“And Joseph brought the evil report of them unto their father.”
Jacob and his large family settled down in the old country where his father had lived. There were twelve sons, all of them at home, all shepherds, all at work, helping to keep the home together.
Joseph was the youngest but one. He was seventeen years old, and his father was very fond of him. He was his favorite, and Jacob spoiled him. Jacob ought to have known better, for that kind of thing always brings trouble into a family.
Jacob gave Joseph a coat of many colors, so that he was clad more grandly than all his brothers. And they didn’t like it. They were older, and did more work than he. Every time they saw him with it on, one of them said to another, “What is Joseph doing, pranking about in that coat? He thinks a precious deal too much of himself. Why doesn’t he do some work? It’s not fair.”
The pretty coat did Joseph no good. It gave him a great conceit of himself. People naturally think themselves very important, when they are dressed in fine clothes. But clothes don’t give people brains. It is better to have many colors in your thought than on your back.
Thomas Carlyle used to wear a very big hat. One day, a gentleman, riding on the box seat of a London omnibus, pointed him out to the driver, “That man’s got a big hat on.” “Yes,” replied the driver, “but wouldn’t you like to have the head underneath it; that’s Mr. Carlyle.”
Joseph thought he was marked out for great things, and rather looked down on his brothers. One day he made matters much worse. He happened to see his brothers doing something that Jacob had told them not to do. And he went and told his father.
That did not make them more affectionate. They were angry, and called Joseph a sneak. They began to hate him, and there were no friendly words between them. If Joseph had not been so wrapped up in his own conceit, he would have seen that his brothers disliked him, and would have mended his ways. Instead of that, he thought he had got a perfect right to do differently from them all. And Jacob backed him up in it.
Joseph now began dreaming his dreams of the greatness that was coming to him. It is all very well indulging in dreams of what we are going to do when we grow up. But do not let us imagine that other people are anxious to hear them. Joseph, silly fellow, made this mistake too. He told his dreams. That filled up the cup. His brothers only waited for a chance of having their revenge. The chance came when they had him all to themselves, a long way from home. Then they took him, and put him down a pit. It was very cruel. But it was the best thing that could have happened to Joseph.
No doubt he was full of fear and trouble while he was down in the pit, not knowing what was going to happen to him. But it made him think. And, though he blamed his brothers for putting him there, and wished himself a thousand miles away from them, he could not help remembering that it was partly his own fault. He felt that if the situation was disagreeable, he had to thank himself for it.
The pit gave him much leisure for reflection. He had not meant to anger his brothers so deeply. He had been thinking too much of himself, and too little of them. Instead of taking those tales to his father about their disobedience, he ought to have been silent. They might perhaps have told tales about him, if they had thought it worthwhile. He came to the conclusion that to be silent at the right time is better than much eloquence. And this conclusion was the beginning of wisdom with him. If only he could have his time over again, he would do differently.
There is a proverb, which says, “Let a man turn and look at his own front door; he’ll find something there to sweep away.” Do not let us be in so great a hurry to see others’ faults. We are sure to have some of our own. No carter always drives his own team straight. Sometimes he gets the wheels into the ruts. No ploughman ploughs so well, but he sometimes draws crooked furrows.
If you were only to have your breakfast, when you had learned all your lessons the day before, and omitted nothing you were told to do, how many times you’d have to start the day hungry!
Anyone of Joseph’s brothers might justly have said to him, “Do you look first at yourself, and then you may correct me.”
Never tell tales out of school. You wouldn’t like them told about you; well, then, don’t you tell them about another.
“What is bearing false witness?” asked a teacher of his class. And the best answer that was given was this, “When nobody does nothing to nobody, and somebody goes and tells.”
A great preacher, named Philip Neri, lived at Rome in the sixteenth century. Once, a woman came to him to confess. She said that she had one great fault; she found herself often telling mischievous stories about her neighbors. “Do you frequently do it, you say?” asked the reverend father.
“Yes, father, very often.”
“My dear child, your fault is great, but the mercy of God is greater. For your penance, do as follows. Go to market and buy a chicken, just killed and covered with feathers. Then walk a mile, plucking the bird as you go along. Then come back to me.”
The woman went and did as she was told, strewing the feathers on the road as she walked. When she returned to Philip Neri, he said, “You have done the first part well; now retrace your steps, and gather up all the feathers you have scattered.”
“But,” said she, “I cannot, the wind has blown them in every direction.”
“Well, my child, so is it with your tales about your neighbors; call them back if you can.”