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Five of Benjamin's Ten Lines Died in Egypt and Three Were Renamed

Benjamin's ten clans entered Egypt and five survived to Canaan. Two never strayed. Three repented in time and changed their names to say so.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Count That Doesn't Match
  2. What Happened to the Five
  3. The Two Who Never Needed to Repent
  4. The Three Who Changed
  5. Benjamin's Own Account of Creation

The Count That Doesn't Match

Benjamin had ten sons. Genesis lists them by name when the family goes down to Egypt: Bela, Becher, Ashbel, Gera, Naaman, Ehi, Rosh, Muppim, Huppim, and Ard. Ten names. Ten clans of Benjamin entering Egypt together as the youngest patriarch's household.

When Numbers takes its census after the wilderness years, something is missing. The ten have become five. Five entire lines of Benjamin's descendants are simply gone, as if they had been erased from the family record. No explanation in the text. No battle, no plague cited. They are not there.

What Happened to the Five

The tradition does not leave the absence unexplained. Five of Benjamin's original clans perished in Egypt on account of their ungodly ways. The same Egypt that had absorbed tribe after tribe into its religious world, the Egypt that had built temples to Osiris and Horus and Apis and the sacred crocodile, had found takers among Benjamin's descendants too. Admonition had been offered. The warnings of Aaron had gone out. These five clans had heard and had not returned. They chose the abominations of Egypt over the inheritance of their fathers, and they did not come back from that choice before it was too late.

Egypt could absorb what went into it willingly. It could not release what had decided to stay.

The Two Who Never Needed to Repent

Of the five clans that survived and arrived in Canaan, two had never strayed at all. The descendants of Bela and the descendants of Ashbel emerge from the Egypt years exactly as they entered them: named, intact, remembered in the census under their original names as men who had known how to maintain their fear of God through four hundred years of bondage and temptation. They are not interesting to the tradition in the way the others are. They did what was required. They kept their names because their names did not need to change.

The Three Who Changed

The other three survivors changed their names. Ehi had become Ahiram. Muppim had become Shephupham. Huppim had become Hupham. Three families, three new names, each one a record of the movement that had saved them.

The tradition reads each name change as a confession of repentance. Ehi became Ahiram: the one who returned to his people, the one who turned back toward the family of Abraham. Muppim became Shephupham: the one whose mouth had been cleansed, who had spoken differently after his turning. Huppim became Hupham: the one who had been covered or protected, taken under a different kind of shelter after the old shelter was removed.

The names are not identical across all versions of the tradition, and the specific etymology given to each name change varies by source. What all versions agree on is the structure: the name change is the proof. A man does not change his family's tribal name without having done something that made the old name inadequate. The census recorded the new names because the new names were what these families had become.

Benjamin's Own Account of Creation

The tradition around Benjamin includes a striking detail about his spiritual standing: he was the only one of Jacob's sons who was not yet born when Jacob bowed before Esau, the moment the rabbis read as the patriarch's one act of unnecessary submission to his brother. Benjamin was not present for any of the family's compromises during the years before Egypt. He was not present for the sale of Joseph. He was born clean into a family that had already made its worst choices without him.

That Benjamin's tribe would lose five clans to Egypt's pull was, in the tradition's reading, a reflection not on Benjamin himself but on what four hundred years of bondage could do to even a tribe born from clean hands. The five clans who perished were not villains. They were men who had lived too long in Egypt to find their way back when the call came. The three who changed their names had found their way back just in time. The census marked the difference.


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From the tradition

Sources

2 sources

The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Book of Jubilees 43:10Book of Jubilees

Remember the story of Joseph, sold into slavery in Egypt? He rises through the ranks, becomes a powerful official, and then… his brothers, unknowingly, come to him seeking grain during a famine. It's a tense reunion, to say the least. And it’s about to get even tenser.

The Book of Jubilees, a fascinating text that expands on the stories we find in Genesis, fills in some of the details. In Jubilees 43, we get a glimpse into the brothers' desperate attempt to prove their innocence.

They're accused of stealing a silver cup, planted by Joseph in Benjamin's sack. Think about the sheer audacity! These brothers, already wrestling with guilt over their past treatment of Joseph, are now facing a brand new accusation. How do they respond?

"And the money also which we found in our sacks the first time, we thy servants brought back from the land of Canaan. How then should we steal any utensil?"

They’re laying it all on the line. Remember that earlier episode where they found their money mysteriously returned to their sacks? They saw it as a debt to be repaid. This detail highlights their commitment to honesty… or at least, their desire to appear honest.

Then comes the dramatic offer, dripping with a mix of outrage and desperation. "Behold here are we and our sacks; search, and wherever thou findest the cup in the sack of any man amongst us, let him be slain, and we and our asses will serve thy lord."

Whoa. Talk about high stakes. They're so confident in their innocence, or perhaps so terrified of the consequences, that they're willing to risk everything. It’s a bold move, fueled by fraternal loyalty and a desperate gamble. "If you find it, kill him, and the rest of us become your slaves!" Can you imagine the tension in the air?

But Joseph, still testing them, offers a compromise. "Not so, the man with whom I find, him only shall I take as a servant, and ye will return in peace unto your house."

This is interesting. Joseph could have accepted their original offer, but he doesn't. He's not interested in punishing all of them, or even necessarily enslaving anyone. He seems to be searching for something else, something deeper. Perhaps he's looking for repentance, for a sign that his brothers have truly changed.

And then… the inevitable. "And as he was searching in their vessels, beginning with the eldest and ending with the youngest, it was found in Benjamin's sack."

The cup is found in Benjamin's sack. The youngest. The one most closely associated with Joseph's own mother, Rachel. The shock, the disbelief, the crushing weight of despair must have been overwhelming. All their carefully constructed defenses crumble.

What happens next? How will they react? What does this mean for Benjamin? And, most importantly, what will Joseph do? That, my friends, is a story for another time. But this moment, this discovery, is a pivotal point. A moment of truth that will force them to confront their past and decide who they truly are. What would you do in their situation?

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Legends of the Jews 2:7Legends of the Jews

The ancient traditions certainly thought so.

Let's turn our gaze to the tribe of Benjamin. According to the Legends of the Jews, as retold by Louis Ginzberg, we can almost read the history of this tribe in the very names of its chiefs.

Originally, the tribe was composed of ten divisions, all descended from Benjamin's ten sons. But tragedy struck. Five of these families, lost to ungodly ways, perished in Egypt. A stark reminder that choices have consequences, a theme that echoes throughout Jewish lore.

Hope wasn't lost. Five families remained. Ginzberg tells us that two of these, the descendants of Bela and Ashbel, were always God-fearing. Their path was steady, their devotion unwavering. But what of the others?

Here's where the story gets really interesting. The remaining families – the Ahiramites, the Shephuphamites, and the Huphamites – they turned back. They repented. And, crucially, their names changed to reflect this profound inner shift. Think of it as a public declaration, a renaming of their very essence.

Ehi, for example, became Ahiram. Ginzberg explains this name change meant the breach with the "Exalted" One was healed. The distance that sin creates had been bridged. Muppira was now called Shephupham, because they "afflicted" themselves in their penance. That word, "afflicted," might sound harsh to modern ears, but in this context, it speaks to a deep and sincere remorse, a willingness to confront their wrongdoings. And finally, Huppim transformed into Hupham, a name signifying that they had "cleansed" themselves from sin.

Can you imagine the power of that? To have your name, your very identity, reflect a transformation of the soul?

And the story doesn't end there. As a reward for their piety, the family springing from Bela, those who had always walked the righteous path, was granted two subdivisions: the Ardites and the Naamites. Their names, we are told, point them out as those who truly understand how to manifest fear of God, whose deeds are exceedingly lovely. It’s a beautiful image, isn’t it? Living examples of devotion, their actions a evidence of their faith.

So, what does this all mean? More than just a history lesson, this story from Legends of the Jews reminds us of the power of repentance, the possibility of transformation, and the profound connection between our actions, our identities, and our relationship with the Divine. It makes you wonder: what story does your name tell? And what story are you writing with your life?

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