Joseph: The Prisoner

00:00:00 Speaker 1: Previously on the chosen people. 00:00:03 Speaker 2: Hmmm, Joseph, I would like to appoint you as my household over here. Everything I own, everyone who lives here, and all the crops I grow will be under your gear. However, you may, under no circumstances order my wife or her maid servants. 00:00:25 Speaker 1: Potiphar's wife lounged nearby, her eyes lingering on Joseph. At twenty five, he had grown into a man of striking appearance. She watched him with a predatory gaze. Joseph, feeling her eyes upon him, did his best to avoid her. Stare lie with me. Before she could lean in to kiss him, Joseph pushed back and shook his head. Ay, I cannot do this, Please leave. Potiphar's wife seized Joseph by the belt of his garment and pulled in forcibly. This time there was a deep rage within her. 00:01:02 Speaker 2: Listen to me, sleeve, you are still owned by this household, You are still owned by me. 00:01:11 Speaker 1: That may be so, but before you and my master, I am owned by another. I will not sail against my guard to the nile with your god. Lie with me, or face the consequences. Joseph, out of options, decided to run. With his garments still in her hand, Joseph fled out of his room. The garment slid off his body, and Joseph ran naked through the halls. Just as he turned the corner, he heard a loud scream echo through the entire home. He attacked me. 00:01:42 Speaker 3: This people slave lulled me into sleep with. 00:01:45 Speaker 4: Me, but I screamed quickly he went that way. 00:01:50 Speaker 1: Joseph was beaten and drowned potifer by his hair. 00:01:54 Speaker 2: So this is how you repay my kindness. 00:01:58 Speaker 1: You are my master, my friend. 00:02:01 Speaker 2: Have I not earned you trust? 00:02:02 Speaker 1: By now? I tell you I've done nothing wrong. It's a lie. 00:02:07 Speaker 2: Please you must believe me. You will rot in prison for the rest of your Day's here take him away. 00:02:18 Speaker 1: In an instant, Joseph was taken up by the guards and thrown into the royal prison where Pharaoh's prisoners were confined. Joseph was once again in the pit. Darkness engulf Joseph both in his surroundings and within his soul. The prison, cut into a small hill outside Pharaoh's palace, was a place forsaken by the sun. By day, the cell remained in perpetual shadow. By night, The freezing desert wind howl through the barred windows. A slender beam of moonlight pierced the gloom, casting silver rays that danced feebly upon the damp stone floor, as if the moon itself pitied him. Joseph leaned his head against the cold, wet walls and stared up at the slice of night sky. The monotonous drip of water echoed through the cell, a metronome of despair. Sleep eluded him. Frustration gnawed at his heart, and he thumped his head against the wall. His anger directed of the silent heavens. So much for dreams. He glared at the moon, seeking answers in its pale glow, but the only response was the infuriating drip of water. He shivered, curling his legs to his chest, silent tears streaming down his face. Years of slavery had hardened him, but here, in the bows of this god forsaken place he felt himself breaking. He had believed that faithfulness to God and diligent work would bring deliverance. He was wrong. Here he was imprisoned for a righteous act. 00:04:13 Speaker 4: Is this how you treat your faithful My brothers are probably warming themselves by the fire with my father. My master's wife has probably sound asleep in a warm bed. Yet here I sit running in a cell. 00:04:27 Speaker 3: Well my victimizer's laugh and run free. 00:04:30 Speaker 1: His voice echoed off the stone walls, a chorus of despair that returned to mock him. Joseph stood and screamed at the moon, his voice a raw, animalistic cry. No answer came, only the ceaseless drip of water. In a fit of rage, he hurled the stone at the wall and then collapsed, curling into a boar. Weeping himself into an uneasy slumber, Joseph awoke to the sound of a door creaking over. A faint light pierced the darkness. As the warden's servant entered, carrying a wooden bowl. He set it down and quickly withdrew. Joseph rushed to the door, slamming his fists against it. 00:05:14 Speaker 3: So on, please answer me. 00:05:17 Speaker 1: The footsteps wereceded into silence. Alone once more, Joseph looked down at the bowl, a stale piece of bread floating in a few spoonfuls of broth. He took it to the center of his cell, where a small patch of sunlight provided a modicum of warmth and ate his meager breakfast. The cells rough walls glistened in the dim light, revealing jagged edges and sprouting moss. Joseph wondered if any of it was edible. The source of the incessant dripping was a small puddle formed by water seeping through the cracks. He spent the day pacing, examining every inch of his confinement. The sharp stones cut into his bed feet, forcing him to tear strips from his garment to staunch the bleeding. Eventually, he lay down, sprawling on his back, sighing in lamentation. Memories of his brothers, the pit, and his first night in the slave quarters filled his mind. Despite the horrors of those times, he preferred them to this endless despair. Back then, he had held on to hope. Now hope seemed a cruel illusion. Joseph's stomach cramped from hunger. When dawn arrived, he propped himself up, awaiting the servant's return. The door opened and the servant filled his bowl. Joseph ate greedily, licking every inch of the bowl. Clean. Tears mingled with the broth, and he wept, feeling more like an animal than a man. He wailed, but there was no one to hear his cries. His soul was a void of self pity and anger. These my days? Is this how spend the rest of my life? Night fell and Joseph watched the moonlight flicker through the clouds. He thought of his tent in Canaan, the warm furs, the sweet scent of wild flowers. He imagined his mother's voice and his father's hearty laugh. He missed his father. He wondered if he was still alive. Closing his eyes, he drifted into dreams of simpler times. The next morning, he was up before the servant's arrival. As the door cracked open, Joseph grabbed the servant's arm. Please don't be afraid. I mean you no harm. The servant drew his sword, pressing it against Joseph's throat. In the flickering torchlight, Joseph saw the weariness in the young man's eyes. Raising his hands in surrender, he pleaded, just want to speak to someone. I haven't spoken to anyone in days. The servant withdrew the blade, leaving without a word. The broth had spilled, the bread trampled. Joseph sighed and ate off the floor. His dignity crumbling with each bite. The only water to quench Joseph's thirst was the water dripping from the ceiling. Joseph gathered the loose stones and gathered them underneath the drip. He stagged the stones into a small well and covered the cracks with some of the moss he pulled from the walls. By the end of the day, the well was full of fresh water. Joseph cut some in his mouth and smiled. It was the first gulp of water he had had in days. He could feel the cool water drip down his throat. It was a euphoric experience, and it filled Joseph with the simplest feeling of joy he would Joseph turned his eyes to the opening in the ceiling. He felt the warmth of the sun gently kiss his cheek. He gathered some more moss from the walls and made himself a bed. That night, he finally slept soundly. Flashes of his past dreams entered his mind. Distant memories of a more innocent time comforted him. The next day, he began to transform his cell. He smoothed out rocks to make a stool, created a bed from moss, and vegetation and stacked stones as makeshift art. When the servant entered, he lingered, scanning the room with a curious gaze. Ah, it is you kept my distance this time. The servant looked at Joseph for a moment. He seemed to be pondering something. He set the food down and left. Joseph shrugged and continued to work on his prison cell. Later the door opened again. This time it was the warden himself, flanked by the servant. The warden, shorter than Joseph had imagined, wore a long linen garment tucked under a leather breastplate. He held key in one hand and a leather whip in the other. Joseph's heart pounded as the warden approached, the whip's tip dragging along the ground. I am your warden. 00:10:11 Speaker 2: You are my prisoner. 00:10:14 Speaker 3: You are nothing but the prisoner. 00:10:17 Speaker 2: Are we clear? 00:10:18 Speaker 1: Joseph nodded quickly. 00:10:20 Speaker 2: Good, turn round. 00:10:23 Speaker 1: Joseph leaned against the wall with his palms exposing his back. He knew what was coming. He had been a slave long enough to know that whippings were a natural part of Egyptian culture. The warden needed Joseph to know he was in charge and willing to harm him, so he did. Seven lashes were given to Joseph. He had been whipped many times in his life, he never got used to it. The warden wiped Joseph's blood off his whip and tucked it back behind his belt. Without a word, he left. Joseph spent the night tending to his wounds. Bare he could, he poured water over his exposed flesh. The coolness helped reduce the swelling, but it still stung like a swarm of bees. Joseph looked up through the opening. The sunlight had been replaced by the silver beams of the moon. Give me favor, Lord, show me favor as you once did. The next morning, the warden entered his cell again. 00:11:24 Speaker 3: Yer, Dark, come with me. 00:11:27 Speaker 1: Joseph rose, his back burning with pain, but he stood tall. The guards bound him and escorted him through the prison's narrow halls, lit by flickering torches. At the end of the corridor, a heavy wooden door stood flanked by ten guards. The warden unlocked it, revealing a larger cell with multiple rooms cut into the rock. Over a dozen prisoners milled about, rolling dice, sleeping, talking, Joseph's heart lifted at the sight of other faces. He spent the day getting to know the prisoners. Many were former servants of Pharaoh or his officials, victims of circumstance like himself. Some were from the stables, others were military aids, and some of them were cooks. It was a comfort to speak with others, to share his story and hear theirs. The conversation dulled the pain in his back and the ache in his heart. As the weeks went by, Joseph had done his best to make himself useful. He built a well inside the cell, as he did before. He wove beds of moss and leaves from the vegetation growing on the walls. Eventually, Joseph came up with a system to ration the food given to them, so everyone could enjoy two hardy meals a day. The other prisoners began to rely on Joseph to speak with the warden on their behalf. At night, underneath the moonlight, the prisoners would gather around Joseph to listen to his stories about the God of his ancestors. One morning, Joseph had gotten up early to tend to the small garden of flowers he had planted underneath the opening in the ceiling. As the door opened up for food, the warden stepped in. 00:13:08 Speaker 3: You there, Joseph, come with me. 00:13:12 Speaker 1: Bound once more, Joseph was led to a stool opposite the warden. The warden leaned forward, his gaze piercing. 00:13:20 Speaker 3: This prison has operated by force, fear, and absolution. I am trained to remind these men that they are criminals and this is not their home. But there too. However, ever, since you arrived, the prisoners seem to think they are a family and this is their home. 00:13:48 Speaker 1: Joseph dipped his head apologetically. The warden was a harsh man. He had heard stories about him killing prisoners who disobeyed him. The warden stood up and walked up to a small chest sitting on the floor near the entrance. He opened it and took out a few scrolls. He opened them and perused their contents. 00:14:08 Speaker 3: In these past weeks, since you've been with the prisoners, there have been no riots, no attempts at escape or assants on my guards. I have not heard them beg for more food or complain about lack of water. It is clear you or with favor. I don't know whether it comes from the gods or your own skill, and quite frankly, I do not care. All I know is that you have made my job easier, and you've kept my guards safe because the. 00:14:42 Speaker 1: Prisoners are content. 00:14:47 Speaker 3: I told you already I don't care about your gods. 00:14:52 Speaker 1: Although I certainly believe you. 00:14:55 Speaker 3: What you've displayed here with the men cannot be denied. 00:15:00 Speaker 1: Joseph kept his head down and flashed a smile. He nodded but remained silent. Joseph, I am putting you in charge of these men. 00:15:09 Speaker 4: I have other prisons in the city that I must attend to, so I leave these under your care, as well as the two other cells within this prison. 00:15:20 Speaker 3: You will have charge over my guards and the ability to request more resources if they are available. This is not a request, but an order. You are still a prisoner here, and I am your warden. 00:15:38 Speaker 2: Are we clear? Then you are dismissed. 00:15:42 Speaker 1: The warden slid two items across the desk, keys to the cells and a whip with iron tipped phrase Joseph took the keys, bowing his head in acknowledgment, but left the whip behind. As he returned to his cell, a sense of purpose welled within him. He might be a prisoner, but here, in this dark place, he would shine a light. This Prey dot Com production is only made possible by our dedicated team of creative talents. Steve Gattina, Max Bard, Zach Shellabager and Ben Gammon are the executive producers of The Chosen People. Narrated by Paul Coltofianu. Characters are voiced by Jonathan Cotton, Aaron Salvado, Sarah Seltz, Mike Reagan, Stephen Ringwald, Sylvia Zaradoc, Thomas Copeland, Junior, Rosanna Pilcher, and Mitch Leshinsky. Music by Andrew Morgan Smith, written by Aaron Salvato, bre Rosalie and Chris Baig. You can hear more Prey dot com productions on the Prey dot Com app, available on the Apple App Store and Google Play Store. If you enjoyed The Chosen People, please rate and leave a review,