2 Nephi 3

Lehi went on:

Let me say a few words to my “caboose,” Joseph. You think I’d forget you? You were born in probably the worst spell of my life. So I hope you get the best of everything in this land forever. I know that’s a cliché: last-born kids always get spoiled. But I really mean it. You’ve put up with a lot to make it this far. You deserve some props. Though that doesn’t mean you can skimp on doing God’s will. Assuming you won’t, I think your bloodline will go on and on. In fact, I guarantee it. Conditionally.

I picked your name for obvious reasons, by the way. It’s the name of our tribe, which is the name of Jacob’s youngest son. He foresaw what we’d be going through, I suspect. And he somehow eeked out a promise from God that his bloodline would do right and be known for doing right. It’s not the Anointed One’s bloodline, but a line that will always learn how to get found after getting lost, which we all do in our lives.

Remember how I said we were a twig on one of those branches that got broken off from Israel’s trunk? That branch is the tribe of Joseph. And God said—I don’t know the reference, but it’s in the brass plates—he would make one future Josephite into a one-of-a-kind prophet. He’d even be one of my seed. (No, it’s not you, Nephi.) He’d remind people of us and how God led us and made major contract with us. He’ll spend his whole life doing that. At least I’ll tell him that’s our deal.

Our own in-house Moses. He’ll lead our seed out of obscurity into renown. He’ll set our descendants on the right track, help them recall the divine teachings they’ve forgotten, convince them they need God, and not any of those other Gods that may have attached to their culture like barnacles. We learned about those on the boat, if you’ll recall. Ugh.

This new Moses will write—part of the job description for a prophet—and what he writes will dovetail with what the Jews write. Together their books will correct errors, soothe anger, make peace, and lay out the things one must believe and do to get in with God.

He’ll be a weak guy, but he’ll build strength as he goes about fixing Israel’s flaws. Supposedly Joseph of old predicted not only that God would bless this prophet but that his enemies would be hapless, goofy.

His name, according to Joseph of old, would be Joseph-ben-Joseph. That means Joseph, son of Joseph. (That’s how we would say it, anyway. Who knows what language will be the rage when you read this? By the way, Joseph of old was pretty adamant about his predictions, I’m told. And redundant, since he made the same points over and over. I don’t know if you or I would like him. – Ed.) This new Moses will crack the whip and, although he’ll be a mean writer, he’ll bite his tongue mostly. So God will give him a spokesman. Sounds more and more like the old Moses, I guess. The Lord delighteth in redundancy.

He’ll write for your seed. And it will seem like the words are coming up from the ground—earthy, subdued, spectral. Imagine the ground telling people to stand tall. That’s what this writing will be like. I’ve always trained you: be simple, be direct. That’s what makes words last.

So, Joseph, you’re blessed because you’ve got the Big Name and because your seed will believe in this book by the Joseph, son of Joseph, descended from Joseph,

yet none of whom is you. Sounds like a riddle? God loves riddles.

One last point. A male descendant of yours will do credit to your name: spiritually brawny, if there’s such a thing, working miracles, renovating the culture of the whole tribe. Right now you’re still little and I’ll die soon. So I hope you can even remember what I’ve just said. Maybe Nephi will write it down. Amen.