Statement: The Midrash tells us, “ֵין אְ לָם אָדְ אבִּ ים יִוּסּר - There is no man who goes through life without afflictions,”[1] We all know too well that suffering is part of the human condition. During such experiences, there will always be times when a person will question why the Divine Architect has directed specific challenges for us to overcome. In this week’s parashah of Toldos, Rivka Imeinu experienced this with her difficult pregnancy. As the pasuk states, And the children struggled within her, and she said, "If [it be] so, why am I [like] this?" And she went to inquire of HaShem.[2]
When asked about selling the firstborn birthrights, Eisav, who was also experiencing his own existential challenges,[3] exclaimed similarly: Esau replied, "Behold, I am going to die; so why do I need this birthright?"[4]
Question: In each of these cases, we find that both Rivka and Esau were experiencing difficult challenges, with each responding with a similar expression. Rivka said, “ָהָמּל זֶּהִיאָנֹכ” (lit. why this am I) and ten pesukim later Eisav said, “ָה־זֶּהָמּלִיל” (lit. why this for me). What is the difference between these two responses, and what can we learn from them?
Answer: Eisav’s response to his struggles was, “ָה־זֶּהָמּלִיל” since his primary focus is on ִיל - his self-pride and ego. His response is similar to the person who complains to HaShem, “Why me?!!!” Such a response may lead to a denial of HaShem and a withholding of His blessings. By giving up and saying, “Behold, I am going to die anyway,” is a denial of the eternal existence of the soul and negates the goal of striving for a meaningful life. Spirituality means nothing to a person like Eisov, who is willing to sell it away for a pot of beans.
Rivka, however, said, “ָהָמּל זֶּהִיאָנֹכ” since her primary focus was on ִיאָנֹכ, a reference to HaShem.[5] She desired to find out what HaShem wanted of her, which prompted her ְרשִׁדלֶת־הא - to daven and seek an answer from HaShem.[6]
Story
In our struggle to understand life’s challenges and pain, Rabbi Dr. Abraham Twerski, ז"ל, related the following. He was once waiting in a dentist's office and picked up a magazine where he saw an article on “How a Lobster Grows.” As a true chassid of Yisroel Baal Shem Tov, who often said, “Everything one sees or hears is to be taken as a lesson on how to better serve the Creator,”—He shared the following insight:
“All marine crustaceans are made of soft tissue trapped within a hard shell. As the lobster grows, it experiences pressure, discomfort, and pain, confined by its shell.” “So it goes under a rock, casts off its shell, and produces a new one. The stimulus for the lobster to be able to grow is to feel uncomfortable.” Rabbi Twerski jokingly points out, “If lobsters were able to go to a doctor, they would be given a Valium or Percocet and never grow. Times of stress signal opportunities for growth, and if we use adversity properly, we can grow since growth can only come as a result of suffering and challenges.”[7]
When comparing the two expressions of Rivka and Eisov, one comes away with a deep insight into responding to life’s challenges. Frequently, a person who faces personal suffering or tragedy will say “ָה־זֶּהָמּלִיל” why is this happening to me? I don’t deserve this. I’m a good person. There must not be any Divine Providence, for if G-d is all good, all-powerful, and all-knowing—why is this happening to me?! Such a response is counterproductive and can lead to rejecting HaShem. Understanding personal pain and tragedies is complex, and even Moshe Rabbeinu, the greatest of prophets, struggled with the issue of pain and suffering of the innocent and desired to know its secret from HaShem–but was denied, being told: “You cannot see My face, for man shall not see Me and live.”[8]
In suffering, man is blind to its reasons, but not knowing can be beneficial. How can it be to one’s benefit to not know the reason?
Elie Wiesel, the famous Nobel Prize laureate, was once asked if he knew why the Holocaust happened. His surprising answer was profound and provides us with a poignant response to the suffering of others. He said something along the lines of: “I don’t know why the Holocaust happened, but if I did, I wouldn’t tell you for fear that you might be satisfied with the answer, making you indifferent to the murder of 6 million. If that would happen, you would be no different from the Nazis themselves.” In essence, we don’t look to offer reasons for the suffering of others.
Yet it seems that since there is a loving G-d, suffering does not make any sense at all. But on the other hand, if there were no G-d, then nothing would make sense. Everything is just a compilation of random events, and nothing has meaning.
So, when there is personal suffering, the proper approach is Rivka’s. Even though she was suffering to the point of questioning her life,[9] she proceeds to ask and daven for clarity and meaning in her personal suffering. As growth often can only come through the vehicle of suffering, she wanted to know what particular growth was needed. That is why it says, “And she went to inquire of the L-rd.”[10]
Interestingly, we see later that Rivka uses the word ִילּ as it says: And Rivka said to Yitzchok, "I am disgusted with my life because of the daughters of Cheis. If Jacob takes a wife of the daughters of Cheis like these, from the daughters of the land, of what use is life to me?"[11]
In this instance, she says the words ָהָמּלִילַּיִּיםח as it mattered greatly to Rivka, whom Yaakov would marry—so much so that she would have been done with life otherwise. She already saw the damage of such a union with her son Eisov. Yet this was Yaakov’s challenge and choice to make. The moral? When you see someone else subject to challenges and suffering, you shouldn’t seek reasons or a rationale for why it may be happening to them but rather complain to HaShem on their behalf.
Lesson
When one seeks clarity, it can help one endure the difficulties and pain that often come with life’s challenges. Once Rivka is told that she is carrying twins and that this pain is due to the unique circumstances of these two worlds colliding within her, her pain doesn’t magically go away. Yet, she can withstand its difficulty, knowing that this event has a purpose and meaning.
However, one should use empathy when seeing the pain and challenges of others—doing what we can to remove this from them and asking HaShem to help.
Since we find wisdom among the nations,[12] it is worthwhile to share a deep and meaningful poem from an Indian professor, poet, and philosopher, Inayat Khan Rehmat Khan: “I asked for strength, and G-d gave me difficulties to make me strong. I asked for wisdom, and G-d gave me problems to learn to solve. I asked for prosperity, and G-d gave me a brain and brawn to work. I asked for courage, and G-d gave me dangers to overcome. I asked for love, and G-d gave me people to help. I asked for favors, and G-d gave me opportunities. I received nothing I wanted. I received everything I needed.”
Remember that HaShem doesn’t expect us to do more than our capacity.[13] We merely need to do the best we can. Since the Midrash compares the Hebrew word ָיוֹןנִסּ - a test, to the word נֵס - a banner.[14] This idea shows us that when we overcome these tests, it allows us an opportunity to reveal hidden greatness within ourselves. We then become a changed person–a banner of fortitude and endurance, demonstrating to ourselves and others the many blessings of overcoming these challenges and how to grow from them.
In this merit, may we experience the time when we will all hear that great shofar and ָאְשׂונֵסֵץָבְקלֵינוֻּיוֹתָלגּ - and we will raise a נֵס, a banner and symbol of our fortitude and endurance throughout the millennia of challenges of Golus—to gather our people together from the four corners of the globe to our land with our righteous Moshiach, speedily in our day.
