When Brothers Become Enemies — And Exile Is Born

Parashat Mikeitz

Founder, LaMaalot Foundation

Why did the brothers sell Yosef? How could the sons of Yaakov — disciples raised in holiness and truth — commit such a terrible act against their own brother?

The Torah itself reveals the path that led to this tragedy.

Yaakov showed Yosef special affection, presenting him with an elegant woolen tunic. Yaakov’s intention was not favoritism, but encouragement. Yosef had an exceptional ability to absorb Torah wisdom, particularly what Yaakov had received from Shem, Ever, and Yitzchak. These were not ordinary teachers. Shem, the son of Noach, had lived long enough to learn directly from Mesushelach, whose life overlapped with Adam himself for 243 years. Through this unbroken chain, Divine instruction — including the Seven Mitzvot given to humanity — was transmitted across generations.

Shem and Ever were prophets who established centers of learning where those seeking Divine enlightenment could study. Yaakov passed these teachings to Yosef. Yet Chazal teach that this was Yaakov’s mistake: one must never single out a child, for favoritism breeds envy — and envy breeds destruction.

The second cause of Yosef’s downfall was his habit of reporting his brothers’ behavior to their father. The brothers viewed him as a baal lashon hara, a gossipmonger. But Yosef’s intent was different. He believed that Yaakov, as their father and spiritual guide, should be aware of what he perceived as wrongdoing in order to correct it.

For example, local people — including young women — would come to the brothers to buy milk and wool. Yosef once overheard a woman remark, perhaps innocently, “Oh, dear friends, how I miss you! We haven’t seen each other in so long.” Yosef repeated this to Yaakov not verbatim, but as suspicion of immoral behavior. Had he conveyed the full context, Yaakov would have understood. Instead, Yosef’s imprecision inflamed distrust.

In another incident, one of the brothers urged the sons of Bilhah or Zilpah to hurry. Yosef reported that they were being treated as slaves. Again, Yosef’s intent may have been protective, but his words were perceived as accusatory.

The third and final catalyst was Yosef’s dreams.

Yosef dreamt that his brothers’ sheaves bowed to his. He told them. Then he dreamt that the sun, moon, and stars — even his father — bowed before him. From the brothers’ perspective, this was intolerable. They saw a tyrant emerging within the family — someone who dreamed not only of dominance, but of enslaving them and even their father. They believed the future of the House of Yaakov was at stake.

Shimon and Levi felt Yosef should be killed. Yehudah intervened and proposed selling him instead.

Only twenty-two years later did the brothers begin to understand the magnitude of their sin. Standing before the Egyptian viceroy — unrecognized as Yosef — they alone were accused, imprisoned, and interrogated. Then they said to one another: “We witnessed the distress of his soul when he begged us, and we did not listen — that is why this trouble has come upon us” (Bereishis 42:21).

Their guilt deepened when Yosef revealed himself — after sustaining their families, after feeding them, after never once reminding them of the pit, the chains, or the sale. Their conscience tormented them long afterward.

After Yaakov’s passing, Yosef reassured them:

“You intended evil against me, but God intended it for good… to keep a great populace alive” (Bereishis 50:20–21). And he spoke to their hearts.

The descent of Yaakov’s family to Egypt marked the first galus in Jewish history — a exile born not from foreign conquest, but from brotherly hatred.

History repeated itself. During the Second Temple era, two brothers — Hyrcanus and Aristobulus — battled for the throne and invited Rome to intervene. Roman “mediation” led directly to occupation, destruction, and exile.

The lesson is timeless: enmity among Jews brings devastation. Unity brings salvation.