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Simeon and Levi Avenged Their Sister and Were Never Forgiven for It

Simeon and Levi avenged Dinah at Shechem. Jacob cursed their anger at his deathbed, forty years after the swords were put away.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Day the Brothers Did Not Ask Permission
  2. What Zeal Looked Like From the Inside
  3. The Testament of Simeon
  4. Jacob's Deathbed Words

The Day the Brothers Did Not Ask Permission

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Their sister had been violated in the city of Shechem by the prince who wanted to marry her. Hamor and Shechem came to Jacob's camp with a proposal: give us the girl and we will give you the land and trade and an open future. The sons of Jacob negotiated the circumcision agreement with no intention of honoring it as written. On the third day, Simeon and Levi entered the city with their swords. Every male in Shechem died.

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Jacob heard what they had done and his first response was fear, not for them but for himself. \"You have troubled me,\" he said. \"You have made me odious to the Canaanites and the Perizzites. My household will be destroyed.\"

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The brothers asked: \"should he have treated our sister like a prostitute?\"

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The tradition preserved both answers. Jacob's fear was rational. The brothers' question was unanswerable. Neither resolved the other.

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What Zeal Looked Like From the Inside

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Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer described the brothers' motivation as great zeal provoked by sexual immorality. They were not acting from cold calculation or tribal politics. They were acting from a wound that had no other available remedy. Shechem had taken their sister. The city had organized itself to keep her. The negotiations had been conducted as if the original offense could be retroactively absorbed into an alliance. Simeon and Levi read all of that as a continuing insult to their family's dignity and to something larger than family dignity.

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The surrounding nations heard what two sons of Jacob had done and were terrified. The tradition recorded their calculation: if two brothers can destroy an entire city, what would all twelve sons do together? The terror fell on the cities around them and Jacob was not attacked. The action that Jacob had feared would destroy him had produced the opposite of what he feared, at least in the immediate aftermath.

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But Jacob did not change his assessment of what the brothers had done. He was still afraid. He moved the camp. He did not celebrate the outcome.

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The Testament of Simeon

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Simeon's own account of the episode, preserved in the later tradition, described the massacre as an act justified by the law of the uncircumcised who had violated the daughter of Israel. The text attributed to Simeon the reflection that Levi had been the moving force, that Levi's anger had been fiercer and more organized than his own, that what happened at Shechem was Levi's war as much as his. The assignment of responsibility between them was never simple in the tradition: they had acted together, been condemned together, but their fates diverged in ways that suggested the tradition was reading their partnership as containing an asymmetry the partners themselves had not fully understood.

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Simeon in his own account also acknowledged envy of Joseph, a connection the tradition found significant: the same energy that drove the massacre at Shechem showed up in the brothers' treatment of their father's favorite son. The anger that Shechem had provoked was the same anger that Joseph's coat provoked, directed at different targets but unmistakably the same force.

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Jacob's Deathbed Words

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Forty years or more later, Jacob lay dying in Egypt and called his sons around him. He came to Simeon and Levi and did not soften what he had to say. \"Instruments of violence are their swords. Let my soul not enter their council. Let my honor not be joined to their assembly. In their anger they killed men. In their rage they hamstrung oxen. Cursed be their anger, for it was fierce. Cursed be their fury, for it was cruel. I will divide them in Jacob and scatter them in Israel.\"

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He did not curse what they had done to avenge Dinah. He cursed the anger itself, the quality of the force, the rage that in killing the men of Shechem had also hamstrung oxen, the violence that had overflowed its target and damaged things that had no part in the offense. He was distinguishing between the wound that had required response and the nature of the response that came.

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Simeon was scattered into Judah's portion. His tribe never consolidated its own territory. Levi was also scattered, distributed across the land in forty-eight cities with no contiguous inheritance. But Levi's dispersal became something else: the tribe that had demonstrated its zeal at Shechem, and again at the golden calf when Levi stood with Moses against the people, became the tribe of priests and Levites whose distribution across Israel was their vocation. Jacob's curse on the anger became, for one son, the shape of a calling.

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From the tradition

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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.

Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer 38:3Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer

The story of Simeon and Levi, found in Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer 38, explores just that kind of fiery zeal.

It all starts with the violation of their sister, Dinah, by Shechem. That Simeon and Levi were consumed by kinah gedolah, a great zeal, because of the immorality. They couldn't stand the thought of their sister being treated like a zonah, a harlot, as they themselves exclaimed in (Genesis 34:31).

So, what did they do? Each grabbed his sword and, The text is pretty clear: they slew all the men of Shechem. A drastic response, to say the least.

Picture their father, Jacob. He hears about this, and his reaction? Pure fear. He’s thinking about the big picture, the potential consequences. "Now all the people of the land will hear," he worries, "and they will gather together against me and smite me."

And so, Jacob does something pretty harsh. He begins to curse the wrath of his sons. As we find in (Genesis 49:7), "Cursed be their anger, for it is fierce." He even curses their swords, specifically using the Greek language, saying: "Weapons of violence are their swords" (Genesis 49:5). It's a powerful moment of parental disapproval, tinged with a sense of helplessness.

But here’s where the story takes another turn. According to Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer 38, all the kings of the earth heard about what Simeon and Levi had done. And they were terrified! They thought, "If two sons of Jacob have done all these great things, if they all band themselves together, they will be able to destroy the world."

The text then states that the dread of the Holy One, blessed be He, fell upon them. This isn't just about earthly fear; it's a divine intervention. As (Genesis 35:5) tells us, "And the terror of God was upon the cities… and they did not pursue after the sons of Jacob." In other words, divine fear kept the neighboring cities from retaliating.

So, what are we left with? A complex mix of zeal, violence, fear, and divine intervention. On one hand, we have Simeon and Levi's passionate, albeit brutal, response to injustice. On the other, we have Jacob's fear of the wider repercussions. And ultimately, we have the intervention of HaShem, God, which prevents further bloodshed.

It makes you wonder, doesn't it? How do we balance our own sense of justice with the potential consequences of our actions? And what role, if any, does the divine play in those moments? It's a question that continues to resonate, thousands of years after this story was first told.

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Bereshit Rabbah 80:11Bereshit Rabbah

The ancient rabbis grappled with that very feeling when they looked at the story of Dina, Jacob’s daughter, in the Book of Genesis.

The Torah tells us that Dina went out to visit the women of the land and was then seized and violated by Shechem, son of Hamor the Hivite (Genesis 34). But the story doesn’t end there. It's what happens after that caught the eye of the rabbis in Bereshit Rabbah, the great rabbinic commentary on Genesis. They weren't just focused on the act itself, but on the long, messy aftermath.

“And [he] took Dina,” the Torah says. Rabbi Yudan sees something heartbreaking in those words. He pictures Dina being dragged away, the experience clinging to her, refusing to release its grip. He paints a picture of her brothers leaving with her in this state, in tow, still captive in many ways.

Rav Huna offers a rather blunt, but perhaps insightful, observation. He says, “One who engages in relations with an uncircumcised man, it is difficult to pull away." It’s a stark statement, and you can interpret it in a few ways. Was he speaking literally, about the physical act? Or was he using it as a metaphor for the spiritual and emotional entanglement that can happen in relationships, especially those that cross cultural or religious boundaries?

Then, Rav Huna adds a poignant detail. He imagines Dina crying out, “But I, where will I carry my shame?” It's a raw, vulnerable question echoed in other parts of the Bible (II (Samuel 13:1)3). Where does one put such a profound sense of violation? How does one move forward, carrying such a burden?

the verse says in Bereshit Rabbah, Simeon steps forward and vows to take her, meaning to marry her. But the story takes another dark turn. We read in (Genesis 46:10) about “Shaul, son of the Canaanite woman,” among Simeon’s descendants. The rabbis saw in this a connection. They suggest that Shaul was actually the son of Dina, conceived during her encounter with Shechem.

Rabbi Yehuda offers one interpretation: that Shechem performed deeds like the Canaanites, deeds of harlotry. Rabbi Nehemya suggests that Dina actually engaged with a Hivite, a group included within the broader category of Canaanites.

But then the Rabbis offer a different, almost unsettling, ending. They say that Simeon ultimately took Dina and buried her in the land of Canaan. Buried her? This raises so many questions. Did he marry her and she died? Or…did something more tragic occur? The text leaves it chillingly ambiguous.

These rabbis, wrestling with the implications of Dina's story, weren't just interested in the plot points. They were searching for meaning, for understanding the complexities of trauma, shame, and the lasting impact of a single, devastating act. They saw it not just as a historical event, but as a reflection of the human condition.

So, what do we take away from this? Maybe it’s a reminder that the consequences of violence ripple outwards, touching not only the victim but also their family and community. Maybe it’s a call to acknowledge the lingering pain and shame that can haunt individuals and societies long after the initial event. And perhaps, most importantly, it’s a challenge to confront the uncomfortable, unresolved questions that these ancient stories continue to pose.

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Bereshit Rabbah 98:5Bereshit Rabbah

The story starts with a quote from (Genesis 49:5): "Simeon and Levi are brothers; weapons of villainy are their heritage." But what does it really mean? Bereshit Rabbah, an ancient collection of rabbinic interpretations of Genesis, unpacks this verse with layers of meaning (Bereshit Rabbah 98). It suggests that while Simeon and Levi were indeed brothers of Dinah, their sister, they weren’t quite seen as brothers in the same light as, say, Joseph.

Those "weapons of villainy"? The mekheroteihem? Jacob accuses them of possessing weapons that were essentially stolen. And who are these weapons fitting for? They’re fitting for Esau, who makhar – sold – his birthright. It's a clever play on words, linking violence and betrayal.

Things get heavier. Jacob continues, "Let my soul not come in their company; with their assembly let my glory not be associated; for in their anger they killed men, and with their will they hamstrung oxen" (Genesis 49:6). This isn't just a father's disappointment; it's a profound spiritual separation.

The Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) connects this verse to specific events. "Let my soul not come in their company" alludes to the Israelite men's involvement with the Midianite women in Shittim – a deeply troubling episode of idolatry and immorality. And who was a leader in that debacle? Zimri son of Salu, a prince of the tribe of Simeon. Yikes.

"With their assembly let my glory not be associated" – that's tied to the rebellion of Korah, who challenged Moses' leadership. The text emphasizes that in these shameful moments, the Torah pointedly avoids mentioning that these individuals are "sons of Jacob." It's as if their actions severed the familial connection.

But there's a glimmer of hope. The same phrase, "With their assembly let my glory not be associated," finds redemption in the Temple service. The Levites, descendants of Levi, stood on the platform to sing, their voices a evidence of praise. As we find in (1 (Chronicles 6:2)3), their lineage is proudly traced all the way back to Israel (Jacob). Redemption through service and devotion.

Now, about that "killing men" and "hamstringing oxen." The Midrash interprets the singular "man" (ish) as referring to Hamor, the father of Shechem. And the "hamstrung oxen"? That's where it gets really interesting. Rabbi Hunya and Rabbi Yirmeya, quoting Rabbi Aḥiya bar Abba, suggest it represents undermining the "security wall" of potential converts to Judaism. The massacre following the circumcision of the residents of Shechem created a chilling effect, making potential proselytes afraid of conversion.

There's even a fascinating detail about the Septuagint, the Greek translation of the Torah. The story goes that the seventy-two elders, tasked with translating the Torah for King Ptolemy, subtly changed "killed men…and hamstrung oxen" to "killed oxen…and undermined troughs." Why? To soften the image of Simeon and Levi and avoid portraying them as murderers.

Finally, we arrive at (Genesis 49:7): "Cursed be their anger, as it is fierce, and their wrath, as it is harsh; I will divide them in Jacob, and I will disperse them in Israel." But hold on. Rabbi Ḥunya and Rabbi Azarya, citing Rabbi Yoḥanan, explain that Jacob isn't cursing them, but their anger. It's a crucial distinction. Rabbi Yehuda bar Simon offers a beautiful analogy: a king, seeing a serpent destined to bite his son, curses the serpent, not the son.

The "dividing" and "dispersing"? This is seen as the destiny of the tribes of Levi and Simeon. Levi, as in (Numbers 18:20), would have no land inheritance, instead serving in the Temple: "I am your portion [ḥelkekha] and your inheritance." Simeon, on the other hand, would be scattered throughout Israel. Rabbi Tanhuma notes that many of the poor came from the tribe of Simeon.

So, what do we take away from this complex and layered story? It's a reminder that actions have consequences, rippling through generations. But it's also a story of potential redemption, of finding purpose and meaning even in the face of a difficult legacy. It’s a powerful reminder that we are not defined solely by the mistakes of our ancestors, but by what we choose to do with the present. It's about harnessing the potential for good, even when shadowed by the past. And that, perhaps, is the most hopeful message of all.

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Bereshit Rabbah 99:7Bereshit Rabbah

One particularly intense moment: Jacob's words about Simeon and Levi.

It all starts with the verse: "Simeon and Levi are brothers; weapons of villainy are their heritage" (Genesis 49:5). But what does it mean?

The Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary), specifically Bereshit Rabbah 99, unpacks this loaded statement, revealing layers of family drama and moral reckoning. Imagine Reuben, Jacob’s eldest, walking around dejected. Why? Because Jacob is laying into Simeon and Levi. Jacob calls them "brothers for degradation." He reminds them, "You were brothers for Dina," referencing their violent revenge after Shechem violated their sister, as it's written: "Two sons of Jacob, Simeon and Levi, Dina’s brothers, each took his sword" (Genesis 34:25). But, Jacob pointedly asks, were they brothers when it came to Joseph? Because they certainly didn’t act like it when they sold him into slavery.

Rabbi Simlai adds another layer. He reminds us that it's written about Reuben: “In order to deliver him from their hand, to restore him to his father” (Genesis 37:22). This tells us that Reuben wasn't involved in selling Joseph. And Judah, another older brother, even questioned, "What profit [is there if we kill our brother]?" (Genesis 37:26). So, if Reuben and Judah were against it, who was behind it? Bereshit Rabbah suggests that it must have been Simeon and Levi, who organized the sale.

Want more proof? When the brothers later went to Egypt, who did Joseph (in disguise, of course) single out? Simeon. "He took Simeon from them [and incarcerated him before their eyes]" (Genesis 42:24). This is why Jacob lumps the two together.

Then comes the phrase, "weapons of villainy." What are those? Jacob says they were "stolen" by them. They belong to Esau, Jacob’s brother, who was told, "By your sword you shall live" (Genesis 27:40). The Midrash connects "villainy" to Esau, referencing the verse: "For the villainy to your brother Jacob" (Obadiah 1:10). So, according to Jacob, Simeon and Levi are wielding weapons that aren't even rightfully theirs; they belong to the archetype of the villain, Esau.

The text then explores the meaning of "their heritage [mekheroteihem]". Rabbi Yoḥanan suggests it might be a Greek expression, makhirin, meaning swords or daggers. Others say it refers to "their residences [meguroteihem]," linking it to the verse: "Your origins [mekhorotayikh] and your birthplace" (Ezekiel 16:3). This could imply that their violent tendencies are deeply ingrained, part of their very being.

Jacob continues, "Let my soul not come in their company; with their assembly let my glory not be associated; for in their anger they killed men, and with their will they hamstrung oxen" (Genesis 49:6). The Midrash interprets this as Jacob disassociating himself from future misdeeds of their descendants. When Zimri, a Simeonite, commits a public act of immorality with Cozbi, Jacob doesn’t want his name mentioned there. And when Korah, a Levite, leads a rebellion against Moses, Jacob wants no association. In both cases, the lineage is traced back to Simeon or Levi, but stops short of Jacob.

But what about the phrase "they killed men [ish]"? Didn't they kill all the males of Shechem? The Midrash answers that, from God’s perspective, they were all considered as one man. Just as Isaiah says: “Behold [hen], nations may be regarded like a drop from a bucket…” (Isaiah 40:16). Hen, in Greek, means "one." So, their actions were seen as a singular, unified act of violence.

Finally, Jacob pronounces: "Cursed is their anger, as it is fierce, and their wrath, as it is harsh; I will divide them in Jacob, and I will disperse them in Israel" (Genesis 49:7). Notice he curses their anger, not them directly. The Midrash connects this to Bilam, who says, "How will I curse, where God has not cursed?" (Numbers 23:8). Even in anger, Jacob is careful.

"I will divide them in Jacob." How does this play out? The tribe of Simeon dwindles after the incident with Zimri. Tradition says that the widows of the fallen warriors had to be absorbed by other tribes. The tribe of Levi, on the other hand, becomes the priestly tribe, supported by tithes. Even though they are elevated, they still circulate, asking for their portion, fulfilling Jacob’s prophecy. The Holy One blessed be He elevated [Levi] and gave him one-tenth, and he circulates and says: ‘Give me my portion.’

So, what do we take away from this complex and troubling passage? It's a reminder that actions have consequences, rippling through generations. It's a meditation on the nature of anger and violence, and how even in moments of intense emotion, restraint and careful consideration are paramount. And perhaps most profoundly, it’s a glimpse into the burdens and complexities of family, and the enduring legacy – both positive and negative – that we inherit and pass on. What aspects of your family's legacy do you find yourself confronting?

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Targum Pseudo-Jonathan on Genesis 49:7Targum Pseudo-Jonathan on Genesis

A blessing that divides is still a blessing. Targum Pseudo-Jonathan takes the Hebrew's terse curse-on-anger and reveals its surgical logic. "If they dwell together, no king nor ruler may stand before them" (Genesis 49:7). Jacob has read the chemistry of his own sons. Shimon plus Levi, side by side with land and army, would be unstoppable. And the world would bleed for it.

So Jacob breaks them apart before they can cohere. The Aramaic lays out the plan with precision: "I will divide the inheritance of the sons of Shimeon into two portions; one part shall come to them out of the inheritance of the sons of Jehuda, and one part from among the rest of the tribes of Jakob." Shimon would have no territory of its own. Its cities would be scattered inside Judah's borders (Joshua 19:1-9). And Levi? "The tribe of Levi I will disperse among all the tribes of Israel."

The Targum adds a startling note: the brothers' "hatred against Joseph" was also part of their wrath. Jacob saw the same rage at work in the pit at Dothan as at Shechem. What looked like a punishment became, in time, a gift. Levi, dispersed, became the priesthood. The curse turned into service.

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Sifrei Devarim 349:1Sifrei Devarim

A curious absence: Why does Levi get a blessing ("And of Levi he said"), but not Shimon?

The Sifrei Devarim, an early halakhic midrash on the Book of Deuteronomy, digs into this very question. It all comes down to a matter of debts, spiritual debts, that is.

The Sifrei paints a picture using a parable: Imagine two people who borrow money from a king. One repays their debt, but then borrows again. The other? They not only fail to repay their initial loan, but they take out another one! Which one is in deeper trouble?

This parable perfectly illustrates the relationship between the tribes of Shimon and Levi, and their actions throughout the Torah. According to the Sifrei, both tribes initially "borrowed" together in the story of Shechem (Genesis 34:25). Remember that harrowing tale? Shimon and Levi, angered by the violation of their sister Dinah, took matters into their own hands. They violently attacked the city of Shechem, killing all the men. The verse reads, "And there took, two sons of Jacob, Shimon and Levi, each man his sword, and came upon the city secure, (in that the men were ailing from the circumcision), and they killed every male." A brutal act,.

So, both tribes started with this shared "debt." But here's where their paths diverge.

Levi, the Sifrei argues, actually repaid his debt, at least partially, during the incident of the Golden Calf (Exodus 32:26). When Moses called out, "Whoever is for the L-rd, (let him come) to me!" it was the sons of Levi who rallied to his side, taking a stand against idolatry. This act of loyalty, of righteous zeal, is seen as a repayment of their earlier transgression. Atonement, of sorts. According to this midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary), this demonstrates that Levi paid back what he borrowed in the desert.

But the story doesn't end there for Levi. The Sifrei then points to the episode of Shittim (Numbers 25:11), where Pinchas (a Levite) acts decisively to stop the Israelites from intermarrying and worshipping foreign gods. The text says, "Pinchas the son of Elazar the son of Aaron the Cohein turned My wrath away from the children of Israel when he raged My rage in their midst, and I did not consume the children of Israel in My wrath." This act, too, is seen as a righteous one, but according to the Sifrei, this is a second "borrowing".

What about Shimon? Sadly, the Sifrei suggests that Shimon never made that repayment. Worse, the tribe "borrowed" again in the story of Zimri (Numbers 25:14). Zimri, a prince of the tribe of Shimon, brazenly flaunted his relationship with a Midianite woman, defying God’s law. The Sifrei emphasizes: "And the name of the man of Israel who was smitten, who was smitten together with the Midianite woman, was Zimri the son of Salu, chief of a father's house in the house of Shimon."

So, according to this midrashic reading, Levi, despite some further "borrowing," at least attempted to atone for the sin at Shechem. Shimon, however, doubled down on the initial transgression.

This interpretation in Sifrei Devarim offers a powerful lens through which to view the blessings and curses bestowed upon the tribes. It's not just about singular actions, but about the long-term trajectory of a people. Do they strive to repair their mistakes, or do they continue down a path of transgression? It's a question that resonates far beyond the ancient tribes of Israel, doesn't it? It challenges us to examine our own actions, our own debts, and the kind of legacy we are building.

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Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer 47:5Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer

It’s a powerful feeling. But what happens when that zeal, that kinah, turns inward, corrupting the very people who sought to uphold justice?

The tradition turns to a fascinating passage in Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer (Chapter 47), a beautiful and sometimes enigmatic work of Jewish literature that retells and expands upon stories from the Hebrew Bible. It speaks of Simeon and Levi, two brothers known for their fierce protectiveness of their sister, Dinah.

The story, as we know from (Genesis 34:31), recounts how Dinah was violated by Shechem, son of Hamor, and the brothers were incensed. "And they said, 'As with an harlot should he deal with our sister?'" Their outrage was palpable. They couldn’t stand the injustice. In a dramatic act of vengeance, each brother took his sword and slew the men of Shechem. A brutal act, for sure, but born out of a sense of profound violation.

Here's where Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer throws in a fascinating twist, a cautionary tale woven into the narrative. The text points out that the very tribe descended from Simeon, the tribe that had once championed morality so fiercely, later succumbed to its own moral failings.

The text specifically calls out Zimri, a prince of the tribe of Simeon. According to (Numbers 25:14), Zimri publicly consorted with a Midianite woman, engaging in what the Torah delicately terms “an immoral purpose.” He didn't remember the zealous actions of his ancestor. He didn't rebuke the young men of Israel. He himself fell into the very sin he should have been fighting against.

The tragedy here isn't just about hypocrisy, although that's certainly a part of it. It's about the seductive nature of power and the danger of unchecked zeal. Simeon and Levi's actions, while understandable in the context of their grief and anger, set a precedent. Their descendants, it seems, interpreted that zeal as a license, a permission slip to act outside the bounds of morality.

Perhaps Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer is trying to teach us that righteousness, true righteousness, isn’t just about condemning the sins of others. It’s about constantly examining ourselves, ensuring that our own actions align with the values we claim to uphold. It's a reminder that even those who start with the best intentions can fall prey to the very evils they sought to eradicate. A sobering thought, and a powerful lesson for us all.

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Legends of the Jews 6:226Legends of the Jews

The story of Simon and Levi's vengeance upon the city of Shechem, after the rape of their sister Dinah, is one such tale. We’ve talked before about how their actions were, shall we say, controversial, even within their own family. But the fallout didn’t end with Jacob's disapproval. It spread like wildfire.

After Simon and Levi left Shechem, two young men, who had hidden themselves in the lime pits – a detail that always gets me; imagine the desperation! – emerged from their hiding places. They found a city utterly devastated. No men, just the wails of women echoing through the ruins. Can you picture the scene? They cried out, horrified, "Behold, this is the evil which the sons of Jacob did! They destroyed one of the Canaanite cities and were not afraid of all the land of Canaan!"

Their fear is palpable. They understood the gravity of the situation: this wasn't just a family squabble; it was an act of war, a challenge to the established order. They knew this could have far-reaching consequences.

So, they fled Shechem, making their way to Tappuah, a neighboring city. There, they told the inhabitants everything they had witnessed. As we find this story retold in Legends of the Jews by Ginzberg, it emphasizes the disbelief of Jashub, the king of Tappuah. He simply couldn't fathom that two men – just two men! – could obliterate an entire city like Shechem. "How could two men destroy a large city like Shechem?" he asked, skeptical.

He sent his own messengers to verify the story. Can you imagine the atmosphere in Tappuah while they waited for the messengers to return? The tension, the fear, the uncertainty...

The messengers returned with grim confirmation. "The city is destroyed," they reported. "Not a man is left there, only weeping women. Neither are there flocks and cattle there, for all that was in the city was taken away by the sons of Jacob." The report paints a picture of complete and utter devastation. A city wiped clean.

The consequences of Simon and Levi’s actions are now rippling outwards. Fear and mistrust spread like a plague. What does this mean for Jacob's family? What alliances will form? What enemies will they make? Their actions, born of rage and a desire for vengeance, have set in motion a chain of events that will undoubtedly shape their future.

It makes you wonder, doesn't it? How often do our actions, even those driven by righteous anger, have unintended consequences that reach far beyond what we could have ever imagined? It's a sobering thought, and a reminder that even in the heat of the moment, we must consider the potential impact of our choices.

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