THE TEN BROTHERS COULDN’T BRING themselves to confess their crime. They had discussed it on the way to Canaan, on the second evening of their journey, exhaustively, fruitlessly, while Benjamin was asleep. None of them was able to face Jacob with the truth. They tried to imagine telling him, but it was too dreadful to contemplate.
Reuben said, “We could tell him that we just didn’t know, that we found the coat and thought a wild beast had eaten Joseph.”
“But Joseph will contradict that as soon as he talks with Father,” Dan said.
“Yes,” said Judah, “and a lie will only add to our guilt.”
So they decided to say nothing.
Benjamin, the concubines, and the grandchildren came to their own conclusion: that Joseph had been attacked by a lion or wolf but had miraculously survived and made his way to Egypt. The story was believable, and there were no obvious inconsistencies. So it became the family’s reality. Leah had her doubts, but she buried them under a rubble of evasions.
As for Jacob, it never occurred to him to question the story. Joseph had come back to life. That was all he cared about.
Nor, later on, did Joseph say anything to disabuse him. Jacob or Benjamin or one of the grandchildren might say, “When you were attacked by a wild beast…,” and Joseph would let it pass.
Occasionally, at first, he would catch a frightened look darting from one brother to another when someone made a comment like this, but the brothers quickly learned that their poor secret was safe with him.