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Jacob Adopted Joseph's Sons and Gave Him Two Shares

Dying in Egypt, Jacob pulled his grandsons Ephraim and Manasseh into the tribal roster as his own sons, giving Joseph the double share Reuben had forfeited.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Oath Before the Work Began
  2. The Adoption at the Deathbed
  3. What the Adoption Was Actually Doing
  4. Joseph's Name Disappears From the Tribal Map

The Oath Before the Work Began

The cold had settled into Jacob's bones past what blankets could reach. He was dying in Egypt, seventeen years older than the day he arrived, and before he did anything else he needed Joseph to make a promise. Not for himself. For the bones he would leave behind. "Swear to me," Jacob said, "by the God of my fathers, that you will not bury me in Egypt. Swear that you will carry me out of this country and lay me in the tomb where my fathers are buried."

Joseph swore. Then Jacob did something that had not been announced in advance. He sat up in bed and began to speak about the future.

The Adoption at the Deathbed

Joseph had brought both his sons, Ephraim and Manasseh, born in Egypt to his Egyptian wife Asenath, daughter of the priest of On. Jacob looked at them and said: these two boys are mine. From this moment forward, Ephraim and Manasseh are equal in standing to Reuben and Simeon. Any sons Joseph had after them would belong to Joseph's tribal share, but these two were now Jacob's sons, not grandchildren. They were tribes.

The formal ceremony followed. Joseph placed Manasseh, the elder, at Jacob's right hand, and Ephraim, the younger, at his left. Jacob crossed his arms. His right hand came down on Ephraim's head, his left on Manasseh's. Joseph reached out to correct the placement. His father resisted. "I know what I am doing," Jacob said. "The younger brother will be greater."

What the Adoption Was Actually Doing

Read it plainly and the adoption is a correction. Reuben was the firstborn, the one who carried the birthright and the double share. He had forfeited it the night he violated Bilhah, his father's concubine. The birthright did not die with Reuben's claim to it. It had to go somewhere. Jacob gave it to Joseph by the only mechanism available: not a direct bequest, which would have required Joseph to hold two portions of a land he did not physically occupy, but an adoption that transformed two Egyptian-born grandsons into two full tribes with two separate territorial allotments in the land of Canaan.

The rabbinic tradition read the crossing of Jacob's hands as deliberate and prophetic, not accidental. Ephraim would produce Joshua, the man who conquered the land. Manasseh would produce Gideon, the great judge. Both mattered. But the line of leadership that shaped Israel's future ran through the younger brother, exactly as it had in every generation of this family: Isaac over Ishmael, Jacob over Esau, Joseph over his ten older brothers, now Ephraim over Manasseh.

Joseph's Name Disappears From the Tribal Map

The quiet consequence of the adoption is that Joseph himself disappears from the map of the twelve tribes of Canaan. The territory is divided among the twelve sons of Jacob, but Joseph is not counted among them as a territory holder. Ephraim holds land. Manasseh holds land. Joseph, the son who was sold and became a ruler of Egypt and fed the world through seven years of famine, leaves no ground with his name on it. His name lives instead in the two tribes his sons became, double the presence and none of the territory, which is exactly the shape of the double portion his father gave him at the end of his life.

JacobPatriarchsEgyptProphecy
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From the tradition

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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.

Antiquities II.9Antiquities of the Jews (Josephus)

Jacob lived seventeen years in Egypt after reuniting with the son he had mourned as dead. Seventeen years of peace, of proximity to Joseph, of watching his family flourish in the land of Goshen. Then his body failed, and he gathered his sons to deliver a set of prophecies that would shape the destiny of an entire nation.

The Josephus says Jacob foretold where each of his sons' descendants would settle in the land of Canaan, a remarkable act of faith given that his family was currently living as guests in a foreign empire with no immediate prospect of return. He spoke as though the Promised Land was already theirs, because God had said it would be.

Jacob did something unexpected before the blessings. He adopted Joseph's two Egyptian-born sons, Ephraim and Manasseh, elevating them to the same status as his own twelve sons (Genesis 48:5). This doubled Joseph's inheritance and ensured that the boy his brothers had tried to erase from the family would have two tribes bearing his children's names.

The dying patriarch's final praise went to Joseph himself. Jacob spoke at length about how Joseph had never used his power to take revenge on the brothers who sold him into slavery. Instead, Joseph had showered them with gifts and land and protection. In Jacob's telling, this restraint was Joseph's greatest achievement, not the interpretation of dreams, not the governance of Egypt, but the decision to repay cruelty with kindness.

Jacob's last request was to be buried not in Egypt but in Hebron, in the cave of Machpelah alongside Abraham and Isaac (Genesis 49:29-31). He died at one hundred and forty-seven years old, and Pharaoh granted Joseph permission to carry his father's body back to Canaan for burial, a journey that must have felt like both a homecoming and a farewell.

After the burial, the brothers panicked. With their father gone, they feared Joseph would finally punish them. But Joseph told them what he had said before: he held no grudge, because everything had unfolded according to God's plan. He lived to one hundred and ten, governing Egypt with what Josephus calls "moderation", the quality that made him beloved by Egyptians despite being a foreigner who had arrived in their country as a teenage slave in chains. Before he died, Joseph made his brothers swear an oath: when the Hebrews eventually left Egypt, they would carry his bones with them back to Canaan. It would take four hundred years, but they kept that promise.

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Legends of the Jews 1:358Legends of the Jews

In the twilight of his life, Jacob, also known as Israel, had very specific instructions for his son, Joseph.

We find this poignant scene in Legends of the Jews, Louis Ginzberg's masterful compilation of rabbinic lore. Jacob, nearing his end, makes Joseph swear he won't be buried in Egypt. It’s more than just a request; it’s a heartfelt plea, a final act of devotion.

"If I have found grace in thy sight," Jacob implores Joseph, "bury me not, I pray thee, in Egypt." He emphasizes that his descent into Egypt was solely for Joseph's sake. "Only for thy sake did I come down into Egypt, and for thy sake I spoke, Now I can die.” It's a powerful statement, emphasizing the deep bond between father and son, a bond strong enough to dictate the very place of his eternal rest.

Why not Egypt? It wasn't simply about avoiding foreign soil. Jacob is very clear about his reasoning, instructing Joseph to "carry me out of the land of idolatry, and bury me in the land where God hath caused His Name to dwell." He yearns to be in the land of Israel, the land promised to his ancestors, the land imbued with God's presence. He wants to be laid to rest in a place of holiness.

Jacob also instructs Joseph to "do this for me as a true service of love, and not because thou art afraid, or because decency demands it." What a powerful thing to say! He is not just asking for a favor, but seeking a demonstration of genuine love and respect, a mitzvah (a good deed) performed from the heart. He doesn't want Joseph to fulfill his duty out of obligation or fear, but out of pure, unadulterated love.

And then, there's the specificity of the burial site itself: "and put me to rest in the place in which four husbands and wives are to be buried, I the last of them." He wants to be with his family, his lineage, in the ancestral burial ground. This is more than just a plot of land; it's a connection to his past, his heritage, his very identity. It's a powerful image, isn't it? Jacob, surrounded by his loved ones, finally at peace in the land of promise.

Jacob's request is a reminder that even in death, we seek meaning and connection. We yearn for belonging, for a place where we feel rooted, where we can rest alongside those who came before us. It’s a universal desire, expressed here with profound tenderness and a deep sense of Jewish identity. What kind of legacy do we want to leave behind, and where do we want to be remembered?

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Bereshit Rabbah 96:5Bereshit Rabbah

It seems like a strange thing to worry about when, well, we're no longer around to worry about anything. But the story of Jacob, as he nears the end of his life in Egypt, gives us some fascinating insights into this very question.

In (Genesis 47:29), we read that Jacob calls for his son, Joseph, and makes him swear an oath: "Please do not bury me in Egypt." But why Joseph? Why not Reuben, his firstborn, or Judah, the one destined for kingship? Bereshit Rabbah, a classic collection of rabbinic interpretations of Genesis, explores this very question. It suggests that Jacob chose Joseph because he was the one with the power to actually carry out his request. He was in a position of influence in Egypt, capable of ensuring his father's wishes were honored.

Jacob’s request goes further: "Perform kindness and truth with me." Now, what's with the "kindness and truth" part? Is there such a thing as false kindness? The Rabbis, in their characteristic way, explore the nuances. They bring up a folk saying: "If the son of your friend dies, bear with him, because he can repay the kindness. If your friend dies, cast off… because he cannot repay the kindness." In other words, kindness shown after death is a true kindness because there's no expectation of reciprocation. It's pure and selfless.

Why not Egypt? Jacob gives a few reasons, each layered with meaning. One reason is a bit…uncomfortable. He says he doesn't want to be buried in Egypt because the land will eventually be struck with lice, and, well, those lice would swarm his body. Yikes!

Another reason is far more profound. Jacob was concerned that the Egyptians might turn him into an object of idolatrous worship. The Rabbis in Bereshit Rabbah remind us that just as punishment is meted out to those who worship idols, so too is it meted out to the one who is worshipped. They bring examples like Daniel refusing worship from Nebuchadnezzar, and the downfall of Hiram, who declared himself a god.

Jacob also worried that his burial in Egypt might inadvertently grant the Egyptians merit they didn't deserve. They worshipped lambs, and Jacob was likened to a lamb ("Israel is a scattered lamb," says (Jeremiah 50:1)7). The Egyptians' flesh was likened to that of donkeys (Ezekiel 23:20), and "the firstborn of a donkey you shall redeem with a lamb" (Exodus 34:20). The symbolism is complex, but the core idea is that Jacob didn't want his burial to somehow benefit a society steeped in idolatry.

So, why did all the patriarchs – Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob – insist on being buried in the Land of Israel? Rabbi Elazar simply calls them "cryptic matters." But Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi offers an explanation: "I walk before the Lord in the land of the living" (Psalms 116:9). The Land of Israel, he says, is the "land of the living."

Rabbi Ḥelbo, cited in the name of our Rabbis, gives us two reasons: First, the dead of the Land of Israel will be the first to come back to life in the messianic era and enjoy those messianic years. Second, Rabbi Ḥanina adds that someone who dies outside the Land of Israel and is buried there undergoes "two deaths" – death and burial, as exemplified by the prophet Jeremiah's words about Pashhur (Jeremiah 20:6).

But what about those righteous people who do die outside the Land? Are they out of luck? Rabbi Simon offers a remarkable image: God makes tunnels and channels in the earth, and the bodies of the righteous roll through them until they reach the Land of Israel! Then, God breathes life back into them. As (Ezekiel 37:12) states, "Behold, I am opening your graves, and I will take you up from your graves, My people, and I will bring you to the soil of Israel." Then, "I will place My spirit into you and you will live" (Ezekiel 37:14). Reish Lakish finds further support in (Isaiah 42:5), "Who places a soul in the people upon it."

There's even a story about Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi and Rabbi Eliezer encountering a coffin being brought from outside the Land to be buried in Tiberias. Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi wasn't impressed, suggesting the person had defiled the land in life and continued to do so in death. But Rabbi Eliezer countered that burial in the Land of Israel atones for their sins, citing (Deuteronomy 32:43): "His earth will atone for his people."

Even on his deathbed, Rabbi Yoḥanan was concerned with appearances, asking to be buried in green garments, "so if I stand among the righteous we will not be shamed, and if I stand among the wicked we will not be disgraced." Rabbi Yoshiya, on the other hand, had no such qualms, requesting to be buried in white, "Because I am not ashamed to greet my Creator because of my actions."

The story of Jacob's request, and the Rabbis' interpretations, reveal a deep connection between the Jewish people and the Land of Israel, a connection that transcends even death. It's a connection rooted in history, destiny, and a profound belief in the power of the land to bring about redemption. It prompts us to consider what truly matters in life, and what kind of legacy we hope to leave behind, even after we're gone.

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