Why Me, Lord?
Parashat Toldot, Genesis 25:19–28:9
Rabbi David Wein, Tikvat Israel, Richmond, VA
To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And by opposing end them.
This, of course, is Hamlet’s famous monologue written by William Shakespeare. Hamlet here is struggling with the pains and suffering of life and has reached a level of despair, wondering why he even exists. Job wonders the same thing: “Why was I even born if life is so tough?” And then there’s Rebekah’s question in this week’s parasha:
Isaac prayed to Adonai on behalf of his wife because she was barren. Adonai answered his plea and his wife Rebekah became pregnant.
But the children struggled with one another inside her, and she said, “If it’s like this, why is this happening to me?” So she went to inquire of Adonai. (Gen 25:21-23, TLV)
Here’s the Hebrew of her question: Lamah Zeh Anokhi? Literally: “Why this me?” In other words, “Why me, Lord? Why is this happening to me? Why do I exist? What’s the point of this suffering?” It’s a good question, an important question. How do we make sense of this life? If we are to move forward with gardening our gardens, then we need some understanding of the thorns and weeds and travail and hot sun and groundhogs eating our zucchini. And some understanding of why we in particular are experiencing this. Why this for me, Lord?
Rebekah is the first person in the Bible to have twins, and these twins are already not getting along, even before they’re born. All of this is a new thing that has never happened to anyone, and Rebekah is probably scared and overwhelmed. One midrash has Rebekah ask around to other women who have been pregnant:
“She said: If this is so, why do I exist [lama zeh anokhi]?” Rabbi Yitzḥak said: It teaches that our matriarch Rebecca was circulating around the entrances of women’s houses and saying to them: “In your days, did you experience this suffering? If this is the suffering that comes with children; had I only not conceived!” (Genesis Rabbah 63:6)
Rebekah is asking what the Backstreet Boys asked in that number one hit “I Want it That Way”:
Tell me why
Ain't nothin' but a heartache
Tell me why
Ain't nothing but a mistake
I mean, it’s no Shakespeare, but it still resonates. Rebekah asks in order to know why: “Did you struggle like this? Is this normal? What’s going on inside me?” Remember, this is after experiencing barrenness, like all the other matriarchs of our faith. And the fruitfulness, the blessing, comes with unforeseen conflict. So, how to figure it out? I mean, it’s not like she can get an ultrasound and see: “Oh, there’s two in there!” This is unprecedented utero-conflict. And they’re most likely arguing about territory:
“Mo-om! He’s on my side of the womb!”
“Well, he grabbed my heel! And then he pinched my already-formed hair!”
“Are we there yet? It’s getting crowded in here!”
So, none of the other women have experienced this, and thus Rebekah is at the end of her wits. But notice what she does. It turns out there is an ultrasound: the ultrasound of the Lord. There is someone who knows what’s going on inside her: the God who sees. So she went to inquire of Adonai, the first person in the Bible to do so. And the Lord explains that there are two babies in there, and that they are two nations, fighting against one another, which I suppose is somewhat comforting if you’re the first woman to give birth to twins.
There is a tension here with Rebekah’s, Job’s, and Hamlet’s question: “Why am I?” We have no say in the fact that we exist. We got no vote in the matter. Nor do we have any say in the difficult things that happen to us. The Lord responds to Rebekah’s question of “Why is this happening to me?” by showing her that she is seen, cared for, loved, and understood. It’s not a quick solution or a trite aphorism; it’s simply a move toward trust and learning. God knows what’s going on inside her and explains it. Also, we notice that Rebekah has the wisdom to bring her difficult questions to God. Sometimes we don’t do that. We just cry out or despair to ourselves, or maybe another person. This might provide some help, but ultimately we need to bring our tough questions to God, as Rebekah did.
There are things I don’t yet understand about myself, about marriage, about congregational life, about the Bible, about God, about suffering, about Israel, about life, and about soccer (What is “offsides”?). Some of these things I may learn next week, and some I may learn in front of Yeshua himself. But at some point, the Lord will show me. He’s our Rabbi, our Teacher. This was the original problem with Adam and Eve eating the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil.
Consider the character of God for a moment. God is our Father, our Teacher, our Rabbi. Would you, as a parent or teacher, want your children or students to learn the difference between right and wrong? Yes, of course you would. Then Kal VaChomer, how much more would God want to teach and show Adam and Eve what is good and not good. After all, he is the one who declared that creation was good seven times, “Ki tov!” And he was the one to declare the first thing that was “not good”—that the human would be isolated and alone.
So the question is, if God wanted them to have this information, how were Adam and Eve to learn? Well, there were two paths. Grab the knowledge, and make yourself the reference for right and wrong (eat the forbidden fruit). Or, learn from the Teacher over time. But instead, Adam and Eve decided that they did not want to be taught by the Teacher, the Rabbi, that they wanted to distort what was good and not good; this led to a destruction of the intimate relationship they had with each other and with God, a major setback to relating and knowing through learning.
But Rebekah went the other way, because she inquired of the Lord. Perhaps we can too, and say with King David:
Show me Your ways, Adonai.
Teach me Your paths. (Psalm 25:4)
Because He’s the God who lives and sees us—the God who teaches us, who instructs us. He answers our tough questions and sees our tough emotions and circumstances. So perhaps a further question beyond “Why me, Lord?” is this one: “Rabbi, what are you teaching me now?”