Jacob said to his household, "Put away the foreign gods that are among you and purify yourselves," and let us go up to Bethel, to build an altar to the God who answered him in his distress and had been with him wherever he went (a paraphrase of Genesis 35:2–3).

Remember Genesis 28, when Jacob fled from his brother Esau, from whom he had taken both birthright and blessing? On his way to his uncle Laban, he came to Bethel, where God reaffirmed His covenant with him. Jacob then vowed that the Lord would be his God if God provided for him and brought him safely back to his father's house (Genesis 28:20–22).

After twenty years, Jacob returned to Bethel, remembered his vow, and determined to fulfill it. That is why he tells his household to put away their foreign gods and purify themselves. While there is no evidence that Jacob himself worshiped idols, it is clear he had not firmly kept his household from idolatry during those years in Paddan-aram. Even Rachel took her father's household gods with her and hid them from Laban when he pursued them (Genesis 31:19, 34–35).

I mention these things to show that the patriarchs were not paragons of pure faith. Their movement away from idolatry toward faith in the one true God was gradual, with starts and stops, moral failure, and family dysfunction.

Rather than discourage us, this should encourage us! That our biblical heroes were flawed human beings encourages me greatly, because I know I am a deeply flawed human being, even as a Christian. As they struggled, so I struggle. As their faith was not ideal, neither is mine. Yet they trusted in the grace and power of God to bring them to the heavenly country they hoped for (Hebrews 11:13–16). I too am trusting in God's grace and power to bring me there in due time.

AI-Expanded Reflection

Genesis 35 is a chapter of both renewal and grief. At Bethel, God appears to Jacob again, reaffirms his new name Israel, and repeats the covenant promises (35:9–12). Jacob sets up a pillar and pours out a drink offering, fulfilling the vow of twenty years earlier (35:14–15). Yet the same chapter records the death of Deborah, Rebekah's nurse (35:8), the death of Rachel in childbirth (35:16–20), Reuben's sin with Bilhah (35:22), and the death of Isaac (35:29). Spiritual renewal did not remove the hardships of life.

The purification Jacob ordered — putting away foreign gods, washing, and changing clothes — became a pattern for later covenant renewals. Joshua called the people to "put away the foreign gods that are among you" before renewing the covenant at Shechem (Joshua 24:23), in the very region where Jacob buried the idols under the oak (Genesis 35:4). The comment's encouragement from the patriarchs' imperfection is exactly the note Hebrews strikes: they "died in faith, not having received the things promised," yet "God is not ashamed to be called their God," for He has prepared for them a city (11:13, 16).

When Joseph reached his brothers, "they stripped him of his robe, the robe of many colors that he wore," and took him and threw him into the pit, which was empty and had no water (a paraphrase of Genesis 37:23–24). Then Midianite traders passed by, and they drew Joseph up out of the pit and sold him to the Ishmaelites for twenty shekels of silver, and they brought Joseph to Egypt (cf. Genesis 37:28). Meanwhile, the Midianites sold him in Egypt to Potiphar, an officer of Pharaoh and captain of the guard (cf. Genesis 37:36).

Joseph is thrown into an empty cistern by his brothers. Then he is sold to traders associated with the Ishmaelites and Midianites. (Remember, the Ishmaelites and Midianites were related to Israel through Abraham, who fathered Ishmael with Hagar and Midian with Keturah, the wife he took after Sarah died.) So, in a sense, Joseph is sold to his relatives. After this he is sold again, to an Egyptian officer. And this is just the beginning of Joseph's trials.

Later we learn that God elevated Joseph to a high position in Egypt, where he would have the power to save Israel from seven years of severe famine. So Joseph would later tell his brothers, "You meant evil against me, but God meant it for good," to bring about the saving of many lives (cf. Genesis 50:20).

I wonder whether it ever entered Joseph's mind to ask, "Did God have to do it this way?" Joseph does not question God's method. He does not blame God for the years of suffering. He acknowledges the dual agency of his brothers and of God in all he endured, but he gives greater weight to God's sovereign and good purposes, so that he seeks no retribution against his brothers.

Friends, perhaps there is a lesson here for us as well. Have we been hurt? Have we suffered because of the evil intentions of others? I believe we have three biblical options:

1. We can overlook the wrong (cf. Proverbs 12:16; 19:11). We do this often when the offense is minor or ambiguous.
2. We can hand those who have wronged us over to God for His judgment, while for our part doing only good to them (cf. Romans 12:19–20).
3. If they are a brother in Christ, we can rebuke them for the wrong, and if they repent, we must forgive them (cf. Luke 17:3). If they do not repent, I believe they should be separated from fellowship until they do (cf. Matthew 18:15–20; 1 Corinthians 5 with 2 Corinthians 2:5–11).

Joseph did not overlook the wrong. In fact, he tested his brothers to see whether they still had the same jealous, selfish, and murderous intentions toward his younger brother Benjamin that they had shown toward him years before. When Joseph saw that his brothers had really changed (cf. Genesis 42:21–23; 44:32–34), he revealed himself to them and encouraged them. Later, when their father Jacob died, the brothers once again tried to ensure that Joseph would not harm them, relaying a message about Jacob's dying wish that Joseph forgive them (cf. Genesis 50:17–18). It is a somewhat indirect confession of their sin against him. Joseph answers them: do not fear, for he is not in the place of God; they meant evil against him, but God meant it for good, to bring about the saving of many lives; so they need not fear, for he will provide for them and their little ones (a paraphrase of Genesis 50:19–21).

Joseph recognizes that judgment is God's prerogative, not his. It is not clear what Joseph would have done had he seen that his brothers were unrepentant, but seeing that they were, he assures them that he will take care of them and their children. In effect, he forgave them.

Friends, let us always be ready to forgive, knowing that we ourselves have been forgiven an immeasurably greater offense against God. Our repentance does not diminish the weight of our offense. Let us never take revenge, for God has commanded us not to repay evil with evil but to overcome evil with good. And toward fellow believers, let us rebuke one another when we do wrong and forgive each other when there is repentance. Let us always remember that the goal of rebuking fellow believers is not justice but restoration and reconciliation. If believers are stubbornly unrepentant, I believe we are not to declare them forgiven but to separate ourselves from them until God brings them to repentance. This perspective tries to take into account all the Scriptures on forgiveness. If you are reading this, I confess that in today's climate my view is something of a minority perspective. But I believe it is the right one.

AI-Expanded Reflection

The double mention of Midianites and Ishmaelites in Genesis 37 has long been discussed. The two names may be used interchangeably for the same caravan of traders — Judges 8:24 identifies Midianites as Ishmaelites — or the traders may have been a mixed group. The narrative's point is that Joseph, betrayed by his brothers, passed into foreign hands and down into Egypt, where God's larger purposes would unfold.

On forgiveness, see the discussion at #2144. Many Christians would add a note here about Joseph's example: he wept repeatedly over his brothers (42:24; 43:30; 45:2, 14–15; 50:17), he provided for them, and he spoke kindly to them — actions that show a heart already free of bitterness well before the final scene. That suggests that the inward release of resentment came early for Joseph, while the restoration of open relationship followed their change of heart. Both aspects are present in the account, which is why readers from different traditions have found their own convictions about forgiveness reflected in it.

Deborah, Rebekah's nurse, died and was buried under an oak below Bethel, "So he called its name Allon-bacuth" (Genesis 35:8).

I find it interesting that the burial of Rebekah's nurse is recorded in narrative, while Rebekah's burial is not described. We know she died and was buried alongside Isaac, in the same place where Abraham and Sarah were buried (cf. Genesis 49:31). Jacob and Leah would also be buried there — but not Rachel.

Proper burial was of utmost importance in the time of the patriarchs, so we ought not simply to gloss over these omissions or differences. Could Rebekah's deception of Isaac — even calling any curse on Jacob to fall on her instead — have anything to do with the omission of any account of her burial? Could Rachel's theft of her father's household gods, and Jacob's declaration that whoever had stolen them would not live, have anything to do with her exclusion from burial in the tomb of the patriarchs?

These are only speculative considerations, but it is hard not to see such correlations when the Bible is chock-full of "X happened because of Y" scenarios. I am reminded of a passage in the New Testament: do not be deceived, God is not mocked; whatever one sows, that will he also reap; the one who sows to his own flesh will from the flesh reap corruption, but the one who sows to the Spirit will from the Spirit reap eternal life; so let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap if we do not give up, and as we have opportunity, let us do good to everyone, especially to the household of faith (a paraphrase of Galatians 6:7–10).

Friends, we reap what we sow. These words were not written to Old Testament saints under the Law of Moses but to New Testament believers following the law of Christ. The verse does not say we can earn eternal life, for that would contradict the whole message of Galatians. Rather, it declares the nature of Spirit-indwelt believers versus those without the Spirit. Believers who truly have the Spirit dwelling in them will by that same Spirit bring forth the fruit of good works. Those without the Spirit will naturally seek to please their sinful nature and will be destroyed with the rest of the unbelievers.

Friends, when I woke this morning, the Lord reminded me that I am His child. Let us affirm again our purpose and calling while we live in this world: to exalt God and advance the Gospel of Christ. I rejoice this morning that a member of our house church has trusted in Christ as her Savior. I would like to believe the Lord used the faithful witness of our members to lead her from unbelief to faith.

AI-Expanded Reflection

The note about Deborah, Rebekah's nurse, is one of the most touching small details in Genesis. She had left Mesopotamia with Rebekah decades earlier (24:59), and apparently came to be part of Jacob's household. When she died, the place was named Allon-bacuth, "oak of weeping" — the grief was deep enough to name a landmark. In a book full of patriarchs and promises, Scripture pauses to honor a servant woman who spent her life caring for others.

On the comment's speculation, many commentators offer another explanation for Rachel's burial: she died suddenly in childbirth on the road near Bethlehem, far from the family tomb at Machpelah (35:16–20), and Jacob set up a pillar that still marked her grave in the author's day. Years later, Jacob himself mentions it with evident tenderness (48:7), and Jeremiah pictures "Rachel weeping for her children" at Ramah (31:15), a verse Matthew applies to the grief at Jesus' birth (Matthew 2:18). Her burial place became a lasting memorial rather than a mark of shame. Readers are free to weigh the comment's suggestion, which it offers modestly; the Galatians principle it draws — that we reap what we sow — stands on its own.

The comment's closing news of a new believer is a lovely picture of the Galatians 6 harvest: "in due season we will reap, if we do not give up."

His brothers saw that their father loved him more than all his brothers; and so they hated him and could not speak to him on friendly terms (Genesis 37:4).

As I read these words, that Jacob loved Joseph more than the others, and the murderous intentions it produced in Joseph's brothers, I recall that this is not an unfamiliar theme in the Book of Genesis.

Recall a similar scenario between Jacob and Esau. Isaac loved Esau more than Jacob while Rebekah loved Jacob more than Esau. Consider the murderous intentions that this spawned.

While not between brothers, consider what a firestorm of jealousy raged between Leah and Rachel because Jacob loved Rachel over Leah.

While the word "love" is not mentioned, one could certainly see a kind of rivalrous hatred that brewed between Sarah and Hagar when Hagar bore Abraham his first son. This enmity carried on through their sons Ishmael and Isaac.

I have spoken to a number of parents with multiple children. They all testify to sibling rivalry. This may at least in part stem from their jealous desire for parental affection.

Moses may have intended Israel to hear these accounts to encourage harmony and unity among the twelve tribes, who were literally twelve brother tribes, as they entered the Promised Land.

This is instructive for us as well. Let us be careful not to show favoritism toward one child over another but do our best to love every child equally, though not necessarily in the same way, as each child is unique. Perhaps this principle can be extended to brothers and sisters and even further to parents and in-laws. I'm not saying that this is easy to do, but consider what a firestorm of destructive harm can arise out of unequal or lopsided love. As we also read in the New Testament,

My brothers, as believers in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ, don’t show favoritism (James 2:1).

AI-Expanded Reflection

Genesis 37:4 connects the brothers’ hatred with their recognition that Joseph receives a special place in their father’s affection. The narrative then shows how hostility grows from the inability to speak peaceably into plans for violence. The original rightly hears this as part of a recurring family pattern. Jacob himself grew up amid divided parental preferences, and the pain surrounding Leah and Rachel reveals another setting in which unequal affection becomes a source of rivalry.

Recognizing the pattern does not remove the brothers’ responsibility. A father’s favoritism can create a harmful environment without causing every later act in a way that excuses the actors. The brothers choose to nurse resentment and ultimately to injure Joseph and deceive Jacob. Likewise, Joseph’s privileged position does not make him responsible for their violence. A careful reading can acknowledge the conditions that inflame conflict while still distinguishing each person’s agency and the wrong done to the victim.

The original’s distinction between loving children equally and loving them identically is especially useful. Different ages, needs, temperaments, and circumstances require different forms of care. Fairness does not always mean distributing the same object or the same amount of time on every occasion. It does mean that no child should have to earn belonging by resembling a parent, outperforming a sibling, or serving as the parent’s preferred ally. Differences in care should communicate responsiveness rather than a hierarchy of worth.

The family narratives also caution against recruiting children into adult disappointments. Isaac and Rebekah’s opposing preferences become entangled with decisions about the blessing. In Jacob’s household, marital rivalry becomes bound up with the naming and bearing of children. A child can begin to feel that affection depends on winning a contest that existed before the child could understand it. Parents and other caregivers can interrupt that pattern by refusing comparison, acknowledging favoritism when it has occurred, and addressing adult conflict directly.

James 2:1 extends the concern into the gathered church. Its immediate example involves honoring a wealthy visitor while humiliating a poor one. The same moral distortion is present when visible advantage governs the distribution of dignity. The congregation should therefore examine whom it notices, whose concerns receive patient hearing, and who is quietly treated as less valuable because they lack status or influence.

The practical goal is not a claim that every relationship can feel equally close. It is a discipline of impartial honor and dependable care. Listening separately to children, avoiding public rankings, celebrating one person without diminishing another, and repairing dismissive words can help make love more trustworthy. Genesis’s painful repetition warns that neglected favoritism can travel across generations. Grace offers an opportunity to recognize the pattern and practice a different inheritance.

Reading today's section, Reuben caught my attention — we see two very different sides of his character. In chapter 35, after Rachel's death, Reuben sleeps with her maidservant Bilhah, defiling his father's bed. Scripture says Jacob heard about it, but doesn't record him doing or saying anything in response. I found myself thinking, how could Reuben do such a thing — what a treacherous son! But then, in chapter 37, it's Reuben who tries to save Joseph from his brothers' murderous plan, hoping to rescue him and return him to their father (a paraphrase of Genesis 37:22). From what's written, he seems to be acting out of concern for his father's well-being. What a turnaround — was Reuben remorseful about his earlier failure? Did his father's silence make him feel even guiltier over time? Either way, there's no further record of wrongdoing from Reuben for the rest of Genesis. Still, in chapter 49, despite his later efforts, Reuben loses his rights as firstborn when Jacob distributes his final blessings, because of what he'd done with Bilhah.

Like Reuben, none of us have lived, or will live, a perfectly righteous life. However "good" we manage to be, there's always at least one thing separating us from a holy God — all have sinned and fall short of His glory (Romans 3:23). But we have this hope: our final judgment isn't based on what we've done, but on Christ's own righteousness and what He accomplished — His blood poured out for the forgiveness of many (a paraphrase of Matthew 26:27–28).

Thank you, Jesus, for pouring out Your blood so I could receive forgiveness for my sins, be called a child of God, and receive the blessing of eternal life. Amen.

AI-Expanded Reflection

Reuben's redemption arc in this comment is real but only partial, which is itself instructive — his changed behavior toward Joseph doesn't erase the earlier consequence of losing his birthright. That's worth sitting with alongside the gospel hope this comment closes with: forgiveness through Christ doesn't necessarily undo every earthly consequence that flows from past sin, even when genuine change follows. Reuben's story holds both truths together without contradiction — real forgiveness and changed character on one hand, and a lasting natural consequence on the other, neither one canceling out the other.

Genesis 35:22 records that while Israel was living in that region, Reuben slept with his father's concubine Bilhah, and Israel heard of it.

And then?! Nothing.

I think Jacob (Israel) had a real parenting issue that helped cause the friction between Joseph and his brothers. When Reuben made this first mistake with Jacob's concubine, Jacob apparently never addressed it with him or disciplined him at all. Discipline is part of love — if you don't show genuine love and concern for someone, they'll look for it somewhere else. In this case, it looks like the other brothers bonded together, excluding Joseph, partly because they weren't getting the love they needed from their father either.

AI-Expanded Reflection

This isn't the only time Jacob's silence in the face of a son's serious wrongdoing gets noted in Genesis — after Simeon and Levi's brutal massacre at Shechem, Jacob's only recorded reaction is worry about his own reputation among the neighboring peoples, not any direct address of the moral horror of what they'd done (Genesis 34:30). Reuben's case, and Simeon and Levi's, form a pattern worth noticing: a father repeatedly failing to address serious sin directly within his own household, a pattern this comment connects convincingly to the deeper family dysfunction that eventually erupts against Joseph.