Parshat Vayeshev5 min read

Asenath Was Jewish Before Joseph Married Her

The righteous Joseph could not have married a pagan. The rabbis explained how an Egyptian priest's daughter was actually Jacob's granddaughter in disguise.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Amulet Jacob Tied Around Her Neck
  2. The Baby Who Testified
  3. How Joseph Found Her Again
  4. What Joseph's Testament Said About Her

The Amulet Jacob Tied Around Her Neck

Dinah's daughter was born in scandal. Her father was Shechem, the man who had violated Dinah and been killed for it along with every man in his city. Her mother was the daughter of Jacob, the patriarch whose household had just massacred an entire population. Jacob's sons wanted nothing to do with the child. She was the living record of what Shechem had done, and some of them wanted her gone.

Jacob refused. He took the infant, wrote the Holy Name on a small plate, and tied it around her neck as an amulet. Then he sent her south, toward Egypt, trusting God to provide what no human protection could now give. The child flew away like a bird, the Legends of the Jews says, and landed in the compound of Potiphera, the priest of On. His wife found the baby and brought her inside. They raised her as their own daughter. They named her Asenath.

This is the story the tradition tells to explain what Genesis leaves unexplained: how the most righteously faithful figure in Genesis could marry the daughter of an Egyptian priest. The answer is that she was not Egyptian by origin. She was Dinah's daughter, Jacob's granddaughter, a child of the covenant carried into Egypt ahead of the man she was waiting for.

The Baby Who Testified

Years later, when Joseph arrived in Egypt and Potiphar's wife accused him of what she had attempted herself, the Legends of the Jews records a striking detail. Asenath, still a child, was present in the household. She spoke up for him. A baby, a young girl, testifying on behalf of the man who would later marry her, swearing that the accusation was false. Joseph had refused Potiphar's wife. Asenath said so. The child carried by angel wings from Dinah's arms to an Egyptian courtyard had been placed exactly where Joseph would need a witness.

The tradition reads this not as coincidence but as the continuation of the plan. The amulet around her neck had brought her to the right house. The years in that house had positioned her at the right moment. The covenant moved through her in ways that neither she nor Joseph could have designed.

How Joseph Found Her Again

During the first year of the seven years of plenty, Joseph went to visit Potiphar. He came as viceroy of Egypt now, the man who administered the grain stores that would save the known world. Potiphar welcomed him. He offered him Asenath in marriage. Joseph went to examine her through a window and saw the amulet she was still wearing, the plate with the Holy Name that Jacob had tied around an infant girl's neck decades before in the hills of Canaan.

The Legends of the Jews records that he recognized it. The marriage was arranged. When Pharaoh confirmed it, he added his own blessing: let the name of Joseph be called Zaphnath-Paaneah, and he gave him Asenath daughter of Potiphera priest of On as his wife. Genesis writes it as a political appointment. The tradition knows what was underneath it.

What Joseph's Testament Said About Her

The Testament of Joseph, preserved in the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs, records Joseph's deathbed speech as an account of his own moral survival. He had been sold by his brothers. He had been enslaved. He had been imprisoned. He had been tempted. Through every stage he had held to the truth and refused to betray what he knew was right, and the Lord had been with him in all of it.

He does not describe Asenath by name in the testament, but the framework he establishes for his children is one of loyalty and purity, the same qualities the tradition had assigned to Asenath's origin story. She was the daughter of a woman who had been violated and could not be housed in her father's household. She had grown up as someone else's daughter in a foreign land. She had testified for a man who was innocent. She had received the amulet that marked her origin and worn it until Joseph recognized it. Both of them had been shaped by things they had not chosen. Both of them had held to what they knew was right anyway.

The Book of Jubilees records that Joseph governed Egypt without pride and without arrogance, that he refused gifts, that he judged impartially. The viceroy who moved through Pharaoh's palace without being corrupted by it was the same person who had been sold as a slave in his teens and had refused to become what his circumstances seemed to be making him. Asenath, arriving in his household with her hidden origin and her remembered amulet, was not a foreign woman he had to accommodate. She was the last piece of the story that Jacob had set in motion the morning he tied a plate around an infant's neck and trusted God to carry her to Egypt.


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Legends of the Jews 1:180Legends of the Jews

Sometimes, the most fascinating tales lie just beyond the edges of the well-known ones. Take Joseph, for instance. We know he rose to power in Egypt, but what about his wife, Asenath? Her story is far more intriguing than you might realize.

Her very name, is a whispered history, a clue to a past shrouded in mystery. The ancient texts tell us she wasn't just any Egyptian woman. According to Legends of the Jews, a masterful compilation by Rabbi Louis Ginzberg, Asenath was the daughter of Dinah and Hamor. Dinah, you might remember, was the daughter of Jacob who was infamously abducted and, according to some sources, raped in the city of Shechem.

Asenath was abandoned near the Egyptian border. Can you imagine such a thing? To ensure her true identity wouldn't be lost, Jacob, her grandfather, engraved the story of her birth and parentage on a golden plate and fastened it around her neck. It's a poignant image, isn't it? A tiny baby, marked with her history, adrift in a strange land.

Here's where the story takes another turn. One day, Potiphar, an Egyptian captain, was walking near the city walls with his servants when they heard the cries of a child. They followed the sound and discovered the abandoned baby. At Potiphar's command, they brought her to him. Upon reading the golden plate, he learned her history and decided to adopt her, raising her as his own daughter. What a twist of fate!

Even Asenath's name itself is packed with meaning, a kind of coded biography. The Alef in Asenath, we're told, stands for On, where Potiphar served as a priest. The Samek represents Setirah, meaning "hidden," because she was kept concealed due to her extraordinary beauty. The Nun signifies Nohemet, "weeping," because she wept and entreated to be delivered from the heathen house of Potiphar. And finally, the Taw stands for Tammah, "the perfect one," a tribute to her pious and perfect deeds.

So, the next time you read the story of Joseph in Egypt, remember Asenath. Remember the golden plate, the abandoned baby, and the name that echoes with a hidden past. It reminds us that even in the grand sweep of biblical narratives, there are countless untold stories waiting to be discovered, each one offering a glimpse into the complexities and wonders of human experience. These hidden stories, like Asenath's, enrich our understanding and add layers of depth to the narratives we think we know so well.

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Legends of the Jews 1:182Legends of the Jews

Her story, according to some traditions, starts way before she ever met Joseph. Ginzberg, in his Legends of the Jews, tells us that Asenath actually saved Joseph's life when she was just a baby!

This tiny infant, guided perhaps by divine intuition, approached her foster father and swore that Joseph was innocent. A baby, defending a man against such a serious charge.

Then, something incredible happened. God Himself, according to this legend, spoke up. He said to Asenath, "As thou livest, because thou didst try to defend Joseph, thou shalt be the woman to bear the tribes that he is appointed to beget."

Wow. That's quite a destiny laid out for you!

So, Asenath became Joseph's wife, and during the seven years of plenty in Egypt, she bore him two sons: Manasseh and Ephraim. Now, it's interesting to note that, according to the tradition, Joseph abstained from earthly pleasures during the famine years. This shows us a picture of a man dedicated to his duty, putting the needs of his people above his own desires.

And what of Manasseh and Ephraim? Well, they weren't just any kids. Joseph raised them in tzniut (chastity) and yirat Shamayim (fear of Heaven). They grew to be wise, well-versed in all sorts of knowledge, and skilled in the affairs of state. They even became favorites at court, educated alongside the royal princes. Talk about a success story!

What does this all tell us? It suggests that even the smallest act of kindness, even the innocent gesture of a child, can have enormous consequences. Asenath's defense of Joseph, according to this legend, shaped not only her own destiny, but also the future of entire tribes. It makes you wonder about the ripple effects of our own actions, doesn’t it?

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Legends of the Jews 1:467Legends of the Jews

Legends of the Jews turns to Joseph Visited Potiphar and Was Offered Asenath in Marriage.

In Ginzberg's retelling in, Legends of the Jews, during the first of the seven years of plenty – the years Joseph so wisely predicted – Joseph decided to visit Potiphar. Remember Potiphar? The Egyptian official who originally bought Joseph as a slave? Well, Joseph, ever the diplomat, sent word that he would be staying at Potiphar’s house.

Potiphar, needless to say, was thrilled! He saw this as a golden opportunity, not just for the honor of hosting such an important figure, but also to hatch a little plan: a marriage between his daughter, Asenath, and Joseph. A savvy move. Marrying his daughter off to the second most powerful man in Egypt?

Here's where the story takes a turn. When Potiphar revealed his matchmaking scheme to Asenath, she wasn't exactly over the moon. In fact, she was pretty indignant. "Why would you want me to marry a vagabond, a slave?" she reportedly exclaimed.

Asenath's reaction is fascinating, isn't it? It reveals so much about the social hierarchy of ancient Egypt and the prejudices of the time. She continues, "He doesn't even belong to our nation! He's the son of a Canaanite herdsman!" Ouch. A "Canaanite herdsman" was not exactly the pedigree she was looking for.

And she doesn't stop there. She reminds her father, with a healthy dose of disdain, that Joseph was accused of trying to violate the honor of his mistress – a crime that landed him in prison. Remember that whole episode with Potiphar’s wife? And sure, Pharaoh did liberate him for interpreting his dream, but that didn't erase the stigma in Asenath's eyes.

"No, Father," she declares, "I will never become his wife! I am willing to marry the son of Pharaoh, the future ruler and king of Egypt!"

Talk about ambition! Asenath clearly had her sights set on royalty, and a formerly enslaved dream interpreter just didn't cut it. She wanted the ultimate power couple status.

This little scene, tucked away in the legends, gives us a glimpse into the complexities of Joseph's life in Egypt. It wasn't all smooth sailing and prophetic visions. He had to navigate social barriers, overcome prejudices, and maybe even win over a reluctant bride-to-be (eventually, of course, they do marry!). It makes you wonder, doesn't it? What kind of conversations, what kind of compromises, had to happen behind the scenes for this union to ultimately come to pass? What did Joseph think of all this? We only see Asenath’s initial resistance here.

It’s a reminder that even in the grand narratives of the Bible, there are human dramas playing out, filled with the same hopes, fears, and biases we confront today. And sometimes, the most interesting stories are the ones that fill in the gaps, the ones that give us a glimpse behind the curtain.

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Testament of JosephTestaments of the Twelve Patriarchs

Joseph, eleventh son of Jacob, beloved of Rachel, was about to die. He called his sons and brethren together and spoke.

"My brethren and my children, hearken to Joseph the beloved of Israel. I have seen in my life envy and death, yet I went not astray, but persevered in the truth of the Lord."

He laid it out like a psalm of survival: "These my brethren hated me, but the Lord loved me. They wished to slay me, but the God of my fathers guarded me. They let me down into a pit, and the Most High brought me up again. I was sold into slavery, and the Lord of all made me free. I was taken into captivity, and His strong hand rescued me. I was beset with hunger, and the Lord Himself nourished me. I was alone, and God comforted me. I was sick, and the Lord visited me. I was in prison, and my God showed favor to me. In bonds, and He released me. Slandered, and He pleaded my cause. Envied by my fellow-slaves, and He exalted me."

Then he told the full story of the Egyptian woman.

The chief captain of Pharaoh, Pentephris, entrusted Joseph with his house. But the captain's wife, a Memphian woman, began her campaign. She urged Joseph to transgress with her. The God of Israel delivered him from the burning flame. She threatened him with death. She summoned him for punishment, then called him back. She offered to make him lord of everything she owned.

Joseph remembered the words of his father, went into his chamber, wept, and prayed to the Lord. He fasted for seven years. To the Egyptians, he appeared to be living delicately, "for those who fast for God's sake receive beauty of face." When his master was away, Joseph drank no wine and for three days at a time took no food, giving it instead to the poor and sick (Genesis 39:7-12).

The woman came to him at night, pretending to visit. She embraced him as a son, then tried to draw him into sin. He declared the words of the Most High to her, hoping she might repent. She tried flattery, praising his chastity before her husband while scheming in private. She offered to abandon her idols if he would lie with her. She threatened to poison her own husband and take Joseph as her spouse. Joseph rent his garments: "Woman, reverence God, and do not this evil deed!"

She sent food mingled with enchantments. Joseph saw a vision of a terrible figure holding a sword within the dish. He wept and refused to eat. When she confronted him, he told her: "The God of my father has revealed your wickedness by His angel." To prove the enchantment was powerless against those who worship God with chastity, he prayed and ate the poisoned food before her eyes, unharmed. She fell at his feet weeping and promised to stop.

But she did not stop. She feigned illness, groaning and sighing. She threatened to hang herself or throw herself off a cliff. Joseph, seeing the spirit of Beliar troubling her, prayed to the Lord and counseled her to think of her children and reputation.

Finally, she seized his garment by force, dragging him. He left it behind and fled naked. She used the garment to accuse him falsely, and her husband had Joseph thrown into prison and scourged (Genesis 39:13-20). Even from prison, she sent messages: "Consent to fulfill my desire, and I will release you from your bonds." Not even in thought did Joseph incline to her.

"Ye see, my children, how great things patience works, and prayer with fasting," Joseph said. "If you follow after chastity and purity with patience and prayer, with fasting in humility of heart, the Lord will dwell among you, because He loves chastity."

He told of his humility. When the Ishmaelites asked if he was a slave, Joseph said yes, to protect his brothers from shame. When the eldest merchant said, "You are not a slave, for even your appearance makes it clear," Joseph insisted he was. When the Memphian woman arranged for Pentephris to buy him, and Joseph was beaten to make him confess his true identity, he maintained his story. Even when the Ishmaelites returned and revealed he was the son of a mighty man in Canaan, and Joseph's bowels dissolved and his heart melted with the desire to weep, he restrained himself to protect his brothers.

"Do you also love one another," he said, "and with long-suffering hide one another's faults. For God delights in the unity of brethren." When his brothers came to Egypt, Joseph returned their money, did not upbraid them, and comforted them. After Jacob's death, he loved them more abundantly. Their children were his children. Their suffering was his suffering. Their sickness was his infirmity. "I exalted not myself among them in arrogance because of my worldly glory," Joseph said, "but I was among them as one of the least."

He recounted a vision: twelve harts feeding, nine scattered, then three preserved, then all scattered, then restored as lambs crying to the Lord. God brought them into a flourishing, well-watered place, out of darkness into light. They became twelve sheep, then many flocks. Twelve bulls suckled one cow that produced a sea of milk. The horns of the fourth bull went up to heaven and became a wall for the flocks.

"Observe the commandments of the Lord," Joseph concluded, "and honor Levi and Judah, for from them shall arise one who saves Israel. His kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, which shall not pass away." He commanded them to carry his bones to Hebron and to bury Asenath near Rachel.

Joseph stretched out his feet and died at a good old age. All Israel mourned for him, and all Egypt with a great mourning. When the children of Israel went out of Egypt, they took his bones and buried him in Hebron with his fathers. The years of his life were a hundred and ten (Genesis 50:26).

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Book of Jubilees 40:16Book of Jubilees

Jubilees, in its 40th chapter, paints a picture of Joseph that goes beyond the familiar story of the coat of many colors and the dreams. It tells us, "for he walked in uprightness, for he was without pride and arrogance, and he had no respect of persons, and did not accept gifts, but he judged in uprightness all the people of the land." No pride. No arrogance. Impartiality. Refusing bribes. Judging fairly. In a world then, and arguably now, where power often corrupts, Joseph stands out as a beacon of integrity. It wasn't just about following the letter of the law; it was about embodying justice in every action.

What was the result of this unwavering commitment to righteousness? "The land of Egypt was at peace before Pharaoh because of Joseph," Jubilees tells us, "for the Lord was with him, and gave him favour and mercy for all his generations before all those who knew him and those who heard concerning him."

A reader can see how Joseph's integrity brought peace and prosperity. People trusted him. They knew he would act fairly, even when it was difficult. And that trust extended beyond his immediate circle, impacting generations to come.

The text goes on: "and Pharaoh's kingdom was well ordered, and there was no Satan and no evil person (therein)." Now, when Jubilees says there was no Satan, it doesn't mean the absence of an independent evil power. Rather, it points to a society where the temptations and opportunities for evil were significantly diminished. A society flourishing under ethical leadership. Think of it: a community so well-governed, so just, that even the inclination towards wrongdoing was suppressed. What a concept!

And here's a fascinating little detail: "And the king called Joseph's name Sĕphânṭîphâns, and gave Joseph to wife the daughter of Potiphar, the daughter of the priest of Heliopolis, the chief cook." While we know him as Joseph, Pharaoh bestowed upon him a new Egyptian name, marking his elevated status. The marriage to the daughter of Potiphar, the priest of Heliopolis, further solidified his integration into Egyptian society. It signified more than just a union of two people; it was a merging of cultures, a symbol of acceptance and respect.

So, what can we take away from this portrait of Joseph in the Book of Jubilees? It's more than just a story about an ancient leader. It's an invitation to examine our own lives. Are we striving for uprightness? Are we acting with impartiality? Are we using our influence, however big or small, to create a more just and peaceful world? It all starts with integrity, one decision at a time. And who knows? Maybe, just maybe, we too can bring a little more "peace before Pharaoh" into our own corner of the world.

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Targum Pseudo-Jonathan on Genesis 46:20Targum Pseudo-Jonathan on Genesis

The plain verse of (Genesis 46:20) simply records that Joseph married Asenath, daughter of Potiphera priest of On, and had two sons, Menasheh and Ephraim. The Targum Pseudo-Jonathan cannot let the name of a foreign priest's daughter stand without comment, so it lifts the veil and tells a different genealogy.

Asenath, the Targum says, was the daughter of Dinah, Jacob's daughter, "educated in the house of Potiphera prince of Tanis." In other words, she was not a stranger. She was family, hidden inside an Egyptian household, restored to her tribe by marriage.

The Hidden History Behind the Marriage

The aggadic backdrop is painful. After the assault on Dinah in (Genesis 34), tradition holds that Dinah bore a daughter. The brothers wanted to kill the child, fearing she would bring shame upon the house of Jacob. Jacob intervened. He hung a gold amulet around her neck inscribed with the name of her mother and of the Holy One, and sent her away. An eagle, some versions say the angel Michael, carried her to Egypt, where the childless Potiphera found her and raised her as his own.

So when Joseph, standing at the height of Egyptian power, married the priest's daughter, he was not assimilating. He was gathering his family back in. The amulet around her neck was the receipt.

Why the Targum Insists

This tradition solves a theological problem that troubled the rabbis: how could Joseph the righteous, Yosef ha-tzaddik, marry a pagan priest's daughter and father the tribes of Ephraim and Menasheh? The Targum answers by refusing the premise. Asenath was always Jewish. The line of Israel flowing through Joseph's sons was unbroken from Jacob through Dinah through Asenath.

The Targum Pseudo-Jonathan, composed in its final form between the 4th and 8th centuries CE, is famous for these narrative expansions, not bare translation but a living retelling, preserving traditions found also in Midrash Aggadah such as Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, chapter 38.

The takeaway is this. A child the brothers wanted to discard became the mother of two whole tribes. What family throws away, God restores, sometimes by way of an eagle, an amulet, and a quiet marriage in a foreign land.

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