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Joseph Fed the World While His Brothers Remembered

Pharaoh's anger puts a prisoner in position to feed nations. Joseph's brothers arrive for grain and find guilt waiting at the storehouse door.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. Pharaoh's Anger Became Joseph's Ladder
  2. Pikhol Recognized What the Nations Could Not Ignore
  3. The Butler's Vine Was Israel's Future
  4. Joseph Stood Before Pharaoh and Was Believed
  5. The Brothers Returned and Guilt Arrived With Them
  6. Sinai Was Chosen for Its Smallness

Pharaoh's Anger Became Joseph's Ladder

Two men offended the king on the same day. One was the chief butler, the other the chief baker. Both ended up in the same prison where Joseph was already confined. It looked like coincidence layered on coincidence: a boy sold by brothers, bought by an officer, falsely accused, thrown into a pit a second time, now sharing a cell with two men who had displeased the most powerful ruler in the world.

Bereshit Rabbah says God stirred the conflict between Pharaoh and his servants deliberately. The righteous cannot always pull themselves out of the pit by force. Providence moves through the anger of men who do not know they are serving a larger purpose. The butler and baker would dream. Joseph would interpret. Pharaoh would eventually need someone who could read what Egypt could not read about itself.

Pikhol Recognized What the Nations Could Not Ignore

The pattern was older than Joseph. Avimelekh and his commander Pikhol had come to Abraham and said: "God is with you in everything you do." Before Isaac's birth the nations had whispered that Abraham's righteousness was conditional on his fortune. Where were his children? Isaac's birth changed the story. Even a foreign general could see it.

Joseph would inherit this recognition. In Potiphar's house it was visible. In prison it was visible. In Pharaoh's hall it would be unmistakable. Outsiders who could not name the God of Israel still knew when someone was accompanied by something they could not account for. That was not charm. That was the same evidence Pikhol had seen in Abraham.

The Butler's Vine Was Israel's Future

The butler dreamed: a vine with three branches that budded, blossomed, and produced clusters. He squeezed the grapes into Pharaoh's cup and placed it in the king's hand. Joseph said: "the three branches are three days. In three days Pharaoh will restore you."

Bereshit Rabbah hears more in the vine than a cup. The vine is Israel. The three branches are the patriarchs, or the three festivals, or the three who held Israel's story together through the Egyptian period. The grapes pressed into Pharaoh's cup become the contribution of a people who carry something the empire needs but cannot produce itself. Joseph serves Pharaoh. Israel will serve humanity. But in the serving, the servant rises.

Joseph Stood Before Pharaoh and Was Believed

When Pharaoh dreamed of seven fat cows and seven thin cows, not one of his magicians could satisfy him. The butler remembered the Hebrew prisoner who had read his dream correctly. Joseph came from the cell, shaved, changed his clothes, and stood before the king. He was thirty years old.

He told Pharaoh: "your dreams are one. Seven years of plenty, then seven years of famine so severe the plenty will be forgotten." Then Joseph went further and offered a plan without being asked. Gather a fifth of everything during the good years. Store it in the cities. Hold it against the famine. Bereshit Rabbah notes that Joseph did not wait to be asked for advice. He saw the need and moved toward it. That is what living with a larger purpose looks like.

The Brothers Returned and Guilt Arrived With Them

Famine reached Canaan too. Jacob sent his sons to Egypt for grain. They came and bowed before the governor, faces to the ground, and did not recognize their brother. Joseph recognized them immediately.

He remembered the dreams. He had dreamed that his brothers' sheaves would bow to his, and they had mocked the dream and hated him for telling it. Now they were bowing. The midrash says the unspoken guilt behind their journey was already present when they stood in line at the storehouse. Joseph accused them of being spies not because he believed it but because he was watching to see whether the men who had thrown him into a pit were the same men who stood before him now, or whether twenty years had taught them anything.

Sinai Was Chosen for Its Smallness

When Sinai was chosen for the giving of Torah, the other mountains complained. Tabor came from a distance. Carmel crossed the sea. They were all larger, more impressive, better suited to grandeur. Sinai was small. Bereshit Rabbah says Sinai received Torah precisely because of its smallness, the same logic by which the younger son receives the larger promise.

Jacob crossed his hands at the blessing, placing his right hand on Ephraim and his left on Manasseh, reversing the expected order. Joseph objected. Jacob refused to change it. Ephraim would be greater. The smaller would carry the larger promise. The logic of Sinai was already written into the crossing of an old man's wrists at a bedside in Egypt.

MosesTribesBereshit RabbahJosephEgyptEphraimSinai
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Bereshit Rabbah 88:3Bereshit Rabbah

The ancient rabbis certainly did. They saw God's hand even in moments of anger, betrayal, and… well, poisoned drinks. to a fascinating passage from Bereshit Rabbah, a classic rabbinic commentary on the Book of Genesis, to explore this idea.

Rabbi Yuda bar Simon and Rabbi Ḥanin, citing Rabbi Yoḥanan, pointed to the verse "Come, behold the works of the Lord…" (Psalm 46:9) as a key to understanding divine intervention. They suggested that God sometimes stirs up conflict – masters against servants, and vice versa – to ultimately elevate the righteous.

Their first example? Pharaoh’s anger towards his servants, as described in (Genesis 41:10). This anger, seemingly negative, paved the way for Joseph's rise to prominence. Joseph, wrongly imprisoned, was ultimately brought before Pharaoh to interpret his dreams, an event that led to Joseph becoming one of the most powerful people in Egypt. Who would have thought Pharaoh's bad mood could have such a positive outcome?

It's not just masters getting angry. Sometimes, the servants themselves become disgruntled to bring about good. The rabbis then turn to the story of Bigtan and Teresh from the Book of Esther. “Bigtan and Teresh became angry” (Esther 2:21), and what was the result? The eventual rise of Mordechai!

Now, the specifics of Bigtan and Teresh’s plot are debated. Rav suggested they hid a dagger in their shoes, while Rabbi Ḥanin believed they were building some kind of strangling device. Shmuel, however, had a particularly vivid (and disturbing) idea: they put serpent’s venom in the king's cup! Yikes.

And here’s where it gets even more interesting. "The matter was investigated, and was discovered" (Esther 2:23). The Rabbis offer a curious detail: they say the plot was uncovered because Bigtan and Teresh placed a fly in the goblet! Wait, a fly?

Now, before you picture a clumsy insect ruining the king’s wine, keep in mind that this wasn't just any fly. According to some commentaries, like Etz Yosef and Rabbi David Luria, this was a poisonous fly! So, the fly wasn't just an annoyance, it was a deadly instrument. The fact that the plot was discovered so quickly, because of something as seemingly insignificant as a fly, highlights the divine intervention at play.

What does all this mean? It suggests that God works in mysterious ways, using even the most unpleasant situations – anger, betrayal, attempted poisoning by venomous fly – to advance His plans and elevate those who are righteous. It's a reminder that even when things seem chaotic and unfair, there might be a larger purpose at work.

So, the next time you encounter a seemingly random or negative event, remember the story of Pharaoh, Joseph, Bigtan, Teresh, and that fateful fly. Maybe, just maybe, it's all part of a grander design, a divine plan unfolding before our very eyes. It's a comforting – and slightly unsettling – thought, isn't it?

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Bereshit Rabbah 54:2Bereshit Rabbah

Who exactly was Pikhol? Rabbi Yehuda says Pikhol was his actual name. But Rabbi Nehemya offers a fascinating alternative: he suggests it's an acronym! Peh shekol – "the mouth [peh] of him whom all [shekol] his armies kiss on his mouth." In other words, Pikhol was so beloved by his troops that they showered him with affection. Imagine the loyalty!

It's what Avimelekh and Pikhol say to Abraham that's truly telling: "God is with you." Why did they say this? Bereshit Rabbah reveals a lot of behind-the-scenes chatter. Apparently, the nations around them had been whispering, "If he were righteous, wouldn't he have begotten a child?" Ouch. It was a constant question mark hanging over Abraham. But once Isaac was born, the tune changed: "God is with you."

It didn't stop there. They also questioned his righteousness because he listened to his wife, Sarah, especially when she wanted Ishmael banished. As we find in (Genesis 21:12), God Himself told Abraham, "Everything that Sarah says to you, heed her voice." Once he did that, the neighbors chimed in again: "God is with you."

Then there was the matter of Ishmael himself. People grumbled, "If he were righteous, would he have spurned his firstborn son?" But once they saw Ishmael’s behavior – whatever that may have been; the text doesn’t elaborate – they finally conceded: "God is with you in everything that you do."

There's another interpretation offered. The sites of Sodom were destroyed, and travelers stopped using the road. Yet, Avimelekh’s food storehouse was still full. Even without passing caravans, he had plenty. That’s why, it was said, "God is with you in everything that you do."

Because God is with you, Avimelekh says, "now take an oath to me here, by God, that you will not deceive me, or my son, or my son’s son." The text then makes an interesting point about familial loyalty: It is until this point, the text says, that the compassion of a father extends to his descendants. Rabbi Abba adds that it's also until this point that brothers remain partners in their inherited property. – how far does that sense of obligation and unity extend?

Rabbi Yosei bar Ḥanina brings in a fascinating parallel from (Psalms 38:20): "My enemies are mighty with life." He suggests that what was granted to Abraham after seven generations (specifically, allowing his descendants to conquer certain lands) was granted to Avimelekh after only three. Why the difference? "God did not guide them via the land of the Philistines" (Exodus 13:17), because Avimelekh’s grandson was still alive. The text highlights the extraordinary longevity of Avimelekh's line.

Finally, Avimelekh asks Abraham to show him the same kindness he had shown Abraham, referring to when he said, "Behold, my land is before you, [dwell wherever is good in your eyes]" (Genesis 20:15). Abraham didn't take him up on the offer.

So, what can we take away from this glimpse into Bereshit Rabbah? It's a reminder that even our heroes are subject to scrutiny and judgment. It also shows us how perceptions can shift, sometimes dramatically, based on events and circumstances. And perhaps most importantly, it highlights the enduring power of kindness, loyalty, and the long reach of familial bonds. It makes you wonder, doesn't it, what people are saying about us behind our backs? And what will they say after they see what we do next?

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Bereshit Rabbah 88:5Bereshit Rabbah

The Torah is brimming with them, and Jewish tradition loves to unpack their layers of meaning. Take the dream of the chief butler in the Joseph story. In (Genesis 40:9), he recounts, "In my dream, behold, a vine was before me." Sounds innocent enough. But let's see what Bereshit Rabbah, a classic collection of rabbinic interpretations of Genesis, has to say about it.

"And on the vine were three tendrils, and it was as though it was budding; its blossoms emerged, and its clusters produced ripe grapes" (Genesis 40:10). The rabbis of the Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) don't see a random vine. Oh no. They see Israel. As it says in (Psalms 80:9), "You transported a vine from Egypt." So, if the vine represents Israel, who are the tendrils? According to Bereshit Rabbah, they're Moses, Aaron, and Miriam – the siblings who led the Israelites out of slavery.

The budding, blossoming, and ripening? That's the redemption of Israel unfolding, according to the Midrash. It's a beautiful image – the promise of freedom growing and flourishing. The butler continues, "And Pharaoh's cup was in my hand; I took the grapes, pressed them into Pharaoh's cup, and I gave the cup into Pharaoh's hand" (Genesis 40:11). Then Joseph interprets the dream, saying the three tendrils are three days, and in three days, Pharaoh will restore the butler to his position (Genesis 40:12-13).

The rabbis don't stop there. They ask: What deeper significance might be encoded in this dream? What connections can we draw to other parts of Jewish tradition?

"And Pharaoh's cup was in my hand…" On this, the Sages instituted the four cups of wine on Passover eve, the Seder. Why four? Rav Huna, in the name of Rabbi Benaya, connects them to the four expressions of redemption in Egypt: "I will take you out…I will deliver you…I will redeem you…I will take you" (Exodus 6:6–7). That's A dream in a prison cell foreshadowing the central ritual of Jewish freedom!

Rabbi Shmuel bar Naḥman sees the four cups reflected in the butler's dream itself. Rabbi Levi, however, offers a different perspective: the four cups correspond to the four kingdoms that will oppress Israel. Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi takes it even further, linking them to the "four cups of bewilderment" that God will give the idolaters to drink, citing verses from Jeremiah and Psalms.

But don't worry, it's not all doom and gloom! Corresponding to those cups of bewilderment, God will give Israel four cups of salvation in the future. As it says in Psalms, "The Lord is my lot," and "I will lift a cup of salvation." Bereshit Rabbah even points out that (Psalm 116:13) doesn't say "a cup of salvation" (kos yeshua), but "a cup of salvations" (kos yeshuot) – plural! This alludes to the third and fourth cups, one for the messianic era and one for the days of Gog, the apocalyptic figure from the Book of Ezekiel.

Finally, there's Joseph's plea: "If only you remember me when it shall be well for you…and take me out of this house" (Genesis 40:14). Bereshit Rabbah notes that Joseph tells the butler, you gave me good tidings, and I too will give you good tidings.

And then, a final, intriguing observation: "For I was abducted from the land of the Hebrews." The Hebrew phrase, gunov gunavti, literally, "stolen, I was stolen". Rav Aḥa says that from here it may be derived that he was abducted twice (Genesis 40:15). Perhaps he was sold by his brothers, and then stolen again by the Midianites? Or perhaps, the act of throwing him into the pit was itself a form of kidnapping, followed by the Midianites stealing him from the pit? It's a reminder of the layers of trauma and injustice that Joseph endured.

So, what do we take away from all this? A dream isn't just a dream. It's a portal. Through careful interpretation, it can reveal profound truths about our history, our future, and our relationship with God. And sometimes, it can even give us a good reason to raise a glass – or four – at the Seder table. Next time you're at a Seder, maybe you'll remember the butler's dream and the long chain of interpretations that connect it to our deepest hopes for redemption.

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Bereshit Rabbah 91:5Bereshit Rabbah

In Bereshit Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic interpretations of the Book of Genesis, we find a powerful exploration of Joseph's role during the famine. It all starts with Jacob noticing that there was grain in Egypt (Genesis 42:1). This seemingly simple observation sparks a deeper dive into the contrasting figures of Joseph and Pharaoh, and the responsibility that comes with wielding power.

The verse from Proverbs (11:26) sets the stage: “The withholder of grain, the nation will curse him, but blessing will be on the head of the provider.” The Rabbis immediately identify Pharaoh as "the withholder," the one who hoarded the grain during the years of plenty, and Joseph as the provider, the one who sustained the world during the famine. While Pharaoh sought to control, Joseph sought to nurture. Pharaoh’s actions led to the people cursing him, while Joseph’s actions were likened to a shepherd leading his flock. As David says in (Psalms 80:2), "Shepherd of Israel, listen. Appear to us, You who led Joseph like a flock.” The Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) even imagines David, during a famine in his own time, pleading with God to lead His flock as Joseph did.

The story takes a fascinating turn when the Egyptians, desperate for food, come to Joseph. He tells them, according to Bereshit Rabbah, that his God does not sustain the uncircumcised, and that they must circumcise themselves to receive grain. Understandably, they’re not thrilled. They go crying to Pharaoh, who, in a moment of almost comical frustration, reminds them that he told them to obey Joseph all along! He points out they were warned about the famine during the years of plenty and should have stored grain, but they were negligent.

The text then introduces a rather intriguing detail: even the leftover flour and bread in their houses had rotted. It is here that Pharaoh utters the famous line: “Go to Joseph; what he says to you, you shall do.” But the Egyptians are still wary, fearing that Joseph might issue a decree against them, as he seemingly did against the grain. Pharaoh’s response? "Go to Joseph; if he tells you cut your flesh, heed him." Pharaoh has placed all of his faith in Joseph's ability to save them.

Rabbi Shmuel bar Nahman offers a profound insight into the verse "The famine was on the entire face [of the earth]" (Genesis 41:56). Why "face" instead of just "earth"? He explains that the famine began with the wealthy – "the face of the earth." The wealthy, when prosperous, have a "face" to see others, meaning they are welcoming and generous. But when poverty strikes, they are ashamed and lose face. Thus, the phrase "the famine was on the entire face" implies that the suffering began with those who had the most to lose. The Rashash commentary further clarifies that the term "nation" (le’om) in the verse "The withholder of grain, the nation will curse him" refers specifically to the wealthy and prominent members of society.

This interpretation highlights the heavy responsibility that comes with wealth and power. It’s not just about accumulating resources, but about using them wisely and compassionately, especially in times of crisis. Joseph, in this reading, becomes a model for responsible leadership, contrasting sharply with Pharaoh's initial hoarding.

So, what does this ancient story tell us today? Perhaps it’s a reminder that our actions, no matter how small they may seem, have consequences. And perhaps it’s a call to consider how we use our own "grain" – our resources, our talents, our influence – to alleviate suffering and build a more just and compassionate world. Are we hoarders, or are we providers? That choice, Bereshit Rabbah suggests, will determine whether we are cursed or blessed.

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Bereshit Rabbah 91:7Bereshit Rabbah

The Bible is full of them, and the story of Joseph and his brothers is no exception. It's a tale of betrayal, forgiveness, and ultimately, reconciliation. But what about the subtle nuances, the unspoken emotions, the questions that linger just beneath the surface? to one fascinating piece from Bereshit Rabbah 91, a collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Genesis. It focuses on the moment Joseph, now a powerful figure in Egypt, first encounters his brothers after years of separation. (Genesis 42:7) tells us, "Joseph saw his brothers [and he recognized them, but he acted as a stranger to them]." Rabbi Yehoshua bar Nehemya astutely points out: "He became like a stranger to them." But how could he, after all those years?

The text goes on: “Joseph recognized his brothers…(Genesis 42:8) Rabbi Levi and the Rabbis [discuss this verse]. Rabbi Levi said: When they fell into his hands: “Joseph recognized his brothers.” When he fell into their hands: “But they did not recognize him.” Isn’t that telling? Rabbi Levi highlights the power dynamic at play. When Joseph was at their mercy, they didn’t see him, or perhaps they refused to acknowledge who he truly was. But when they were in his power, his recognition was immediate.

Why this disparity? The Rabbis offer a compelling explanation: "He parted from them when they were bearded, so ‘Joseph recognized his brothers.’ ‘But they did not recognize him,’ as they parted from him when he was not bearded." It's a simple, almost comical detail – the presence or absence of a beard! But it speaks to the superficiality of their perception. They were so focused on the external that they missed the internal, the essence of who Joseph was.

There's more. "Joseph remembered…and said to them…[They said to him:] We are all the sons of one man” (Genesis 42:9–11). The text emphasizes, "they had a spark of the Divine Spirit." Even in their deception, even in their flawed actions, they possessed a connection to something greater. "They said to him: 'We and you are the sons of one man.'" This declaration, according to the Rabbis, reveals a fundamental truth: their shared ancestry created an undeniable bond.

Joseph, testing them, accuses them of being spies. Their response? “We, [your servants,] are twelve [brothers, sons of one man…and one is absent]” (Genesis 42:13). The story then takes a darker turn, as Joseph interrogates them about their missing brother. He asks how much they sold him for and then presents a hypothetical: would they even buy him back at any price? Their chilling answer: "It is for that purpose that we descended, either to kill or to be killed.”

This reveals the depth of their desperation and perhaps, their lingering guilt. They are willing to die rather than betray their current situation. Joseph, still probing, declares, "That is what I spoke to you, [saying: You are] spies." He then demands they prove their innocence by bringing their youngest brother, Benjamin, to Egypt.

The narrative then highlights Joseph's use of an oath: “With this you shall be put to the test: As Pharaoh lives, you shall not depart from here, unless your youngest brother comes here” (Genesis 42:15). Rabbi Levi offers a fascinating analogy: a woman who hides a stolen goat and then swears by "this one" (referring to a child she pretends is in the bed) that she knows nothing about it. This illustrates the deceptive nature of oaths, especially when used to manipulate and control. As we see, "as Pharaoh lives" was Joseph's go-to phrase when being untruthful.

Finally, the text notes that "He gathered them into custody for three days” (Genesis 42:17). The midrash, the interpretive tradition, sees significance in this timeframe. “The Holy One blessed be He never leaves the righteous in distress for three days." Joseph, in his actions, mirrors this divine attribute. Just as God offers redemption, Joseph too, will offer his brothers a path towards reconciliation. The text reminds us of other figures like Jonah, Mordechai, and David, who also experienced deliverance after a period of tribulation. "He will revive us after two days; on the third day (Hosea 6:2) of the tribes 'He will raise us.'" Just as Joseph released his brothers on the third day, so too will redemption come.

What does this all mean? It suggests that even in moments of great deception and hardship, there is always the potential for recognition, for forgiveness, and for redemption. The story of Joseph and his brothers is a powerful reminder that the bonds of family, however strained, can ultimately lead to healing and reconciliation. It also suggests that even in the darkest of times, hope, like the third day, will eventually dawn. What do you think?

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Bereshit Rabbah 95:3Bereshit Rabbah

The verse in Isaiah (11:13) says, "The jealousy of Ephraim will cease." Now, Bereshit Rabbah, that incredible collection of rabbinic interpretations of Genesis, sees a connection here to Jacob, our patriarch. Jacob always believed that Judah was responsible for Joseph’s supposed death. Remember the bloody tunic? "An evil beast devoured him," Jacob lamented (Genesis 37:33), convinced that beast was a lion. That mistrust, that "jealousy," had to be cleared before true reconciliation could occur among the tribes.

It gets even more fascinating. "He sent Judah before him" (Genesis 46:28) when approaching Joseph in Egypt. Why? Rabbi Ḥanina, son of Rabbi Aḥa, suggests two possibilities. One is practical: to arrange a residence for Jacob and his family. But the other… the other is profound: to establish a yeshiva, an academy, a place of Torah learning, so all the tribes could study together. for a second. Even before the Torah was formally given at Sinai, the drive to learn and teach Torah was already there, woven into the very fabric of the family.

How can we know this yearning for Torah is true? Well, when Joseph left Jacob, Jacob knew exactly which chapter he was teaching him. When Joseph's brothers later told Jacob, "Joseph is still alive!" (Genesis 45:26), Jacob was, understandably, skeptical. But then he remembered the chapter where they left off – the chapter of the egla arufa, the beheaded calf, a ritual dealing with unsolved murders. If the brothers knew that chapter, Jacob reasoned, he'd believe them.

Joseph? He knew it too! What did Joseph do to confirm his identity? He gave them wagons – agalot – as it is stated: “Joseph gave them wagons by Pharaoh’s order” (Genesis 45:21). The Rabbis see a hint here. The wagons allude to the idea that everywhere Jacob settled, he would study Torah, just like his ancestors.

But wait a minute! The Torah hadn’t even been given yet! How could they study it? Well, we read in Genesis (26:5) that Abraham "kept My charge, My commands, My decrees, and My Torahs." So, where did Abraham learn the Torah? Rabban Shimon has a wild image: Abraham’s two kidneys became like two jugs of water, constantly overflowing with Torah! Where does this come from? As it is stated in Psalms (16:7): “Even on nights [my kidneys] instruct me.” Or, as Rabbi Levi says, perhaps Abraham studied Torah on his own, internalizing its wisdom. Proverbs (14:14) says, "The dissembler in his heart shall have his fill from his own ways, and a good man shall be satisfied from himself."

Rabbi Yonatan Sar HaBira goes even further: Abraham knew even the intricacies of rabbinic law, like the eruv tavshilin, the joining of cooked foods that permits cooking on a festival for the Sabbath. The end of the verse in Genesis mentions "My Torahs" – plural – hinting at both the Written and Oral Torah. The oral Torah includes even rabbinic laws, like the joining of cooked foods. (See Beitza 15b)

And when did Abraham first recognize his Creator? Reish Lakish says it was at the tender age of three! He derives this from the verse "because [ekev] Abraham heeded My voice…" The numerical value of the Hebrew word ekev is one hundred and seventy-two. Abraham lived 175 years. Therefore, at age three, he recognized his Creator!

Abraham not only observed the details of the Torah, but he also taught his children, as it is stated: “For I have loved him, [so that he will command his children and his household after him and they will observe the way of the Lord]” (Genesis 18:19). And the Holy One, blessed be He, said to him: "You taught your children in this world, but in the World to Come, I, in My glory, will teach all of you the Torah," as it is stated: "All your children will be students of the Lord" (Isaiah 54:13).

So, what does all this mean? It means that the yearning for connection, for learning, for understanding God’s will, is deeply embedded in our tradition. It started with Abraham, trickled down through the generations, even through family misunderstandings and perceived betrayals. It’s a reminder that even before the formal giving of the Torah, the desire to learn and live by its principles was alive and well. And it's a challenge to us: to embrace that same yearning, to become students of the Lord, and to pass that legacy on to our own children. Because isn't that what it’s all about?

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Bereshit Rabbah 99:1Bereshit Rabbah

In Bereshit Rabbah, the classic collection of Rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Genesis, there was some serious competition involved.

The Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary), specifically Bereshit Rabbah 99, dives into this very question, drawing on a verse from Psalms (68:17): "Why are you agitated [teratzedum], ridged [gavnunim] mountains?" It presents two fascinating interpretations, one by Rabbi Yosei HaGelili and another by Rabbi Akiva. Imagine the scene: When God decided to give the Torah on Sinai, all the mountains started jostling for position, each one yelling, "Pick me! Pick me!" Tavor, Carmel, they all wanted to be the chosen one. As it says in Jeremiah (46:18), "for it is like Tavor among the mountains, [and like Carmel that reaches the sea]." They felt they were worthy.

Rabbi Yosei HaGelili interprets God as saying, "Why are you agitated, mountains? You're all mountains, sure, but you're all gavnunim." Now, gavnunim is a tricky word. The Midrash connects it to giben, meaning "hunchback" or "dwarf," and even links it to the list of blemishes that would disqualify a priest from serving in the Temple, as we find in (Leviticus 21:20).

The idea here is that God told the mountains they were flawed, unfit. Why? Because idol worship had been practiced on their peaks. Only Sinai, untouched by idolatry, was pure enough, the "mountain that God desired for His abode." Thus, as (Exodus 19:20) tells us, "the Lord descended upon Mount Sinai."

But hold on, the story doesn't end there. Rabbi Akiva offers another perspective, this time focusing on the tribes of Israel and the building of the Temple in Jerusalem. According to his reading, when Solomon decided to build the Temple, the tribes started arguing, each claiming the Temple should be built within their territory. Sound familiar?

Again, God asks, “Why are you agitated?” You're all righteous tribes, but you are gavnunim." This time, gavnunim is interpreted as "thieves," a reference to the tribes' involvement in selling Joseph into slavery.

However, the tribe of Benjamin was not involved in the sale of Joseph. Therefore, the Temple would be built on the land of Benjamin. The sons of Korah prophesied this 470 years prior when they said "My soul longs, indeed it yearns, [for the courtyards of the Lord]" (Psalms 84:3). This is because the following verse states, "They will be seen before God in Zion" (Psalms 84:8), and Zion is located in the territory of the tribe of Benjamin.

There's a debate, of course. Rabbi Yehuda argues the Temple was built in Judah, citing I (Samuel 17:12). Rabbi Shimon connects it to Rachel, who died in Efrata, but ultimately concludes it's linked to Benjamin, who is likened to a "wolf that mauls" (Genesis 49:27), a "beast of the forest" (Psalms 132:6).

So, what does it all mean?

These interpretations, woven together in Bereshit Rabbah, highlight a central theme: that true holiness isn't just about location, location, location. It's about purity of purpose, about being untainted by idolatry or wrongdoing. It's a reminder that even the most impressive mountains or the most righteous tribes can be flawed. It's about striving to be worthy of God's presence, wherever we are. And that's a lesson that resonates just as powerfully today as it did centuries ago.

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