The story, as told in Ginzberg's Legends of the Jews, begins with Judah. After the sale of Joseph into slavery, Judah's brothers urged him to take a wife, reasoning that their father, consumed by grief, wouldn't be arranging marriages for them. Judah married Alit, the daughter of a noble merchant named Shua, in Adullam, the home of his friend Hirah (later known as Hiram, king of Tyre). However, the marriage was far from blessed. His two eldest sons died, followed by his wife, Alit. Why such misfortune? According to the narrative, it was Judah's punishment for not seeing through the good deed of saving Joseph, for only suggesting that he be sold, not insisting he be returned home. "He who begins a good deed, and does not execute it to the end, brings down misfortune upon his own head." A harsh lesson, perhaps, but one that emphasizes the importance of following through with our intentions.
Interestingly, the text states that all of Jacob's other sons married in the same year as Joseph's disappearance. Reuben married Elyoram, a Canaanite woman from Timnah. Simon's story takes a particularly dramatic turn. He first married his own sister, Dinah, and then another woman. Remember the story of the massacre at Shechem? After that tragic event, Dinah refused to leave the city, overwhelmed by shame. Simon, however, swore to marry her, which he did. Upon her death in Egypt, he brought her body back to the Holy Land for burial. The narrative becomes even more intricate, noting that Dinah bore Simon a son and also had a daughter named Asenath from her union with Shechem.
Now, this is where it gets really interesting. According to the legend, the sons of Jacob wanted to kill Asenath, fearing the scandal of a child born out of wedlock. But Jacob, in a move that seems both compassionate and mystical, inscribed the Shem HaMeforesh (the Holy Name of God) on a piece of tin, bound it around the girl's neck, and left her under a thornbush. An angel, no less, carried the baby Asenath down to Egypt, where she was adopted by Potiphar, whose wife was barren. Years later, when Joseph, as viceroy, traveled through the land, young women threw gifts at him. Asenath, having nothing else, removed the amulet—the one with the Holy Name—from her neck and gave it to him. This is how Joseph discovered her lineage and, recognizing her connection to his family, married her. The story emphasizes that she was not Egyptian, but of their own lineage, a detail that would have been crucial. Besides Dinah's son, Simon also had another son, Saul, with a woman named Bunah whom he captured during the campaign against Shechem.
Moving on to the other sons: Levi and Issachar married two daughters of Jobab, the grandson of Eber. Levi's wife was Adinah, and Issachar's was Aridah. Dan married Elflalet, a Moabite woman, and after a long period of childlessness, they had a son named Hushim. Gad and Naphtali both married women from Haran, two sisters—daughters of Amoram, a grandson of Nahor. Naphtali's wife, Merimit, was the elder sister, while Gad's wife was named Uzit.
Asher's story involves two wives. His first wife, Adon, the daughter of Ephlal, died childless. He then married Hadorah, a daughter of Abimael, who had a daughter from a previous marriage named Serah. When Asher brought Hadorah to Canaan, Serah, only three years old, came with them. She grew up in Jacob’s house and was known for her piety, beauty, wisdom, and sagacity – becoming a figure of importance in her own right. Zebulon married Maroshah, the daughter of Molad, a grandson of Midian, who was a son of Abraham through Keturah. Finally, Benjamin, the youngest, married Mahlia at the young age of ten, and later married Arbat at eighteen.
What can we glean from these brief glimpses into the lives of Jacob's sons and their wives? It's a reminder that even the most famous figures in our sacred texts had complex lives, filled with love, loss, and the everyday challenges of building a family and a nation. It also highlights the importance of lineage, the complexities of intermarriage, and the roles that women played in shaping the early history of the Jewish people. These stories, though fragmented, offer a fascinating glimpse into a world far removed from our own, yet deeply connected to our roots.