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Joseph Was Sold and His Brothers Could Not Eat

After selling Joseph, the brothers went back to look for him. Reuben searched the empty pit and wept. They could not eat or move for three days.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Pit Reuben Found Empty
  2. The Coat That Became a Lie
  3. Prison and the Idols Joseph Would Not Allow
  4. What the Brothers Carried for Twenty Years

The Pit Reuben Found Empty

Reuben had been absent when the caravan appeared. He had not been the one to suggest the sale, had not taken any silver, had not seen his brother lifted from the pit and handed over. He returned later, alone, and called Joseph's name down into the dark. Nothing answered. He assumed the worst: that Joseph had died of fright in there, or that a snake had found him. He tore his clothing and wept in a place where no one could see him do it.

The Book of Jasher does not move on after the sale the way the Torah does. The Torah is efficient about the worst moment: one verse for the decision, one verse for the transaction, and then the text moves forward to Judah and Tamar. Jasher stays. It records what the brothers did after the caravan passed: they sat down together and could not eat. Three days they sat by the pit. Three days of the specific silence that follows an irreversible act. Simeon and Levi had driven the thing forward. Judah had framed the sale as the merciful alternative to murder. Reuben had been somewhere else. None of them had meant to reach where they had arrived.

The Coat That Became a Lie

They stripped Joseph's ornamented coat before throwing him in. The coat was the problem from the beginning, the visible sign of Jacob's favoritism, the thing that had made their hatred coalesce into something actionable. Now they had it. They dipped it in the blood of a goat and brought it to their father, and Jacob's grief broke everyone in the house who witnessed it. He would not be comforted. He said he would go down to Sheol mourning his son. The brothers watched this and said nothing.

Meanwhile the Ishmaelites who had bought Joseph sold him onward to Potiphar, captain of Pharaoh's guard. Joseph arrived in Egypt as a slave. Potiphar purchased him and put him to work in his house, and Joseph proved himself capable enough that Potiphar gave him authority over everything he owned. Then Potiphar's wife accused Joseph of assault, and Potiphar threw him in prison.

Prison and the Idols Joseph Would Not Allow

The prison was not only a delay. Joseph spent years there. He interpreted dreams for Pharaoh's butler and baker. He waited for the butler to mention him to Pharaoh. The butler forgot him for two full years.

The Legends of the Jews preserves a detail about Joseph's later years in Egypt that reveals how fully he understood the stakes of his position. When the famine came and all the surrounding nations needed grain, Joseph used his control of the food supply to compel the Egyptians to abandon their idols. He would not sell grain to a household that still maintained its idols. The Egyptians complied. They had no choice. The man they had purchased for twenty pieces of silver was now the instrument through which Egypt gave up its gods, one household at a time, in exchange for bread.

What the Brothers Carried for Twenty Years

The connection between the sale and the remorse runs across the entire Joseph story like an unhealed scar. When the brothers stood before Joseph in Egypt and he accused them of being spies, they said to one another, in Hebrew, without knowing he understood: "we are guilty on account of our brother, whose distress we saw and did not listen." Twenty years after the pit, they were still there in their minds, still sitting by the empty cistern, still unable to find the moment where stopping would have been possible.

Joseph heard them say it. He turned away from them and wept.


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Jasher 43Book of Jasher

Book of Jasher turns to The Brothers' Remorse After Selling Joseph.

The chapter opens with the brothers’ remorse. “Their hearts were smitten on account of him,” the verse says, “and they repented of their acts.” They desperately seek Joseph, hoping to undo their terrible deed, but he's vanished. Reuben, the eldest, returns to the pit where they left Joseph, calling out his name, but only silence answers him. “Joseph has died through fright, or some serpent has caused his death,” he fears. He searches the pit, finding it empty.

Reuben, beside himself, tears his garments – a traditional sign of mourning – and laments, "The child is not there, and how shall I reconcile my father about him if he be dead?" He returns to his brothers, finding them already consumed by guilt and strategizing how to break the news to their father, Jacob. Reuben’s outburst only intensifies their panic. What have they done?

They swear a chilling oath: anyone who reveals the truth to Jacob, or even to anyone else, will be killed. The weight of their secret, the fear of exposure, crushes them. Then Issachar offers a solution – a horrifyingly pragmatic one. They’ll take Joseph’s coat, tear it, and dip it in the blood of a goat. They’ll send it to Jacob, letting him assume a wild animal devoured his beloved son. A deception so cruel, so calculated, it's hard to fathom.

And that’s exactly what they do. They stain the coat, trample it in the dust, and send it to Jacob via Naphtali, with the carefully rehearsed story of finding it bloodied on the road to Shechem.

The scene that follows is heart-wrenching. Jacob sees the coat, recognizes it instantly, and collapses in grief. "It is the coat of my son Joseph!" he cries. He sends a servant to find his sons, who arrive with torn clothes and dust on their heads, feigning sorrow. They repeat their fabricated story.

Jacob, consumed by anguish, believes them. "It is the coat of my son, an evil beast has devoured him; Joseph is rent in pieces!" His lament is a raw outpouring of paternal love and unbearable loss. He tears his garments, puts on sackcloth, and mourns bitterly.

Listen to the pain in his words: "Joseph my son, O my son Joseph, I sent thee this day after the welfare of thy brethren, and behold thou hast been torn in pieces; through my hand has this happened to my son… O that I had died in thy stead Joseph my son." He even cries out to Joseph, begging him to witness his grief and intercede with God.

The brothers, witnessing their father's devastation, feel a renewed wave of guilt. But the lie has taken on a life of its own. Judah tries to comfort his father, cradling his head, but Jacob refuses solace. The entire household mourns, and the news reaches Jacob's father, Isaac, who also weeps for Joseph.

In his despair, Jacob demands his sons search for Joseph's body, or at least find the animal that killed him, so he can avenge his son's death. They go out into the wilderness and return with a wolf, claiming it was the first animal they found.

Jacob, still clutching at any hope, confronts the wolf, demanding to know why it devoured his son. Then, in a truly bizarre turn, the Lord opens the wolf's mouth, and it speaks! The wolf swears it didn't kill Joseph, claiming it was also searching for its own lost son. Jacob, astonished, releases the wolf.

Despite this strange encounter, Jacob continues to mourn, inconsolable. The chapter ends with Jacob’s grief consuming him.

What are we to make of this story? The Book of Jasher, while not part of the canonical Hebrew Bible, offers a fascinating expansion of the biblical narrative. It explores the psychological and emotional consequences of the brothers' actions, highlighting the destructive power of deceit and the enduring strength of parental love. The talking wolf? Well, that reminds us that sometimes, even in the darkest of times, there's a glimmer of the unexpected, a hint of the miraculous, even if it doesn't ultimately alleviate the pain. It's a reminder that grief can lead us to strange places, and that sometimes, even the most unbelievable stories can offer a moment of respite from unbearable sorrow.

This chapter is a powerful exploration of guilt, grief, and the devastating impact of lies. It leaves us pondering the complexities of human relationships and the enduring power of love and loss.

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Bereshit Rabbah 84:16Bereshit Rabbah

Take the tale of Joseph and his brothers, for instance. The familiar story is this: jealousy, betrayal, and a colorful coat. But the Rabbis, in their infinite wisdom, saw layers of meaning we might easily miss. to one little piece of the story, from Bereshit Rabbah, specifically section 84, that sheds some light on the whole, dark affair.

The verse in (Genesis 37:23) reads: "It was when Joseph came to his brothers that they stripped Joseph of his tunic, the fine tunic that was upon him." Rabbi Elazar, in Bereshit Rabbah, offers a beautiful interpretation of Joseph's arrival. He suggests that Joseph came to his brothers with praise – in a conciliatory state of mind. He was trying to make peace. Isn't that heartbreaking? To arrive with good intentions only to be met with such animosity?

The Rabbis go even further, dissecting the act of stripping Joseph of his clothes. "They stripped Joseph," we are told, refers to his cloak. "Of his tunic" refers to his shirt. "The fine tunic" is, well, the tunic itself. And "that was upon him" refers to his undergarment. A complete and utter disrobing, a symbolic humiliation.

Then comes the verse about casting Joseph into the pit ((Genesis 37:24)). "They took him [vayikaḥuhu] and cast him into the pit, and the pit was empty; there was no water in it." But vayikaḥuhu, "they took him," is written as vayikaḥehu, "he took him." Who is the "he" in this case? The Rabbis identify Simeon as the one who seized Joseph. And the Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) doesn't let him off the hook. It suggests that Simeon eventually repaid this cruelty when Joseph, now powerful in Egypt, "took Simeon from them [and incarcerated him before their eyes]" ((Genesis 42:24)). A bit of poetic justice, perhaps?

But what about that pit? "…and the pit was empty; there was no water in it." The Rabbis, as always, find deeper meaning. It wasn’t just an empty hole in the ground. The Midrash states that though there was no water, there were serpents and scorpions! According to some interpretations, there were even two pits: one filled with stones, the other with venomous creatures. Yikes!

And then Rav Aḥa offers a particularly poignant interpretation. He says, "The pit was empty – Jacob's pit was emptied." What does that mean? It's a reference to Jacob's sons, who, by their actions, had emptied the family of its potential for unity and harmony. And the phrase "There was no water in it" is connected to the Torah itself, which is often likened to water, as we find in (Isaiah 55:1): "Ho, everyone thirsty, go to water." The absence of water in the pit, then, symbolizes the absence of Torah, of wisdom, of moral guidance in the brothers' actions.

Finally, the Midrash ends with a sharp rebuke, referencing (Deuteronomy 24:7): "If a man is found abducting any of his brethren…[and he sold him, that thief shall die]… and you are selling your brother?" The question hangs in the air, a stark reminder of the gravity of their sin.

So, what does all this tell us? It's more than just a story of sibling rivalry. It's a story of lost opportunities, of the dangers of jealousy, and of the importance of acting with kindness and wisdom. It reminds us that our actions have consequences, not just for ourselves, but for our families and communities. And maybe, just maybe, it encourages us to look a little deeper beneath the surface of the stories we think we already know. What other hidden meanings are waiting to be discovered?

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Bereshit Rabbah 86:1Bereshit Rabbah

It's like peeling an onion – each layer reveals something new, something unexpected. Take the verse from (Genesis 39:1): "Joseph was taken down to Egypt and Potiphar, the official of Pharaoh, the chief executioner, an Egyptian man, purchased him from the Ishmaelites who had taken him down there." Simple enough The first reading. But let's see what the sages have to say.

Bereshit Rabbah, that incredible collection of rabbinic interpretations of Genesis, dives deep into this seemingly straightforward statement. It begins by linking Joseph's descent into Egypt with a verse from the prophet Hosea (11:4): “With ropes of man I drew them, [with bonds of love; I was for them like those who lift the yoke above their jaws, and I leaned to them to provide food]." Now, Hosea is speaking about Israel, God's chosen people. What's the connection to Joseph?

Well, the Rabbis of the Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) see a profound parallel. Initially, the verse in Hosea refers to God's relationship with the Israelites. "With ropes of man I drew them" – these are the Israelites themselves. "With bonds of love" – "I loved you, said the Lord" (Malachi 1:2). But then comes a twist. "I was for them like those who lift the yoke" – God elevated their enemies over them. Why? "Above their jaws" – because of the words they spoke, the infamous "This is your god, Israel" (Exodus 32:8) when they created the Golden Calf. Yet, despite their failings, God ultimately provides: "I leaned to them to provide food," promising abundance.

So, how does this relate to Joseph? The Midrash offers another interpretation, ingeniously weaving Joseph into the tradition of Hosea's prophecy. "With ropes of man I drew them" – this, the Midrash suggests, refers to Joseph, echoing the verse: "They pulled [vayimshekhu] and lifted Joseph from the pit" (Genesis 37:28). See the connection? The Hebrew word for "pulled" shares a root with "drew them" in Hosea. It's that beautiful, intricate dance of language that the Rabbis so masterfully employ.

"With bonds of love" – this connects to the verse "Israel loved Joseph more than all his sons" (Genesis 37:3). But again, there's a painful twist: "I was for them like those who lift the yoke" – God elevated Joseph's enemies over him. Who was that? Potiphar's wife, the one who falsely accused him. And why? "Above their jaws" – because of the words Joseph spoke: "Joseph brought evil report of them to their father" (Genesis 37:2).

It's a sobering thought, isn't it? That Joseph's own actions, his tale-bearing, contributed to his downfall. But ultimately, as the Midrash points out, "I leaned to them to provide food" – an abundance of food. Despite the trials and tribulations, Joseph's journey to Egypt ultimately led to him providing sustenance not only for his family but for the entire land.

So, what can we take away from this intricate reading of scripture? Perhaps it's a reminder that even in moments of hardship and apparent injustice, there's a larger narrative at play. That our actions, both good and bad, have consequences that ripple outwards, sometimes in ways we can't possibly foresee. And that even when we stumble, even when we're thrown into the pit, there's always the potential for redemption, for growth, and for ultimately providing sustenance – both literally and figuratively – to those around us. It's a story of love, betrayal, hardship, and ultimately, provision – a story as relevant today as it was thousands of years ago.

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Legends of the Jews, I. Joseph, Joseph In PrisonLegends of the Jews

Joseph's imprisonment wasn't just a random act of misfortune. It was, in a way, a consequence for speaking ill of his brothers before their father, Jacob. The price? Ten long years behind bars. But it was also a reward for his incredible integrity and unwavering faith, his commitment to Kiddush (the sanctification blessing over wine) Hashem, sanctifying God's name.

As a sign of divine favor, the Hebrew letter He, which appears twice in God’s name, was added to Joseph's name, transforming him into Jehoseph. But even within the cold, harsh walls of the prison, Joseph couldn't escape the relentless attention of Potiphar's wife, Zuleika. Her passion hadn't diminished, and she saw imprisonment as an opportunity to finally bend him to her will.

She pleaded, threatened, and even offered him freedom in exchange for his compliance. "This and that outrage have I executed against thee," she'd say, "but, as thou livest, I will put yet other outrages upon thee if thou dost not obey me." But Joseph, unwavering in his faith, responded with verses, each a evidence of his trust in God. To Zuleika's threats, he countered with the Lord's love for the righteous and His protection of strangers. He famously declared, "Better it is to remain here than be with thee and commit a trespass against God."

Eventually, Zuleika gave up her pursuit. But even as a prisoner, Joseph retained his master's favor. He continued to serve Potiphar, even receiving permission to spend time outside the prison walls, in Potiphar's house. The jailer, impressed by Joseph's diligence, integrity, and captivating presence, made his life as comfortable as possible. He gave him better food and, eventually, made him overseer of the entire prison. Imagine that – a prisoner running the prison! The Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) tells us the jailer could see no wrong in him, and he observed that God was with him.

Then, in a twist of fate, two high-ranking officials – the chief butler and the chief baker – offended the king of Egypt and were thrown into the same prison. According to Midrash Rabbah, God orchestrated this to divert attention from Joseph's scandal and, more importantly, to set the stage for his eventual release. The accusations against them were serious: attempting to harm Pharaoh's daughter and conspiring to poison the king! A fly in the wine and a pebble in the bread were the (alleged) evidence.

Divine providence was at play, says Ginzberg. The king's wrath was kindled so that Joseph's wish for liberty might be fulfilled, for they were the instruments of his deliverance from prison.

After a decade of imprisonment, both the butler and the baker had strange, vivid dreams on the same night. Joseph, noticing their distress, inquired about their well-being, following the manner of the sages. They explained their shared predicament: two similar dreams, with no one to interpret them. "God granteth understanding to man to interpret dreams. Tell them me, I pray you," Joseph replied.

The chief butler recounted his dream of a vine with three branches, ripe grapes, and pressing them into Pharaoh's cup. Joseph, according to Legends of the Jews, saw a deeper meaning, a prophecy of Israel's future. The three branches represented the three patriarchs: Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. The redemption from Egypt would come through three leaders: Moses, Aaron, and Miriam. The cup given to Pharaoh symbolized the cup of wrath he would ultimately have to drink.

However, Joseph kept this profound interpretation to himself. Instead, he offered the butler a favorable interpretation of his personal dream, asking him to remember him and help him gain freedom when he was restored to his position.

The chief baker, emboldened by the butler's positive interpretation, shared his dream: three baskets of white bread on his head, with birds eating the baked goods from the uppermost basket. Again, Joseph saw a hidden prophecy: the three baskets represented the three kingdoms that would subjugate Israel – Babylon, Media, and Greece. The uppermost basket symbolized the wicked rule of Rome, which would dominate until the coming of the Messiah, the "bird" who would annihilate Rome.

Joseph kept this prophecy secret as well, offering the baker only a grim interpretation of his personal fate. Three days later, on Pharaoh's birthday, Joseph's predictions came true. The chief butler was restored to his position, and the chief baker was hanged. Pharaoh's counselors had uncovered the baker's carelessness and his involvement in the plot to poison the king.

But what about Joseph? Would the butler remember him, as he had promised? We’ll have to tune in next time to see how this story continues to unfold. because, as we all know, the story of Joseph is far from over. It's a evidence of faith, resilience, and the often-unforeseen ways in which divine providence shapes our lives. And it reminds us that even in the darkest of times, hope can still blossom, even in a prison cell.

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Legends of the Jews 1:186Legends of the Jews

A famine has gripped the land, and the Egyptians are desperate. Where do they turn? First, to their idols. But these "deceitful idols," as Joseph calls them, offer no help. So, the Egyptians approach Joseph, begging for assistance. Joseph, however, doesn't simply hand out bread. He demands something of them: "Give up your allegiance to your deceitful idols, and say, Blessed is He who giveth bread unto all flesh." It's a powerful statement, a call to recognize the one true God.

The Egyptians refuse. They're unwilling to renounce their beliefs, even in the face of starvation. Stubborn, aren't they? So, they appeal to Pharaoh himself. And what does Pharaoh tell them? "Go unto Joseph; what he saith to you, do!" Can you imagine? The most powerful man in Egypt deferring to a Hebrew slave who rose through the ranks. The text emphasizes that Pharaoh was rewarded for his humility. God granted him a long life and a long reign.. until, of course, arrogance crept in, and punishment followed. A classic cautionary tale woven right into the story!

The story takes another interesting turn. When the Egyptians come to Joseph directly for food, he sets another condition: "I give no food to the uncircumcised. Go hence, and circumcise yourselves, and then return hither." That's a pretty bold demand!

The Egyptians, naturally, are outraged. They rush back to Pharaoh, complaining about Joseph's "rough" treatment. "We warned thee in the beginning that he is a Hebrew, and would treat us in such wise." They're playing the "us vs. them" card, trying to stir up prejudice.

But Pharaoh, surprisingly, doesn't waver. Instead, he rebukes them: "O ye fools, did he not prophesy through the holy spirit and proclaim to the whole world, that there would come seven years of plenty to be followed by seven years of dearth? Why did you not save the yield of one or two years against the day of your need?" He's basically saying, "He warned you! You had your chance to prepare!"

This passage, drawn from Legends of the Jews, really highlights the complexities of power, faith, and responsibility. Joseph uses his position not just to alleviate suffering, but also to challenge the Egyptians' beliefs. Pharaoh, in turn, demonstrates a fascinating mix of respect for Joseph's wisdom and a pragmatic approach to governance. It makes you wonder, doesn’t it? What would we do in a similar situation? How far would we go to help others, and what conditions would we place on that help?

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