without the treachery of Joseph’s brothers.
Joseph is one of my heroes. In all the setbacks he faced, there is no indication that he ever lost hope or faith. In each place and every circumstance, he gave his best. It seems he was able to trust God and accept that everything was happening for a purpose. That’s a hard lesson, but I believe many times it is true for us too.
Near the end of the story we come to a list of Jacob’s descendants—those who had been invited to move to Egypt to escape the famine in Canaan. Jacob had twelve sons, and in the history given to us in these pages, the sons and all their sons are named. These are Hebrew names, and some of them sound strange to our English ears.
Sometimes there are things that jump out at us when we read scripture. Often it is a thought or truth that we hadn't considered before—many times something we need right at that moment. Other days, something may strike us with humor. And that’s what happened when I read the names of Benjamin’s sons. He had ten of them, and the final three are listed as Muppim, Huppim, and Ard. I read it once, then read it again. Then it became necessary to read it out loud. Just such a nice ring to it. “Muppim, Huppim, and Ard.” Juanita glanced over at me like there might be a hole in my bag of marbles. But then, she knows not to be too surprised at anything coming from me. I just grin at her and say it again.
Muppim, Huppim, and Ard. If there isn’t already a children’s book by that name, there needs to be. Or perhaps someone should give their cats names like that. Wish we’d of thought of that many years ago when we were kids on the farm, and there were way too many cats. We had two wild female tabby cats that were responsible for most of the population explosion. Thanks to creative older brothers, their names were Liberace and Issachar. Never mind that these were men’s names. At least Issachar was from the Bible. The original Issachar was a half brother to Joseph, and his name is mentioned several places. The most intriguing place is 1 Chronicles 12:32, where it says, “...sons of Issachar, men who understood the times.”
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| Not Issachar, but looks like her. This cat lives in Israel. |
There was something else that struck me as really strange while reading the story of Joseph. I’ve bumped into it a few times before, but never thought much about it. Goes like this: When Jacob was very old and approaching death, he made a request of his son Joseph, (Gen. 47:29, paraphrasing.) “Put your hand under my thigh, and swear that you will not bury me in Egypt, but take my body back to Canaan and bury me with my fathers.”
Seriously? Put your hand under my thigh? Has anyone else ever wondered about this? I mean, it seems like that’s personal territory. So I went to Google and searched, “Put your hand under my thigh.” I learned that taking an oath in this manner could have a couple of possible explanations.
One, putting your hand under the thigh of a sitting person, as a symbol of putting yourself under their authority while swearing the oath.
And two, putting your hand up between the legs while swearing the oath. It seems in the context of Genesis 47:29, that Jacob was recognizing Joseph as the authority, and was asking a favor of him, so option two makes more sense. This type of oath—this placing the hand in that place—to my way of thinking would be a shocking experience. Perhaps that’s the whole point. A oath made like this could never be forgotten.
Read it yourself, and see what you think.
That’s the fun thing about reading and re-reading the scriptures. There’s always something new, something that requires some thought and further study. When that happens, it brings us closer to God’s heart, and that’s a good thing, a cause for thanksgiving.
When we pick up the Word, even to just read a favorite story, the Spirit can run our minds in an unexpected direction. In addition to reinforcing faith with stories of God’s leading, we learn some interesting names, we remember a long departed cat named Issachar, and we learn that Issachar’s men “understood the times.” I need to find out more about those “times”, and try to figure out what it may mean today to be a man who understands the times. That seems to speak of wisdom, something we want more of.
It’s time to leave you now, from the humble town of Kidron, Ohio, a place of warm hearts, warm homes, grateful men, patient women, energetic children, and a lap-cat named Chance. So long for now.
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