Where is the divine blessing found in our lives?

I want to share 2 stories this morning, similar and yet very different.
I have a friend I’ll call eric, who lost 3 family members over the course of 3 summers, first his grandmother, grandfather, and father. After this experience, he has no more religious feeling. He has not been part of organized religion. He doesn’t feel that God will take care of things. He feels that believing in God is a great emotional support for those who believe it, but he doesn’t.
I have another acquaintance, Moshe Schwartz, part of a well-respected family in the conservative movement. Moshe’s father, Gershon, is the author of Swimming the Sea of Talmud, a collection of Talmudic texts for discussion; his mother, Shuley, is dean of List College, the joint undergraduate program JTS runs with Columbia. Almost ten years ago, Moshe’s brother died in a freak accident while at college. The funeral at Anshe Chesed in Manhattan was enormous—hundreds of people attended. It was extremely emotional—I remember Moshe and Gershon both wore beautiful ties which they had done kriyah on, ripping them in the middle to display their grief. They were devastated. Then, within the year, Gershon died. It was totally unexpected, he was a young man. Again, the funeral was enormous, shiva was well attended every night, and the family was devastated. Shuley is still Dean of List college, and Moshe now is ther hyeadmaster at a Jewish School in New Jersey.
People often assume that faith is meant to get us through hard times; that we should believe that God will make everything turn out for the best, or that everything is already for the best. Many of these same people don’t necessarily believe that. They see the reality that bad things really do happen to good people, that things don’t always turn out for the best. Our parsha, Re’eh, promises life and blessing for those who follow the Torah, and curses for those who don’t, but all too often we see that those in life who are greedy and inconsiderate really end up with the prizes.
I want to share one text this morning that sheds an interesting light on this age old question. This text is from the Talmud, Berachot 4b.
Raba (some say, R. Hisda) says: If a man sees that painful sufferings visit him, let him examine his conduct. For it is said: Let us search and try our ways, and return unto the Lord.(Lam 3:40) If he examines and finds nothing [objectionable], let him attribute it to the neglect of the study of the Torah. For it is said: Happy is the man whom Thou chastens, O Lord, and teaches out of Thy law.(Ps 94:12) If he did attribute it [thus], and still did not find [this to be the cause], let him be sure that these are chastenings of love. For it is said: For whom the Lord loves He chastises. (Prov 3:12)

Raba, in the name of R. Sahorah, in the name of R. Huna, says: If the Holy One, blessed be He, is pleased with a man, he crushes him with painful sufferings. For it is said: And the Lord was pleased with [him, hence] he crushed him by disease.24 Now, you might think that this is so even if he did not accept them with love. Therefore it is said: To see if his soul would offer itself in restitution.25 Even as the trespass-offering must be brought by consent, so also the sufferings must be endured with consent. And if he did accept them, what is his reward? He will see his seed, prolong his days.26 And more than that, his knowledge [of the Torah] will endure with him. For it is said: The purpose of the Lord will prosper in his hand.27
…R. Simeon b. Lakish said: The word 'covenant' is mentioned in connection with salt, and the word 'covenant' is mentioned in connection with sufferings: the word 'covenant' is mentioned in connection with salt, as it is written: Neither shalt thou allow the salt of the covenant of thy God to be lacking. (Lev 2:13) And the word 'covenant' is mentioned in connection with sufferings, as it is written: These are the words of the covenant. (Dt 28:69) Even as in the covenant mentioned in connection with salt, the salt lends a sweet taste to the meat, so also in the covenant mentioned in connection with sufferings, the sufferings wash away all the sins of a man.

In other words, some suffering is a punishment for a specific sin, and it is a useful spiritual exercise to do self-seeking when bad things happen. We need to take responsibility for our role in the bad things that happen in our life. But there are also inexplicable sufferings, that are not punishments. People who never did anything wrong that suffer tremendously. And the Talmud is suggesting here that this is how God operates, that God actually causes good people to suffer, and just expects them to endure the suffering happily with the expectation of a reward.

A Tanna recited before R. Johanan the following: If a man busies himself in the study of the Torah and in acts of charity and [nonetheless] buries his children,1 all his sins are forgiven him. R. Johanan said to him: I grant you Torah and acts of charity, for it is written: By mercy and truth iniquity is expiated. (Prov 16:6) 'Mercy' is acts of charity, for it is said: He that followeth after righteousness and mercy findeth life, prosperity and honour.(Prov 21:21) 'Truth' is Torah, for it is said: Buy the truth and sell it not. (prov 23:23) But how do you know [what you say about] the one who buries his children? — A certain Elder [thereupon] recited to him in the name of R. Simeon b. Yohai: It is concluded from the analogy in the use of the word 'iniquity'. Here it is written: By mercy and truth iniquity is expiated. And elsewhere it is written: And who recompenseth the iniquity of the fathers into the bosom of their children. (Jer 32:18)
Here, the theological explanation is still being offered, and to a man who specifically himself suffered this kind of unjust suffering. R. Yohanan buried 10 children, so in this passage the Tanna himself is comforting R Yohanan with these words. Interestingly, in the next passage, R Yohanan disagrees with him, and says that if it has to do with children, it’s not sufferings of love. There’s no way God could be so cruel as to murder children out of his love for the parents. So R Yohanan, who himself experienced this horrendous thing, is saying there’s no way God could be that cruel—don’t tell me this is just an expression of God’s love!
A little further on, the rabbis go even farther in rejecting this suffering. A series of rabbis fall ill, and the only redemption comes not through any explanation, any teaching, but purely through human contact, through one compassionate human being reaching out to a human being who is suffering:
R. Hiyya b. Abba fell ill and R. Johanan went in to visit him. He said to him: Are your sufferings welcome to you? He replied: Neither they nor their reward.9 He said to him: Give me your hand. He gave him his hand and he raised him.
R. Johanan once fell ill and R. Hanina went in to visit him. He said to him: Are your sufferings welcome to you? He replied: Neither they nor their reward. He said to him: Give me your hand. He gave him his hand and he raised him. Why could not R. Johanan raise himself?— They replied: The prisoner cannot free himself from jail.12
R. Eleazar fell ill and R. Johanan went in to visit him. He noticed that he was lying in a dark room, and he bared his arm and light radiated from it. Thereupon he noticed that R. Eleazar was weeping, and he said to him: Why do you weep? Is it because you did not study enough Torah? Surely we learnt: The one who sacrifices much and the one who sacrifices little have the same merit, provided that the heart is directed to heaven. Is it perhaps lack of sustenance? Not everybody has the privilege to enjoy two tables. Is it perhaps because of [the lack of] children? This is the bone of my tenth son! — He replied to him: I am weeping on account of this beauty [i.e. my body] that is going to rot in the earth. He said to him: On that account you surely have a reason to weep; and they both wept. In the meanwhile he said to him: Are your sufferings welcome to you? — He replied: Neither they nor their reward. He said to him: Give me your hand, and he gave him his hand and he raised him.

I think in this passage the rabbis are rejecting these sufferings—it’s true that the righteous suffer, and we don’t want it. The text is a protest against suffering, against God’s way of doing things. Jews through the ages have suffered so much, and maybe it is a sign of closeness to god, but we don’t want it.
The solution to suffering isn’t theological—the rabbis find no comfort in accepting the sufferings. Solution is through faith, not community. We can lift each other up, hold each other through the difficult times. They know what their faith tells them, but that is not enough. Faith is not enough to comfort. When we visit someone in mourning, we don’t give them any explanation of their suffering—we let them speak, we listen.
What are these sufferings? They may be physical, but they have the symptoms of depression. Maybe this is the depression of someone who mourns alone, who suffers and is not comforted by anybody present. The suffering here is not simply the suffering of something bad happening, it is the experience of getting uspet and mourning alone, unseen. The solution is community. It doesn’t take away the bad things, but it holds people through them.
The Torah promises blessing, life, and good to those who follow a life of mitzvot. So what is the good in this sugiya? Maybe you could say it is the suffering itself which is a sign of God’s love, but I don’t think so—that is not enough to relieve the experience of suffering. Maybe it is the kind of relationships, home life & community we create by living a life of mitzvot.
In the two stories I started with, both people suffered. Eric suffered, and the tragedy is not that he had no fancy theological belief that could comfort him. The tragedy is that he had no community to comfort him, he lived separate from community, like the rabbis who fall ill and lie in a dark room, alone. This is what it is like being depressed or grieving alone. I have met many people who say they are not sitting shiva because they’re not religious. So really, they are going to sit in a dark room alone. Shiva is not about being religious, it is about opening myself to a community of supportive, compassionate people.
In the case of the Schwartzes, a religious family that lost husband and son over the span of a single year, there was no explanation, there was nothing anyone could say. But by living in the richness of sacred community, they were held until they could re-experience blessing, life, and goodness.
May we all hold each other through the difficult times, and be a source of support for those among us in pain, and together share in the rich joy of creating sacred community.