The story of Joseph, sold into slavery by his own brothers, is a prime example. It's a painful tale, but rich with layers of meaning. Let's dive in.
The brothers, remember, are plotting Joseph's demise. But instead of outright killing him, they chuck him into a pit. Conveniently (or not, depending on your perspective), a group of Midianite merchants happen by. According to Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, these merchants notice birds circling the pit, assume there's water, and investigate. Instead, they find a very distressed Joseph.
"Who art thou?" they ask, pulling him out. "Who brought thee hither?"
But here’s where it gets really interesting. The brothers, seeing Joseph rescued, try to reclaim him, claiming he’s just a disobedient slave. "Give him back!" they demand. But the Midianites aren't buying it. They retort, basically saying, "Slave? He's more beautiful than all of you combined! We found him; we're keeping him."
Things escalate. The brothers threaten violence. Simon, in particular, steps up, brandishing his sword and boasting of his past victories – remember how he single-handedly destroyed Shechem? The Midianites, understandably intimidated, back down a little.
And then comes the twist. They propose a deal: "Okay, okay, so you say he's rebellious? Why don't you just sell him to us? We'll pay whatever you want."
Now, this, according to the tradition, was divine intervention. As Ginzberg tells it, God orchestrated this moment, planting the idea in the Midianites' hearts to ensure Joseph wouldn't be murdered by his brothers. It's a fascinating glimpse into the idea of how God works in the world, subtly influencing events.
The brothers agree, and Joseph is sold for twenty pieces of silver.
The implications of this act reverberate throughout Jewish tradition. The Talmud says, "Over a meal did ye sell your brother, and thus shall Ahasuerus sell your descendants to Haman over a meal." According to the Talmud, because of the brother's greed, Joseph's descendants will be sold by Ahasuerus to Haman over a meal, and because you have sold Joseph into slavery you must say every year "slaves were we in Egypt."
That price, twenty pieces of silver, seems awfully low for such a handsome young man, doesn't it? Well, the story goes that the ordeal in the pit – the snakes, the scorpions, the sheer terror – had taken its toll. Joseph had lost his color, his appearance marred by suffering. This, the tradition suggests, justified the lower price.
There's even more to this transaction. The Midrash recounts that Joseph was naked when they pulled him from the pit, stripped of his clothes by his brothers. So, God sends the angel Gabriel to enlarge the amulet Joseph wore, transforming it into a garment. When the brothers see Joseph clothed, they demand the garment back, but the Midianites refuse, offering shoes in compensation.
This detail is rich with symbolism. The garment, the very one Joseph wears through all his trials in Egypt – his enslavement, imprisonment, and eventual rise to power – becomes a symbol of his resilience and divine protection.
And what about those twenty pieces of silver? Midrash Rabbah tells us that God commanded that every first-born son shall be redeemed by the priest with an equal amount, and, also, every Israelite must pay annually to the sanctuary as much as fell to each of the brethren as his share of the price. In this way, the act of selling Joseph became a constant reminder and a call to atonement.
The brothers, fueled by spite, use the money to buy shoes, symbolizing their desire to trample Joseph's dreams of dominion. This act, in turn, becomes the basis for the law of halizah, where a woman can remove the shoe of her brother-in-law as a sign of refusing to marry him to continue her deceased husband's line (Deuteronomy 25:5-10).
Finally, the Midianites, fearing they've unwittingly kidnapped a free man, sell Joseph to a group of Ishmaelites for the same price they paid.
So, what do we take away from this complex, multi-layered story? It's more than just a tale of sibling rivalry and betrayal. It's a story about divine providence, about how even the most horrific acts can be woven into a larger plan. It’s a reminder that our actions have consequences, and that even in moments of despair, hope and redemption are possible. And, perhaps most profoundly, it's a meditation on the enduring power of dreams.