Parshat Vayeshev5 min read

Metatron Was the Unnamed Man Who Sent Joseph to His Brothers

The stranger who found Joseph wandering near Shechem is named in different traditions as Gabriel, as three angels working in sequence, or as Metatron.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. A Man Found Him Wandering
  2. The Three Who Counted as One
  3. Gabriel Named by the Targum
  4. Metatron, Prince of the World
  5. Why Joseph's Prison Lasted Two Extra Years

A Man Found Him Wandering

Joseph had been sent by his father to check on his brothers near Shechem, but when he arrived, they were gone. He was walking in an open field, without direction, when a man appeared and asked what he was looking for. Joseph said he was seeking his brothers. The man said they had gone to Dothan. Joseph went to Dothan, and there his brothers stripped him of his coat and threw him into an empty cistern, and from there he was sold to a passing caravan. The Torah gives the man exactly one verse, three sentences (Genesis 37:15-17), and does not name him. The rabbis spent centuries on those three sentences.

The Three Who Counted as One

Bereshit Rabbah, the great midrashic commentary on Genesis compiled in the Land of Israel approximately in the fifth century CE, focuses on the grammar of the encounter with extraordinary intensity. Rabbi Yannai observes that the passage uses the word man three times in three consecutive phrases: a man found him, the man asked him, the man said. This is not stylistic repetition. It indicates three separate actors. One angel said a man found him. A second angel said the man asked him. A third angel said the man said. The wandering in the field was not accidental and not a simple misdirection. It required three distinct heavenly agents to execute the sequence of steps that would redirect Joseph toward his destiny.

The Midrash is making a structural claim about how divine providence works in the Joseph narrative. The encounter that appears to be a chance meeting between a lost young man and a helpful stranger was actually a coordinated operation that required multiple celestial resources because the stakes were that high. Joseph's entire future, and through him the future of the Israelite nation in Egypt, depended on him finding Dothan that afternoon.

Gabriel Named by the Targum

The Targum Jonathan, an Aramaic expansion of the Torah text compiled over several centuries, takes a different approach and is more specific. Where Bereshit Rabbah distributes the encounter across three anonymous angels, the Targum identifies the stranger by name: Gabriel. The archangel of divine messages is the one who found Joseph in the field, delivered the information about Dothan, and set the tragedy in motion. Gabriel, in this version, knew what he was doing. He was not offering helpful directions to a lost boy. He was delivering Joseph to the appointment that would cost him his coat, his freedom, and a decade of his life, and would in the end place him at the right hand of Pharaoh at the moment Egypt and the ancient world needed him most.

Metatron, Prince of the World

The Tikkunei Zohar, the Kabbalistic companion text to the Zohar composed in late thirteenth-century Castile, adds a third identification. Metatron, the angel who had once been the patriarch Enoch and who serves as the prince of the world, the celestial scribe, the mediator between the upper and lower realms, is the figure standing in the field waiting for Joseph. The choice of Metatron is not arbitrary. Metatron holds the position of highest authority among the ministering angels and has access to the complete record of what is destined to occur. He was not guessing where the brothers had gone. He was steering a trajectory he had already seen in its entirety.

The Tikkunei Zohar uses the image of a bird's nest to locate Metatron in the cosmic structure: a nest above representing the Divine Throne, a nest below representing Metatron's position as the earthly mediator. Standing in the field near Shechem, Metatron was not acting locally. He was acting as the point of contact between the divine plan recorded above and the human events unfolding below.

Why Joseph's Prison Lasted Two Extra Years

The angels who shepherded Joseph through the field did not leave him once he reached Egypt. Legends of the Jews notes that Joseph's extra two years in Potiphar's prison, after the royal butler forgot to mention him to Pharaoh, were a form of correction for misplaced trust. Joseph had asked the butler to intercede for him: mention me to Pharaoh (Genesis 40:14). The tradition reads this as an error not of morality but of theology. A righteous man should have trusted that God would arrange the exit without needing a human intermediary. The two additional years were the time required for Joseph to understand that the angel who had found him in the field and delivered him to Dothan was the same order of force that would deliver him from prison, and neither event required Joseph to find his own way out.


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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.

Bereshit Rabbah 84:14Bereshit Rabbah

The Torah, and the Rabbis, have some thoughts on that. to a fascinating little piece from Bereshit Rabbah 84, a midrash (exegetical interpretation) on the Book of Genesis. It all centers on Joseph, the favored son of Jacob, and his fateful encounter with his brothers that led to him being sold into slavery.

The passage in (Genesis 37:15-17) tells us: "A man found him, and behold, he was wandering in the field. The man asked him, saying: What do you seek? He said: I seek my brothers. Please tell me where they are herding. The man said: They traveled from here, for I heard them saying: We shall go to Dotan. Joseph went after his brothers, and he found them in Dotan."

Simple enough. But the Rabbis see so much more beneath the surface.

The midrash zooms in on the phrase "A man found him, and behold, he was wandering in the field.” Rabbi Yannai suggests this wasn't just any man. He proposes that three angels came to Joseph's aid, each playing a part: “A man found him”; “the man asked him”; “the man said.” – divine intervention guiding Joseph towards his destiny, even in this seemingly small moment.

Then, the midrash takes a darker turn. "They traveled from here," the man tells Joseph. But what does "here" mean? According to the midrash, "here" refers to "the attributes of the Omnipresent." In other words, the brothers had abandoned the traits of mercy, grace, and kindness. They were acting outside of God's compassionate nature.

This sets the stage for what's coming. "They saw him from afar, and before he approached them, they conspired against him to kill him" (Genesis 37:18). The midrash intensifies this, adding, "They saw him from afar – they said: Come let us sic the dogs on him." It’s a stark image of hatred and malice.

And the brothers' words! "They said one to another: Behold, that dreamer is coming" (Genesis 37:19). The midrash picks up on this, playing with the Hebrew term ba’al hachalomot, "master of dreams". The Rabbis suggest they meant, "Here he is coming, bearing his dreams," mocking Joseph's prophetic visions. Rabbi Levi takes it a step further, ominously stating that Joseph is "destined to mislead them to follow the Baal," referencing the idol worship that his descendant Yerovam would later incite.

It’s a chilling foreshadowing, linking Joseph's story to the later sins of the Israelites.

Finally, the midrash reaches a powerful climax. "Now let us go and kill him," the brothers plot. But the Holy One, blessed be He, responds! The midrash puts these words in God’s mouth: "You say: 'And we will see' and I say: We will see – now we will see 'whose word will stand' (Jeremiah 44:28), mine or yours."

It's a divine challenge, a declaration that God's plan will ultimately prevail, despite the brothers' evil intentions. God's will vs. human will – it's a timeless theme that resonates throughout the Torah.

So, what does this all mean for us? It's a reminder that even in moments of apparent abandonment and wandering, we might be guided by forces beyond our understanding. It's also a cautionary tale about the dangers of abandoning compassion and succumbing to hatred. And perhaps most importantly, it’s a evidence of the enduring power of divine purpose, even when faced with human opposition. Whose word will stand, indeed?

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Targum Jonathan on Genesis 37Targum Jonathan

Joseph's sale into slavery is one of the most dramatic episodes in Genesis. But the Targum Jonathan adds details that the Hebrew original never mentions, turning a family tragedy into a cosmic drama orchestrated from heaven.

The first surprise comes in the opening verses. Where (Genesis 37:2) simply says Joseph brought a bad report about his brothers, the Targum specifies the accusation: he had seen them "eat the flesh that had been torn by wild beasts, the ears and the tails." This is not a vague complaint. The brothers were violating what would later become the laws of kashrut, eating treif meat. The Targum transforms Joseph from a generic tattletale into a witness reporting genuine religious violations.

The strangest addition involves the mysterious man who finds Joseph wandering in a field near Shechem (Genesis 37:15). The Hebrew text leaves this figure completely unidentified. The Targum names him: it was Gabriel, the archangel, appearing "in the likeness of a man." And Gabriel does not merely give directions. He tells Joseph something prophetic, something heard "beyond the Veil," that from this day the servitude in Egypt would begin, and that the Hivites would seek war against the brothers.

The Targum also identifies exactly which brothers plotted the murder. Where Genesis says only "they said to one another," the Aramaic specifies: Shimeon and Levi, "who were brothers in counsel." These are the same two who massacred the city of Shechem, and Israel himself feared the Hivites would retaliate, which is why he sent Joseph to check on them in the first place.

Reuben's absence during the actual sale gets an explanation too. He had been "sitting and fasting on account that he had confounded the couch of his father," a reference to the incident with Bilhah (Genesis 35:22). He was doing penance in the hills while his brothers were selling Joseph for twenty pieces of silver.

Perhaps most striking is Jacob's reaction to the bloodied coat. In Genesis, he simply says a wild animal devoured Joseph. The Targum has Jacob say something entirely different: "A beast of the wilderness hath not devoured him, neither hath he been slain by the hand of man; but I see by the Holy Spirit, that an evil woman standeth against him." Jacob, through prophecy, already foresaw Potiphar's wife.

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Tikkunei Zohar 41:14Tikkunei Zohar

Jewish mysticism touches on this feeling in some incredibly profound ways, and it all connects to… a bird's nest.

Sounds strange. But bear with me.

In Tikkunei (spiritual repair) Zohar 41, we find a fascinating, layered teaching that uses the image of a nest – qan in Hebrew - to explore divine concepts and the journey of redemption. It's dense, it's poetic, and it's absolutely worth diving into.

The passage starts by drawing a parallel between a “bird’s nest” above and a “nest” below. The “bird’s nest” above, we’re told, is the Divine Throne. And the nest below? That's Metatron, a powerful angel in Jewish mystical tradition, often seen as a mediator between God and humanity.

Then comes a really interesting twist. The verse "…and will surely not acquit" (Numbers 14:18) is invoked. The Hebrew word for "acquit" here is naqeh. The Tikkunei Zohar points out that hidden within this word is qan, the word for "nest." It then connects this to another verse: "jealous and revenging" (Nahum 1:2), where the words qano (jealous) and noqem (revenging) also echo that root. What does it mean? It hints at the idea that when a "nest," a place of belonging or stability, is missing, there can be jealousy and retribution. It's a powerful image of divine justice, and the consequences of being disconnected.

But the journey doesn’t stop there.

The text continues: "When a nest in which to abide is not found, then… 'on the way'..." (Deuteronomy 22:6). This phrase "on the way" becomes a key. What is this "way"? The Tikkunei Zohar connects it to the generation that died in the desert after leaving Egypt. As we find in (Joshua 5:4), they "died in the desert 'on the way,' in their going out from Egypt." They never reached their promised land, their ultimate "nest."

This idea of being "on the way" is further linked to the burial of Rachel. Her tomb, a place of immense significance in Jewish tradition, is described as being "upon a crossroads" – pharashat aurḥin in Aramaic. And that phrase "crossroads" echoes another verse: "Would that I had a guests’ lodging in the desert" (Jeremiah 9:1) – the word for "guests" here being aurḥim.

Why Rachel? Why a crossroads?

Because, according to the Tikkunei Zohar, this is the path that "the two messiahs" will take when they come to redeem Israel. This crossroads, this place of longing and potential, is where redemption will eventually emerge.

So, what are we left with?

The image of the nest, seemingly simple, becomes a symbol of our deepest desires: for belonging, for stability, for connection to the Divine. The journey "on the way," though filled with hardship and loss, ultimately leads to the possibility of redemption. Even when we feel lost, even when we're wandering in the desert, the promise of a future "nest," a place of ultimate belonging, remains.

It's a powerful reminder that even in our own lives, the detours, the setbacks, the feeling of being "on the way" without a clear destination, can ultimately lead us to a place of greater meaning and purpose. Maybe, just maybe, our own personal redemption lies at a crossroads we haven't even reached yet.

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Legends of the Jews 1:150Legends of the Jews

His extended stay behind bars had a very specific reason.

The familiar story is this: Joseph, sold into slavery by his jealous brothers, rises in power in Egypt, only to be falsely accused and thrown into prison. While there, he interprets the dreams of two fellow prisoners, the royal butler and the baker. Joseph correctly predicts the butler's release and restoration to Pharaoh's service, and naturally, he asks the butler, "Hey, when you're back in Pharaoh's good graces, remember me! Mention me to him, so I can get out of here!"

You'd think that would be the end of the story. Joseph's dream-interpreting skills get him out of jail. But no. He languishes in prison for two more years. Two. More. Years. What gives?

In Legends of the Jews, Joseph should have been released the very day the butler was freed! He had already served ten years, making amends, in a way, for the lashon hara (evil speech) he had committed when he told his father about his brothers' misdeeds. So why the delay?

The answer, in the eyes of the Rabbis, is a powerful lesson about trust. "Blessed is the man that trusteth in the Lord, and whose hope is the Lord," goes the verse (Psalm 40:4). Joseph, in that moment, put his faith in the butler, in "flesh and blood," instead of solely in God. He asked the butler for help, and that, it seems, was his mistake.

Now, it's not like Joseph was wrong to ask for help. But the tradition emphasizes the importance of placing our ultimate trust in the Divine. As Ginzberg retells it in Legends of the Jews, Joseph's reliance on a human intermediary delayed his freedom.

The Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) elaborates on just how this happened. The butler didn't forget Joseph intentionally. The Zohar tells us that God orchestrated the butler's memory lapse. Whenever the butler tried to remind himself – "If this happens, I'll remember Joseph" – the situation would reverse. Or, if he tied a knot in his garment as a reminder, an angel would come and untie it! It was all part of a divine plan to teach Joseph. And us, a valuable lesson.

It’s a reminder that while human help is valuable, our ultimate reliance should be on something bigger than ourselves. Sometimes, the delays and setbacks we face aren't random misfortunes, but opportunities to deepen our faith and redirect our trust. It makes you wonder, doesn't it? How often do we place our hopes in the fleeting promises of the world, when a deeper source of strength is always available? Maybe Joseph's extra two years were precisely what he needed to learn that lesson, and for us to learn it too.

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