Genesis 35:24 Daily Devotional & Meaning – The Sons of Rachel
Daily Verses Everyday! Day 233
“The sons of Rachel; Joseph, and Benjamin:”
“The sons of Rachel; Joseph, and Benjamin:” This verse is only a few words long, but those two names carry an extraordinary amount of biblical history. Rachel bore only two sons, especially when compared with Leah’s six, yet Joseph and Benjamin would both become enormously significant within the story of Israel. Rachel spent years grieving because she could not conceive, and when God finally opened her womb, the sons He gave her would become part of some of the most important events in Genesis and beyond. Joseph would become the instrument through whom God preserved Jacob’s entire household during famine, and Benjamin would become the father of a tribe that later produced Israel’s first king, Mordecai, and the apostle Paul. Rachel may have once looked at Leah’s growing family and believed she had been given less, but Scripture reminds us repeatedly that the number of blessings we can count does not always reveal the significance God intends to bring through them.
Rachel’s struggle with barrenness had been one of the defining sorrows of her life. Genesis 29:31 says, “And when the LORD saw that Leah was hated, he opened her womb: but Rachel was barren.” While Leah continued bearing children, Rachel watched and waited. Eventually her frustration became so intense that Genesis 30:1 records, “And when Rachel saw that she bare Jacob no children, Rachel envied her sister; and said unto Jacob, Give me children, or else I die.” Her statement reveals just how deeply she had allowed childbearing to become connected with her sense of worth and fulfillment. Rachel was loved by Jacob, yet the love she possessed did not remove the pain of what she lacked. Leah had children and wanted Jacob’s love. Rachel had Jacob’s love and wanted children. Each woman looked toward something the other possessed and believed that receiving it might finally satisfy her.
That rivalry produced enormous dysfunction within Jacob’s household. Rachel gave Bilhah to Jacob so that she might have children through her servant. Leah later responded by giving Zilpah. The household became consumed with competition, children, status, and the struggle for Jacob’s affection. Yet after all the human maneuvering, Genesis finally says something beautifully simple in Genesis 30:22: “And God remembered Rachel, and God hearkened to her, and opened her womb.” The answer did not ultimately come from Rachel’s schemes. It came from God.
The phrase “God remembered Rachel” does not mean God had forgotten that Rachel existed and suddenly remembered her again. Throughout Scripture, when God “remembers” someone in this covenantal sense, it means that He acts according to His faithfulness and purpose. Genesis 8:1 says, “And God remembered Noah,” before the waters began to recede. Exodus 2:24 says that God “remembered his covenant with Abraham, with Isaac, and with Jacob” when Israel cried under Egyptian bondage. God’s remembering is connected with divine action.
Rachel’s first son was Joseph. Genesis 30:23 says, “And she conceived, and bare a son; and said, God hath taken away my reproach.” Then Genesis 30:24 says, “And she called his name Joseph; and said, The LORD shall add to me another son.” Joseph’s very name was connected with Rachel’s expectation that God would add another child. She had received the son for whom she had waited so long, yet she immediately looked toward the possibility of another.
God eventually did give her another son, but as we have just seen, Benjamin’s birth came through terrible suffering. Rachel died giving birth to him. Genesis 35:18 says, “And it came to pass, as her soul was in departing, (for she died) that she called his name Benoni: but his father called him Benjamin.” Thus Rachel’s two biological sons stand on opposite sides of an extraordinary contrast. Joseph’s birth removed her reproach and filled her with hope. Benjamin’s birth fulfilled her desire for another son but coincided with her death.
Now Scripture places those names together: “Joseph, and Benjamin.”
The two sons of Rachel.
They shared the same mother, but they experienced that mother very differently. Joseph lived long enough to know Rachel. Benjamin did not. Joseph would have memories of his mother that Benjamin could never possess. Benjamin entered the world as Rachel left it. This must have created a unique bond between the brothers, and later events suggest that Joseph felt particular affection toward Benjamin.
When Joseph’s brothers eventually came to Egypt during the famine, they did not recognize him. Joseph tested them and asked about their family. When Benjamin finally appeared before him, Joseph’s emotional reaction was immediate. Genesis 43:29 says, “And he lifted up his eyes, and saw his brother Benjamin, his mother's son.” The text specifically emphasizes that Benjamin was “his mother’s son.”
That detail matters.
Joseph had ten other brothers, but Benjamin was the only brother who shared both his father and his mother. Rachel connected them in a unique way.
Genesis 43:30 says, “And Joseph made haste; for his bowels did yearn upon his brother: and he sought where to weep; and he entered into his chamber, and wept there.” Joseph had spent years separated from his family, believing perhaps that he might never see Benjamin again. Now the younger brother whose birth had cost Rachel her life stood before him.
One can imagine how many memories must have rushed through Joseph, although Scripture does not tell us exactly what he thought. Benjamin represented home. Benjamin represented Jacob. Benjamin represented Rachel. Benjamin was the last living person who shared Joseph’s exact maternal family line.
Joseph’s story becomes one of the central narratives of Genesis. He is Rachel’s firstborn son, but his importance grows far beyond anything Rachel could have imagined while holding him as an infant. Genesis 37 tells us that Jacob loved Joseph especially. Genesis 37:3 says, “Now Israel loved Joseph more than all his children, because he was the son of his old age.” Jacob made him “a coat of many colours,” and the favoritism contributed to growing hatred among the brothers.
Joseph then received dreams indicating that his family would one day bow before him. His brothers hated him even more. Eventually they conspired against him, threw him into a pit, sold him into slavery, and deceived Jacob into believing he had been killed.
From the human perspective, Joseph’s life appeared to collapse completely.
He went from beloved son to slave.
From slave to falsely accused prisoner.
From prisoner to forgotten man.
Yet through every stage, Genesis repeats the truth that God remained with him. Genesis 39:2 says, “And the LORD was with Joseph.” After Joseph was falsely accused and imprisoned, Genesis 39:21 says, “But the LORD was with Joseph, and shewed him mercy.”
Joseph’s story becomes one of the clearest demonstrations in Genesis that God’s presence does not always prevent suffering but does guarantee that suffering cannot escape His sovereignty.
Eventually Pharaoh dreams dreams that none of Egypt’s wise men can interpret. Joseph is brought from prison, and God gives him the interpretation. Seven years of abundance will be followed by seven years of devastating famine. Joseph advises Pharaoh concerning how Egypt should prepare, and Pharaoh elevates Joseph over the land.
Genesis 41:41 records Pharaoh saying, “See, I have set thee over all the land of Egypt.”
The slave becomes ruler.
The prisoner becomes the man through whom Egypt prepares for famine.
And that famine eventually reaches Canaan, driving Joseph’s brothers to Egypt in search of food.
Only then does the larger purpose become visible.
Joseph eventually tells his brothers in Genesis 45:5, “Now therefore be not grieved, nor angry with yourselves, that ye sold me hither: for God did send me before you to preserve life.” Then Genesis 50:20 gives one of the great statements of providence in all of Scripture: “But as for you, ye thought evil against me; but God meant it unto good.”
Joseph does not say their actions were good.
They were evil.
He says God was greater than their evil.
The brothers meant one thing, and God sovereignly accomplished another through the same events.
Rachel could never have seen any of this when Joseph was born. She died before Joseph’s greatest trials and before his greatest exaltation. She never saw him wearing Egyptian garments of authority. She never saw Pharaoh give Joseph power over the nation. She never saw the famine. She never saw the brothers bow before Joseph. She never saw Jacob’s household preserved through her son.
That is one of the recurring realities of Genesis: people participate in promises whose full significance they never live long enough to witness.
Rachel prayed for Joseph.
Rachel gave birth to Joseph.
Rachel loved Joseph.
But God’s purpose for Joseph extended far beyond Rachel’s lifetime.
This should remind us that we often have no idea what God may do through the people, responsibilities, ministries, or acts of faithfulness He places in our lives. We naturally want to see the finished result. Yet sometimes our responsibility is simply to obey God in the portion of the story He gives us.
First Corinthians 3:6 says, “I have planted, Apollos watered; but God gave the increase.” One generation plants. Another waters. God sees the whole harvest.
Joseph’s importance also changes the tribal structure of Israel. Technically, when Israel’s tribes are later counted territorially, Joseph often receives a double portion through his two sons, Ephraim and Manasseh. This is connected with the birthright Reuben forfeited.
First Chronicles 5:1 says of Reuben, “forasmuch as he defiled his father's bed, his birthright was given unto the sons of Joseph the son of Israel.”
Jacob later adopts Joseph’s two sons in a special way. Genesis 48:5 says, “And now thy two sons, Ephraim and Manasseh, which were born unto thee in the land of Egypt before I came unto thee into Egypt, are mine; as Reuben and Simeon, they shall be mine.”
That is remarkable.
Joseph, although one son of Jacob, effectively receives two tribal inheritances through Ephraim and Manasseh.
Rachel had two sons, Joseph and Benjamin, but through Joseph alone two major tribal lines emerge.
In that sense, Rachel’s descendants occupy an especially important position within Israel. Ephraim eventually becomes so prominent in the northern kingdom that the prophets sometimes use “Ephraim” almost as a synonym for the northern tribes of Israel. Manasseh receives extensive territory on both sides of the Jordan. Benjamin occupies a strategically significant region near Judah and Jerusalem.
Rachel’s children therefore become embedded deeply within the geography and politics of Israel.
Joseph’s descendants also produce significant biblical figures. Joshua, who succeeds Moses and leads Israel into the promised land, comes from Ephraim. Numbers 13:8 identifies Oshea, later called Joshua, as being “of the tribe of Ephraim.” Joshua becomes one of the two faithful spies, alongside Caleb, who trusts God when the other ten spies bring an evil report.
Numbers 14:6-9 records Joshua and Caleb urging Israel not to rebel against the LORD, declaring, “the LORD is with us: fear them not.”
Then after Moses dies, Joshua receives the command in Joshua 1:9, “Have not I commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid.”
The descendant of Joseph leads Israel into the very land promised to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.
Again, Rachel never saw it.
God did.
Then there is Benjamin.
Benjamin was the last son born to Jacob and the only one born after Jacob returned to the land of Canaan. He entered the world in sorrow, but his descendants would also play an enormous role in Israel’s history.
Benjamin’s tribe became known for fierce warriors. Judges 20:16 says that among the Benjamites were “seven hundred chosen men lefthanded; every one could sling stones at an hair breadth, and not miss.” The tribe developed a reputation for military skill and tenacity.
Yet Benjamin’s tribal history also contains one of the darkest episodes in the book of Judges. Judges 19-21 describes horrific wickedness at Gibeah and the resulting civil war between Benjamin and the other tribes. Benjamin is nearly destroyed. Judges 21:3 records Israel crying out, “O LORD God of Israel, why is this come to pass in Israel, that there should be to day one tribe lacking in Israel?”
The tribe born from Rachel’s dying sorrow nearly disappears in another season of national sorrow.
Yet Benjamin survives.
That persistence becomes part of the tribe’s history.
Later Israel’s first king comes from Benjamin. Saul tells Samuel in 1 Samuel 9:21, “Am not I a Benjamite, of the smallest of the tribes of Israel?” Saul’s father Kish was a Benjamite, and Saul becomes the first man formally established as king over Israel.
Saul’s kingship ultimately ends tragically because of repeated disobedience, but his rise demonstrates how prominent Benjamin could become despite its comparatively small size.
Saul’s son Jonathan also comes from Benjamin and becomes one of the most admirable figures in Samuel. Jonathan develops a covenant friendship with David even though David’s rise means Jonathan will not inherit the throne. First Samuel 18:1 says, “the soul of Jonathan was knit with the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul.”
Jonathan repeatedly protects David from Saul. His loyalty is remarkable because he places faithfulness above personal ambition.
Benjamin later produces another important figure in Mordecai. Esther 2:5 says, “There was a certain Jew at Shushan the palace, whose name was Mordecai… a Benjamite.” Mordecai becomes central to the deliverance of the Jewish people from Haman’s genocidal plan.
The book of Esther never explicitly names God, yet His providence is evident throughout. Through Esther’s position as queen and Mordecai’s actions, the Jewish people survive an attempt at destruction.
Once again, Benjamin’s descendants appear in a story where extinction seems possible but preservation occurs.
Then the New Testament gives us perhaps the most influential Benjamite in biblical history: the apostle Paul.
Paul proudly identifies his ancestry in Romans 11:1: “For I also am an Israelite, of the seed of Abraham, of the tribe of Benjamin.” Philippians 3:5 repeats it: “Of the stock of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, an Hebrew of the Hebrews.”
The tribe descending from the infant Rachel died bringing into the world eventually produces the man God uses to carry the gospel throughout much of the Roman world and to write a substantial portion of the New Testament.
Paul plants churches across Asia Minor and Europe.
He preaches Christ before Jews and Gentiles.
He suffers imprisonment, beatings, shipwreck, persecution, and rejection.
He writes Romans, Corinthians, Galatians, Philippians, and many other letters that have instructed Christians for centuries.
Rachel could never have imagined that when Benjamin drew his first breath.
That is what makes this tiny genealogical statement so powerful.
“Joseph, and Benjamin.”
Two sons.
Behind those two names are generations of history.
The preservation of Israel in Egypt.
Ephraim.
Manasseh.
Joshua.
The conquest of Canaan.
The tribe of Benjamin.
Saul.
Jonathan.
Mordecai.
Paul.
Human beings see names.
God sees generations.
Rachel once cried because she had no children. Eventually she had only two biological sons, while Leah had six. If Rachel had measured God’s goodness exclusively by numbers, she might still have believed herself disadvantaged. But the later history of Joseph and Benjamin reminds us that God does not measure significance the way we do.
We often become obsessed with quantity.
How many children?
How many followers?
How many books sold?
How many people attended?
How many opportunities?
How much money?
How large is the ministry?
How many accomplishments?
Scripture repeatedly reminds us that God is not limited by small numbers.
Gideon’s army is reduced to three hundred men so that Israel cannot boast that its own strength delivered it. Judges 7:2 says, “The people that are with thee are too many for me to give the Midianites into their hands.”
David confronts Goliath as one young shepherd against a giant warrior.
Jesus feeds thousands with five loaves and two fishes.
Christ begins the public expansion of the church through a comparatively small group of disciples.
Zechariah 4:10 warns against despising “the day of small things.”
Rachel had two sons.
God did a great deal through two sons.
That should challenge the way we evaluate our own lives. Faithfulness is not measured purely by visible scale. One person faithfully discipled may influence generations. One child may become the means through which God blesses thousands. One conversation may change a life. One act of obedience may have consequences we never see.
Our responsibility is not to make our lives appear large.
Our responsibility is to be faithful with what God gives us.
The contrast between Joseph and Benjamin also reveals how differently God may write the stories of people born into the same family. Both are Rachel’s sons. Both are loved deeply by Jacob. Both belong to the covenant line. Yet their lives unfold very differently.
Joseph spends years away from home in Egypt.
Benjamin remains with Jacob.
Joseph experiences slavery and prison before power.
Benjamin’s biblical story is much quieter personally, while his tribal descendants later become prominent.
Joseph becomes the father of Ephraim and Manasseh.
Benjamin fathers his own tribal line.
God does not give identical stories even to brothers born of the same parents.
Comparison therefore remains foolish.
Peter once fell into this temptation after Jesus described something concerning Peter’s future. Peter looked toward John and asked in John 21:21, “Lord, and what shall this man do?” Jesus responded in John 21:22, “If I will that he tarry till I come, what is that to thee? follow thou me.”
That is one of the simplest answers to comparison in all of Scripture.
“What is that to thee? follow thou me.”
Joseph did not need Benjamin’s story.
Benjamin did not need Joseph’s story.
Each had a place within God’s purposes.
The same is true for us. Someone else may receive opportunities we do not receive. Another person’s calling may appear larger. Their road may seem easier. Their gifts may be different. Their family may look different. Their ministry may grow differently.
Our calling remains the same at the foundational level: follow Christ faithfully.
There is also something deeply moving about Rachel’s legacy when we place this verse beside her death. Rachel is already gone when Genesis 35:24 lists her children. Yet Scripture still says, “The sons of Rachel.”
Her relationship to them remains part of their identity even after death.
Death separates Rachel physically from her sons, but it does not erase the fact that she was their mother.
Joseph remains Rachel’s son.
Benjamin remains Rachel’s son.
That is part of why Joseph’s reaction to Benjamin is so emotional years later. Genesis specifically calls Benjamin “his mother's son.”
Rachel’s life continues in the history of her children.
This does not mean human beings literally live on through their descendants in place of resurrection. Scripture offers a far greater hope than that. But there is a very real sense in which generations carry consequences, memories, stories, teachings, and sometimes physical characteristics from those who came before them.
Parents often influence people they will never meet through the children they raise.
Grandparents influence grandchildren.
Teachers influence students who later teach others.
Pastors disciple people who later disciple others.
Paul tells Timothy in 2 Timothy 2:2, “the things that thou hast heard of me among many witnesses, the same commit thou to faithful men, who shall be able to teach others also.”
That is generational faithfulness.
Rachel could not raise Benjamin beyond his birth, but the fact that Scripture still identifies him as Rachel’s son reminds us that a person’s role in God’s story is not erased merely because their earthly life ends.
There is another important contrast between Rachel’s sons and Leah’s sons. From Leah comes Judah, the royal tribe through which Christ comes. From Rachel comes Joseph, through whom God preserves Judah and the rest of Jacob’s family alive.
That means the messianic line through Judah survives the famine, humanly speaking, because God positions Joseph in Egypt beforehand.
Joseph is not the ancestor of Jesus according to the royal genealogy through Judah, yet Joseph becomes one of the means God uses to preserve the family from which Jesus will eventually come.
This is important because not every person God uses in His plan occupies the most visible position within that plan.
Joseph does not need to be the messianic ancestor to be essential to what God is accomplishing.
He preserves the family containing the messianic line.
Genesis 45:7 records Joseph telling his brothers, “And God sent me before you to preserve you a posterity in the earth, and to save your lives by a great deliverance.”
Among those lives preserved was Judah.
Within Judah’s descendants would eventually come David.
Within David’s line would eventually come Christ.
Joseph’s role therefore beautifully illustrates supporting faithfulness within God’s purposes. Sometimes God calls one person to carry the visible promise and another person to preserve, support, protect, finance, encourage, or prepare the way for that promise.
Both matter.
First Corinthians 3:8 says, “Now he that planteth and he that watereth are one: and every man shall receive his own reward according to his own labour.”
God sees the entire network of faithfulness that human beings often reduce to one famous name.
Joseph himself becomes a powerful picture of certain themes later fulfilled perfectly in Christ, although we should distinguish typological similarities from explicit prophecy. Joseph is beloved by his father. His brothers reject him. He is sold for silver. He suffers despite innocence in key moments. He is lowered into humiliation and then raised to power. The very brothers who rejected him eventually depend upon him for life. Joseph forgives those who wronged him and becomes the means through which they are preserved.
These similarities naturally point Christian readers toward Christ, who was rejected by His own, betrayed for silver, suffered innocently, descended into death, rose in victory, and offers salvation even to those who were His enemies.
Joseph is not Jesus. Joseph is a sinner like every ordinary human being, and Scripture never presents him as the Savior. Yet his story contains patterns of humiliation followed by exaltation, rejection followed by deliverance, and suffering used for the salvation of others that find their ultimate perfection in Christ.
Philippians 2:8-9 says of Jesus, “he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross. Wherefore God also hath highly exalted him.”
Joseph goes from pit to palace.
Christ goes through the cross to resurrection and exaltation.
Joseph saves people from physical famine.
Christ saves sinners from death and judgment.
Joseph provides bread in Egypt.
Jesus declares in John 6:35, “I am the bread of life.”
The connections do not erase the historical meaning of Joseph’s story; they help us see how recurring patterns throughout Scripture ultimately converge upon Christ.
Benjamin’s later history also becomes connected indirectly with this contrast between human kingship and Christ’s kingship. Israel’s first king Saul comes from Benjamin, but the enduring royal covenant comes through David of Judah. Saul’s kingdom fails. David’s dynasty receives the promise that ultimately culminates in Jesus.
The first king comes from Rachel’s son Benjamin.
The everlasting King comes through Leah’s son Judah.
The entire family contributes to Israel’s history, but God assigns different roles.
That again emphasizes why comparison within the body of God’s people is so destructive. God may use one branch of a family for kingship, another for priesthood, another for deliverance, another for warfare, another for administration, and another for something completely unexpected.
The glory belongs not to the tribe but to the God who assigns the purpose.
Genesis 35:24 therefore reminds us that Rachel’s life should not be judged merely by how long she lived or how many children she bore. If we measured only visible quantity, Rachel’s story might look smaller than Leah’s. But Joseph and Benjamin reveal how inadequate that measurement would be.
Through Joseph’s sons come major tribes.
Through Ephraim comes Joshua.
Through Benjamin comes Israel’s first king.
Through Benjamin comes Jonathan.
Through Benjamin comes Mordecai.
Through Benjamin comes Paul.
Two sons became generations.
Two names became histories.
And Rachel did not live to see most of it.
That should encourage us when we cannot see what God is doing with what we have placed in His hands. We may never understand the significance of some acts of obedience during our own lifetime. We may pray for someone for years and die before seeing the full answer. We may raise children without knowing how God will use them later. We may write something that reaches someone decades after we are gone. We may plant seeds whose harvest belongs to another generation.
God is not limited by our ability to see the outcome.
Hebrews 11:13 describes the patriarchs as people who “died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off.”
Faith sometimes means trusting a God whose plan extends beyond our lifespan.
Rachel wanted children desperately.
God gave her Joseph and Benjamin.
She did not see Joseph rule Egypt.
She did not see Benjamin become a tribe.
She did not see Ephraim and Manasseh.
She did not see Joshua.
She did not see Saul.
She did not see Mordecai.
She did not see Paul.
But God saw every generation from the beginning.
That is why even a verse consisting primarily of two names should cause us to pause. Genesis is teaching us to see beyond the immediate moment. What appears small now may contain history we cannot imagine.
Rachel saw two sons.
God saw Israel.
And when we are tempted to believe that what God has placed in our hands is too small to matter, Joseph and Benjamin remind us that the significance of a gift is not determined merely by how large it looks when we first receive it. It is determined by what the sovereign God chooses to do with it.
If you would like to explore Genesis in a sustained, verse-by-verse way with space to reflect, journal, and trace how these foundational truths unfold through Scripture the Verse by Verse book expands these reflections into a unified reading experience. The book gathers these meditations into a structured journey through Genesis, designed to help readers linger in the text and engage God’s Word more deeply over time.
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