Today, we're diving into a fascinating passage from Bereshit Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic interpretations of the Book of Genesis, specifically section 88.
The passage begins with a seemingly simple observation: "It was after these matters; the butler of the king of Egypt and the baker sinned against their master, against the king of Egypt" (Genesis 40:1). But the rabbis don't just let it sit there. They use it as a springboard to explore deeper questions about justice, suffering, and the role of Israel in the world.
The text then quotes Psalm 39:9: "Deliver me from all my transgressions; do not disgrace me among the scoundrels." What's the connection? Well, the rabbis, in their inimitable way, see a hidden link.
Rabbi Ḥama bar Ḥanina offers one perspective. He suggests that the nations of the world, the goyim, aren't inherently worthy of having anguished and despised individuals among them. Why? Because, according to this view, they receive their reward for good deeds in this world, and their punishment in the next. So, having people suffer in this world would seemingly disrupt that system. But, Rabbi Ḥama asks, why do they have such people? His answer is striking: so they won't taunt Israel, saying, "You are a nation of anguished and despised people." In other words, the suffering among the nations serves, in part, to prevent them from mocking Israel's own struggles. The verse "Do not disgrace me among the scoundrels" takes on a whole new weight! As the Yefeh To’ar commentary explains, the nations receive their reward in this world and punishment in the next, so they seemingly shouldn't have those who suffer in this world, but they do so they won't taunt Israel.
Rabbi Shmuel bar Naḥman offers a similar, yet slightly different, take. He argues that the nations of the world shouldn't even have people with skin diseases – "scabs," as the text puts it – in their midst. Why? Again, to prevent them from taunting Israel, saying, "Are you not a nation of lepers?" Again, the verse "Do not disgrace me among the scoundrels" is invoked.
What are we to make of this? It's a complex and potentially uncomfortable idea. Are the rabbis suggesting that the suffering of others exists solely to shield Israel from ridicule? Perhaps. But there's likely a deeper meaning at play. It speaks to the unique relationship between Israel and God, and the idea that Israel's suffering has a particular significance in the divine plan.
The passage then takes another turn, focusing on Joseph. "Deliver me from all my transgressions…" – this, the text says, refers to Joseph. Remember the story? Potiphar's wife falsely accuses Joseph of attempted seduction, and as we find in Genesis 39:14, "She called to the people of her household…" The midrash, or interpretation, says that she put him in everyone's mouths, causing widespread gossip and slander about Joseph.
The text suggests that God engineered the subsequent events – the sins of the butler and the baker – as a distraction. As the text states, "It was after these matters…sinned…." (Genesis 40:1). The Holy One, blessed be He, said, "It is preferable that they turn against one another and not turn against this righteous one." In other words, God intervened to shift the focus away from Joseph and onto the troubles of the butler and the baker. The gossip would be directed elsewhere.
So, what's the takeaway here? On the surface, it's a fascinating glimpse into the rabbinic mind, their creative interpretations of scripture, and their unwavering focus on the fate of Israel. But on a deeper level, it's a meditation on the nature of suffering, justice, and divine providence. It reminds us that even in the face of hardship and injustice, there may be a hidden purpose, a larger plan at work. It's a comforting thought, even if we can't always see it in the moment. And as Ginzberg retells it in Legends of the Jews, these stories remind us of the enduring power of faith to make sense of a world that often seems senseless.
It leaves you wondering: how do we find meaning in our own suffering? And how can we ensure that our own struggles don't lead us to judge or condemn others? These are questions that continue to resonate, centuries after these words were first written.