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Simeon Confessed the Envy That Almost Killed Joseph

On his deathbed, Simeon traced every act of tribal violence back to the hatred he felt whenever Joseph had more than he did.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Confession at the Edge of Death
  2. The Warrior Who Could Not Win the One Battle
  3. The Instruction He Left Them
  4. Joseph's Answer

The Confession at the Edge of Death

Simeon gathered his sons around him in his final hours and did not begin with a blessing. He began with a confession. He had stood in the same room as Joseph. He had exchanged civil words, perhaps even formal ones. And then he had walked out, and the moment the door closed, something took hold of him. He calls it a spirit of envy that darkened everything. Within that darkness came a single thought that he could not remove: the specific contemplation of ending his brother's life.

He was not confused about what this was. Looking back from the edge of death, he named it precisely: he could not endure Joseph's prosperity. Not Joseph's arrogance, not some injury Joseph had done him. The prosperity alone was enough. Joseph flourished and Simeon felt it as a wound that demanded blood.

The Warrior Who Could Not Win the One Battle

The Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs, a Jewish pseudepigraphic work composed in the Second Temple period, does not soften the portrait. It gives Simeon a long and remarkable career as a fighter. In battle he could break men and gates alike. He was the one who seized Joseph in the pit at Dothan. He was the one left as hostage in Egypt, held in the dark while his brothers went home with grain. Physical courage he had in abundance. What defeated him was not an army. It was the misery that visited him every time a brother's portion appeared greater than his own.

The Midrash on the Twelve Patriarchs in the Aggadic tradition adds a second Simeon to the record, one who is harder to recognize beside the brooding figure in the Testaments. This Simeon is a man of impulsive strength who acted first against Shechem and first against Joseph, but whose impulses had to be tempered by his tribe for the tribe to survive. The Testaments pick up where the Midrash leaves off: a man who had spent a lifetime watching his own destructive pattern return again and again, and who finally understood it too late to do more than warn his children.

The Instruction He Left Them

His warning to his sons was unusually specific for a deathbed speech. He did not simply tell them to love one another or to serve God. He told them to watch for the precise emotion that had ruined him: do not grieve if you see another person flourishing more than you do. Do not measure your portion against another man's. Pray for the man who has more, that his good fortune should be complete. This was not abstract moralizing. It was a man describing the mechanism of his own failure in enough detail that his sons might recognize it when it arrived in them.

He fasted, he says. He struggled against it. He prayed. None of it was enough until he stopped seeing Joseph's good fortune as something taken from his own supply.

Joseph's Answer

The tradition closes the circle. When the brothers came down to Egypt the second time, it was Simeon who was returned to them, held in comfortable captivity on Joseph's orders. The man Simeon had wanted dead had kept him safe. Joseph wept in private chambers before he revealed himself. He kissed his brothers. He asked only whether their father still lived.

Simeon's deathbed instruction to his sons takes on its full weight against that scene. The measure Simeon gave others was not the measure he had used on Joseph. The measure Joseph gave back was not what Simeon had earned. The gap between those two things is the whole lesson, and Simeon understood it only at the end.


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Legends of the Jews 2:73Legends of the Jews

One that even the sons of Jacob, the patriarch of the Jewish people, grappled with. These weren't just ordinary siblings. They were the ancestors of entire tribes, destined for greatness. Yet, they were as susceptible to jealousy and resentment as we are.

It's from the testament of one of those sons, Simeon, that we get a glimpse into this very human drama. He addresses his own children, urging them to cultivate love and actively weed out hatred from their hearts – "in word and deed and the thoughts of the soul." Why this urgent plea? Because Simeon knew firsthand the destructive power of envy. He confesses, "For I spake peaceably with Joseph in the presence of our father, but when I went out from before him, the spirit of hatred darkened my understanding, and stirred up my soul to murder him." He admits to harboring murderous thoughts towards his own brother! Ginzberg, in Legends of the Jews, captures this internal struggle vividly.

Can you imagine the weight of that confession? The honesty? Simeon doesn't excuse his feelings. He owns them. He understands the insidious nature of envy, how it can twist your perception and lead you down a dark path.

So, what's his antidote? Love. Not just any love, but a deliberate, active love. A love that manifests in our words, our actions, and even our thoughts. It's a call to actively combat those negative feelings with positive ones.

And the advice doesn't stop there. Simeon offers practical guidance for dealing with envy when we see others succeeding. "If you see one that hath more good fortune than you, do not grieve, but pray for him, that his happiness may be perfect." Instead of feeling diminished by someone else's success, we should actively wish them well. It’s a radical shift in perspective, isn't it? Turning envy into a blessing.

Even more challenging, he addresses the temptation to envy the wicked when they prosper. "And if one of the wicked even should grow rich in substance, like Esau, my father's brother, do not envy him. Wait for the end of the Lord." Esau, a figure often associated with worldly success and moral ambiguity, is used as an example. The message is clear: don't be fooled by superficial appearances. Don't envy those who may seem to have it all, especially if their success comes at the expense of their values.

Why wait for the end of the Lord? Because, ultimately, true justice and balance will prevail. Material wealth and fleeting pleasures are not the ultimate measures of success. The tzaddikim (a righteous person), the righteous ones, understand this.

Simeon's testament, as recounted in Legends of the Jews, offers a powerful lesson for us today. Envy is a natural human emotion, but it's one we must actively combat. By cultivating love, celebrating the success of others, and focusing on our own spiritual growth, we can break free from its grip. And maybe, just maybe, we can create a world where envy loses its power and love reigns supreme.

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Legends of the Jews 3:97Legends of the Jews

The offerings each tribe brought to the Mishkan, the Tabernacle, give us some fascinating clues.

Take the tribe of Gad, for instance. Remember Simeon, sword in hand, battling to defend his sister Dinah? Well, in a similar spirit, the tribe of Gad went to battle, too, fighting to win the land beyond the Jordan River for their brothers. And that's why, according to the traditions, their prince, Shelumiel, followed the prince of Simeon when bringing his offerings.

Why these particular offerings? What was Gad trying to tell us?

Well, this tribe, so active in gaining the promised land, seemed to symbolize in their gifts the Exodus from Egypt itself – because, of course, without the Exodus, there would be no march into Palestine! So, let's look closer at what they brought.

The offering included a charger weighing one hundred and thirty shekels. Now, according to some interpretations, this alluded to Jochebed, the mother of Moses, who, at the ripe old age of one hundred and thirty, gave birth to the man who would lead them out of slavery!

And speaking of Moses, the bowl that was also part of the offering, weighing seventy shekels, is also connected to him! How? Because Moses extended his prophetic spirit over the seventy elders of Israel. And just as the bowl was filled with fine flour, the prophetic spirit of Moses didn't diminish at all, even when shared with those seventy elders.

The three burnt offerings, or olot, are especially interesting. They recalled the three virtues that Israel possessed in Egypt that were instrumental in their deliverance. What were these virtues? First, they didn't change their Hebrew names. Second, they didn't abandon their Hebrew language, Lashon Hakodesh. And third, they maintained lives of chastity. These are powerful reminders of the importance of maintaining identity even under immense pressure.

Then there were the sin offerings, or chatat, which served to atone for the idolatry that some Israelites were drawn to while in Egypt. Midrash Rabbah tells us that God wouldn't allow their deliverance until they had renounced that idolatry. This highlights the constant struggle between faith and temptation, a theme that runs throughout Jewish history.

Finally, the two oxen of the peace offering, or shelamim, corresponded to Jacob and Joseph. According to the tradition, it was for their sake that God delivered Israel from Egypt. And they also brought fifteen heads of small cattle as a sacrifice, a reminder that God was mindful of His vow to the three Patriarchs – Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob – and the twelve fathers of the tribes, which led to Him releasing Israel from bondage.

So, what can we take away from all of this? The gifts of the tribe of Gad weren’t just random items. They were a carefully chosen set of symbols, a reminder of the Exodus, the virtues that sustained the Israelites, and the importance of remaining true to their heritage. It’s a beautiful, multi-layered message, reminding us that even the smallest details can hold profound meaning if we take the time to look.

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