We are allowed to see Joseph in action, playing one brother against the other, the father against all. He enjoyed dividing people, poisoning their minds, provoking tensions and quarrels. So total was his egocentricity that he apparently came to believe that all of creation existed only to serve him. Speaking of his success, the Midrash alludes to his character as that of a man who overturns all obstacles and breaks all resistance. Nothing and nobody could stop him; the universe belonged to him. And there were his dreams, revelatory as are all dreams. Jacob’s dreams pertained to the universe, the Pharaoh’s dreams to the Egyptian people collectively; Joseph’s revolved around his own person, his own career.

Let us reread the Biblical text:

One day Joseph went to his brothers and said: Pray listen to the dream I have just had. We were gathering wheat in the field when suddenly my bundle stood up and remained standing while yours formed ranks and bowed to mine. To which his brothers answered, with understandable anger: What? You wish to reign over us? Unperturbed, Joseph told them another of his dreams: I saw the sun, the moon and eleven stars prostrate before me. This time it was too much; even Jacob took offense. Yet while Joseph had gone too far, Jacob still believed him, if only a little.

Listen to the Midrash:

Veaviv shamar et hadavar—The father took pen and paper to write down his son’s exact words as well as the date and place. One understands both the father’s anger and his reluctance to dismiss the dream as fantasy. After all, Jacob knew about dreams, especially that it is safest to keep them to oneself. By blaming Joseph publicly, he may have hoped to attenuate the brothers’ jealousy. But it is Joseph we really fail to understand. How could he, the future strategist, the born schemer, so shrewd and perspicacious, not know that certain dreams and certain dreamers inexorably spark opposition?

Above all, could this be the childhood, the education of a Tzaddik? This same question arises over and over again. When his brothers were getting ready to sell him, he began to plead for mercy, a Midrash tells us. Was that fitting behavior for a future Tzaddik? One expects a Just Man to accept all events, good or bad, serenely and perhaps even proudly. And what about the Potiphar affair? Surely it does not point to any overwhelming desire to lead an exemplary, austere life, a life aiming for purity and perfection. One does not get the impression that he came to the empty Potiphar residence with only his servant’s tasks on his mind. Besides, if he was totally innocent in this affair, why did he not run away earlier? Why did he wait till the last moment?

And later, in prison, who were the people he befriended? The wretches of the earth? The eternally deprived? The dregs of society? Not Joseph. He became the intimate friend, the confidant of two former court officials. He even succeeded in getting himself appointed administrative director of the prison. Even in jail, he avoided misery and humiliation. Even in jail, he had to be first. Is that the path that leads to saintliness?