"Jacob, now called Israel, was the father of twelve sons, each
of whom would give his name to a tribe. That sounds orderly,
almost like someone sat down with a family-planning chart
and said, “Right, twelve it is, one for each future tribe, done
and dusted.” The reality was anything but orderly. It was the
story of one man, two wives, two concubines, and more
sibling rivalry than a soap opera writer could ever hope for.
Leah, unloved but fruitful, gave Jacob son after son, each
name a small cry for recognition. Reuben, “See, a son!” as if
to say, “Now my husband will notice me.” Simeon, “Because
the Lord heard” a hint of longing in her choice. Levi,
“Attached” her hope that Jacob might finally cling to her.
Judah, “Praise” her attempt to lift her eyes beyond her own
ache. Meanwhile Rachel, Jacob’s beloved, remained barren,
fuming as her sister’s tent filled with children. She handed
Jacob her maid Bilhah, who produced two more sons. Leah,
not to be outdone, countered with her own maid Zilpah, who
produced sons in turn. The household became a competitive
childbearing contest, complete with bitter words, awkward
arrangements, and children who grew up knowing they were
pawns in their mothers’ rivalries.
Rachel, at last, had her own miracle child. Her son Joseph
was born after years of waiting, the apple of Jacob’s eye.
Later came Benjamin, her second, but at the cost of her life in
childbirth."
