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Joshua Crossed the Jordan Carrying Joseph's Bones

When Israel entered the promised land under Joshua, they carried two arks. Everyone remembers the Covenant. Almost no one remembers what traveled beside it.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Second Ark No One Remembers
  2. Why the River Stopped
  3. Joseph Made Them Swear Before He Died
  4. What Traveled Beside the Covenant
  5. The Spies and the Sanhedrins

The Second Ark No One Remembers

When the Israelites crossed the Jordan River under Joshua, two arks went through the water. The first was the Ark of the Covenant, carried by the Levitical priests, its feet touching the riverbed while the water piled up upstream and the nation crossed on dry ground. The second was the coffin of Joseph.

Joseph had made his brothers swear an oath before he died. He had seen clearly enough into the future to know that the descendants of the men he was speaking to would eventually leave Egypt, and when they left, they would take his bones with them (Genesis 50:25). Moses had fulfilled the first part of that oath four decades earlier, carrying the coffin out of Egypt when Israel left. Now Joshua was fulfilling the second part, carrying it across the Jordan into the land that Joseph had been promised in a dream but had never lived to enter.

Why the River Stopped

Bamidbar Rabbah, the midrashic collection on Numbers compiled in its present form around the eleventh century CE, asks what caused the Jordan to part. The answer it gives is not the Ark of the Covenant. The answer is Joseph. The tradition connects the Jordan crossing to the earlier splitting of the Red Sea under Moses and argues that both miracles turned on the same merit. At the Red Sea, God remembered Joseph's refusal of Potiphar's wife, the moment when Joseph ran and left his garment in her hand. That flight, the rabbis said, was worth a miracle. When the Jordan stood still for Joshua, it was still honoring the same act performed decades before Joseph's death by a young man who did not yet know what it would cost him.

The coffin in the water was not incidental to the miracle. It was the cause of it. The Jordan recognized what it was carrying.

Joseph Made Them Swear Before He Died

Joseph had seen enough of divine providence to understand that geography is temporary and belonging is permanent. Egypt had been his home for more than eighty years. He had been Pharaoh's viceroy. He had saved the ancient world from famine. But his bones did not belong in Egypt, and he knew it, and he made sure that everyone who outlived him knew it too.

The tradition preserved in Legends of the Jews, Ginzberg's synthesis published from 1909 to 1938, records what happened when Israel left Egypt. Moses alone went looking for the coffin. The other Israelites were occupied with acquiring Egyptian gold and silver, taking the plunder that the slavery years had earned them. Moses went to the Nile, where Joseph's coffin had been sunk in a lead box to mark the banks of the river and prevent the water from rising above its normal level. Moses stood at the edge of the water and called out: Joseph, the time has come. The coffin rose to the surface.

What Traveled Beside the Covenant

The image that Bamidbar Rabbah lingers over is the two arks moving together through the wilderness and then across the Jordan. Passersby would sometimes see the Israelites traveling and ask: what is in those two arks? They were told: the living God and the dead son of Jacob. The combination struck the rabbis as the summary of the entire biblical project. The divine presence and the bones of the patriarch, carried side by side, God's ark and Joseph's coffin, the commandments and the oath, the law and the promise, traveling together through every year of the forty until the moment they both crossed the water.

The Midrash records that when people pointed out the seeming incongruity, the rabbis explained that the dead man's coffin was being carried alongside the Ark because the dead man had fulfilled every commandment that the Ark contained. Joseph's bones had earned the right to travel with the law.

The Spies and the Sanhedrins

Bamidbar Rabbah also connects the Jordan crossing to the spy incident that had delayed it by forty years. When Moses sent twelve spies into Canaan and ten returned with a discouraging report, the entire congregation complained: if only we had died in the land of Egypt, or in this wilderness (Numbers 14:2). The Midrash identifies this entire congregation as the Sanhedrins, the governing bodies, not a random crowd of discouraged people but the established leadership, the official judicial and deliberative bodies of Israel. The delay was not the result of popular panic. It was the result of institutional failure at the highest level. Joshua's entry into the land forty years later was the fulfillment of what the Sanhedrins' failure had deferred.


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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.

Bamidbar Rabbah 16:21Bamidbar Rabbah

Bamidbar Rabbah turns to Joshua in Joseph's Time.

Remember that? Moses sends out twelve spies to scout the Promised Land. Ten of them come back terrified, painting a picture of insurmountable obstacles. Only Joshua and Caleb bring back a hopeful report, urging the people to trust in God.

The reaction? Utter despair.

"All the children of Israel complained against Moses and against Aaron," the verse says, "and the entire congregation said to them: If only we had died in the land of Egypt, or in this wilderness, if only we had died" (Numbers 14:2).

Now, who exactly is this "entire congregation" lodging these complaints? Bamidbar Rabbah identifies them as the Sanhedrins (the supreme rabbinic court) – the established ruling bodies. It wasn't just a few disgruntled individuals; it was the leadership, amplifying the negativity!

Here’s where it gets interesting. The text draws an analogy: Imagine a king bringing someone to court. The accused says something incriminating, and the king uses those very words to condemn them. "Based on what you expressed from your mouth, I am sentencing you," the king declares. "It will befall you just as you said."

And that, according to Bamidbar Rabbah, is precisely what happens here. God hears their lament, their longing for death, and says, "As I live, the utterance of the Lord, surely as you spoke in My ears, so I shall do to you" (Numbers 14:28). Their carcasses, God says, "shall fall in this wilderness" (Numbers 14:29).

Ouch. Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy.

The people, predictably, don't stop there. They start questioning God's motives: "Why does the Lord bring us…?" (Numbers 14:3-9). They even suggest appointing a new leader to take them back to Egypt! Moses and Aaron, understandably distraught, fall on their faces in prayer. Joshua and Caleb, bless their hearts, try to reason with the people, reminding them that God is with them. "If the Lord is favorably disposed to us, He will bring us…" they plead. "However, do not rebel against the Lord.."

But the people aren't having it. They accuse Moses and Aaron of being untrustworthy, claiming the other spies – the ones who spread fear and doubt – are looking out for their best interests. "Where are we ascending?" they cry. "Our brethren have weakened our heart, saying" (Deuteronomy 1:28).

The situation escalates to a terrifying degree. "The entire congregation said to stone them with stones" (Numbers 14:10). Who were they trying to stone? Bamidbar Rabbah tells us it was Moses and Aaron. Can you imagine the sheer desperation and anger in that moment?

But here, a miracle occurs. "And the glory of the Lord appeared" (Numbers 14:10). The text explains that as the people hurled stones, a pillar of cloud intervened, absorbing the impact and protecting Moses and Aaron.

So, what are we left with? It's more than just a historical account. It's a cautionary tale about the power of our words and the dangers of collective negativity. It highlights the importance of trust, even when things look bleak. And perhaps most powerfully, it reminds us that sometimes, our biggest obstacles are the ones we create ourselves. Maybe next time we feel the urge to complain, we should take a moment to remember this story, and consider the potential consequences of our words. Could it be that the Promised Land is closer than we think, if only we could find the faith to believe it?

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Legends of the Jews 1:384Legends of the Jews

Jacob, nearing the end of his life, blessed his grandsons, Ephraim and Manasseh. But within those blessings, the ancient texts whisper, lay prophecies veiled in symbolism.

" It’s from this seemingly simple comparison that so much unfolds.

In Legends of the Jews, that phrase, "like unto fishes," wasn't just a sweet sentiment. It was a coded message about the fate awaiting Joseph's descendants, the Ephraimites. How so? Well, just as fish are caught by their mouths, the Ephraimites, in later days, were destined to "invite their doom by their peculiar lisp." It's a strange and somewhat unsettling image, isn't it? The text doesn't elaborate on the "lisp," leaving us to wonder about its precise meaning and implications.

That's not all! The blessing also held a glimmer of hope. Jacob's words, Ginzberg tells us, contained a prophecy about Joshua, the son of Nun. Now, "Nun" in Aramaic means "fish." So, the "son of the fish" would be the one to lead Israel into the Promised Land. See how these layers of meaning intertwine?

And there's still more! The prophecy extends even further back, connecting to the story of Moses. Remember the terrible decree of Pharaoh, ordering all newborn Hebrew boys to be cast into the Nile? According to this interpretation, Jacob's words alluded to the sixty thousand male children born the same night as Moses, all thrown into the river with him.

The text emphasizes that these children were saved "for the sake of his merits" – presumably, the merits of Moses. And here's a striking numerical detail: "The number of boys thrown to the fishes in the river that night was equal to the number of men in Israel upon the earth." A single phrase, "like unto fishes," echoing across generations, encompassing both tragedy and redemption. It speaks to the interconnectedness of Jewish history and destiny, where even in moments of despair, a thread of hope remains, woven into the very fabric of the words we speak.

These interpretations, drawn from sources like the Talmud and Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary), remind us that the Torah is not a static text. It's a living document, constantly being reinterpreted and reapplied to new situations. And within its verses lie layers upon layers of meaning, waiting to be uncovered. What other secrets might be hiding in plain sight, waiting for us to listen closely?

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Bamidbar Rabbah 16:1Bamidbar Rabbah

What does sailing have to do with spies? Well, stick with me. The Rabbis debated this, concluding you shouldn't set out on a long voyage so close to the Sabbath. But, there's always a "but" in Jewish law! If the journey is short (like from Tyre to Sidon), or, crucially, if it's for a mitzva, a commandment, then you're good to go. In fact, if it's for a mitzva, you can sail any day. Why? Because fulfilling a commandment overrides even the Sabbath. As Sifrei Shofetim 203 points out, someone on a mitzva is exempt from certain obligations, like dwelling in a sukka (booth) during Sukkot (the Festival of Tabernacles).

That brings us back to our spies.

The text emphasizes that nothing is as precious to God as someone devoted to fulfilling a mission. To illustrate this, Bamidbar Rabbah draws a comparison, a striking one, to the spies sent by JoshuaPinḥas and Caleb. Remember them? These weren't just any spies; they were dedicated, risking their lives for the mission. (Joshua 2:1) tells us, "Joshua son of Nun dispatched from Shittim two [men]…". Our Rabbis identify them as Pinḥas and Caleb, and their actions are painted in stark contrast to the spies of Moses.

How dedicated were they? The text gets wonderfully specific. They went "covertly" – heresh (חרש) in Hebrew. But the Rabbis play with the word, suggesting we read it as heres (חרס) – "clay." They pretended to be potters! Can you imagine? Shouting, "Here are pots! Come buy!" just to blend in. They even went to the house of Rahav, a… let's just say "woman of ill repute," in Jericho (Joshua 2:1). She sheltered them, even when the King of Jericho came looking.

Here's where it gets really interesting. Pinḥas, being a priest (a kohen (a priest)), declared to Rahav that he didn’t need hiding. Why? Because priests, like angels (malakhim), can appear and disappear at will! That's based on (Malachi 2:7), which compares priests to messengers, angels, of God. Similarly, prophets are compared to angels, as we see in (Numbers 20:16). So, Pinḥas tells Rahav to hide only Caleb, his counterpart, while he will simply stand before them unseen. And she did! (Joshua 2:4) subtly tells us she only hid "him". Caleb.

The text makes a point of stressing how much these two righteous men devoted themselves to perform their mission. And then comes the punchline: "However, the emissaries that Moses sent were wicked men." A rather stark contrast isn't it? Where do we get that? From the very phrase, "Send you men." The implication is that Moses was acting on his own accord, rather than at God's explicit command. This hints at the spies' ultimate failure, the fear they instilled in the Israelites, and the consequences that followed.

So, what's the takeaway? It's not just about obedience, but about intention. About wholeheartedly embracing a mission, about the lengths one will go to fulfill a sacred task. And perhaps, a cautionary tale: even a mission that seems divinely ordained can go terribly wrong if the hearts of those carrying it out aren't truly aligned with the divine will.

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Sifrei Devarim 23:3Sifrei Devarim

Why all this talk of "going up"? It's not just poetic license. The Sifrei Devarim, a collection of early rabbinic legal interpretations on the Book of Deuteronomy, points to a fascinating idea: that the Land of Israel is literally higher than all other lands.

Where does this come from? The text references several verses to make its case. Remember in (Numbers 13:30), when Caleb urges, "Let us go up and inherit it?" And then in the next chapter, verse 21, "And they went up and spied out the land?" Even way back in (Genesis 45:25), we read, "And they went up from Egypt and they came to the land of Canaan." Each of these instances uses the verb "to go up" (la'alot) when referring to entering the land.

The Sifrei connects all these "ascents" to the inherent elevation, both physical and spiritual, of the Promised Land. It's more than just geography. It's about aspiration, about striving toward something greater.

Here's where it gets even more interesting. The Sifrei then quotes, "And they returned word to us and they said: Good is the land that the L-rd our G-d gives us." Wait a minute! Did everyone really say it was a "good land?" Didn't most of the spies bring back a terrible report, filled with fear and doubt?

That's precisely the question the Sifrei asks. "Now did they speak good (of the land)? Did they not speak evil of it?"

Of course they did! Only Joshua and Caleb, those beacons of faith, spoke positively. The others, gripped by fear, focused on the obstacles and the giants. And even after their brave report, as we read in (Deuteronomy 1:26), "And you did not desire to go up, and you opposed the word of the L-rd your G-d."

So, what's the takeaway? Maybe the Sifrei is hinting at something deeper. Perhaps the "going up" isn't just about physical elevation, but about the spiritual ascent required to truly see the good in the Land, and in life itself. It takes faith, courage, and a willingness to rise above our fears to appreciate the gifts we're given. Maybe that's why even now, we say, “aliya l’Eretz Yisrael," going up to the Land of Israel, regardless of the actual direction we travel. It’s always an upward journey, a spiritual climb.

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