The Meaning of a Chronological Problem:
Connecting Yosef and Yehuda
“…The brothers were occupied with selling Yosef, and Yosef was occupied with his sackcloth and fasting. Reuven was occupied with his sackcloth and fasting, and Yaakov was occupied with his sackcloth and fasting, and Yehuda was occupied with taking himself a wife. And the Holy One blessed be He was occupied with creating the light of the Messiah….” (Genesis Rabba 85:1)
What makes a sequence of events meaningful rather than random? How does the biblical text choose to narrate events, and why? The midrash that follows uses the story of Yosef and his brothers – a long, complicated account woven of many strands – to address these questions.
Defining the Interpretive Problem
The Yosef narrative is marked by a glaring textual difficulty – the insertion of the Yehuda/Tamar episode at a critical moment in the description of Yosef’s sale into slavery. The events leading up to the sale of Yosef begin in Genesis 37:12.1Please read Genesis 37:12 through Genesis 39:1 for a complete grasp of the midrashic discussion. Genesis 37:19–28 describes the brothers’ initial plan to kill Yosef and the discussion that leads first to their casting him into the pit, and then to the final decision to sell him. Verses 29–35 describe the aftermath of that decision and its particular effects upon Reuven and Yaakov. Verse 36 ends the passage2Fortuitously for our purposes, in the case of chapters 37–39, there is agreement between the traditional Jewish divisions of the biblical text (according to parasha, indicated by the spacing in the Torah scroll) and the later Christian divisions (indicated by chapter and verse numberings).
The Christian numbering of chapters and verses is employed virtually everywhere in the Jewish world as a useful convention for ordering the Tanakh. In these three chapters at least, the chapter divisions reflect the Jewish tradition, which makes it easier to show the interpretive problems posed by the interpolation of the Tamar and Yehuda story into the Yosef narrative. with the statement: “And the Midianites sold him [Yosef] to Egypt, to Potiphar, Par’oh’s chamberlain, the chief executioner.”
At this point, we would expect the narrative to go on with the portrayal of Yosef’s life in Egypt, but Chapter 38:1 opens with the following seeming non-sequitur: “And it was at that time, and Yehuda went down from his brothers, and he turned aside to an Adulamite man whose name was Hira.” The entire chapter that follows is a detailed account of the Tamar and Yehuda story, with the Yosef thread resuming only in the first verse of Chapter 39.
The interpretive problem is obvious. Why is the Yosef strand of the narrative, surely the dominant one, interrupted at this critical juncture by an apparently unrelated story? When, in fact, does the Yehuda/Tamar episode take place in relation to the Yosef story? Bearing in mind that both stories unfold over a period of years, what is meant by the phrase, “And it was at that time…” (Genesis 38:1)? Does Yehuda marry immediately after his role in the selling of Yosef or does this story begin at some earlier point in Yehuda’s life, as some of the commentators contend?3See, for example, ibn Ezra on this verse. Even if the story of Yehuda’s marriage takes place immediately after the brothers’ selling of Yosef,4Rashi and Sforno, among other commentators, take this position. why is the Yosef strand of the narrative interrupted so abruptly by this episode, when it might just as easily have been placed at a more natural break in the story?
The Midrashic Commentary
Genesis Rabba 85:2 discusses this problem as follows:
(1) “And it was at this time…”
(2) [But] shouldn’t the text have said “And Yosef was brought down to Egypt?”
(3) So why does it connect this portion [Yehuda and Tamar] to that [Yosef’s sale into slavery]?
(4) R. Elazar and R. Yohanan [each answer this question].
(5) R. Elazar said:
(6) “In order to connect descent to descent (yerida leyerida”).
(7) R. Yohanan said,
(8) “In order to connect ‘recognize’ to ‘recognize’ (haker lehaker”).
(9) R. Shmuel bar Nahman said:
(10) “In order to connect the story of Tamar to the story of Potiphar’s wife;
(11) just as this one [intended to act] for the sake of Heaven, that one [intended to act] for the sake of Heaven,
(12) As R. Yehoshua ben Levi said,
(13) ‘[The wife of Potiphar] saw in the stars that in the future, she would beget a child with [Yosef],
(14) and she didn’t know if it would be through herself or through her daughter.
(15) That is what [it means when] it says:
(16) “…those who predict at the time of the new moon something of what (me’asher) which will come upon you” (Isaiah 47:13).5My translation of this part of the verse follows Rashi. See the discussion of this verse in the section titled, “R. Shmuel bar Nahman’s answer to the midrashic question” below.
(17) R. Aibo said,
(18) ‘Something [of what will come upon you]’ and not ‘all that [will come upon you].’”
(19) And similarly [it says],
(20) “…and they were not ashamed” (Genesis 2:25).6The full quote is, “And the two of them were naked, Adam and his wife, and they were not ashamed.”
(21) “And the serpent was more crafty…” (Genesis 3:1).7The full quote is, “And the serpent was more crafty than all the beasts of the field that God, the Lord, had made; and he said to the woman, ‘Did the Lord say, “Don’t eat from any of the trees of the garden?”’”
(22) [But] shouldn’t the text have said, “And God, the Lord, made Adam and his wife clothes of skins and He dressed them?” (Genesis 3:21)
(23) R. Yehoshua ben Karha said,
(24) “To make known to you what sin8The term “sin” is used somewhat anachronistically here, since the concept of sexual sin applies only after Adam and Hava eat of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. In another version of this midrash (Genesis Rabba 18:6) the word “sin” (het) does not appear. Instead, the term hettia is used. See the explanation of that term in the commentary Yad Moshe there. See also the commentary of the Maharzu on Genesis Rabba 18:6 dibur hamat’hil: mitaskin b’derekh eretz. (For a contrasting viewpoint, see the commentary of the Matnot Kehuna on the same source, dibur hamat’hil: me’ezeh chettia. Jastrow takes the same position as the Matnot Kehuna for this term.) Note, also, that in Genesis Rabba 18:6, the text reads “that he saw them engaged in derekh eretz and desired her” (not them). caused that wicked one to jump upon them,
(25) that he saw them engaged in derekh eretz9Translated literally, this means “the way of the land,” and often denotes the conventions of human behavior or etiquette. In this context, it is a euphemism for sexual intercourse. and desired them.”
(26) R. Yaakov of Kefar Hanin said,
(27) “In order not to end [the narrative] with the story of the serpent.”
(28) And similarly [it says],
(29) “…and those who walk high, He can bring down…” (Daniel 4:34).10The full quote is: “Now I, Nevukhadnezzar, praise, and elevate, and honor the King of heaven, all of Whose deeds are truth, and Whose ways are justice, and those who walk haughtily, He can bring down.” This verse concludes Nevukhadnezzar’s description of how his reign was interrupted by a period of madness.
(30) “Belshazzar the king…” (Daniel 5:1).11The full quote is, “Balshezzar the king made a great feast for a thousand of his officers, and drank wine before the thousand.” This verse opens the description of the last night of Balshezzar’s reign.
(31) “And Darius the Medean…” (Daniel 6:1).12The full quote is, “And Darius the Medean received the kingdom [when he was] about sixty two years old.” This verse describes the beginning of Darius’ reign.
(32) And where is [the reign of] Ehveel Merodakh?
(33) R. Elazar said:
(34) “In order to connect a wicked man to a wicked man, a destroyer to a destroyer, a haughty man to a haughty man.”
(35) R. Shmuel bar Nahman said,
(36) “In order to connect the interruption of a reign to the interruption of a reign.”
(37) And similarly [it says],
(41) R. Huna said,
(42) “So that [people] will not say that [these verses] are story-telling;
(43) so that everyone will know that [Daniel] said [them] with Divine inspiration.”
(44) The Rabbis said:
(45) “In order to weave together (lesareg) the whole book as being said with Divine inspiration.”
(46) Even here, also, it is necessary to say:
(47) “And Yosef was brought down to Egypt”
(48) And it says, “And Yehuda went down from [being with] his brothers.”
(49) [Yehuda] said, “Come, let us scatter ourselves,
(50) for as long as we are gathered, the writ of debt may be found (matzui) for collecting.”
(51) The Holy One blessed be He said,
(52) “[When] ten people have been found out (nimtze’u) for stealing, isn’t one person [who is caught] caught for all of them?”13If only one thief of a gang of thieves can be caught, he will be punished on his own account, even if none of the others can be brought to punishment.
(53) And when they were found (nimtze’u) with [Yosef’s] goblet,
(55) R. Yitzhak said,
(56) “The creditor has found (matza) occasion to collect his bill.”14I.e., the creditor now has the opportunity to collect his bill.
(57) R. Levi said,
(58) “Like someone who drains (mematzeh) a barrel and leaves the dregs.”
(59) The Rabbis say,
(60) “[The brothers said,] ‘Come let us provide for ourselves.
(61) In the past, [our father] had to marry us to wives.
(62) And now [that] he is occupied with his sackcloth and fasting, it is not proper that he occupy himself with marrying us to wives.’
(63) They said to Yehuda, “Aren’t you the head of us all?
(64) Get up and provide for yourself [a wife].””
(65) Immediately, “And Yehuda went down....”
(66) It was a descent for him that he married a non-Jew.
(67) It was a descent for him that he buried his wife and sons.
Structure of the Midrash:
Our first step in analyzing this midrash is to divide the paragraph into its constituent parts. Even a casual perusal of the paragraph shows us that it is structurally complex and that the connections between the various parts of this midrash do not immediately present themselves. The editors start with a dibur hamat’hil and the question it raises (lines 1–3). The question is followed by three possible answers: that of R. Elazar (lines 5–6), that of R. Yohanan (lines 7–8), and that of R. Shmuel bar Nahman (lines 9–18). We are then offered three more examples of chronologically problematic juxtapositions in the text of the Tanakh, one from Genesis and two from Daniel. Each case is questioned and answers are given (lines 19–45). Lines 46–48 bring us back to our original case (the interruption of the Yosef story by the Yehuda-Tamar episode). This is followed by two intricate narrative expansions of the verse, “And Yehuda went down from [being with] his brothers…” (lines 48–56, and lines 57–67).
A detailed mapping of the paragraph follows:
(1) the dibur hamat’hil (line 1)
(2) the interpretive problem/question (lines 2–3)
(3) identifying the two opinions that offer answers to this question (line 4)
(4) R. Elazar’s answer (lines 5–6)
(5) R. Yohanan’s answer (lines 7–8)
(6) R. Shmuel bar Nahman’s answer (lines 9–18), which incorporates (7) and (8)
(7) R. Yehoshua ben Levi’s interpretation of the Potiphar’s wife story (lines 12–16)
(8) R. Aibo’s interpretation of the verse from Isaiah quoted by R. Yehoshua ben Levi (line 17–18)
(9) the chronological problem from Genesis (lines 19–22)
(10) R. Yehoshua ben Karha’s answer to the problem (lines 23–24)
(11) R. Yaakov of Kefar Hanin’s answer to the problem (lines 26–27)
(12) the first chronological problem from Daniel (lines 28–32)
(13) R. Elazar’s answer to the problem (lines 33–34)
(14) R. Shmuel bar Nahman’s answer to the problem (lines 35–36)
(15) the second chronological problem from Daniel (lines 37–40)
(16) R. Huna’s answer to the problem (lines 41–43)
(17) the Rabbis’ answer to the problem (lines 44–45)
(18) the connection to our original case, i.e., Chapters 38 and 39 of Genesis (lines 46–48). (Line 48 is also the dibur hamat’hil for the following narrative expansions.)
(19) the first narrative expansion of “And Yehuda went down…” (lines 49–54)
(20) R. Yitzhak’s comment on the narrative expansion (lines 55–56)
(21) R. Levi’s comment on the narrative expansion (lines 57–58)
(22) the second narrative expansion of “And Yehuda went down…” (lines 59–65)
(23) commentary on the narrative expansion (lines 66–67)
Three Opinions, Two Citations:
the Significance of Line 4
The first three lines of the midrash explicitly lay out the interpretive difficulty outlined above: Why does the biblical text interrupt the narrative flow of the Yosef story with the story of Tamar and Yehuda? Line 4 states that there are two different answers to this question, given by R. Elazar and R. Yohanan, respectively.15This is a convention of the literature of Hazal in both halakha and agada. When we see the phrase “Rabbi X and Rabbi Y,” as the opening to a citation of a rabbinic statement, it means that two different opinions are about to be offered. However, proceeding in our reading, we note that there are actually three answers to this question in the midrash, not two. For some reason, R. Shmuel bar Nahman’s opinion is not listed with those of R. Elazar and R. Yohanan as part of the introductory remarks of the midrash. To account for this, we need to examine each of the opinions and see how they compare with one another.
R. Elazar’s Answer to the Midrashic Question (lines 5–6)
Reading with the sensitivity characteristic of Hazal, R. Elazar notices that the Yehuda/Tamar story opens with Yehuda’s descent “from [being with] his brothers,” just as the resumption of the Yosef story in the following chapter opens with Yosef’s descent into slavery in Egypt. R. Elazar contends that the Yosef narrative is interrupted by the seemingly unconnected story of Tamar and Yehuda in order to draw our attention to this link between the two descents.16Perhaps he says this because the “descent” words appear in the first verse of each episode and thus stand out in a way they might not otherwise if the stories were ordered differently. See footnote 2.
Because R. Elazar does not elaborate the meaning of the connection he has raised, we need to re-examine the relevant verses to determine the significance of the parallel being drawn.17This is yet another example of techniques used by Hazal to engage the reader in interaction with their commentary and with the biblical text. Yehuda’s descent is described in Genesis 38:1: “And it was at that time, and Yehuda went down from [being with] his brothers” (…vayered Yehuda me’et ehav). Yosef’s descent appears in Genesis 39:1: “And Yosef was brought down to Egypt…” (veYosef hurad Mitzraima).
Juxtaposing these verses, we are struck by two things. First, the verb that describes Yehuda’s descent is in the active form (vayered, “and Yehuda went down”) while Yosef’s descent is described by the same verb in the passive form (veYosef hurad, “And Yosef was brought down”). The reason for this is obvious. Yehuda has control over what is happening, unlike Yosef, who has been forced into slavery against his will. But there is another, more disturbing, difference between the two descents. Yosef’s yerida is physical, but Yehuda’s is spiritual. This is apparent both from the sequence of events in the biblical text and from the last two lines of the midrash. In the account that follows Yehuda’s “going down from his brothers,” we are shown his marriage to a non-Jewish woman, the death of his sons, and his dishonorable behavior toward his daughter-in-law. And while Yehuda redeems himself by his courageous self-exposure and repentance, the narrative shows us a great man in spiritual decline over a period of years.18It should also be noted that Yehuda’s spiritual decline appears to end at the point of his marriage to Tamar and the birth of their children, which is the end of chapter 38. When Yehuda next makes his appearance in the narrative (in chapter 43), he has clearly become the leader of his brothers and is a morally as well as physically courageous man. The last two lines of the midrash give us part of this picture in a characteristically brief summary: “It was a descent for him that he married a non-Jew. It was a descent for him that he buried his wife and sons” (lines 66–67).
In contrast to Yehuda, after Yosef has been “brought down to Egypt,” we see him resisting Potiphar’s wife in an act of spiritual and moral greatness. His behavior is all the more impressive given that he is a young man, a slave, and alone in Egypt, without guidance or support. In light of the very real differences between Yehuda’s decline and Yosef’s descent, why does R. Elazar see a connection between them?
One possible answer is that R. Elazar wishes us to engage in exactly the exercise we have just completed, since contrasting is also a form of connection: juxtaposing elements can help determine what they have in common as well as their differences. Yehuda and Yosef each play a vital role in the narrative that follows. For a proper understanding of what follows, we need to consider carefully the events that shape these men and prepare them for their dramatic encounter at the climax of the story. Yosef comes to his encounter with Yehuda from a position of hardship – not of his own making – out of which he has risen to great heights; Yehuda comes to the same encounter with a spiritual depth he has reached through profound self-recognition attained in his experience with Tamar.
Another possible answer is that R. Elazar wishes to demonstrate a midda keneged midda19Hazal use the phrase midda keneged midda to describe a situation of poetic justice, i.e., a turn of events in which the punishment corresponds perfectly to the sin. See, for example, Sanhedrin 90a. (“measure for measure”) relationship between the two descents. On this reading, the reason for Yehuda’s fall is that he was instrumental in causing Yosef to be brought down. Yehuda’s decline is thus either a punishment for his role in Yosef’s enslavement, or a natural result of his having lowered his own spiritual level by selling his brother.
Significantly, while R. Elazar alerts us to the link between the two narratives, he does not spell out for us explicitly how he wishes us to understand it. He grounds his commentary in the language of the text, thus giving it a solid interpretive basis. By making the connection without explicating it, however, he leaves open more than one avenue of interpretation and requires us to do the work of fleshing out his idea.
R. Yohanan’s Answer to the Midrashic Question (7–8)
R. Yohanan offers a different answer to the question of why the Yosef narrative is interrupted by the Yehuda/Tamar story. Where R. Elazar contends that the biblical text links Genesis 38 and 39 (i.e., the Yehuda/Tamar narrative and the continuation of the Yosef story), R. Yohanan maintains that the connection is being made between Genesis 37 and 38 (i.e., the brothers’ deceiving of Yaakov and the Yehuda/Tamar story).
R. Yohanan’s argument focuses on the use of the same word in two different contexts within the extended narrative of the Yosef story. The first place this word appears is when the brothers come to Yaakov to inform him of Yosef’s “death.” They do not actually tell Yaakov that Yosef has been killed. Instead, they “sent the striped coat, and they brought it to their father, and they said, ‘This we have found. Recognize (‘haker’), please, is this the coat of your son or not?’” (Genesis 37:32) The second use of the word occurs when Tamar, about to be burned for her “sin,” “…sent to her father-in-law saying, ‘By the man to whom these belong I have conceived’; and she said, ‘Recognize (‘haker’), please, whose these are, the signet ring, the belt, and the staff.’”20The parallels between the verses do not end with the presence of the word haker (recognize) in both of them. The phrase in which the word occurs is identical in both verses: “Recognize, please…” and in both verses the objects to be identified are sent to the person being questioned.
In the association he makes here, R. Yohanan highlights for us a clear case of allusion in the biblical narrative.21See Genesis Rabba 85:11 for a more explicit version of R. Yohanan’s position (dibur hamat’hil: haker na). The decisive point of the Tamar/Yehuda episode, in which Yehuda is forced to face the ugliest parts of his nature, is couched in the same language the brothers use to deceive their father about Yosef. The message is clear; in his encounter with Tamar, Yehuda is being punished for the leading role he played in selling his brother and betraying his father. He, along with his brothers, manipulates his father into a false “recognition.” Thus he will therefore find himself hearing virtually the identical words from Tamar as an accusation whose truth he will be forced to acknowledge.22It is interesting to note that the recognition motif recurs in the Yosef story at a later stage. See Genesis 42:7–8. The insertion of the Yehuda/Tamar story at this unexpected juncture in the Yosef narrative compels us to notice this important connection. Had the Yosef strand continued without interruption, we might have missed it.
R. Elazar and R. Yohanan vs. R. Shmuel bar Nahman
Both R. Yohanan and R. Elazar are responding to linguistic cues planted in the text. In R. Yohanan’s case, the cues are explicit because the repeated phrase (haker na ) is exactly the same in both verses. In R. Elazar’s case, the correspondence is somewhat less obvious because the linguistic repetition is one of roots rather than identical words, but the connection is still very compelling. In contrast, R. Shmuel bar Nahman’s answer to the question of why the Yosef story is interrupted by the Yehuda/Tamar episode differs completely from this sort of approach. He finds a thematic association between Genesis 38 and 39 in the likeness he perceives between the actions and motivations of Tamar and Potiphar’s wife. What triggers R. Shmuel bar Nahman’s interpretation is the similarity between story lines, not linguistic cues.
Even before we examine the significance of R. Shmuel bar Nahman’s interpretation, we can see why the editors of Genesis Rabba disassociate it from R. Elazar’s and R. Yohanan’s readings. By omitting R. Shmuel bar Nahman from line 4, they are signaling that there is a qualitative difference between the interpretations of R. Elazar and R. Yohanan on one hand, and that of R. Shmuel bar Nahman on the other.
R. Shmuel bar Nahman’s Answer to the Midrashic Question
R. Shmuel bar Nahman contends that the disruption of the Yosef story by the Tamar/Yehuda episode is intended to alert us to a similarity between Tamar (Genesis 38) and Potiphar’s wife (Genesis 39). He bases his reading on a tradition taught by R. Yehoshua ben Levi, that Potiphar’s wife was motivated to seduce Yosef because she believed – based on an astrological prediction – that she was destined to have children with him (lines 12–16). R. Yehoshua ben Levi points out that since astrology is an inexact discipline, Potiphar’s wife did not know for certain whether Yosef’s children would come through her or through her daughter.
In support of this point, he quotes a prooftext from Isaiah (47:13) and R. Aibo’s interpretation of it. The verse criticizes the Jewish people for their dependence upon the astrologers to whom they turn for reassurance about the future. The full quote is translated in two different ways by the commentators on the text. The first reading, which is more in keeping with the plain sense of the verse in the context of Isaiah 47 is: “You are wearied with your many advisers; let them rise up and save you – the astrologers, the stargazers, those who make monthly predictions – from what will befall you.”23This is the reading of Radak and ibn Ezra.
The second reading, which matches the context of our midrash, is: “You are wearied with your many advisers; let them rise up and save you – the astrologers, the stargazers, those who predict at the time of the new moon something of what (me’asher) will befall you.”24Rashi and R. Yeshaya MiTerani read the verse in this way. R. Aibo comments that those who make these predictions can only tell “something of what will befall you, and not all that will befall you” (lines 17–18). The point of the prooftext is that Potiphar’s wife errs in her calculations because she places her reliance in her reading of the stars. She decides how to act on the basis of a deterministic and unreliable “science” instead of making decisions on the basis of morality.
Although R. Yehoshua ben Levi’s teaching – the basis for R. Shmuel bar Nahman’s interpretation – may strike us as strange, we should note that it receives strong, if indirect, support from a number of other midrashic sources. For example, Genesis Rabba 87:4 tells us that Potiphar’s wife followed the contemporary custom of consulting astrologers about the purchase of slaves, and consulted an astrologer about Yosef. Genesis Rabba 86:2 states that Potiphar, Yosef’s master, is identical with Potiphera, the father of Asnat who becomes Yosef’s wife (Genesis 41:45). Genesis Rabba 89:2 repeats this tradition.
Problems With R. Shmuel bar Nahman’s Reading
Despite these midrashic supports, R. Shmuel bar Nahman’s interpretation of the connection between Genesis 38 and 39 seems counterintuitive, even shocking. For one thing, his reading makes Potiphar’s wife, rather than Yosef, the focus of Genesis 39. For another, the comparison between the selfless heroism of Tamar and the predatory actions of Potiphar’s wife – which culminate in disaster for Yosef – does not seem at all plausible. Certainly the plain sense of the verses in Genesis 39 appears to invalidate this midrashic teaching since the language of the chapter gives no hint of any motivation for Potiphar’s wife other than lust.25See, in particular, verses 6 and 7. Finally, it is unclear why the biblical text would be wrenched out of chronological order just for the sake of teaching us something positive about Potiphar’s wife. Both R. Elazar’s and R. Yohanan’s interpretations demonstrate that the chronological disruption of the biblical text has great moral significance. R. Shmuel bar Nahman’s reading is hard to see in the same light.
Our difficulty with R. Shmuel bar Nahman’s reading is further exacerbated if we compare his statement here with another statement about Potiphar’s wife which is found in Genesis Rabba 87:4. The full quote reads as follows:
R. Shmuel bar Nahman said, “Cursed are the wicked. There, it says, ‘And you will spread the corner of your garment over your handmaiden’ (Ruth 3:9). But this one [spoke] like an animal [as it says], “And she said, ‘Lie with me.’””
In this midrashic commentary, R. Shmuel bar Nahman contrasts the behavior of Ruth and Potiphar’s wife, to the detriment of the latter. In chapter 3 of the Book of Ruth, Naomi has engineered an encounter between Boaz and Ruth in the hope of encouraging Boaz to marry Ruth and take action to redeem her dead husband’s fields. Despite the indelicacy of the situation – Ruth and Boaz are alone in a deserted granary – Ruth expresses herself with great sensitivity and modesty, employing a euphemism to convey what she wants Boaz to do for her. In contrast, as R. Shmuel bar Nahman points out, Potiphar’s wife uses blatantly explicit language in her attempt to seduce Yosef.
If this were R. Shmuel bar Nahman’s only comment on Potiphar’s wife, it would pose no difficulty. In conjunction with his comments above, though, it leaves us with a contradiction demanding resolution.
Reconstructing R. Shmuel bar Nahman’s Interpretation:
To understand R. Shmuel bar Nahman’s interpretation, we must first determine how he reached it. As we have seen elsewhere, interpretation is influenced by many factors, including one’s definition of context, and the perspective one brings to the text.
An examination of R. Shmuel bar Nahman’s commentary on a number of biblical stories shows us that he tends to approach the sins of righteous biblical characters with the assumption that the Tanakh describes these sins more harshly than the actual events warrant.26See his comments on Eli’s sons, David, Shlomo, and Yoshiyahu, in Shabbat 55b–56b. Although it is difficult to make a definitive statement about how R. Shmuel bar Nahman arrives at this position, we can find two clues in citations of his position in Shabbat 55b–56b. First, R. Shmuel bar Nahman quotes an authority for his statements (R. Yonatan), which means that he anchors his position in an existing rabbinic tradition. Second, R. Shmuel bar Nahman bases his defense of sinful biblical heroes on what appears to him to be a textual inconsistency within the biblical descriptions of these characters. For example, in defending David, he asks, rhetorically, “Can sin have come to a person who [is described in the book of Samuel as] having the Divine Presence with him?” For R. Shmuel bar Nahman, apparently, the sinfulness of these characters is not only irreconcilable with received tradition – it is a textual problem as well.
Our analysis of the same biblical stories might lead us to disagree with R. Shmuel bar Nahman’s understanding of the sinfulness of biblical heroes; we could take issue with him on a number of grounds. For example, in response to his claimed basis in tradition, we might note that other sources in Hazal are highly critical of the sins of biblical heroes, even to the extent of magnifying, rather than minimizing them. It could even be argued that R. Shmuel bar Nahman’s view is less psychologically plausible than other, more critical rabbinic approaches. Nonetheless, we must recognize that R. Shmuel bar Nahman’s approach is not arbitrary. It rests on a perspective that is not universally shared, but is nonetheless internally coherent.
Assuming that our understanding of R. Shmuel bar Nahman’s view is correct, we can attempt to reconstruct the reasoning that leads him to his reading of the Potiphar’s wife story. We have seen that R. Shmuel bar Nahman is inclined to place a positive construction on the sins of biblical heroes. Although Potiphar’s wife hardly fits the category of righteous biblical characters, she is a person who will play an important role in Yosef’s life. Potiphar’s wife is not the mother of Yosef’s children, but she is the mother of his wife. Perhaps R. Shmuel bar Nahman cannot imagine that the wife of Yosef, the mother of Ephraim and Menashe, could have sprung from a woman totally devoid of all positive qualities. In addition, R. Shmuel bar Nahman has recourse to a tradition that attributes a positive motivation, however misplaced, to Potiphar’s wife’s actions. And, finally, R. Shmuel bar Nahman notes that the story of Tamar and Yehuda is interpolated into the Yosef narrative at an unexpected juncture. It seems plausible to him that the purpose of this artificial ordering is to juxtapose the story of Tamar with that of Potiphar’s wife.
Our attempt to reconstruct the reasoning behind R. Shmuel bar Nahman’s position has shown us that a case can be made for his position. Still, we are left with two problems. First, why should the chronology of the biblical narrative be rearranged just to tell us that Potiphar’s wife is not as evil as she seems? Compared with the answers that R. Elazar and R. Yohanan offer to the chronology problem, this one seems almost pointless. Second, how are we to reconcile R. Shmuel bar Nahman’s description of Potiphar’s wife here with his harsh condemnation of her in Genesis Rabba 38:7?
Tamar and Potiphar’s Wife
Perhaps the answer to these questions lies in re-examining the comparison R. Shmuel bar Nahman makes between Tamar and Potiphar’s wife. We initially assumed that R. Shmuel bar Nahman’s comment expressed his approval of Potiphar’s wife. Since both the biblical text and midrashic commentary present Tamar as wholly praiseworthy, and R. Shmuel bar Nahman explicitly compares Potiphar’s wife to Tamar, that assumption seemed quite reasonable. Closer examination of the comparison, however, shows us that it is not as straightforward as it appears. Although Tamar and Potiphar’s wife are favorably compared in their motivations, the biblical and midrashic verdicts on their actions differ radically. Tamar is presented as brave, self-denying, and humble, while R. Shmuel bar Nahman himself compares Potiphar’s wife to an animal.
As we saw in our discussion of R. Elazar’s interpretation above, comparing things also involves contrasting them. A careful look at R. Shmuel bar Nahman’s analysis of the Potiphar’s wife story reveals that he wishes not only to compare Tamar and Potiphar’s wife, but also to show us the differences between them. The message that emerges from this exercise is far more subtle and valuable than we imagined, namely, that intentions are not enough to determine the morality of a course of action.
Although both Tamar and Potiphar’s wife intended their actions “for the sake of Heaven,” the actions they take are not morally equivalent. Tamar consults no one but herself and makes her decisions on the basis of her own sense of right and wrong. She takes full responsibility for her actions, even to the extent of risking death rather than exposing Yehuda against his will. Potiphar’s wife, on the other hand, abdicates personal responsibility by relying on astrology, although she is aware that it is an imperfect tool. In addition, she ignores the potentially fatal effect of her behavior upon Yosef, a defenseless slave at his master’s mercy. And when she is spurned, she vengefully frames Yosef for a crime he did not commit, despite the knowledge that this will almost inevitably lead to his execution.
Viewed in this light, R. Shmuel bar Nahman’s commentary on the Potiphar’s wife story is full of meaning. Its focus on Potiphar’s wife makes sense when we realize that the effect of the commentary is actually to project our attention backwards to Tamar and the significance of her actions in the previous chapter. After all, she is a central character in that part of the narrative and her behavior warrants such close scrutiny. And while R. Shmuel bar Nahman’s comparison between Potiphar’s wife and Tamar may strike us as straying from the plain sense of the text, we cannot argue that his purpose is not interpretive. Our thinking may well be more attuned to R. Elazar’s and R. Yohanan’s linguistic perceptions than to R. Shmuel bar Nahman’s view of human nature, but his view is undeniably far more sophisticated and nuanced than we initially assumed.
The Chronological Problem of the Yosef Narrative as Part of a Biblical Pattern
After presenting us with three possible answers to the question of why the Torah “connects this portion [Yehuda and Tamar] to that [Yosef’s sale into slavery]” (line 3), the redactors of Genesis Rabba complete the picture by contextualizing this particular case within the wider framework of the Tanakh. They describe three other cases of chronological difficulty similar to this one, and introduce a number of interpretive solutions to the problems posed. The word used to preface each of the cases, udekhivatei (“and similarly”) (lines 19 and 28), signals that this sort of interpretive difficulty is not unique to the Yosef stories.27Elsewhere this concept is formulated as “Ein mukdam um’e’uhar baTorah.” (“There is no ‘prior’ and ‘later’ in the Torah,” i.e., chronological order does not necessarily obtain in the biblical narrative.) See Pesahim 6b. There are many places in which this formula appears in midrashic literature, and it is quoted by many of the biblical commentators.
The Example From Genesis
The first example (lines 19–22) is taken from Genesis.28To follow the discussion, please read Genesis 2:21 to Genesis 3:21. Genesis 2:25 states: “And the two of them were naked, Adam and his wife, and they were not ashamed.” The redactors of Genesis Rabba contend that the event which follows this description is God’s clothing of Adam and his wife (Genesis 3:21), and that only after this clothing does the serpent approach Hava (Genesis 3:1). They maintain, therefore, that the record of the events as they appear in Genesis 2 and 3 does not correspond with the sequence of the events as they occurred: Genesis 3:1–20 (the sin and punishment of Adam and Hava) in fact follows Genesis 3:21 (the clothing of Adam and Hava) rather than preceding it.29Rashi follows this opinion. Others assume that the events in this narrative are not recorded out of order, and that the clothing of Adam and Hava takes place only after they have sinned and been punished. See, for example, Sforno and Radak. Although a strong case can be made for the latter opinion, it does not invalidate the midrashic approach taken here, since the midrash makes its assumptions about the ordering of the text explicit and works from those assumptions.
Why does the biblical text record the events out of chronological order? The editors of Genesis Rabba cite two possible explanations, one from R. Yehoshua ben Karha and the other from R. Yaakov of Kfar Hanin. R. Yehoshua ben Karha interprets this dischronology as an explanation for what motivated the serpent to approach Hava and tempt her to disobey God. Expanding the narrative, R. Yehoshua ben Karha explains that seeing Adam and Hava “engaged in derekh eretz” made the serpent “desire them” (lines 23–25). If the text had not linked the serpent’s advances to Hava and the nakedness of Adam and Hava – with all that their nakedness implies – we would not have understood what provoked the dialogue between them.30I will not attempt to discuss this narrative expansion in depth, since it would necessitate a lengthy and detailed analysis of the first three chapters of Genesis, an exercise that is beyond the scope of this book. One thing, though, is self-evident about both R. Yehoshua ben Karha’s explanation and the narrative he is discussing: The serpent of Genesis 3 is clearly not an ordinary snake, and the relationship described here between serpent and human beings is not one that could be conceived of outside the unique setting of this biblical narrative. Both early and later traditional commentaries on Genesis 3 represent the serpent figure as an externalized Evil Inclination. By the same token, the act of eating from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil is the internalizing of the Evil Inclination within the human psyche.
In light of this, the only reasonable conclusion is that R. Yehoshua ben Karha must be speaking figuratively when he says that the serpent “desired” Adam and Hava because he saw them “engaged in derekh eretz.” Perhaps one way to translate these words into a contemporary idiom would be to say that sexuality makes human beings vulnerable to the Evil Inclination. R. Yehoshua ben Karha’s commentary suggests that the chronology of the biblical text is rearranged to bring out this point.
Obviously, the brief summary offered here significantly flattens out the subtleties of the different discussions of the Garden of Eden narrative, and is in no way intended to be comprehensive of all the various commentaries on this complex subject.
R. Yaakov of Kefar Hanin offers a simpler explanation for the dischronology in Genesis 2 and 3 (lines 26–27). He maintains that the text changes the order of events so that the Garden of Eden story will not end on a sour note. Had the chronology of events been preserved, the narrative would have concluded with the punishment of Adam and Hava, a bleak ending indeed. As written, however, the story finishes with a more hopeful image – God, in an act of loving-kindness, clothing Adam and Hava, even though they have sinned against Him. In R. Yaakov of Kefar Hanin’s view, an account which preserved chronology might have left the reader doubting the possibility of Adam and Hava’s continued relationship with God. The existing text leaves the reader with the sense that God still loves them, despite their sin.
Examples From the Book of Daniel
The examples from the Book of Daniel are particularly significant because they deal with subject matter that is specifically historical. This distinguishes them from the case in the Genesis narrative, in which the violation of chronological order is less obvious.
The First Example:
In the first example from Daniel (lines 28–36), the midrash cites three verses which refer to three kings. The first quote, Daniel 4:34 (line 29), concludes the story of Nevukhadnezzar’s reign; the second quote, Daniel 5:1 (line 30), describes the beginning of Belshazzar’s reign; and the third, from Daniel 6:1 (line 31), introduces the beginning of Darius’ reign. The midrash then asks, “And where is [the reign] of Ehveel Merodakh?” (line 32). This question arises because the historical sequence of Babylonian kings is Nevukhadnezzar, then Ehveel Merodakh, followed by Belshazzar, the last Babylonian king in the dynasty.31Both Ehveel Merodakh and Belshazzar were the sons of Nevukhadnezzar. After Belshazzar’s death, the empire over which he ruled is split between Persia and Medea, with Darius the Medean taking over part of the Babylonian empire.32For this information, which the editors of Genesis Rabba assume we know, see Rashi and Maharzu on this section. Ehveel Merodakh is mentioned in II Kings 25:27 and Jeremiah 52:31 as Nevukhadnezzar’s successor, where he is shown behaving benevolently to the imprisoned Yehoyakhin, king of Yehuda. In the Book of Daniel, however, his reign does not appear at all, a chronological anomaly that needs to be accounted for.
The midrash offers two reasons for this omission. R. Elazar’s explanation (lines 33–34) is that Ehveel Merodakh is left out of the narrative sequence to emphasize the link between Nevukhadnezzar and Balshezzar: “in order to connect a wicked man to a wicked man, a destroyer to a destroyer, a haughty man to a haughty man” (line 34). In R. Elazar’s view, the point of this narrative is not to chronicle the kings of Babylon, but to teach the moral lessons behind historical events. The reign of Ehveel Merodakh is omitted from the Book of Daniel because, as a righteous man, he does not belong in an account of wicked kings.33See the commentaries of the Matnot Kehuna and the Maharzu on these words. The likeness between the wicked, destructive, haughty Nevukhadnezzar and the equally wicked Belshazzar is what binds this story together, not the raw sequence of events.
R. Shmuel bar Nahman’s explanation (lines 35–36) is similar. He, too, sees Ehveel Merodakh’s exclusion as having the purpose of linking Nevukahdnezzar and Belshazzar, but he understands the parallel between them in a subtly different way. Ehveel Merodakh’s reign is skipped so as “to connect the interruption of a reign to the interruption of a reign.” Both Nevukhadnezzar’s and Belshazzar’s reigns end suddenly and violently.34Seven years later, however, Nevukhadnezzar is restored to the throne. See Daniel 4:31–34. Daniel 4:26–34 describes how Nevukhadnezzar is driven insane, and reduced to an animal-like state. Chapter 5 of Daniel describes the night of Belshazzar’s downfall and assassination. In both cases, the text presents the curtailment of these reigns as a punishment for their arrogance and their failure to fear God.
R. Elazar’s and R. Shmuel bar Nahman’s approaches to the chronological problem in the text are clearly similar. Both of them see the omission of Ehveel Merodakh’s reign as designed to draw our attention to the link between Nevukhadnezzar and Belshazzar, and both of them view these kings in a negative light. More important, each of them understands the Book of Daniel as having primarily a moral and spiritual purpose, rather than a historical one. But where R. Elazar focuses on the likeness in the character traits of Nevukhadnezzar and Belshazzar, R. Shmuel bar Nahman wants us to see the similarity in their destinies. R. Shmuel bar Nahman’s teaching emphasizes that people like Nevukhadnezzar and Belshazzar do not go unpunished for their sins and that God, not kings, controls the reins of history.
The Second Example
The second example from the Book of Daniel (lines 37–40) is a case of true dischronology, rather than omission. Chapter 5 of Daniel ends with the death of Belshazzar, and Chapter 6 opens with Darius the Medean taking over part of Belshazzar’s empire. The narrative then goes back to the reign of Belshazzar in Chapters 7 and 8 (although the midrash mentions only Chapter 8). Here, the historical sequence is completely distorted. Why, the midrash asks, does “the third year of the reign of King Belshazzar” (Daniel 8:1) appear well after his death has been recorded (in Daniel 5:30)?
The Artificiality of Chronology
The first answer cited by the editors of Genesis Rabba is unexpected, to say the least: “R. Huna said, ‘So that [people] will not say that [these verses] are story-telling; so that everyone will know that [Daniel] said [them] with Divine inspiration’” (lines 41–43). In other words, according to R. Huna, the blurring of chronological order in the Book of Daniel proves its veracity. This surprising statement is reinforced by the comment of the Rabbis, that the story is told out of sequence “in order to weave together (lesareg) the whole book as being said with Divine inspiration” (line 45). Rashi understands the Rabbis’ words to mean that the interweaving of chronological anomalies throughout the text demonstrates the Divine nature of the whole book, and not only of the chapters in which dischronology is found.35I have brought only part of Rashi’s argument. See the full discussion in Rashi in dibur hamat’hil: gevtan legevtan and dibur hamat’hil: keday lesareg al hasefer kulo.... Note, also, the commentary of the Matnot Kehuna, dibur hamat’hil: piyyutin and dibur hamat’hil: lesareg.
These statements are confusing, to say the least. We are inclined to view the preservation of chronological order in an historical account as evidence of its accuracy and not the opposite. Since we perceive events sequentially in time, it seems both natural and intellectually appropriate to record them as they occur – i.e., chronologically. R. Huna and the Rabbis disagree with this ostensibly common sense viewpoint, however. Their claim is that strict adherence to chronological order is a characteristic of fictional stories and not of true narratives.
In his commentary on this midrash,36See dibur hamat’hil: divrei piyyutin. the Maharzu paraphrases this claim as follows: “[Authors of fictional stories] are careful with ordering in their words [to preserve] what precedes and what follows, but words [written with] Divine inspiration do not preserve chronology for deep reasons….”
The Maharzu’s brief comment highlights the significance of R. Huna’s and the Rabbis’ words in a number of ways. First, implicit in his statement is the awareness that chronology is an artificial construct, a function of human perception, rather than an objective fact. Chronological ordering is a tool people use to make sense of the events they perceive in the world around them, sometimes at the expense of more meaningful ways of connecting experiences, such as causality or their spiritual and moral significance, for example. Since temporality is only one dimension through which we experience the world, the actual order in which events occur may be of relatively minor importance. Any specific event may be linked with happenings that precede or follow it in ways unexplainable by the organizational principle of chronology alone. Chronological ordering can thus obscure other levels of understanding that would help us grasp the deeper significance of a narrative.
Precisely because chronological ordering is a useful organizational tool, authors of fiction can, and do, employ it to construct fictional narratives. According to R. Huna and the Rabbis, though, the appearance of veracity created by the use of strict chronological ordering is actually a clear indication that we are reading an artificial story, not a real one. Only something artificially constructed can be encompassed by a rigid sequential organization. Reality is never quite that one-dimensional, uncomplicated, or neat. A narrative flowing from a Divine source cannot be confined to such a limiting organizing principle.
Selecting Examples
At this point, we need to consider how the redactors of Genesis Rabba choose the examples they use to illustrate their argument about the chronological flexibility of the Tanakh. Given that instances of dischronology are quite common in the Tanakh, it is unclear why these particular examples should have been selected. This is especially the case since only the third example is truly analogous structurally to the chronological problem in the Yosef story, as we have noted. (The first example, Genesis 2–3, is not unambiguously an illustration of dischronology, and the second example, Daniel 4, 5, and 6, involves omission rather than disruption of sequence.)
“In Order to Weave Together the Whole Book…”
Re-examining the texts selected by the editors of Genesis Rabba, we are able to see that they are not only illustrations of dischronology. Each example has additional characteristics that add force to the argument the midrash constructs here. For one thing, the examples are selected from Genesis and Daniel – that is the first book of the Tanakh, and one of the last books. Jewish tradition puts these books in different canonical categories. The first section, the Torah (or Pentateuch), has the status of mipi haGevurah (dictated by God Himself); the second, Nevi’im (Prophets), has the status of nevua (written from a prophetic experience); the third, Ketuvim (Writings), is considered to have been composed with ruah haKodesh (Divine inspiration), the lowest level of Divine revelation. Genesis is the first of the five books of the Torah, while the Book of Daniel straddles the categories of Nevi’im and Ketuvim. The canonical tradition includes it within the Ketuvim category,37See Bava Batra 14b. although according to at least one stream of thought in Hazal, Daniel himself, the author of the book, is considered a navi (prophet).38See, for example, Mekhilta d’Rabi Yishmael Parshat Bo, dibur hamat’hil: be’eretz Mitzrayim from the words “im tomar dan ani et haneviim…. See also, Yalkut Shimoni on Isaiah section 385.
For the opposite position, see Megilla 3a and the commentary of Rashi.
Rabbi Shalom Carmy suggests that the book of Daniel was difficult to classify because, while the last six chapters of the book recount Daniel’s prophecies, the first six chapters (the narrative portion of the book) contain the visions of non-Jewish kings which Daniel interpreted. Drawing examples of dischronology from books that span the length of the Tanakh and cover all its categories has the effect of making a statement about the whole of the Tanakh, far beyond these specific cases. To borrow the Rabbis’ statement about the book of Daniel, illustrations are drawn from Genesis and Daniel “in order to weave together the whole” Tanakh as being ungoverned by strict sequential ordering.
Thematic Connections
The examples chosen by the editors of Genesis Rabba are also thematically related to the Yosef and Tamar/Yehuda stories. Prominent, even integral elements in both stories are the motifs of royalty and sexual transgression. Thus, the Yosef narrative is in large part the account of Yosef’s rise to power, foreshadowed in his dreams and later brought to fruition. The episode of Potiphar’s wife, in which Yosef resists her attempts at seduction is part of the sequence of events which lead Yosef to his position as second to Par’oh. Similarly, the story of Tamar and Yehuda describes the establishment of the royal line of Israel, and the turn of events hinges critically upon the sexual sins of Yehuda’s sons, and Yehuda’s poor choice of a marriage partner.
The texts from Genesis and Daniel also touch upon these issues. The Genesis example, especially as understood by R. Yehoshua ben Karha, deals with the effect of sexuality upon the human decision-making process. The examples from Daniel describe the rise and fall of royal figures as a function of their moral stature. These instances, then, chosen by the editors of Genesis Rabba, mirror the Yosef narrative in both structure and content. This subtly illustrates that chronological order is not necessarily the most illuminating of connections that can made between narratives. Linkages of linguistic or thematic elements, to name just two, may well be more thought provoking and spiritually enriching.
Implications for Hazal’s Approach to Interpretation
R. Huna and the Rabbis have shown clearly that the Tanakh is not constrained by the organizing principles of a history text. The redactors of Genesis Rabba now return us to our point of departure: “Even here, also, it is necessary to say: ‘And Yosef was brought down to Egypt.’ And it says, ‘And Yehuda went down from [being with] his brothers’” (lines 46–48). The midrash has contextualized for us the interweaving of the Yosef narrative with the Yehuda/Tamar story within the larger framework of the Tanakh. The interpretive problem with which we began – how to explain the chronological anomaly of these chapters – is now seen to be an illustration of chronological flexibility, a critical characteristic of biblical style. This flexibility with regard to chronology (among other characteristics of biblical style) leaves room for textual interpretation or, more accurately, requires us to engage in interpretation. If strict chronological ordering is not an absolute guiding principle in the structure of the Tanakh, and if it does not enable full understanding of the events recorded there, we become responsible for finding the critical connections and underlying meanings that tie the biblical text together.
By demonstrating this, the editors of Genesis Rabba justify the very interpretive enterprise in which they are engaged. Now they can return to the task of analyzing the connection between the larger Yosef narrative, and the Yehuda/Tamar section of the story.
Returning to the Interpretive Task
In lines 46–48, the midrash returns to the verses with which it began39We should note that in bringing us back to the verses they began explicating, the midrashic editors in effect bring us back to the first midrashic commentary on the link between the two stories, i.e., R. Elazar’s statement that the stories are juxtaposed to connect the two descents.: “And Yosef was brought down to Egypt…” (Genesis 39:1) and “And Yehuda went down from [being with] his brothers…” (Genesis 38:1).40The order of the verses is reversed here, with the verse from Genesis 39 preceding the one from Genesis 38. Perhaps this is yet another subtle reminder that sequential ordering is not always the most important way to connect events. The remainder of the midrash then presents two more perspectives on the connection between these verses.
The commentary in this part of the midrash takes the form of two narrative expansions which suggest alternate motivations for Yehuda’s departure from his brothers, the act which introduces the Yehuda and Tamar story. In the biblical text, Yehuda’s action is not accompanied by any explanation. We are told that he goes, but not why. In other words, the significance of his behavior as well as its connection to what precedes and follows, is left unspecified. The narrative expansions that make up the remainder of this midrash elucidate the meaning of Yehuda’s separation from his brothers by adding explanatory dialogue to the text. Both stories place Yehuda’s departure from his brothers after the selling of Yosef, and both see a causal connection between this sale and Yehuda’s separation from his brothers. And yet the narrative expansions offer strikingly different portrayals of the brothers’ emotional state in the aftermath of their selling of Yosef.
The First Narrative Expansion
The first narrative expansion (lines 49–54) has Yehuda telling his brothers, “Come, let us scatter ourselves, for as long as we are gathered, the writ of debt may be found (matzui) for collecting.” Having sold Yosef, Yehuda, as the leader of his brothers, becomes conscious that they have committed a wrong for which they will be made to pay a high price. In hope of eluding the punishment he knows they deserve, Yehuda suggests that the brothers disperse, so that the “writ of debt” will not be able to be collected because the “debtors” will no longer be a group.
God, commenting to Himself on Yehuda’s words, says, “[When] ten people have been found out (nimtze’u) for stealing, isn’t one person [who is caught] caught for all of them?” God rejects Yehuda’s metaphoric description of Yosef’s sale into slavery as the contracting of a collective debt, and calls it by its proper name: theft.41Kidnapping, in the classical sources, is called genevat nefashot (“stealing souls,” i.e., people). The procedures for punishing thieves are not the same as those for punishing debtors. Even if only one of a group of thieves can be caught, he will be punished for his part in the crime.
As the midrash explains, the brothers themselves come to see the later events in Egypt as their punishment for selling Yosef: “And when they were found (nimtze’u) with [Yosef’s] goblet, they said, ‘…the Lord has found out (matza) the sin of your servants...’” (Genesis 44:16) (lines 53–54). The sin referred to is not that of stealing a goblet, but something the brothers believe this Egyptian ruler cannot possibly know about – the selling of their own brother into slavery. It is “the Lord” Who “has found out the sin,” and not the human ruler before whom they stand unjustly accused of theft.
This midrashic description of Yehuda and his brothers suggests that their guilt feelings for having sold Yosef, later expressed during painful experiences in Egypt, begin immediately after they have committed the crime. The idea of separating is initiated by Yehuda, but by leaving the brothers’ response unstated, the midrash implies that they agree with both the suggestion and the reasons for it.42Shetika kehoda’a. “Silence is like assent” (Bava Metzia 37b). The explicitly stated motivation for this separation is the desire to avoid punishment – a clear indication that Yehuda and his brothers feel guilty for what they have done. But another possible explanation for this separation might be the brothers’ unacknowledged sense of shame. Perhaps Yehuda and his brothers are so uncomfortable with what they have done, that they simply cannot bear to remain together.
Whatever the reason for the separation, however, it is clear that Yehuda does not wish to look too squarely at what has happened. We see this in his attempt to downplay the nature of their crime by describing it as the contracting of a debt. God’s response to this description shows that Yehuda has not related properly to the magnitude of his sin. The brothers themselves, though, come to understand this fully much later. Only in Egypt do we see their first explicit signs of remorse. Taken in all its parts, the midrash depicts Yehuda and his brothers as people who feel a vague culpability but do not allow themselves to examine it too closely.
Bringing the Commentary Back to the Text
The narrative expansion discussed here creates a convincing bridge between chapters 38 and 44 in Genesis. By portraying the brothers as having guilt feelings, if not fully acknowledged remorse, very soon after selling Yosef, this midrashic commentary plausibly explains why they immediately see the connection between their cruelty to their brother and the ordeal they undergo in Egypt. Their awareness does not spring out of thin air; it has been growing since they committed the crime. In the same way, the narrative expansion is able to explain how Yehuda falls so far, so fast in Genesis 38. After selling Yosef, the midrash tells us, Yehuda is a man in a spiritually precarious position. He feels uneasy for his leading role in a sin that he does not fully admit to himself, and in such a state he is not likely to probe his actions very deeply.
This narrative expansion is clearly compatible with the plain sense of Genesis 38 and 44, but we should note two details. First, the actual speaker of the words “…the Lord has found out the sin of your servants…” is Yehuda himself, although in the midrash, the words are attributed to all the brothers (lines 53–54). Putting Yehuda’s words in the mouths of all the brothers is another mechanism enabling the midrash to claim that all the brothers, and not only Yehuda, experience feelings of unacknowledged guilt after selling Yosef. In doing so, the midrash is not radically altering the plain sense of Genesis 44 since, from Genesis 43:15, until Genesis 44:18, when Yehuda alone speaks, the brothers are shown acting and speaking as a unit.
The Significance of “Finding”
Second, when we re-read the midrash in the context of the biblical account, we notice that it picks up on the repetitions of the root m-tz-a (“find”) in Genesis 44. By featuring this root prominently in its own commentary, the midrash draws our attention to this element in the text. The root m-tz-a appears in the chapter in verses 8, 9, 10, 12, 16, and 17; in several of these verses, the root appears more than once. The midrash repeats several forms of this root (lines 50, 52, and 54) in its expansion of the narrative, and in the first of two comments that follow the narrative expansion (line 55). Even the second comment, which does not use a form of the root m-tz-a, relies on wordplay based on that root (line 58).
In his comment, R. Yitzhak ties the narrative expansion more closely to Genesis 44 by reminding us of what Yehuda says when he suggests that the brothers separate so that “the writ of debt” will not “be found for collecting” (lines 49–50). If the selling of Yosef is a debt, it cannot be collected without the presence of all the debtors. But now, all gathered in Egypt, and at the mercy of a powerful Egyptian lord, the brothers say, “…the Lord has found out (matza) the sin of your servants…” (Genesis 44:16). As R. Yitzhak observes ironically, a situation has been created in which “the creditor has found (matza) occasion to collect his bill” (line 56).
R. Levi’s observation is even more biting. Playing on the similarity in sound between the root m-tz-a (“find”) and the root m-tz-h (“squeeze, wring, drain”), R. Levi comments on the same verse, that God has “found out (matza)” the sin of the brothers “like someone who drains (mematzeh) a barrel and leaves the dregs.” The image is particularly ugly – the sin of the brothers has been exposed before all, like the slime at the bottom of a barrel.
Both these comments highlight the significance of Yehuda’s statement that God has “found out” the sin of the brothers. To say that something has been “found” or “found out” implies that it was lost or concealed. Clearly, the brothers hope that their selling of Yosef has been somehow forgotten or concealed, though in their hearts they must know that nothing is concealed from God. We see this in the contradiction implicit in Yehuda’s statement: “Come, let us scatter ourselves, for as long as we are gathered, the writ of debt may be found for collecting.” As we have seen, Yehuda would prefer to view the selling of Yosef as the contracting of a debt – a relatively minor offense – but his impulse to scatter the brothers shows that he is afraid and that his fear is inspired by guilt. By having God, unlike Yehuda, liken the selling of Yosef to theft, the midrash has shown us that the sin has never been “lost” or covered up, at least from God’s perspective. If God does not act to punish the brothers until this point, it is only because He has planned otherwise.
Both R. Yitzhak’s and R. Levi’s comments emphasize that the brothers’ sin has never been “forgotten” by God, or “lost.” R. Yitzhak tells us that the appropriate opportunity for calling in “the writ of debt” had not yet arrived. In other words, the seeming absence of God’s response to the selling of Yosef was just a matter of timing. R. Levi’s observation is harsher. He tells us that the sin has been there all the time, merely covered up, like the dregs in a barrel of wine. Everyone knows that the dregs are at the bottom of the barrel, but they are exposed only when the wine is drained.
The Second Narrative Expansion
The second narrative expansion (lines 59–65), presents a very different picture from the first. In the Rabbis’ version of the aftermath of Yosef’s sale into slavery, the brothers are portrayed as feeling no uneasiness at all about what they have done. On the contrary, they perceive their father’s terrible grief and mourning – the consequence of that action – as an inconvenience that prevents him from arranging marriages for them. They will have to “provide for themselves” because Yaakov “is occupied with his sackcloth and fasting,” which makes it “not proper that he be occupied in marrying us to wives” (lines 60–62). Unlike the first narrative expansion, in which Yehuda initiates the separation, in this account, the brothers take the lead in urging Yehuda to depart from them for the purpose of seeking out a wife: “Aren’t you the head of us all? Get up and provide for yourself [a wife]” (lines 63–64). “Immediately,” the midrash tells us, Yehuda does indeed “go down” and marries a Canaanite woman, the act that begins his decline.
On this reading, the brothers are so convinced that they have done no wrong in selling Yosef that they show no signs of remorse in the aftermath of that act. Their main concern is practical: How are they to go about finding wives without their father’s help? In this version of the events, then, only in Egypt do the brothers come to realize the enormity of their crime against their brother. In a sudden, dramatic realization they recognize their guilt – not of spying, as the Egyptian lord would have it, but of cruelty to their brother.43This reading may be derived in part from the odd locution of the verse in which the brothers first articulate their guilty feelings: “…but (aval) we are guilty concerning our brother…” (Genesis 42:21).
Significantly, the selling of Yosef marks a change in the brothers’ attitude to their father. They have relegated Yaakov to the sidelines, and no longer see him as an authoritative and formative influence in their lives. Having plunged their father into terrible grief, they know that they must now “provide for themselves” but they seem unconscious of the problems they might encounter in doing so. When the children of Yehuda’s marriage prove to be unworthy, we see the disastrous consequences of a marriage made by providing for oneself.
Although we might expect Yehuda’s position to become stronger as Yaakov’s parental role weakens, in this narrative expansion at least, Yehuda seems a diminished character. He does not take the initiative in suggesting that he marry, or that the other brothers do the same. Even the manner in which the brothers address him implies that he has ceased to take charge: “Aren’t you the head of us all?” (line 63). If he is their head, as the brothers claim, it is odd that he needs to be reminded of this now. The betrayal of Yosef appears to have undermined Yehuda’s sense of leadership.
This picture of Yehuda squares well with what happens to him subsequently. As the concluding comments of the midrash tell us, “It was a descent for him that he married a non-Jew. It was a descent for him that he buried his wife and sons” (lines 66–67). That descent appears to begin with his leading role in the selling of Yosef. The connection is a cause and effect relationship and not only chronology.
Interpretation and Context
Now that we have examined the various part of this remarkable midrash in detail, it would be valuable to look at the midrash in its entirety with an eye to its function as an interpretive text. The explanatory power of this paragraph can be attributed, in part, to the broad context within which each section deals with the interpretive difficulties it encounters. Rather than explaining individual words, phrases, or even whole verses, each of the opinions relates the text to another part of the Tanakh, and shows the connections and disjunctions between them. The middle section of the midrash, lines 19–45 goes so far as to view the Yosef narrative within the context of the entire Tanakh.
This interpretive strategy shows us not only that Hazal saw the Tanakh as an interrelated whole, but also that they viewed comparison, connection, and contrast as intrinsically illuminating. This can also be seen in the way that the redactors of the various midrashic books organize the opinions they quote. As we see elsewhere, by juxtaposing contrasting opinions, or ordering them hierarchically, the editors of the midrash construct new meanings and readings out of the building blocks of different interpretations. The effect of this is to engage the thoughtful reader in a constant examination and re-examination of the midrashic text and of the biblical text itself.