Like my children, all my nephews and nieces are rather precocious. It must be something in the genes.
Recently, my 13-year-old niece asked the following question: Why does it seem that Hashem speaks so harshly about how He will punish the Jewish people when we do the wrong thing? The p’sukim in the Torah warn of very painful consequences that will befall us if our behavior is not as it should be. Doesn’t Hashem love us? In addition, if murder is such a serious sin, why does Hashem say that He will kill us when we act wrongly?
While I am not sagacious enough to offer a comprehensive answer to such an important question, I want to share two ideas that can give a bit of insight toward understanding the profound concept of divine punishment.
Just prior to the Exodus from Egypt, during the plague of Darkness, the Torah relates that while all of Egypt was enveloped in tangible darkness that was so thick it could be felt, “And for all the B’nei Yisrael, there was light in their dwelling places.”
That statement is strange because, by no prior plague, did the Torah feel it necessary to state that the B’nei Yisrael weren’t affected by the plague. By the first plague of Blood, it doesn’t say that the B’nei Yisrael had water. By the plagues of Hail and Locusts, which ravaged the Egyptian food supply, it doesn’t say that the B’nei Yisrael had food. So why, regarding the plague of Darkness, does the Torah deem it necessary to state that for all the Jews there was light?
The Yalkut Reuveni (printed in Prague in 1660 by a grandson of the Kli Yakar) offers an incredibly moving explanation of these words. The Torah is not relating that the Jews were unaffected by the plague of Darkness. That’s a given. Rather, it is referring to the 80 percent of B’nei Yisrael who perished during the plague of Darkness because they didn’t want to leave Egypt. The Yalkut Reuveni writes, “Since they died out of repentance, it was light for them in their surroundings in Gan Eden.”
It’s an incredibly moving and heartwarming idea. It’s a reminder to us that all victims of persecution, terrorism, and anti-Semitism – even if their suffering was a result of their sins – we cannot know when suffering is a result of personal sin or other divine calculations – they are now surrounded by light in Gan Eden if they died out of t’shuvah.
On another note, when one sees someone reacting extremely harshly to the actions of another, that reaction is likely the result of extreme hatred and antipathy or extreme love and concern. If someone down the block does something egregious that doesn’t affect the neighbor, the neighbor likely will not care enough to get involved. But if it’s their own child who committed the act, they will likely become far more upset, not only because it’s a reflection on the parent, but also because the parent wants and expects better from his own child.
Rashi (D’varim 2:16) notes that during 38 of the 40 years that the B’nei Yisrael were in the desert, from the Sin of the Spies onward, the expression Va’y’dabeir – referring to Hashem speaking to Moshe – isn’t used. Hashem was angry with the nation because of their sin, and, therefore, He only spoke to Moshe using the indirect, softer expression of amirah.
Kli Yakar asks: If amirah connotes a softer and gentler manner of speech and Hashem was angry with the nation, why did He address Moshe using that expression? It would seem more appropriate for Him to address Moshe using the expression of Va’y’dabeir, which connotes a harsher expression of speech.
Kli Yakar answers that dibur is always comprised of rebuke and chastisement. Therefore, during the interim years, when Hashem was angry with the nation, He did not speak to them in a direct and forceful manner: “For the one Hashem loves, He rebukes.” Because amirah is softer and contains no rebuke, that is exactly why that expression is used during those years of spiritual distance.
To illustrate: On occasion, I’ve been at a yeshivah where the rosh yeshivah addressed his students with strong words of rebuke and musar. Then, at a convention for working laymen, that same rosh yeshivah addressed the assemblage in a far softer and more welcoming manner.
Though, at first glance, it seems that the rosh yeshivah cares for and likes being with the laymen far more than his own students, the opposite is true. The rosh yeshivah doesn’t have the same relationship with the laymen and knows he can’t influence them unless he speaks to them soothingly and embracingly. With his own students, however, he is far more invested and therefore expects more and demands more. His harsher speech is indicative of a much deeper relationship.
Our custom is that after we complete reading Megillas Eichah on Tish’ah B’Av evening, we repeat the previous pasuk. The final pasuk states, “For if You have utterly rejected us, You have already been angry enough with us.” So as not to conclude with such piercing, harsh words, we repeat the previous pasuk: “Bring us back to You, Hashem, and we will return; renew our days of old.”
The fact that we ask Hashem to bring us back presupposes that He very much wants to reconnect with us. The wrath that Hashem has displayed toward us is itself assurance that Hashem wants us back as His people. We recount His harsh treatment of us and then repeat that Hashem should bring us back. The fact that we suffer so much shows that Hashem is still fully invested in us. Otherwise, He would have let us fade into oblivion long ago.
Hashem never subjects us to suffering just for the sake of exacting retribution. It is always somehow beneficial to us, though it generally doesn’t appear that way. Being able to accept such a concept requires deep faith.
This is a deep idea. But I hope that one precocious enough to ask the question is precocious enough to grasp this idea. I know that I have not fully done justice to this vast and important topic. But it’s definitely a good starting point, enough to allow us to accept comfort from all the anguish we rehashed over Tish’ah B’Av.
Rabbi Dani Staum is a popular speaker, columnist, and author. He is a rebbi in Heichal HaTorah in Teaneck, New Jersey, principal of Mesivta Orchos Yosher in Spring Valley, New York, and a member of the administration of Camp Dora Golding. His writings can be found at strivinghigher.com. Looking for an inspirational speaker or scholar-in-residence? Contact Rabbi Staum at 845-641-5094 or at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..
