The Torah does not ask anyone to call what happened to Yosef “righteous.” The Torah records it with a kind of cold precision that all but dares the reader to flinch.
They strip him. They throw him into a pit.

“וַיַּשְׁלִכוּ אֹתוֹ הַבֹּרָה… וַיֵּשְׁבוּ לֶאֱכָל־לֶחֶם”
“They cast him into the pit… and they sat down to eat bread.” (Bereshit 37:24–25). While Yosef screamed.

If righteousness means moral cleanliness, that scene alone would seem to disqualify them forever.

And yet Ḥazal speak of “שִׁבְטֵי י־ה” and “שִׁבְטֵי קָהּ,” of the tribes as the foundation-stones of Israel. So what is going on? How can both be true?

It can be true only if “righteous” is not being used the way it is used in casual speech.

In Torah language, “צַדִּיק” is not a claim of sinlessness. It is a claim of orientation: a life turned toward the covenant, a life whose center of gravity is E-lokhim—even when the person is capable of grievous error. Kohelet already says the line that quietly removes the possibility of flawless saints:

“כִּי אָדָם אֵין צַדִּיק בָּאָרֶץ אֲשֶׁר יַעֲשֶׂה־טּוֹב וְלֹא יֶחֱטָא”
“There is no righteous person on earth who does good and does not sin.” (Kohelet 7:20)

So the question becomes sharper and more honest: not “How were they perfect?” but “How can a covenantal people be built through men who could do this?”

Ḥazal do not dodge the ugliness. They force the scene to be viewed from the inside, where the most frightening sins are not done by cartoon villains, but by people who believe—truly believe—that they are defending the future.

One axis of the tradition is........

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)