Joseph and His Brothers

Joseph was now thirty years old and enjoyed great honors from the king, who called him Zaphenath-paneah because of his extraordinary wisdom, for that name means ‘the revealer of secrets.’ He also married a wife of very high rank: the daughter of Potiphera, one of the priests of Heliopolis, a match the king himself helped to arrange. She was a virgin, and her name was Asenath. By her he had children before the famine came: Manasseh, the elder, whose name means ‘forgetting,’ because his present happiness made him forget his former misfortunes; and Ephraim, the younger, whose name means ‘restored,’ because he had been restored to the freedom of his forefathers. [a]

After Egypt had passed seven years in prosperity, as Joseph had interpreted the dreams, the famine came upon them in the eighth year. Because this misfortune fell on them when they had had no sense of it beforehand, they were all hard hit by it and came running to the king’s gates. The king called on Joseph, and Joseph sold them grain, and was by common consent the savior of the whole Egyptian people. Nor did he open this grain market to the people of that country only; foreigners were allowed to buy too, since Joseph wanted all people, who are by nature akin to one another, to have help from those who lived in prosperity.

When Jacob learned that the market was open to foreigners too, he also sent all his sons into Egypt to buy grain, for the land of Canaan was severely afflicted by the famine, and this great misery touched the whole continent. He kept back only Benjamin, who was born to him by Rachel and had the same mother as Joseph. These sons of Jacob came into Egypt and went to Joseph wanting to buy grain, for nothing of this kind was done without his approval; indeed, even the honor people paid the king himself did them good only when they took care to honor Joseph as well. Joseph knew his brothers well, but they had no thought of him. He had been only a youth when he left them and had now reached an age so much older that his features had changed, and they did not recognize him. Besides this, the high rank in which he appeared kept them from so much as suspecting it was he.

He now tested what they thought about matters of the greatest importance. He refused to sell them grain and said they had come to spy on the king’s affairs: they had come from different countries and joined together, and were pretending to be kin, since it was not possible for a private man to raise so many sons, and of such handsome appearance as they were, when kings themselves could hardly bring up so many children. He did this to find out about his father and what had happened to him after Joseph left him, and because he wanted to know what had become of his brother Benjamin; for he was afraid they had dared the same wicked deed against him that they had done to himself, and had done away with him as well.

His brothers were distraught and terrified, thinking very great danger hung over them. Yet without a single thought of their brother Joseph, and standing firm against the charges laid against them, they made their defense through Reuben, the eldest of them, who now became their spokesman: “We have not come here with any wicked purpose, or to do any harm to the king’s affairs. We only want to stay alive. We supposed that your humanity might be a refuge for us from the miseries our country is suffering, since we had heard that you offered to sell grain not only to your own countrymen but to foreigners too, and that you had decided to provide grain to keep alive everyone who needs it. That we are brothers, of the same blood, the particular features of our faces, which are not so very different from one another, plainly show. Our father’s name is Jacob, a Hebrew, who had twelve of us as his sons by four wives. While all twelve of us were alive, we were a happy family. But when one of our brothers, whose name was Joseph, died, things changed for the worse, for our father could not stop mourning him at length; and we are in sorrow both from the misfortune of our brother’s death and from the wretched state of our aged father. So now we have come to buy grain, leaving the care of our father and the provision of our household to Benjamin, our youngest brother. If you send to our home, you can find out whether we are guilty of the least falsehood in what we say.”

So Reuben tried to persuade Joseph to think better of them. When Joseph had learned from them that Jacob was alive, and that his brother had not been done away with by them, he put them in prison for the present, meaning to look further into their affairs when he had leisure. But on the third day he brought them out and said to them, “Since you keep insisting that you have not come to do any harm to the king’s affairs, that you are brothers, and the sons of the father you named, you can satisfy me of the truth of what you say if you leave one of your company with me — he will suffer no injury here — and if, when you have carried grain to your father, you come back to me and bring with you your brother, whom you say you left there. I will take that as a guarantee of the truth of what you have told me.” [e]

At this they were in greater grief than before. They wept, and kept lamenting to one another over the misfortune of Joseph, and said that they had fallen into this misery as a punishment from God for the evil they had plotted against him. Reuben reproached them at length for a repentance that came too late to do Joseph any good, and urged them earnestly to bear patiently whatever they suffered, since God was doing it as a punishment on Joseph’s account. So they talked among themselves, not imagining that Joseph understood their language. A general sadness came over them at Reuben’s words, and regret for what they had done; they condemned the wickedness they had committed, for which they judged that God was justly punishing them.

When Joseph saw them in this distress, he was so moved that he burst into tears, and not wanting them to notice, he withdrew. After a while he came back to them, and taking Simeon to be a pledge for his brothers’ return, he told them to take the grain they had bought and go their way. He also ordered his steward secretly to put the money they had brought to pay for the grain into their sacks and send them off with it; and the steward did as he was ordered.

When Jacob’s sons reached the land of Canaan, they told their father what had happened to them in Egypt: that they had been taken for spies come to watch the king; how they had said they were brothers and had left their eleventh brother with their father, but were not believed; and how they had left Simeon with the governor until Benjamin should go there and bear witness to the truth of what they had said. And they begged their father to fear nothing, but to send the boy along with them. But Jacob was not pleased with anything his sons had done. He took Simeon’s detention hard, and for that very reason thought it foolish to give up Benjamin too. Nor did he yield to Reuben’s persuasion, though Reuben begged him and offered to let him, as their grandfather, kill Reuben’s own sons in return if any harm came to Benjamin on the journey. So they were at a loss and did not know what to do. Worse still, another thing troubled them even more: the money found hidden in their sacks of grain. [f]

But when the grain they had brought ran out, and the famine pressed on them harder, necessity forced Jacob to decide to send Benjamin with his brothers; for there was no going back into Egypt unless they came with what they had promised. As the misery grew worse every day, and his sons begged him, he had no other course left in the circumstances. Judah, who was bold on other occasions too, spoke his mind to him very freely. It was not right for him to be afraid for his son, he said, or to suspect the worst as he did; for nothing could happen to his son except by God’s appointment, and that would surely come to pass even if the boy stayed at home with him. He ought not to condemn them to such certain ruin, nor deprive them of the plenty of food they could have from Pharaoh, through his unreasonable fear about his son Benjamin. Rather, he ought to look to Simeon’s safety, so that Simeon did not perish through Jacob’s attempt to stop Benjamin’s journey. He urged him to trust God for the boy, and to trust Judah too, who would either bring his son back to him safe or lose his own life along with him.

So Jacob was finally persuaded and handed Benjamin over to them, with double the price of the grain. He also sent presents to Joseph of the produce of the land of Canaan: balanos oil, myrrh oil, terebinth and honey. Their father shed many tears at his sons’ departure, and so did they. His concern was that he might get them back safe after their journey; theirs was that they might find their father well and in no way stricken with grief for them. This lamentation lasted a whole day, so that the old man was at last worn out with grief and stayed behind, while they set out for Egypt, trying to soften their grief at their present misfortunes with hopes of better success to come.

As soon as they arrived in Egypt they were brought down to Joseph. But here no small fear troubled them, that they might be accused over the price of the grain, as though they had cheated Joseph. So they made a long explanation to Joseph’s steward, telling him that when they got home they had found the money in their sacks, and that they had now brought it back with them. He said he did not know what they meant, and so they were freed from that fear. He released Simeon, dressed him in fine clothing, and let him join his brothers. Just then Joseph came in from his attendance on the king. They offered him their presents, and when he asked them about their father, they answered that they had found him well. When he learned that his father was alive, he asked about Benjamin, whether this was their younger brother — for he had seen him. They said that he was, calling him Joseph’s servant, and he replied that the God over all was his protector. But when his affection for him brought him to tears, he withdrew, not wanting to be seen in that state by his brothers. Then Joseph took them to supper, and they were seated in the same order in which they used to sit at their father’s table. And although Joseph treated them all kindly, he sent Benjamin a portion double what the other guests had for their share.

When, after supper, they had settled down to sleep, Joseph ordered his steward to give them their measures of grain and to hide its price again in their sacks, and also to put into Benjamin’s sack the silver cup from which he himself liked to drink. He did this to test his brothers: would they stand by Benjamin when he was accused of stealing the cup and appeared to be in danger, or would they abandon him and, relying on their own innocence, go home to their father without him? When the servant had done as he was told, at daybreak the sons of Jacob, knowing nothing of all this, went their way, taking Simeon with them. They had double cause for joy, both because they had gotten him back and because they were taking Benjamin back to their father as they had promised. [i]

But suddenly a troop of horsemen surrounded them, bringing with them Joseph’s servant who had put the cup into Benjamin’s sack. They were greatly alarmed at this unexpected attack by the horsemen, and asked why they were coming down like this on men whom their lord had, a little before, thought worthy of an honorable and hospitable welcome. The horsemen answered by calling them wicked wretches, who had forgotten the very hospitable and kind treatment Joseph had given them, and had not scrupled to wrong him and carry off the cup from which he had drunk to them so warmly — caring nothing for their friendship with Joseph, nor for the danger they would be in if they were caught, compared with their unjust gain. Then the servant threatened that they would be punished. For though they had escaped the notice of one who was only a servant, they had not escaped the notice of God, nor gotten away with what they had stolen. And after all that, he asked, why did they ask why the horsemen had come after them, as if they knew nothing of the matter? They would know it at once, he told them, by their punishment.

This, and more of the same kind, the servant said to reproach them. But they, wholly unaware of anything here that concerned them, laughed at what he said and wondered at the abuse he heaped on them, when he was so bold as to accuse men who had not even kept the price of their grain that was found in their sacks, but had brought it back, though nobody else knew anything about it — so far were they from wronging Joseph on purpose. Still, thinking a search would clear them more surely than their own denial, they told him to search them, and if any of them was guilty of the theft, to punish them all; for since they knew themselves guilty of no crime, they spoke with confidence and, as they thought, without any danger to themselves. The servant agreed to a search, but said the punishment should fall only on the one found guilty of the theft.

So they made the search. Having searched all the rest, they came last of all to Benjamin, knowing it was Benjamin’s sack in which they had hidden the cup; they had searched the others only for a show of thoroughness. So the rest were free of fear for themselves and were now concerned only about Benjamin, though still quite sure that he too would be found innocent; and they scolded their pursuers for holding them up, when they might meanwhile have gotten well along on their journey. But as soon as they searched Benjamin’s sack, they found the cup and took it from him, and everything was changed into mourning and lamentation. They tore their clothes and wept for the punishment their brother would suffer for his theft, and for the way they had deceived their father when they promised to bring Benjamin back safe to him. What added to their misery was that this sad accident came, by bad fortune, just when they thought they had gotten away clear. But they admitted that both their brother’s misfortune and their father’s grief over him were their own doing, since it was they who had forced their father to send him with them when he was unwilling.

The horsemen took Benjamin and brought him to Joseph, with his brothers following him. When Joseph saw him under guard, and them in mourning clothes, he said, “How could you, vile wretches that you are, think so strangely of my kindness to you and of God’s providence as to have the impudence to do this to your benefactor, who entertained you so hospitably?” [j]

At this they gave themselves up to be punished in order to save Benjamin, and they recalled the wicked thing they had done to Joseph. They also declared him happier than themselves: if he was dead, for being freed from the miseries of this life, and if he was alive, for having the pleasure of seeing God’s vengeance on them. They said further that they were the bane of their father, since they would now add to his former grief for Joseph this further grief for Benjamin. Reuben, too, cut into them at length on this occasion. But Joseph dismissed them. He said they were guilty of no offense and he would be content with the boy’s punishment; for it was not right to let him go free for the sake of those who had done no wrong, nor to punish them together with the one who was guilty of the theft. When he promised to let them go away in safety, the rest were thrown into great dismay and could say nothing in this sad moment. But Judah, who had persuaded their father to send the boy away from him, and who was in other ways too a very bold and energetic man, resolved to risk himself to save his brother:

“It is true, Governor, that we have been very wicked toward you, and deserve punishment for it. All of us may justly be punished, even though the theft was committed not by all of us but by only one, and he the youngest too. Yet some hope remains for us, who would otherwise despair because of him, and it comes from your goodness, which promises us deliverance from our present danger. And now I beg you not to look at us, or at the great crime we are guilty of, but at your own excellent nature, and to take counsel from your own virtue instead of from the anger you feel toward us. It is men small in other ways who take anger for a mark of strength, and give way to it not only in great matters but in trivial ones. Master that passion, sir, and do not be overcome by it, nor let it kill those who do not otherwise count on their own safety but long to receive it from you. For this will not be the first time you have granted it to us. Before, when we came to buy grain, you gave us an abundance of food and let us carry home enough to save our family from dying of famine. And there is no difference between not overlooking men who were dying for lack of necessities, and not punishing those who appear to be offenders and have been so unfortunate as to lose the benefit of the splendid kindness they received from you. This will be an instance of equal favor, though given in a different way: you will save in this way the ones you fed in the other, and by your own generosity you will keep alive the souls you would not let be crushed by famine. It is at once a wonderful and a great thing both to sustain our lives with grain and to grant us the pardon by which, now that we are in distress, we may go on living.

“And I am ready to believe that God is willing to give you this opportunity to show your virtuous character by bringing us into this disaster, so that it may be seen that you can forgive wrongs done to yourself, and you may be thought kind to others besides those who need your help for other reasons. For it is indeed a right thing to do good to those in distress for lack of food, but a still more glorious thing to save those who deserve punishment, when it is for grave offenses against yourself. If it deserves praise to forgive those guilty of small offenses that cause someone loss, and the one who overlooks such offenses is praised, then to restrain one’s anger at crimes that are capital for the guilty is to be like the most excellent nature of God himself.

“And truly, as for myself, if we did not have a father who showed, at the death of Joseph, how wretchedly he is always afflicted at the loss of his sons, I would not have said a word for the saving of our own lives — I mean, any further than that it would do you great credit to spare even those who would have no one to mourn them when they were dead. We would have given ourselves up to suffer whatever you pleased. But now — for we do not plead for mercy for ourselves, though indeed, if we die, we will die young and before we have had any enjoyment of life — have regard for our father, and take pity on his old age; it is for his sake that we make these pleas to you. We beg you to give us the lives that this wickedness of ours has made liable to your punishment, and to do it for the sake of one who is not wicked himself — nor did he father us to be wicked. He is a good man, and does not deserve such trials of his patience; and now, while we are away, he is weighed down with worry for us. But if he hears of our deaths, and their cause, he will die before his time on that account. The shameful manner of our ruin will hasten his end and kill him outright; indeed, it will bring him to a miserable death, as he hurries to rid himself of the world and pass beyond all feeling before the sad story of our end spreads abroad to the rest of the world. Consider these things in this way: though our wickedness now rouses in you a just desire to punish it, forgive it for our father’s sake, and let your compassion for him weigh more with you than our wickedness. Have regard for the old age of our father, who, if we perish, will be very lonely while he lives and will soon die himself as well.

“Grant this favor to the name of father, for by it you will honor the one who fathered you, and grant it to yourself too, who already bear that name. Then, by that name, you will be kept safe by God, the Father of all; for by showing reverent regard for that name in the case of our father, you will be seen to honor him who is called by the same name — I mean, if you will have this pity on our father, considering how miserable he will be if he is robbed of his sons! It is your part, then, to give us what God has given us, when it is in your power to take it away, and so to resemble him entirely in kindness. For it is good to use the power that can either give or take away on the merciful side; and when you have the power to destroy, to forget that you ever had it, and to regard yourself as granted power only for saving. The further anyone extends this power, the greater the reputation he wins for himself.

“Now, by forgiving our brother for what he has unhappily done, you will save us all. For we cannot think of living if he is put to death, since we do not dare show ourselves alive to our father without our brother; here we must share one and the same end with him. And so we beg you, Governor, if you condemn our brother to die, to punish us together with him as partners in his crime. For we will not think it right to be kept back only to kill ourselves out of grief at our brother’s death, but rather to die in this way, as equally guilty with him of this crime.

“I will leave you with only this one consideration, and then say no more: our brother committed this fault when he was young, and not yet settled in wisdom of conduct, and people naturally forgive the young. I stop here without adding what more I have to say, so that if you condemn us, that omission may be thought to have hurt us and allowed you to take the harsher course; but if you set us free, this may be credited to your own goodness, of which you are inwardly aware — that you free us from condemnation, not merely by sparing us, but by granting us such a favor as makes us look more righteous than we really are, and by setting before yourself more reasons for our release than we are able to put forward ourselves. If, then, you resolve to kill him, I ask you to kill me in his place and send him back to his father. Or if you wish to keep him with you as a slave, I am better suited to work for your benefit in that role, and, as you see, better prepared for either of those sufferings.”

So Judah, entirely willing to undergo anything at all to rescue his brother, threw himself down at Joseph’s feet and labored earnestly to soften and calm his anger. All his brothers also fell down before him, weeping and giving themselves up to death to save Benjamin’s life.

But Joseph, overcome now by his feelings and no longer able to play the part of an angry man, ordered everyone present to leave, so that he could make himself known to his brothers when they were alone. When the others had gone out, he made himself known to his brothers and said, “I commend you for your virtue and for your kindness to our brother. I find you better men than I could have expected from what you plotted against me. In fact, I did all this to test your love for your brother. So I believe you were not wicked by nature in what you did in my case, but that everything has happened by the will of God, who has in this way brought about our enjoyment of the good things we have — and, if he stays favorable to us, of what we hope for in the future. Since, then, I know that our father is safe and well beyond all expectation, and I see you so well disposed toward your brother, I will no longer remember the guilt you seem to bear toward me. I will put away my indignation at those wrongs, and will rather thank you for having worked together with the purposes of God to bring things to where they now are. I would rather you, too, forgot it, since that folly of yours has come to so happy an end, than be troubled and blush over those offenses. So do not let your evil intentions when you condemned me, and the bitter remorse that might follow, grieve you now, since those intentions came to nothing. [k]

“Go your way, then, rejoicing in what divine providence has brought about, and tell your father of it, so that he is not worn out with worry for you and does not rob me of the sweetest part of my happiness — I mean, so that he does not die before he comes into my sight and enjoys the good things we now have. Bring our father with you, and your wives and children and all your relatives, and move your homes here. It is not right that the people dearest to me should live far away from me now that my affairs are so prosperous, especially since there are five more years of famine still to endure.”

When Joseph had said this, he embraced his brothers. They were in tears and sorrow, but their brother’s generous kindness seemed to leave no room among them for fear that they would be punished for what they had plotted and done against him; and then they feasted. As soon as the king heard that Joseph’s brothers had come to him, he was extremely glad, as if it were part of his own good fortune, and gave them wagons full of grain, and gold and silver, to be taken to his father. When they had received still more from their brother — part to be carried to their father, and part as gifts for each of them, Benjamin having more than the rest — they departed.