Joseph died a young man, his eyes hollow, his body gaunt, his stomach distended. He suffered deeply in those final days before he finally succumbed to the great hunger that had already claimed so many members of his family, so many of the people of his land and the ones surrounding it. As his breathing slowed, as his eyes closed, he thought back to a day not too long before.
He remembered pleading and praying as his brothers, made mad with anger and envy, had lowered him into a pit. He remembered crying out to them, asking them to show mercy, to show kindness, to show compassion. He remembered crying out to God, begging that his life would be preserved, that he would be rescued from the pit, that he would be restored to his father’s side. He remembered the despondency that overcame him as the shadows lengthened, as evening fell, as hope waned. He remembered that it was just then that God finally answered his prayers, for he heard a muted voice, he saw the form of Reuben high above, he clasped an outstretched arm, he was drawn out of his pit. “Run,” said Reuben in
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