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Joseph in the Pit While His Brothers Sat Down to Eat

The pit had no water. The midrash says it had serpents and scorpions instead. Joseph was seventeen and screaming. His brothers ate bread.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. What Was in the Pit
  2. The Brothers Who Ate Bread While He Screamed
  3. The Gates of Paradise and the Righteous
  4. What Potiphar's Household Revealed
  5. Avrech and the Announcement That Could Not Be Translated

What Was in the Pit

The Torah says the pit had no water in it. One sentence. No elaboration. Midrash Mishlei, a midrash on the Book of Proverbs, looked at that single sentence and pressed on it the way a tongue presses on a sore tooth. If the Torah specifies there was no water, it is telling you there was something else instead. Serpents. Scorpions.

Joseph was seventeen years old. His brothers had stripped his coat from him, the ornamented coat his father had given him, the one that had made them hate him enough to do this, and dropped him in. He screamed. The Torah does not say he screamed. The Talmud does. Years later, when his brothers were standing before the Egyptian viceroy and could not understand why the man was treating them so strangely, the Talmud records that they said to each other: we saw his distress when he pleaded with us and we did not listen. They had heard him in the pit.

The Brothers Who Ate Bread While He Screamed

After throwing him in, they sat down to eat bread. The Torah places these two facts in direct sequence with no commentary between them. The Midrash did not need to add commentary. It only needed to repeat the sequence: Joseph is in the pit with the serpents, his brothers are eating bread. Proverbs 1:11 had already described men who lie in wait for blood, who lurk for the innocent without cause. The Midrash found that description and pointed it at Dothan.

Judah was the one who suggested selling him rather than leaving him to die. The tradition later credited this as a kind of moral minimum, not goodness, but the edge of it. He had prevented a killing. The rabbis also noted that Judah would later lose two sons of his own to early death, and would stand before his own unrecognized son decades later, and the pattern of recognition and its absence would work its way through his family for the rest of the narrative.

The Gates of Paradise and the Righteous

The parallel tradition about the gates of Paradise belongs to a different but intersecting strand of the story. Ginzberg's compilation from Legends of the Jews describes the entrance to Paradise as two immense gates of carbuncle, guarded by six hundred thousand angels each radiating light like the sun. The righteous who arrive at those gates are escorted through by specific angels designated for that purpose.

Joseph's connection to this image comes through what the tradition held he had preserved in Egypt. He had been tested by Potiphar's wife and refused her repeatedly over years of daily pressure. The Midrash called this the test of chastity and held it as the defining trial of his character, the thing that made everything else in his life possible. He had been placed in charge of Potiphar's entire household. He had been trusted completely. And when the test came, repeatedly, he had said no each time.

What Potiphar's Household Revealed

Potiphar did not perceive God directly. He perceived the effects of God's presence in a man. Every time Joseph touched something, it prospered. The house prospered. The fields prospered. Potiphar could not explain it but he kept giving Joseph more responsibility because the evidence was in the accounts.

Bereshit Rabbah asked what kind of divine presence this was. Not a vision. Not a voice. Something more like light that conducted itself through Joseph's hands into whatever he handled. The rabbis called this the same quality that had operated in the pit, not that the serpents failed to bite him by accident, but that the same force that would later make Potiphar's grain stores overflow had kept the creatures in the pit passive while Joseph screamed above them.

Avrech and the Announcement That Could Not Be Translated

When Pharaoh elevated Joseph and had him ride in the second chariot, runners went before him shouting a single word: Avrech. The Torah gives the word but not its meaning. The rabbis disagreed about what it meant. Father in wisdom, young in years. Or the Aramaic for bow the knee. Or a combination of both, bow down before this man, who is father in wisdom though young in age.

What the rabbis agreed on was that the word was a compressed attempt to say something about Joseph that the ordinary vocabulary of rank did not cover. He had gone from pit to palace in a single generation. He had passed through everything the tradition called trial and arrived at the place Pharaoh needed him to be. The word shouted before his chariot was the announcement that the man the serpents had not bitten was now second in command to the king of Egypt.


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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.

Midrash Mishlei 1:9Midrash Mishlei

[9] "If they say, 'Come with us, let us lie in wait for blood; let us lurk secretly for the innocent without cause'" - These are the brothers of Joseph, who were lurking and saying, 'When will the end come, and we will kill him?' And when he came to them, they began to say to one another, 'This is the hour; this is the season,' and the Divine Presence (Shechinah) was jesting and saying, 'Woe to them for the blood of this righteous one.' Therefore, it is said, "We will lurk secretly for the innocent without cause." And of them all, none wanted to save him except Reuben, as it is said, "Reuben heard, and he saved him from their hand." He said to them, 'Come, and I will give you advice,' They said to him, 'What advice are you giving us?' He said to them, 'Let us throw him into the pit while he is alive, and our hand will not be upon him,' From where [do we learn this]? As it is stated: (Proverbs 1:12): "We will swallow them up alive as the grave, and whole, as those that go down into the pit" - that he went down to the pit in his innocence, and he did not know what they were going to do to him. Rabbi Levi ben Zavdai said: "Who lowered [Joseph] into the pit from among all his brothers? You must say it was Simeon and Levi, as it is said (Genesis 49:6), 'Into their council let my soul not enter.' But Reuben intended to save him and return him to his father, as it is said (Genesis 37:22), 'That he might save him from their hand, to restore him to his father.' (Genesis 37:29): 'And Reuben returned to the pit' - where was he? Rabbi Judah and Rabbi Nehemiah [disagreed]: Rabbi Judah said, 'The burden of the household was thrust upon him, and as soon as he was free from his burden, he came and looked into the pit and did not find him. This is the meaning of "And Reuben returned to the pit, and behold, Joseph was not in the pit, and he tore his clothes."' Rabbi Nehemiah said, 'He was occupied in his sackcloth and fasting over the incident that occurred, and he did not turn [from it], and as soon as he was free from his sackcloth and fasting, he came and looked into the pit and did not find him, as it says "And Reuben returned to the pit, etc." ' Not only that, but once they sold him, the Divine Presence (Shechinah) mocked them and said to them (Isaiah 55:8), 'For my thoughts are not your thoughts, etc.,' not with the thought that you think, 'nor your ways my ways,' and not in the way that you say, for if there were not a decree from before Me, your counsel would be nothing. (Proverbs 1:13): 'All precious substance shall we find, our houses shall be filled with spoil' - this is the sale of Joseph, who was a precious son to his father, as it is said (Genesis 37:3), 'For he was the son of his old age,' he was found to sustain them, as it is written (Genesis 45:5), 'For God sent me before you to preserve life.' 'Our houses shall be filled with spoil' - that they filled their houses with silver and gold from Joseph's treasures. Rabbi Joshua ben Levi said: The ten martyrs were drawn [to their deaths] only by the sin of selling Joseph. Rabbi Avin said: You must say that ten were exacted from every generation, and still, that sin persists. (Proverbs 1:14): 'Your lot shall be cast among us' - when Joseph sat down, he took the key and was calling out: Reuben, Simeon, Levi, Judah, Issachar, Zebulun - they are sons of one mother, let them come and sit; Dan and Naphtali - they are sons of one mother, let them come and sit; Gad and Asher - they are sons of one mother, let them come and sit; and he went back and hit with the key and said: Benjamin is an orphan, and I am an orphan, it is fitting for an orphan to sit with an orphan, 'One purse shall be ours' - for they all ate at one table at the banquet. How did he do it? He gave each one one portion, and to Benjamin five portions, how? He took his portion, and Benjamin's portion, and Ephraim's portion, and Manasseh's portion, and the portion of Asenath, Joseph's wife, and gave it to Benjamin, as it is said (Genesis 43:34): 'And he took and sent portions to them from before him, but Benjamin's portion was five times as much as any of theirs, and they drank and were merry with him.' Rabbi Shmuelai said in the name of Rabbi Isaac from Magdala: From the day that Joseph separated from his brothers he did not taste the taste of wine until that day, as it is written (Genesis 49:26), 'And the crown of the head of his brothers' Nazirite.' Rabbi Yosei bar Hanina said: They also did not taste the taste of wine, as it is said, 'And they drank and were merry with him.' Another explanation, 'Your lot shall be cast among us' - this is the Torah, which was the lot of the Holy One, Blessed be He, and given to Israel; 'One purse shall be ours' - at the time when they stood at Mount Sinai and said (Exodus 24:7), 'All that the Lord has spoken we will do and we will hear.'"

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Legends of the Jews 1:38Legends of the Jews

Entering Paradise isn't just strolling through a gate. Imagine two immense gates made of carbuncle, a fiery, glowing gem. And guarding them? Sixty myriads – that's six hundred thousand – of angels, each radiating the brilliance of the heavens themselves!

Ginzberg's Legends of the Jews describes this incredible scene: When a righteous person arrives, the angels don't just wave them through. They remove the burial clothes and clothe the newcomer in seven shimmering garments made of clouds of glory. Two crowns are placed upon their head: one of precious stones and pearls, and another of pure gold from Parvaim (a legendary source of the finest gold). They're handed eight myrtles, fragrant symbols of blessing and peace. And then, the angels sing praises, welcoming them with the words, "Go thy way, and eat thy bread with joy."

What's next? Each person gets their own canopy, its size and beauty reflecting their merits. And under that canopy? Four rivers flow: one of milk, one of balsam (a fragrant resin), one of wine, and one of honey. Can you picture it?

It gets even better. The Zohar tells us that each canopy is draped with a golden vine, from which hang thirty pearls, each shining like the planet Venus. Beneath each canopy is a table crafted from precious stones and pearls. And attending to each righteous soul are sixty angels, encouraging them: "Go and eat with joy of the honey, for thou hast busied thyself with the Torah, and she is sweeter than honey, and drink of the wine preserved in the grape since the six days of creation, for thou hast busied thyself with the Torah, and she is compared to wine." The Torah, God’s word, is the key to this paradise.

Even the least among the righteous are said to be as beautiful as Joseph and Rabbi Johanan, radiant as the shimmering seeds of a silver pomegranate in the sun. There is no need for artificial light, because "the light of the righteous is the shining light."

But the most amazing part? The righteous undergo four transformations every single day, passing through the joys of childhood, youth, adulthood, and old age. As we find in Midrash Rabbah, they experience the best of each stage of life, continually renewed and revitalized.

So, what does all of this tell us? Maybe it's not about a literal place, but about the ultimate state of being. A state of joy, beauty, and constant renewal, earned through a life dedicated to Torah and righteousness. It's a powerful image, isn't it? A reminder that our actions in this world have profound and lasting consequences, shaping not just our present, but our eternal future. And maybe, just maybe, it's a glimpse of the incredible potential that lies within us all.

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Bereshit Rabbah 86:5Bereshit Rabbah

A reader can imagine a golden aura, a constant stream of good fortune. But what if it’s something more subtle, more… human?

" Sounds straightforward. But the Rabbis, in Bereshit Rabbah, that treasure trove of rabbinic interpretations of Genesis, dig a little deeper. They ask: What kind of "with-ness" are we talking about here?

The Rabbis point out an interesting contrast. Remember later, when Joseph names his son Manasseh? He says, "God has caused me to forget all my toil" (Genesis 41:51). Wait a minute… forget? If God was so clearly "with" him, why the forgetting?

One interpretation, mentioned by Etz Yosef, suggests that "The Lord was with him" meant that Joseph was constantly reviewing his Torah studies. He was dedicated. But, over time, in the hustle of Egyptian life, he… forgot. The familiar version gives us how that feels, don't we? That burning passion for learning that slowly fades as life gets in the way.

Rav Huna, quoting Rav Aḥa, adds another layer. He pictures Joseph constantly whispering – entering a room whispering, leaving a room whispering. Yefeh To’ar suggests this whispering was either his Torah studies or his prayers. Can you imagine that? The constant hum of devotion, a subtle but persistent connection to the Divine, woven into the fabric of his daily life.

And then there's the miraculous stuff. Potiphar, Joseph's master, would ask for boiling water, and it would be boiling. Lukewarm water? Perfectly lukewarm! "The Lord was with him" in the sense that Joseph had success beyond the natural order, almost like…magic.

But even that raised eyebrows. Potiphar apparently said, "What, Joseph, are you bringing straw to Efrayim, earthenware pots to Kefar Ḥanina, fleeces to Damascus, sorcery to Egypt – sorcery in a place of sorcerers?" In other words, what are you showing off for? Egypt was already known for its magic!

So, where does that leave us? What was it that Potiphar saw? Rabbi Ḥiyya offers a powerful answer: Potiphar saw the Shekhinah, the Divine Presence, standing over Joseph. It wasn’t just about perfectly heated water or a knack for management. It was about something deeper, something radiating from Joseph's very being.

But here’s the thing to ponder: if Joseph eventually forgot his Torah studies, if even his connection to the Divine could be obscured by the passage of time... what does that say about the nature of blessing? Perhaps it's not a permanent state, but a continuous effort, a constant choice to reconnect, to whisper our prayers, to remember what truly matters. Perhaps the real miracle isn't the boiling water, but the enduring flame of the soul, however faint it may sometimes seem.

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Sifrei Devarim 1:20Sifrei Devarim

They're often more than just sounds; they're little doorways into fascinating interpretations. Take the story of Joseph in Egypt.

Pharaoh, impressed by Joseph's wisdom, elevates him to a position of power. The Torah tells us (Genesis 41:43) that Pharaoh had Joseph ride in the chariot next to his, and "they called before him 'Avrech'". Now, what in the world does Avrech mean?

R. Yehudah, in Sifrei Devarim, offers a beautiful, almost poetic explanation. He suggests that Avrech is a combination of two Hebrew words: av, meaning "father," and rach, meaning "young." So, according to R. Yehudah, Avrech signifies that Joseph was a father in wisdom, despite being young in years. a young man, suddenly thrust into a position of immense responsibility, guiding an entire nation with his insight. It's a powerful image!

The interpretation doesn't end there. R. Yossi b. Dormaskith challenges R. Yehudah's interpretation. He vehemently disagrees, even going so far as to invoke heaven and earth as witnesses! He insists that Avrech actually refers to the bending of the knees (birkayim).

Why such a strong reaction? Well, R. Yossi b. Dormaskith's understanding emphasizes the respect and deference shown to Joseph. It's not just about his wisdom, but about the honor and authority he commands. People are bowing before him, acknowledging his power.

And that power, the text continues, extended to every corner of Egypt. "And he set him over all the land of Egypt," meaning, as Sifrei Devarim clarifies, that everyone entered and left by his command. Joseph controlled the flow, the very lifeblood of the nation.

So, what do we make of these different interpretations? Is Avrech about Joseph's wisdom or his authority? Perhaps it’s both. Maybe the beauty lies in the many-sided nature of the word, capturing both his inherent qualities and the power bestowed upon him.

These different readings remind us that the Torah isn't always a straightforward text. It invites us to delve deeper, to wrestle with different interpretations, and to find our own understanding within its ancient words. It encourages us to see the layers of meaning, the richness hidden just beneath the surface. And maybe, just maybe, that's the point of it all.

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Bereshit Rabbah 85:2Bereshit Rabbah

You're reading one story, and suddenly – BAM! – It can feel a little jarring. Well, the ancient Rabbis noticed this too, and they dove deep into those textual "interruptions" to find hidden meaning.

Take the story of Joseph being sold into slavery in Egypt. Genesis chapter 37 ends with Joseph's descent. Then, chapter 38 throws us into the story of Judah and Tamar. Only in chapter 39 do we get back to Joseph and Potiphar's house. Why this detour? Why does the Torah juxtapose these seemingly unrelated narratives? That's exactly what Bereshit Rabbah 85, a collection of rabbinic homilies on the Book of Genesis, wrestles with.

Rabbi Elazar offers one explanation: to juxtapose "descent to descent." Judah's story, with all its complications and moral ambiguities, is itself a kind of "descent," a fall from grace. According to Yefe To’ar, this descent reflects Judah's diminished standing among his brothers because of the pain Joseph's sale caused their father, Jacob.

Then, Rabbi Yoḥanan chimes in. He sees a connection between the two instances of "identify." Remember when Joseph's brothers ask Jacob to "identify" Joseph's tunic, soaked in blood? And later, Tamar asks Judah to "identify" the items he left as collateral. Etz Yosef suggests that Judah's role in the deception regarding Joseph comes back to haunt him when he is publicly shamed by Tamar. It's a powerful parallel, highlighting themes of deception and accountability.

But it gets even more interesting. Rabbi Shmuel bar Naḥman suggests that the stories of Tamar and Potiphar's wife are intentionally placed together. He argues that just as Tamar acted "for the sake of Heaven," so too did Potiphar's wife. Wait, what? Potiphar's wife, who falsely accuses Joseph of assault? Acting for the sake of Heaven?

According to Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi, Potiphar's wife saw through astrology that she was destined to have a child with Joseph, though she didn't know if it would be through her or her daughter. This idea comes from (Isaiah 47:13), which refers to astrologers foretelling the future. Rabbi Aivu clarifies that while astrologers can see some things, they don't see everything.

This is a wild idea, isn't it? That even seemingly negative actions might have a hidden, higher purpose. It challenges us to look beyond the surface and consider the complex motivations of the characters.

The Rabbis continue to explore these textual juxtapositions with other examples. Why is the story of the serpent placed between the verse about Adam and Eve being naked and the verse about God clothing them? Rabbi Yehoshua ben Korḥa says it's to explain the serpent's motivation: he was lustful. Rabbi Yaakov of Kefar Ḥanin adds another reason: to avoid ending a section with God's curses related to the serpent. We want to end on a high note if possible!

And what about the Book of Daniel? Why does the text jump from Nebuchadnezzar to Belshazzar to Darius the Mede, skipping Evil Merodakh? Rabbi Elazar says it's to juxtapose wicked rulers, tormentors, and conceited individuals. Rabbi Shmuel bar Naḥman adds that it's to juxtapose truncated reigns. Rav Huna offers another explanation: to show that the book was written with divine inspiration, which sometimes transcends chronological order. The Rabbis add that Judah suggested to his brothers that they disperse, fearing collective punishment for selling Joseph. God, however, assures them that individual accountability remains, regardless of their collective actions.

Finally, the Rabbis suggest that Judah's initiative to marry stems from Jacob's preoccupation with mourning Joseph, leading Judah to take matters into his own hands. However, this descent into marrying a gentile woman and experiencing familial losses highlights the consequences of his actions.

So, what's the takeaway from all of this? It's that the Torah's apparent "interruptions" are never random. They're carefully crafted connections, inviting us to dig deeper, to explore the nuances of the story, and to find meaning in the spaces between the lines. They remind us that even in moments of darkness and apparent randomness, there can be a hidden order, a divine plan unfolding. And perhaps, just perhaps, even the actions of those we judge most harshly might have a purpose we can't fully comprehend. Food for thought.

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