Michael Carried the Cast-Out Child of Shechem Down to Egypt
An infant condemned by her uncles, an amulet of the Holy Name at her throat, and an archangel who carried her to the priest of On in Egypt.
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Outside Dinah's tent the air filled with tambourines. A troupe of girls had come up from the city, ribbons in their hair, drums against their hips, and they danced in the dust where the daughter of Jacob could see them. She was a girl herself. She went out to watch, the way any girl would, and the music was the bait.
Shechem son of Hamor had arranged all of it. The prince of the land had seen Dinah among the women and wanted her, and when she stepped past the last tent rope to follow the dancers, his men closed around her. He took her by force and carried her into his house. Then he kept her there, and would not give her back, and sent Jacob's twelve servants away from his gate.
The Music Was the Bait
What came of that violence was not vengeance only. Months later, in the prince's house, a child was born. A daughter. Osenath, the granddaughter Jacob had never wanted, flesh of his flesh by way of the worst day his house had known.
Simeon and Levi had already answered Shechem with swords. The city lay quiet. But the baby was a living scandal, and Jacob's sons looked at her and saw only what the men of the land would say. "Now there will be talk in the land," they argued, "that there is a house of harlotry in the tents of Jacob." They wanted her dead. A girl no bigger than a loaf, and grown men stood over her cradle deciding whether she would see a second day.
The Sons Stood Over the Cradle
Jacob would not give them the blood. He had buried enough of Shechem's dead. He took a thin plate of gold and with his own hand engraved on it the Holy Name, the Name that splits seas and stops mouths, and he hung it on a cord around the infant's neck. Then he carried her out past the booths he had built at Succoth, past the edge of the camp, and set her down under a thornbush in the open country where no son of his would find her.
He did not abandon her to nothing. He abandoned her to the Name at her throat. Then he turned and walked back to his tents, and the wilderness kept the child.
An Amulet of Gold at the Throat
Heaven had been watching the cradle too. The Holy One, blessed be He, looked down at the thornbush and the gold flashing in the sun and the girl who had done nothing, and He sent Michael.
The archangel came down. He did not announce himself to the camp or argue Jacob's case or strike the brothers who had wanted her gone. He simply lifted the child out of the thorns. Down the long roads south he carried her, the gold plate riding against her chest, the Holy Name traveling with her into a country that worshipped a hundred gods and had never heard of hers. Michael did not stop until he reached the city of On, and the house of Potiphera, its priest.
Michael Lifted Her From the Thorns
The priest of On had no daughter. Michael set the foundling in his house, and Potiphera and his wife raised her as their own and called her by the name that came with her, Osenath. She grew up among Egyptian altars, a Hebrew child wearing her grandfather's secret in beaten gold, and no one in that house knew whose blood she carried or why an angel had bothered to bring her so far.
The reason waited in a prison and then in a palace. A Hebrew named Joseph, sold by his brothers, climbed out of the pit and out of the dungeon until Pharaoh set his ring on Joseph's hand and made him master of all Egypt. And when Pharaoh looked for a wife worthy of the man who had saved the kingdom from famine, he reached for the priest of On and gave Joseph the priest's daughter.
The Priest's Daughter Was No Stranger
So Joseph married Osenath. The court saw an Egyptian bride, the daughter of On's priest, a foreigner joined to the foreign vizier. They were wrong about all of it. The woman under the wedding canopy was Dinah's own daughter, Jacob's granddaughter, the infant the brothers had sentenced to die in the thorns. The girl cast out of Israel had been carried in a circle by an archangel and set down inside the one house that would carry her back.
From her came Manasseh and Ephraim, two sons, two tribes. The child no one wanted became the mother of a quarter of the future. The Name that hung at her throat in the wilderness had done exactly what Jacob hoped when he tied it there, and Michael had been the cord that carried it.
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