Making Sense of Why Joseph's Brothers Sold Him

Often sibling rivalry gets out of hand; never did my older brother, or sisters for that matter - though they may have been warranted - try to sell me. How then did the fraternal angst and animosity devolve to such an extent that Joseph was tossed into a pit, his brothers sat down to break bread, and only afterwards, on Judah's advice, lasso him up from the pit to sell him to God knows where? 

The question is even harder to grapple with given the initial intent to kill him and claim that a wild animal had killed him (it was only Reuven's prescience that saved Joseph's life). So, how do we get to such acrimony, and what do we do to avoid it? 

Truth be told, none of us are likely to ever experience such hatred nor are most parents likely to deal with this problem to the extent that Jacob did. 

But, why is that?

Jacob was in an impossible situation. Against his will, he was married to two women, one who he admittedly loved, but the other, who he loved far more. The seven initial years Jacob toiled for Rachel were but like a few days in his mind's eye; every day, he became closer and closer to marrying the woman who he had fallen in love with, who he had kissed the first time he saw her. Like Rivka had brought solace to Isaac, Rachel did so for Jacob, who had been on the run, cast away from his own home, escaping his brother who sought his blood. Rachel was everything from him, and yet denied to him by his cunning and insidious father-in-law, who switched her for Leah, leaving Jacob practically no recourse but to be married to both of them. 

The drama, and trauma, was not over, rippling through every contour, every vicissitude in their marriage. Jacob lost his primacy in many senses of the word, not just played for the fool but at a loss for his very autonomy, his main - and thus true - wife barren, leaving Jacob tethered to Haran, exiled from the land of his fathers. 

His wives exerted authority over him, deciding, with no imput from him with whom he would sleep on a given night. Leaving the home of his father-in-law also required their permission; without it explicitly being given, he could never leave Lavan's home. 

When Joseph was finally born - after Jacob had worked 14 years for Rachel - Jacob demands his freedom. He wants to return home, but Lavan cajoles him to stay longer. Rachel had been given to him after he had worked seven years for her, only to receive Leah in her stead, which meant that for the sake of equality and preserving the delicate balance in his now extended home, he would have to work for Leah the same number of years as he had worked for Rachel, which is exactly what Jacob tells Lavan upon absonding. "I worked fourteen years for your two daughters." In truth, though, Jacob had worked 14 years for Rachel alone, and paid a huge price to be able to keep up the semblance of equality between the two mothers of his children. 

There were times when that love was tested, i.e. when Eisav had come to attack and Jacob placed Rachel last, with Joseph, the only son whose name is explicitly mentioned in Jacob's carefully aligned entourage. The sons never questioned him about it, but things come to a fore when their was a consonance between perhaps unwitting preferential treatment Joseph received and Joseph's perceived response. He spread libel against his brothers, spilling the beans, sharing the dirt, distancing himself from them. And then, what got their goat, was that he told them they'd be bowing down to him, the symbolism ever-so cognizant, sheaths of grain and then the sun and moon and stars kowtowing to the chosen one, the son, who - in the harsh world of natural selection, would seemingly be chosen over them, the same way Isaac was over Ishmael and Jacob over Eisav. 

And so they sold him. 

But, what does Joseph seek with his whole rigmarole, with moneys suddenly found in their sacks? Even more prominently, why - as King of Egypt - did he not tell his father he was still alive? Why the whole charade with the silver goblet? 

The whole time the tension between Joseph and his brothers, and Rachel and Leah, was sugarcoated in a manner of speaking. Yet, it festered like an open wound that became full of gangrene. It could no longer persist, and Joseph needed Jacob to admit the truth, which we only find out about in the Parsha of Vayigash. Fighting for his dear life, and more importantly that of Benjamin, Judah tells Joseph what their father had said: "As you know, my wife bore me two sons." FINALLY. 

Jacob had never admitted that before. I only had one wife. And why does he have to admit it now? Because Shimon has been incarcerated in Egypt and is in mortal danger, and there was only a minor risk to Benjamin's life, Benjamin, a grown man with children of his own, thirty years of age. 

"If you take this one from me, too," Jacob continues, "and he meets with disaster, my life will decline into sorrow." 

In other words, a minor risk to Benjamin trumps a mortal risk to Shimon; it was only when all of their lives were at risk due to starvation, did Jacob concede to Judah's demand, i.e. that Benjamin be sent down too. 

And thus, so what Joseph does is firstly, place Jacob in a corner so he has no choice but to admit that he really preferred Rachel, and by extension, her children over Leah and hers. Secondly, he creates an atmosphere of distrust, with moneys found in the brothers' sacks, to see whether they - as a whole - would stick their neck out for Benjamin, when the goblet was found in his sack. 

At the end of the day, only Judah steps forward - how much more complete the reconciliation would have been if ALL of Judah's brothers had approached Joseph on Benjamin's behalf! - and at that point, Joseph knows that at least, one of the brothers, despite Rachel being the favored wife, was willing to place Rachel's son before himself, meaning that the two gamuts, two branches of the family, could live together harmoniously, as one.