4 min read

Three People Died in One Month and Jacob Still Could Not Stop

When the coat arrived, Jacob broke. Bilhah died the same day. Dinah followed. Jacob's grief outlasted all three because Joseph was still alive.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Coat He Identified
  2. Why the Mourning Would Not Lift
  3. The Deaths That Came With the News
  4. Three in a Month

The Coat He Identified

Jacob's sons brought him a coat dipped in goat's blood and asked him to look at it. He looked. He said: it is my son's coat, a wild beast has devoured him, Joseph is torn in pieces. And then something broke in him that would not mend for twenty-two years. His sons and daughters rose up to console him and he turned them away. He said he would go down to his son in mourning, into Sheol. He put on sackcloth and refused to take it off.

The grief was not a season he was passing through. It was a state he had entered and intended to remain in.

Why the Mourning Would Not Lift

The tradition understood this in terms that went beyond natural paternal love. Divine consolation does not settle on a man for someone still alive. Jacob could not be comforted because Joseph was not dead. The mourning was therefore correct, even though Jacob did not know why it would not end. Something in him, below the level of conscious knowledge, understood that his grief had not reached its proper object. He was mourning a death that had not occurred. The comfort that should have arrived, the easing that follows real loss, could not come because the loss was not real.

So he kept mourning. Twenty-two years.

The Deaths That Came With the News

But in the immediate days after the coat arrived, the household took three losses in a single month. The report reached Jacob in the seventh month, on the tenth day, which the tradition noted was the day that would later become Yom Kippur, when Israel fasts and atones. The timing was not accidental in the cosmic accounting.

Bilhah heard that Joseph had perished and died mourning him. She had nursed this child, had watched him grow up in Jacob's household since Rachel's death left him without his mother's presence. Joseph had been her charge before he was Jacob's hope. She could not survive the news of his loss. She died the same day Jacob received the coat.

Dinah followed soon after. Jacob had not comforted her after Shechem, had been so absorbed in the disgrace to his household, so focused on the danger and the reputational damage that his sons' massacre had caused, that he had not sat with her in her suffering. She died now, added to the month's grief, and Jacob had no space to properly mourn her because he was already bent under the weight of Joseph.

Three in a Month

Three people in one month. Bilhah and Dinah gone in the immediate wake of the false news about Joseph. Jacob's household shrank in a matter of weeks. And Jacob, who had already refused consolation for the one death that had not actually occurred, now had two real deaths added to the weight he was carrying, and he could be comforted for none of them.

He would eventually wear out the sackcloth. He would eventually eat again, walk again, manage the household again. But the mourning itself did not lift until he stood in Egypt and heard his son's voice twenty-two years later and understood that the animal had not devoured him after all.


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From the tradition

Sources

3 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 34:21Book of Jubilees

The Book of Jubilees, a text considered canonical by some but excluded from the Hebrew Bible, gives us a glimpse into just such a time of profound loss for Jacob. It's a raw, emotional account of how one family grappled with tragedy piled upon tragedy.

The story unfolds with Jacob, Yaakov in Hebrew, already reeling. The verse reads, "and all the members of his house mourned with him that day, and they were grieving and mourning with him all that day." We can only imagine the depth of his sorrow, the weight of despair settling upon his household.

His children, trying to offer solace, "rose up to comfort him, but he refused to be comforted for his son." This isn't just a passing sadness; it's a profound, unyielding grief that resists any attempt at easing the pain. It speaks to a father’s love, a love so deep that the loss of a child leaves an unfillable void.

The Book of Jubilees doesn't stop there. It adds another layer of heartbreak. "And on that day Bilhah heard that Joseph had perished, and she died mourning him…" Imagine the news rippling through the camp, each person absorbing the blow in their own way. For Bilhah, the impact was fatal. She was living in Qafrâtêf when she heard the news.

And then, as if the universe had decided to test the limits of Jacob's endurance, we learn that "Dinah also, his daughter, died after Joseph had perished." Three deaths, all within the same month. Three monumental losses for one man, one family. It’s almost unbearable to contemplate.

The final lines offer a quiet, somber resolution: "And they buried Bilhah over against the tomb of Rachel, and Dinah also, his daughter, they buried there." The image of Bilhah being buried near Rachel, Jacob’s beloved wife and the mother of Joseph and Benjamin, is particularly poignant. It emphasizes the interconnectedness of their lives and the enduring power of familial bonds, even in death. Dinah was also buried there beside them.

What does this passage from the Book of Jubilees leave us with? Perhaps it’s a reminder that grief is a deeply personal experience, that there's no right or wrong way to mourn. Or maybe it's a evidence of the strength of the human spirit, the capacity to endure even in the face of unimaginable loss. It's a sobering reflection on the fragility of life and the enduring power of family, love, and memory.

Full source
Legends of the Jews 1:51Legends of the Jews

It wasn't just the loss of one loved one; it was a cascade of sorrow that threatened to overwhelm him completely.

The news of his son Joseph's supposed death – a deception, as we know – had repercussions far beyond Jacob himself. According to Legends of the Jews, the grief proved too much for two other members of his household: Bilhah and Dinah. Bilhah, you might remember, was Rachel's handmaid, and Dinah, Jacob's daughter. The text says Bilhah died the very day the report reached Jacob. Dinah followed soon after. Can you imagine the weight of that sorrow? Three losses in a single month.

The timing is significant, too. Ginzberg, in his Legends of the Jews, points out that Jacob received the devastating news in the seventh month, Tishri, specifically on the tenth day. Now, what's significant about the tenth of Tishri? It's Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. The day meant for seeking forgiveness and reconciliation became intertwined with Jacob's profound grief.

The connection goes even deeper. The text continues, explaining that the children of Israel are "bidden to weep and afflict their souls on this day." It links the sin offering of atonement – a kid of the goats – directly to the transgression of Jacob's sons. Remember the story? They dipped Joseph's coat in the blood of a kid, presenting it to their father as proof of Joseph's demise. So, on Yom Kippur, the very offering meant to cleanse sin becomes a stark reminder of their deceit and the immense sorrow they inflicted.

It’s a powerful image, isn't it? A day of atonement forever marked by a father's grief, a consequence of his sons' actions. It makes you think about the ripple effects of our choices, how they can echo through generations, and how even in moments of seeking forgiveness, the past can still cast a long shadow. It’s a reminder that even our attempts at redemption can be intertwined with the pain we’ve caused.

Full source
Legends of the Jews 1:54Legends of the Jews

Take, for instance, the story of Jacob mourning the loss of his beloved son, Joseph. The familiar story is this:. Joseph's brothers, driven by jealousy, sell him into slavery and then present Jacob with a blood-soaked garment, leading him to believe Joseph has been devoured by a wild animal. A heartbreaking scene.

There was more to the story? A twist you probably didn't see coming?

In Legends of the Jews, a compilation of aggadic material by Rabbi Louis Ginzberg, God, in His infinite compassion, decided to send Jacob some consolation. And He did so in the most unexpected way: through the mouth of a beast!

Jacob, consumed by grief, is confronted by a wolf. But this isn't just any wolf. This wolf, miraculously, begins to speak.

"As the Lord liveth, who hath created me, and as thy soul liveth, my lord," the wolf proclaims, "I have not seen thy son, and I did not rend him in pieces. From a land afar off I came to seek mine own son, who suffered a like fate with thine."

Can you imagine Jacob's astonishment? The wolf goes on to explain that he too has lost his son and has been searching for him for ten days. He claims that Joseph's brothers apprehended him and brought him before Jacob.

"This is my story," the wolf concludes, "and now, O son of man, I am in thy hands… but I swear unto thee by the God that hath created me, I have not seen thy son, nor have I torn him in pieces, never hath the flesh of man come into my mouth."

Incredulous, but perhaps sensing the truth in the wolf's words, Jacob lets him go. the verse says Jacob released him unhindered.

Now, here’s where it gets really interesting. Did Jacob suddenly stop mourning? No. The story concludes by stating that, despite the wolf's testimony, Jacob continued to mourn Joseph as before.

So, what's the point of this strange interlude? Why include this talking wolf in the narrative?

Perhaps it's a reminder that even in the depths of despair, there can be glimmers of hope, unexpected messengers of comfort. Perhaps it's to highlight the profound depth of Jacob's grief, so profound that even a talking animal can't alleviate it. Or maybe, just maybe, it's a lesson in not always believing what you see (or hear!).

The tale of the talking wolf serves as a potent reminder of the power of stories to explore the complexities of human emotion, faith, and the enduring mysteries of the universe. And it leaves us pondering: what unexpected messengers might cross our paths in times of grief, and will we be open to hearing what they have to say?

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