Parshat Vayeshev5 min read

How Many Times Joseph Was Sold Before Egypt Got Him

The Torah says Joseph was sold once. The Midrash counts four transactions, maybe five. Each handoff added distance between the brothers and what they had done.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Question the Text Almost Asks
  2. Four Transactions, Maybe Five
  3. Potiphar's House and What Happened There
  4. What Jacob Looked Like When He Heard

The Question the Text Almost Asks

The Torah makes the sale of Joseph sound simple. The brothers saw a caravan of Ishmaelites, Judah suggested selling rather than killing, they pulled Joseph out of the pit and handed him over for twenty pieces of silver. The caravan moved on. The verse continues.

But later in the same chapter, the text says the Medanites sold him to Egypt, to Potiphar. And the rabbis noticed: who sold him to the Medanites? Who sold him before that? The text had named two sets of traders and only described one transaction. The arithmetic did not add up, and the Midrash did not let it pass.

Four Transactions, Maybe Five

Bereshit Rabbah, the great Palestinian midrash on Genesis compiled in the fifth century CE, gave Rabbi Yudan the question and he counted four separate sales. The brothers sold Joseph to the Ishmaelites. The Ishmaelites sold him to merchants. The merchants sold him to the Midianites. The Midianites sold him to Egypt. Rav Huna added a fifth: the Midianites first sold Joseph to the royal treasury, and Potiphar purchased him from there. By the time Joseph stood in Potiphar's house, he had been bought and sold so many times that each transaction had created a degree of separation from the previous one. No single person in the chain could claim full responsibility for the result. Everyone had simply done a transaction.

This is how atrocity travels. Not through one decisive act of cruelty but through a series of ordinary exchanges, each defensible in isolation, each adding distance between the people who initiated it and the people living with the outcome. The Ishmaelites who bought Joseph from his brothers did not know or care about the family history. The merchants who passed him to the Midianites were conducting commerce. Potiphar purchased an efficient slave. Nobody along the chain thought of himself as the man who had thrown a beloved son into a pit and sold him for twenty coins.

Potiphar's House and What Happened There

Potiphar gave Joseph authority over everything he owned. The Midrash notes this with irony: the man purchased as property became the manager of all the property. Joseph's capacity was visible enough that Potiphar trusted him completely, and then Potiphar's wife accused Joseph and everything Joseph had built in that household collapsed.

The rabbis scrutinized the accusation. They examined the trial, the evidence, the specific nature of what Potiphar's wife claimed and what she could not prove. The tradition's Joseph in prison is not a broken man. He is a man doing the one thing he knows how to do in any situation: running things so well that whoever is in charge of him eventually puts him in charge of everything. He organized the prison the same way he had organized Potiphar's house. He was there for years, and the years did not diminish him.

What Jacob Looked Like When He Heard

Jacob's heart went numb when the messenger reached him in Goshen: Joseph is alive. He is the ruler of Egypt. He wants you to come. The Midrash captures the specific quality of this numbness. It was not the numbness of disbelief. Jacob had already spent twenty years grieving his son. His heart had stopped because the thing it had refused to stop hoping for had actually happened, and the gap between what he had been carrying and what was now true was too large to cross in one moment.

When Jacob finally stood before Joseph in Egypt, Joseph fell upon his father's face and wept. The text says he wept a long time. The Midrash notes that Jacob did not weep at that moment. He was reciting the Shema. His son was alive. The room was full of the sound of Joseph's grief. Jacob prayed.


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

Bereshit Rabbah 85:1Bereshit Rabbah

The story of Joseph, sold into slavery, gives us a dramatic answer. "The Medanites sold him to Egypt, to Potifar, an official of Pharaoh, the chief executioner" (Genesis 37:36). But the Bereshit Rabbah, that rich collection of rabbinic interpretations of Genesis, asks: how many sales really happened?

Rabbi Yudan tallies it up: four separate transactions! First, Joseph's own brothers sell him to the Ishmaelites. Then, the Ishmaelites sell him to merchants. The merchants, in turn, sell him to the Midianites. And finally, the Midianites sell him to Egypt. But Rav Huna goes even further, suggesting a fifth sale: the Midianites sell Joseph to the country's treasury, from which Potifar eventually purchases him. Imagine the paperwork! All those bills of sale, each one a betrayal, a loss.

The narrative then shifts abruptly. "It was at that time; Judah descended from his brothers and turned to an Adulamite man, and his name was Ḥira" (Genesis 38:1). What's going on here? Why this sudden change of scene? The Bereshit Rabbah doesn't shy away from the tough questions. It sees a profound connection, a moral and historical turning point. "Judah descended from his brothers" becomes a moment of crisis.

The text pulls in verses from the prophet Malachi: "Judah has betrayed, and an abomination has been performed..." (Malachi 2:11). According to the Matnot Kehuna, God is essentially saying to Judah: ‘You have denied, Judah; you have lied, Judah.’ Judah's transgression? Marrying a Canaanite woman, thus betraying his status and responsibility as a member of Jacob's household, according to Rabbi Nehemya (as we saw back in Bereshit Rabba 84:21). This act is seen as a profanation, "for Judah has profaned the holy of the Lord that He loves" (Malachi 2:11).

But there's more. The text brings in Micah: "I will yet bring to you a dispossessor, inhabitant of Maresha; [the glory of Israel] will come as far as Adulam" (Micah 1:15). The Yefe To’ar suggests this could mean that God will come to Adulam to punish Israel. Or, it asks rhetorically, was it really fitting for Judah to come to Adulam and marry a Canaanite woman? It's a stark contrast: the potential glory of Israel juxtaposed with Judah's personal failings.

Then, a beautiful and hopeful turn. Rabbi Shmuel bar Nahman begins with a verse from Jeremiah: "For I have known the thoughts" (Jeremiah 29:11). While all these seemingly disparate events are unfolding – the tribes selling Joseph, Joseph in mourning, Reuben in mourning, Jacob in mourning, and Judah seeking a wife – God, blessed be He, is engaged in creating the light of the messianic king. As the Bereshit Rabbah says, "It was at that time, Judah descended from his brothers," and Judah's line, through this very marriage, will ultimately lead to David and the Messiah.

"Before she begins labor, she will give birth" (Isaiah 66:7). Before the enslavement in Egypt even takes hold, the seeds of redemption are already being sown. “It was at that time” – what is written prior to the matter? “The Medanites sold him to Egypt” (Genesis 37:36).

It's a powerful reminder: even in moments of darkness, betrayal, and apparent descent, hope and redemption are quietly taking root. Even when we are at our lowest, God is already working on our salvation. It makes you wonder, doesn't it? What seemingly disconnected events in our own lives might be part of a larger, divinely orchestrated plan?

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Bereshit Rabbah 87:8Bereshit Rabbah

The scene: Joseph, a handsome young man, working in the house of his Egyptian master, Potiphar. Potiphar's wife, overcome with desire, makes a move. (Genesis 39:12) tells us, "She seized him by his garment, saying: Lie with me. He left his garment in her hand and fled, and went outside.”

Did you ever wonder how he managed to escape? It wasn't just a sprint out the door. Bereshit Rabbah, a classic collection of Rabbinic interpretations of Genesis, sees something more profound at play here. It suggests that Joseph, in that moment of crisis, "leapt by the merit of the patriarchs."

What does that even mean? The text draws a parallel to another verse: "He took him outside" (Genesis 15:5). This refers to God taking Abraham outside to show him the stars, promising him countless descendants. The implication is that just as God took Abraham outside and blessed him, so too did the merit of the patriarchs propel Joseph to safety. It was a divine assist, if you will.

It doesn't stop there. Shimon of Kitron takes it a step further, saying that the splitting of the Red Sea for the Israelites was also due to Joseph's merit. "The sea saw and fled," says (Psalms 114:3), connecting it directly to Joseph's flight: "He left his garment in her hand and fled." One righteous act echoing through generations.

But, of course, the story doesn't end with Joseph's escape. Potiphar's wife, scorned and vengeful, immediately begins to spin a tale. “She called the people of her household, and spoke to them, saying: See, he brought us a Hebrew man to ridicule us; he came to me to lie with me, and I cried out in a loud voice” (Genesis 39:14).

Bereshit Rabbah points out that she "placed it into the mouths of all of them." She rehearsed them, coached them, prepped them with her version of events, ensuring they all told the same story to her husband. The Etz Yosef commentary adds that she made sure everyone knew their lines, so to speak.

And what about the garment? "She placed his garment beside her, until his master’s arrival to his home” (Genesis 39:16). It wasn't just placed there as evidence. Rabbi Ami offers a poignant detail: "She hugged it and kissed it." A bittersweet detail, perhaps showing the depth of her obsession, or maybe a final act of defiance.

So, what do we take away from this? The story of Joseph and Potiphar's wife is more than just a tale of temptation and betrayal. It’s a reminder that even in the most difficult moments, we can draw strength from our ancestors, from the merits of those who came before us. And it's a stark illustration of how easily truth can be twisted, and how important it is to stand firm in the face of adversity. Sometimes, all it takes is leaving your garment behind and running. Other times, it's about the unseen forces that guide our steps.

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Bereshit Rabbah 98:18Bereshit Rabbah

The Torah describes Joseph as a "fruitful tree, a fruitful tree alongside a spring; branches run over the wall" (Genesis 49:22). But what does that really mean? The rabbis in Bereshit Rabbah 98 dive deep, unpacking the layers of meaning hidden within this seemingly simple verse.

The Rabbis play on the Hebrew word porat (fruitful), linking it to the idea of breaking faith (shehefer). It's a poignant connection, isn't it? They suggest that Joseph was a son who both broke faith with his brothers and was betrayed by them. Joseph wasn't exactly innocent. (Genesis 37:2) tells us he brought "evil reports" about his brothers to their father, Jacob. And, of course, they retaliated by selling him into slavery (Genesis 37:28).

The theme of broken faith continues. Joseph, they say, also defied his master's wife, Potiphar's wife as we know her, and she, in turn, "turned against him" (shehefera). It's a constant push and pull, a cycle of action and reaction.

Then Rabbi Avin offers another perspective: Joseph achieved greatness through cows (parot)! It’s a clever reference to Pharaoh's dream, which Joseph so famously interpreted, paving the way for his rise to power. He also achieved greatness through produce (perot), a more general blessing of abundance.

The midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) continues, drawing a parallel between Joseph's encounter with his family and a scene where the maidservants approached Jacob (Genesis 33:6). The midrash sees Jacob wanting to compensate Joseph for having obscured Rachel from Esau's eye.

But the most striking image comes with the "branches [banot] run [tzaada] over the wall…" line. The Rabbis paint a vivid picture: when Joseph rose to power in Egypt, the daughters of kings would peek through the slits, showering him with jewels, hoping he would look at them. Imagine the scene! The power, the temptation! But Joseph remained steadfast.

And here's where the story takes a truly beautiful turn. Because Joseph resisted those temptations, because he didn't lift his eyes, God, blessed be He, promised that his daughters would have a "foothold" (tze'ida) in the Torah. What is this "foothold"? A Torah portion!

The Rabbis are referring to the daughters of Tzelofhad, who famously petitioned for their right to inherit their father's land when he died without sons (Numbers 27:1–11). Their plea led to a new law, a new portion of the Torah. And that, Bereshit Rabbah suggests, was Joseph's reward.

So, what can we take away from this rich midrash? It's not just about Joseph's personal triumphs and tribulations. It's about the enduring power of integrity. It's about how resisting temptation, even when the world throws its most glittering prizes at you, can lead to unexpected blessings, influencing generations to come. It's a story of resilience, faith, and the profound connection between our actions and our destiny. It asks us, what kind of "fruitful tree" will we be?

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Bereshit Rabbah 94:3Bereshit Rabbah

Out of the blue, his sons return from Egypt with news that Joseph is not only alive, but a powerful ruler! It's a moment of incredible joy, but also… disbelief.

The Torah tells us in (Genesis 45:25), “They went up from Egypt, and they came to the land of Canaan, to Jacob their father.” And then, the bombshell: “They told him, saying: Joseph is still alive, and he is ruler over the entire land of Egypt. His heart was faint because he did not believe them.”

Why didn't he believe them? Rabbi Ḥiyya, in Bereshit Rabbah 94, offers a powerful insight: “What is the plight of the liar? Even if he says truthful matters, he is not believed.” Had Jacob's sons perhaps stretched the truth in the past? Had their past actions sown seeds of doubt that now bloomed in this crucial moment? It’s a sobering thought. How our past actions can impact our present credibility.

The story doesn't end there. (Genesis 45:27) continues, “They spoke to him all the words of Joseph that he had spoken to them, and he saw the wagons that Joseph sent to convey him, and the spirit of Jacob their father was revived.” What was it about those wagons that finally broke through Jacob's disbelief?

The midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary), in Bereshit Rabbah, gives us a fascinating detail. Apparently, the wagons Pharaoh sent were adorned with idols! Can you imagine the shock? Judah, ever the staunch defender of monotheism, immediately burned them. The text notes that this tribe is experienced in burning idols, referencing II (Samuel 5:21) and I (Chronicles 14:12). It's a powerful image: a decisive act of faith amidst a moment of profound emotional upheaval.

But there's another layer to this. Rabbi Levi, in the name of Rabbi Yoḥanan bar Shaul, offers a different interpretation. Joseph anticipated Jacob’s disbelief. He instructed his brothers to remind Jacob of something specific: the last thing they studied together before Joseph disappeared – the passage of the beheaded calf, the egla arufa. This ritual, described in Deuteronomy 21, deals with unresolved guilt and atonement when a murder occurs and the perpetrator is unknown. So Joseph was telling his brothers "If he doesn't believe you, remind him of the egla arufa."

Why this specific halakha, this specific law? What was Joseph trying to convey? Perhaps it was a coded message, a sign that only Jacob would understand, a way to prove his identity and his unchanged connection to his father's teachings. The word "wagons" in Hebrew is haagalot, and the midrash connects this word to the teaching of the egla arufa. "He saw the wagons [haagalot]…and the spirit…was revived.”

Finally, Jacob believes! “Israel said: Enough, Joseph my son is still alive; I will go and see him before I die” (Genesis 45:28). The Hebrew word for "Enough" is "rav." But the midrash sees something deeper here. “Israel said: Enough [rav]” – the power of my son Joseph is great [rav], as many troubles befell him, but still he remained in his righteousness much more than I did, as I sinned when I said: “My way is hidden from the Lord” (Isaiah 40:27).

Wow. Jacob isn't just relieved; he's in awe of Joseph's resilience and righteousness. He contrasts Joseph's unwavering faith with his own moment of despair, when he felt abandoned by God. It’s a moment of profound self-reflection. Jacob acknowledges his own failings while celebrating his son's strength.

And yet, even in this moment of humility, Jacob finds hope. “But I am certain that I have a portion in ‘how great is Your goodness’ (Psalms 31:20).” According to the Etz Yosef commentary, based on Tanhuma Vayigash 9, Jacob knew through divine inspiration that if none of his sons were to die during his lifetime, he would be assured of a place in the World to Come.

What a powerful pattern of faith, doubt, reconciliation, and hope! This passage in Bereshit Rabbah isn't just a story about Jacob and Joseph; it's a story about the human condition. It reminds us that even in our darkest moments, even when disbelief threatens to overwhelm us, the spark of faith, the power of connection, and the hope for redemption can still be rekindled. And sometimes, all it takes is a wagon… or a memory of a shared teaching… to revive our spirits.

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Bereshit Rabbah 100:3Bereshit Rabbah

The sages grappled with this question, and their answers reveal fascinating insights into divine justice and human fallibility.

Our story begins, as it often does, in the Book of Genesis. We read, "Joseph fell upon his father’s face, wept upon him, and kissed him" (Genesis 50:1). Then, "Joseph commanded his servants, the physicians, to embalm his father. The physicians embalmed Israel" (Genesis 50:2). It’s that second verse that sparks the debate. "Joseph fell…Joseph commanded his servants" – these actions, seemingly born of love and respect, become the focus of intense scrutiny in Bereshit Rabbah, a classic collection of rabbinic interpretations.

Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi, a towering figure in Jewish law and tradition, offers one compelling explanation. He suggests that Joseph's decision to embalm his father was, in a way, an act of defiance against God. The Bereshit Rabbah tells us that God essentially said to Joseph: “Was I not able to preserve My righteous one? Did I not say to him: “Do not fear [ti’re’i], worm of Jacob” (Isaiah 41:14) – worm, do not see [tiri] Jacob?” The verse in Isaiah, interpreted in this light, implies that God had already promised to protect Jacob's body from decay. Embalming, therefore, was a sign of Joseph's lack of faith in God's promise. It was as if Joseph was saying, "I don't trust that you will preserve my father." A pretty serious accusation!

The Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi says this lack of trust was a grave offense, warranting an earlier death. God could preserve Jacob's body without human intervention. Embalming implied a lack of faith in divine protection.

But, as is often the case in Jewish tradition, there's another side to the story. "The Rabbis" – a collective voice representing a range of opinions – offer a different perspective. They argue that it wasn't Joseph's initiative at all! Instead, they say, Jacob himself commanded his sons to embalm him. The proof? The verse: "His sons did to him [just as he commanded them]" (Genesis 50:12). It's a subtle but significant shift.

So, if Jacob ordered the embalming, why did Joseph die before his brothers? The Rabbis point to a different transgression: Joseph's silence. The Bereshit Rabbah notes that Judah, pleading for Benjamin's release, repeatedly referred to Jacob as Joseph's servant. Four times, Judah says, "Your servant, my father, your servant, my father" (Genesis 44:24, 27, 30, 31). And on one other occasion (Genesis 43:28) the brothers refer to Jacob in this way. Joseph heard these words, these diminutions of his father's honor, and he remained silent.

Why is this silence so problematic? Because it suggests a lack of filial piety, a failure to defend his father's dignity. Joseph, in his position of power, should have corrected Judah. His silence implies consent, even a subtle enjoyment of the elevated status he held over his family.

So, we have two explanations for Joseph's premature death, both rooted in the same biblical text. One points to a lack of faith in God, the other to a failure of filial duty. Both interpretations, found within Bereshit Rabbah, offer valuable lessons about the importance of faith, respect, and the subtle ways in which our actions – and inactions – can have profound consequences.

What do we take away from this? Perhaps it's a reminder that even the most righteous figures are subject to human failings. Or maybe it's an invitation to examine our own actions, to consider how our choices reflect our faith and our commitment to those we love. The story of Joseph's death, like so many stories in Jewish tradition, is not just a historical account but a mirror reflecting our own lives and our own potential for both greatness and error.

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