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Jeremiah 12:1

Righteous are you, O Lord, when I complain to you; yet I will plead these points of justice with you: Why does the way of the wicked prosper? Why are all those who deal treacherously happy?

 Disclaimer: The purpose of this discussion is not to provide a specific “answer” to help a single person; rather, it is to help us, through greater knowledge, better understand our direction towards the path of Hashem.  For someone in the midst of darkness or sadness this whole discussion will perhaps be irrelevant or even offensive.  If you are such a person, I extend my apologies in advance. 

But many others feel the need for such a discussion.  A best selling book by Kushner called, “When Bad things Happen to Good People,” argues that when bad things happen they are a result of chance. A good God can not possibly have willed such a thing to happen.  Millions of people have found tremendous comfort in such a theology, but for may others such an approach—believing in a world completely subject to chance—is an even scarier thought. 

 I have no new sources or insight into this matter, but I can review what the major Jewish sources say about this topic

I.

 For many people the climax of the High Holiday mussaf is when we declare towards the end of the Unetana Tokef prayer, “U-teshuvah u-tefillah u-tzedakah maavirin et roah ha-gezeirah, And repentance, prayer, and charity remove the harsh decree.” 

 This powerful phrase implies that if we are good enough and pray enough, then we can annul the harsh decrees against us.  It is a comforting thought.  It allows us to feel like we are in control of our destiny.  But how realistic is it to think such a thing when we see seemingly innocent people suffer every day? 

 A proper understanding of this prayer therefore requires one to wrestle with the most basic problem that Judaism faces:  the issue of theodicy.  tzaddik ve-ra lo, why do bad things happen to the righteous?

 This question is so basic because it cuts to the issue of whether or not we are all better off for striving to live a life in service of God.  It also challenges one the most basic assumptions of Judaism, i.e. that God is all good.  If God is so good, then how can we explain so many of the cruel realities of life that we see around us, i.e. the sick children, the suffering righteous, and yes, even the millions who perished Al Kiddush Hashem in the Shoah.  This question has been asked by theologians in every generation and countless answers have been suggested.

 We will now review some of the classic ancient rabbinic statements on this matter.  Then we will summarize the different solutions offered by medieval and modern rabbis.  Finally, we will suggest a path that can help us deal with the matter on a practical level.

II.

 One of the earliest rabbinic statements about this matter comes from the Mishnah in Pirkei Avot which declares (4:17), “Rabbei Yannai omer, Rabbi Yannai says: Ein beyadeinu lo li-shalvat ha-reshaim ve-af lo mi-yisurei ha-tzadikkim, we do not have in our hands either the tranquility of the reshaim or the afflictions of the righteous.”

 The problem with this statement is the phrase “Ein be-yadeinu” which literally means “it is not in our hands.” It might mean, “We cannot explain” or alternatively “it does not exist.”  These two possibilities are not only opposite interpretations but they lead to many other approaches to this question. 

 From these different interpretations of Rabbi Yanai’s statement we see two major approaches to the question of theodicy. 

 A.

One approach suggests that if we see a righteous person suffering, it can not be that he is truly righteous.  “Ein be-yadeinu”” no such thing exists.  It must be that he is not truly righteous.

 This idea is taught by Rabbi Ami in Tractate Shabbat (Shabbat 55a) where he teaches, “There is no death without sin…’  There is no suffering without transgression.”  As the Tanakh declares, “There is no such thing as a completely righteous person who walks the earth with out any sin.” 

 Yet, this answer hardly satisfies us.  Even if we grant that everyone has committed at least one sin in their life, this still does not explain why some who seem to have committed more sins than others are punished less severely than those who appear to be righteous.  While it does not explain the inequity, it does however declare that God is justified in His decisions.  No one can claim that they are innocent.  Everyone has committed at least one sin.

 The value of this advice is that we often have a poor self-understanding. We can’t imagine that we are at fault. We sometimes miss the reality in ourselves that others readily see.

 The Talmud tells a story (Berakhot 5b): “Once four hundred jars of wine belonging to R. Huna turned sour. Rab Judah, the brother of R. Sala the Pious, and the other scholars (some say: R. Adda b. Ahaba and the other scholars) went in to visit him and said to him: The master ought to examine his actions. He said to them: Am I suspect in your eyes? They replied: Is the Holy One, blessed be He, suspect of punishing without justice? — He said to them: If somebody has heard of anything against me, let him speak out. They replied: We have heard that the master does not give his tenant his [lawful share in the] vine twigs. He replied: Does he leave me any? He steals them all! They said to him: That is exactly what the proverb says: If you steal from a thief you also have a taste of it! He said to them: I pledge myself to give it to him [in the future]. Some report that thereupon the vinegar became wine again; others that the vinegar went up so high that it was sold for the same price as wine.”

 While it may be true that we should practice self-examination, it is also true that we should not arrogantly give this advice to others.  Already in the time of the Talmud, rabbis recommended against giving this advice.  Indeed, some might be excused for finding it offensive and I would strongly recommend that you do not suggest this approach to someone who is suffering with pain. In fact the Talmud itself in another tractate declares (Bava Metzia 58b): “If someone is visited by suffering, afflicted with disease or has buried is children, one must not speak to him as his companions spoke to Job:’…Think now, what innocent man ever perished.’”

 Clearly, the rabbis of the Talmud felt the need to continue searching for a more satisfactory answer.  Another answer offered in the Talmud develops this approach with a twist.

 The Tractate Berakhot (5a) offers the following answer:  “Rava (and some say it was Rav Chisda) said: “If a person sees that afflictions are befalling him, he should investigate his deeds, as it states: ‘let us search and examine our ways, and return to Hashem.’  If he examined his deeds and did not find anything, he should attribute his afflictions to neglect of Torah study, as it is stated: ‘Fortunate is the man who God afflicts, and whom you teach from your Torah.’  If he attempted to attribute it to neglect of Torah and did not find anything, it can be assumed that they are afflictions of love, as it is stated: ‘For Hashem rebukes the one who He loves.”

 Rava (or Rav Chisda) seems to favor the idea that if a person feels that they are suffering they should first assume that they are at fault.  He should try to discover the source of his pain which is most likely a result of his sins.  If however, he is convinced that he has certainly not sinned than a radically new concept is introduced: “yesurin shel ahavah, afflictions of love.”

 What are afflictions of love?  Why would such a thing exist?  There are many explanations of this idea and we will revisit this question later.

B.

For now let us turn to a second way to understand Rabbi Yannai’s teachings.

 The first approach to Rabbi Yannai’s comments argued that the so-called righteous person who is suffering must not be truly righteous.   God is just, and He would not punish unjustly. Therefore, the person must have sins that are unknown even to him, and certainly to us; he really is worthy of affliction.   A second approach to Rabbi Yannai’s statement disagrees.  It allows for the possibility that a righteous person can be righteous and still suffer.  We, however, can never know the mystery of God’s ways.  And thus, “ein be-yeadeinu,” it is not in our ability to comprehend why they are suffering.

 This approach can be seen in a Talmudic story.  The rabbis tell of conversation between God and Moses (Berkahot 7a).  Moses asked God for three things.  The first was that the Divine Presence should rest on the Children of Israel.  God granted that.  The second request was that the Divine Presence should not rest on idolaters and God granted that.  The third thing was the most difficult.  Moses’ third request was that God explain to him the mysteries of his ways, i.e. the question of theodicy.

 There is a dispute about what happened next.  According to one opinion, Moses received the answer that the righteous person who suffers is not truly righteous.  But according to a second opinion—Rabbi Meir—Moses was denied this third request. “Only two [requests] were granted to him, and one was not granted to him.”

 Rabbi Meir is of the opinion that Moses himself never got an answer to this question.  Ein beyadeinu, it is out of our hands. 

 As God says to Job from the middle of the whirlwind (Job, 40:7):  “Wilt thou even make void My judgment? Wilt thou condemn Me, that thou mayest be justified? Or hast thou an arm like G-d? And canst thou thunder with a voice like Him?”

In other words, we are not God, we do not have his powers, and thus we cannot begin to comprehend the ways of God.   Ein beyadeinu.

This idea is carried even further by the late 16^th century commentator, the Maharal of Prague (ad Pirkei Avot,  4:17). He argues: “The phrase ‘it is not in our hands’...is not teaching us that we do not know why the…the righteous may lead an afflicted life; rather it is teaching us the reality that some wicked people lead a tranquil life and some righteous an afflicted life.  Thus, if a person will see a wicked person leading a tranquil life, he should not say: “His deeds must be good and so I will act like him!”  Or if he sees a righteous person suffering an affliction, he should not say, “I will not act like him.”  For sometimes a righteous person perishes in his righteousness and a wicked person flourishes in his wickedness.  And we should not wonder about this. Against our will we need to accept the situation.”

III.

These two basic approaches to the question of theodicy developed different streams of thought in later periods.

Nearly every major thinker in our tradition has wrestled with his question.  Let us now review the contributions of four major thinkers to this topic: R. Saadiah Gaon, Maimonides, Nachmanides, and R. Moshe Hayyim Luzzatto (Ramchal).  These four scholars were all great rabbinic leaders whose philosophy (when taken as a whole) well summarizes the two millennia of Jewish thought on this issue.

A.

R. Saadiah Gaon, known affectionately as Rasag, (d. 942) of Sura was the earliest thinkers to present a comprehensive philosophy of Judaism from a rabbinic perspective.  In his classic work Emunot Ve-Deot (5:3), he offers the first systematic discussion of our topic.  

Now let me say that I find the sufferings to which the virtuous are subjected in this world to fall into two categories.  One of these constitutes the penalty for slight failings…. The second consists of incipient trials with which God tests them, when He knows they are able to endure them, only in order to compensate them for these trials later on with good.  As Scripture states (Psalms 11:5), “The Lord tests the righteous….”  It is not, however, His wont to act in this fashion with him who cannot bear these trials, since there would be no benefit therein.  For the whole purpose of the suffering of the upright is that the rest of God’s creatures might know that he has not chosen the former for nothing….

 I will still go further and say that it is even possible for a completely guiltless individual to be subjected to trials in order to compensated for them afterwards, for I find that children are made to suffer pain and I have no doubt about their eventual compensation for these sufferings. The sorrows brought upon them by the All-wise might be compared to the discipline that a father might administer to them…in order to keep them from harm or to put an end to their illness.

 Should someone object and say, “Why could God not be gracious to them from the start…without subjecting them to suffering? We would reply…that the favors conferred upon man by way of compensation are more highly prized than those conferred upon man purely as an act of divine grace.

In this passage Rasag posits that there are two reasons why human beings may suffer.  One reason is as a result of having done something wrong. The affliction is then a punishment.

 A second reason is more complicated; it sees affliction as a test.  Many people have said to me that they heard that “God only gives you what you can handle.”  Rasag’s writings reflect this idea.  In his opinion, righteous people are tested so that God can in turn give them reward for passing the test.  In God’s infinite kindness, He only tests those who can pass the test. 

 If they are righteous, then why does God need to test them?  God wants to show the rest of the world why this person is righteous.  The test is evidence of the person’s righteousness. 

 If God wants to reward, why make the person go through a test?  In God’s infinite grace He desires to allow us to “prize” His favors even more. Favors earned are more desirable, than favors received without any reason.

 The issue of the Biblical test is also grappled with by both Maimonides and Nachmanides.  Maimonides (Guide III: 24) sees in the purpose of the test: “Not the accomplishment of [a] particular act, but the latter’s being a model to be imitated and followed.” In other words, righteous people may be tested so that others can learn from them and be inspired by their actions.

  The 13^th century Torah giant, R. Moses b. Nachman, also known as Nachmanides, develops this idea of the righteous person being tested. 

 On Rosh Hashanah we read the story of the Akedah.  In this story God “tests” Abraham, ve-haelokim nisah et avraham.   According to the literal interpretation of the text, God desires to see if Abraham will pass the test of his willingness to sacrifice his son to God.

 Nachmanides elaborates on this idea of a “test” (Genesis 22:1).  The purpose of the test, in his opinion, is “kedei le-hotzi mei-hakoach el ha-poal,” in order to bring forth the matter from the potential into actuality so that he may be rewarded for a good deed, not for a good thought alone.”

 Nachmanides declares that the purpose of the trial is to help us. We often don’t know what we are capable of until we actually do it.  Thus, the test allows us to achieve in actuality what our thoughts and desires really want us to accomplish.

 There are many stories that come to mind of ordinary people who accomplish extraordinary things as a result of being placed in a difficult situation.  Many of those people would most likely tell you that they would rather not have that situation and that they are just “making do.”  But on a cosmic level we believe that somehow the heavenly reward increases when an action moves from the potential to the actual.

 When I think about this, I think about a person named Daniel.  Daniel is confined to a wheelchair and has limited use of only one arm. I met Daniel when he came to advise us a few weeks ago about how we could make our Synagogue accessible.  He has taken this responsibility upon himself with great courage. 

 How does someone in a wheelchair give advice about accessibility?  With great difficulty!  He insists on going into all the buildings to see the situation for himself. He uses makeshift ramps and with much danger ascends to the crucial points.   

 When I saw Daniel last, he told me that the doctors told him he only had three months left to live. In the meantime, he was going to continue his work.    He said, “I wish I wasn’t in a wheelchair.  But since I am, I am going to make as many buildings as possible accessible.”  By acting with such righteousness, Daniel is an example of what it means to take the potential into the actual.

 Some might take comfort in Nachmanides’ opinion that at the end of their test the righteous will be rewarded handsomely.  Moreover, all their suffering will be entirely reversed.  This is how the great medieval scholar, Rabbeinu Bechaye, summarizes Nachmanides’ view: 

 “And the Lord restored the fortunes of Job (Job 42:10).” Nachmanides contends that nothing that had belonged to Job actually died and these terrible things never happened to them.  Rather, Satan took everything that belonged to Job and brought it to a desert…. For Satan knew that it was God’s will just to test Job and not to actually kill them….

So at the end of the book God returned everything and He added on top of that camels and sheep!

How wonderful and convenient!

B.

 Maimonides (b.1138) offers a much more complicated and comprehensive answer.  Maimonides’ approach is closer in line with the idea that one who is truly righteous will not suffer.  At the same time, the idea has a creative twist.  Afflictions are not necessarily a form of punishment; rather they are the result of chance which we are exposed to when God removes His Divine Providence from us.

 Writing in his classic philosophical work, Moreh Nevuchim (III:17), he clearly states:  “Divine Providence watches only over the individuals belonging to the human species and that in this species alone all the circumstances of the individuals and the good and evil that befall them are consequent upon the deserts, just as it says: ‘For all his ways are judgment.’”

 Divine Providence or Hashgacha is the concept that God watches over the intricacies of the world. There are different understandings of how attentive God is, but according to Maimonides, God watches over human beings.  Whatever befalls them then is a direct consequence of their behavior.

 This creates the problem of theodicy.  If there is Divine Providence, then why do the righteous suffer?  Maimonides’ answer is that there is Divine Providence but there is also the idea of chance.  When we obey God’s will and cleave to Him, then we are protected by Providence , but if we leave God—even for a moment—then for that moment we are subject to chance.

 Providence always watches over an individual endowed with perfect apprehension, whose intellect never ceases from being occupied with God.  On the other hand, an individual endowed with perfect apprehension, whose thought sometimes for a certain time is emptied of God, is watched over by Providence only during the time when he thinks of God; Providence withdraws from him during the time when he is occupied with something else. 

Hence it seems to me that all prophets or excellent and perfect men whom one of the evils of this world befell, had this evil happen to them during such a time of distraction, the greatness of the calamity being proportionate to the duration of the period of the distraction or to the vileness of the matter with which he was occupied….If a man’s thought is free from distraction, if he apprehends Him, in the right way and rejoices in what he apprehends, that individual can never be afflicted with evil of any kind. For he is with God and God is with him.  When, however, he abandons Him and is thus separated from Him, he becomes in consequence a target for every evil that may happen to befall him. For the thing that necessarily brings about Providence and deliverance from the sea of chance consists in the intellectual overflow...As it says, “Thus I shall surely hide My face…” Thus, it has become clear to you that the reason for a human individual’s being abandoned to chance so that he is permitted to be devoured like beasts is his being separated from God.  (III: 51.)

 According to Maimonides’ definition of righteousness, the reality is that most of us—save for Moses—will never be able to reach the level of righteousness necessary to remain connected to God.  Such a level entails dedicating our lives entirely in service to Hashem, performing all the commandments correctly, never sinning, and attaining knowledge of God that is comparable to a prophet’s knowledge.  Thus, since we will all have moments of distraction from God and none of us can attain such a level, all of us will be subject to chance at times in our life.

 On the flip side, the positive upshot of this approach is that if we feel insecure or that we are living in a time of danger we might wish to protect ourselves by trying to cleave to God, for according to Maimonides a proper connection with God can ensure His Providence upon us.  Thus, we should spend our lives dedicated to knowledge of God which is attained trough performance of mitzvoth, recitation of prayers, and Torah study.

C.

 R. Moshe Hayyim Luzzatto (Ramchal, 1707-1747) was one of the most influential scholars in Jewish History.  Some have suggested that he should be seen as the founder of Hasidut; others see him as the founder of the Mussar movement; still others see him as the founder of Modern Hebrew literature.  On top of that, he was a gifted Kabbalist, philosopher, and Talmudist.  The Vilna Gaon is reported to have declared that if he was alive when Ramchal was alive, he would have walked barefoot to sit at his feet and learn.

 Ramchal wrote a work called Derekh Hashem (The Way of God, II: 2.) in which he wrestles with our question.  Ramchal culls from earlier writings in his summary.  We, in turn, can draw on his writings to round out our summary.

He offers numerous reasons why a righteous person might suffer.  Here are some of the reasons (for the fullness of his approach you must read those chapters many times):

1) True Reward is in Olam Habah

Man’s true reward is in the World to Come… It is in this world that the wicked are rewarded with prosperity for their few virtues, while the righteous are punished for suffering with their few faults.  As a result of this, everyone’s judgment is perfect.

2) To Motivate Repentance

Suffering may come to an individual in order to make him examine his deeds and motivate him to repent.  This is particularly true in the case of a righteous individual….

3) Reincarnation

God arranged matters so that man’s chances of achieving ultimate salvation should be maximized.  A single soul can be reincarnated a number of times in different bodies, and in this matter, it can rectify the damage done in previous incarnations…When an individual has a reincarnated soul, it is possible that he will be affected in a particular manner as a result of his deeds in a previous incarnation. 

4) As a means towards something else

Things can happen to an individual as a means as an end in themselves and as a means toward something else…With regards to such means, the prophet said, “I will thank You, God, though You showed me anger.”  Our sages explain that this refers to a situation where someone’s cow broke its foot and fell, and as a result, he found a buried treasure.

5) Test

Each of these qualities is a test for a particular individual, allowing all these bad qualities to exist, while giving him an opportunity to strive against them and embrace the good.  Thus, for example, if wealth and poverty did not exist, there would be no opportunity for people to demonstrate either generosity or indifference….   Every individual therefore has his own challenge in the battle with his Evil urge. This is his assignment and responsibility in the world, and within its framework he must strive for success…. The situation can be compared to a government, where the king’s servants must obey his orders.  All of them together must fulfill the task of running his government, and the king therefore gives each one a particular assignment, so that between them all, everything is accomplished….

All the gratifications and sufferings of this world exist as a challenge for man.  The nature of each particular challenge is what the Highest Wisdom determines to be best for each particular individual.

IV.

I want to focus on the last answer cited above in the name of Ramchal.  I believe from a practical perspective by focusing on this last answer we can achieve spiritual greatness.

 The last answer of Ramchal is developed in the writings of the Rabbi Eliyahu Dessler of Scottland (20^th century). 

 Rav Dessler poses a very simple question: Why do we look different from each other? 

 Everyone notices that all human beings are different.  Their differences include physical appearance, spiritual strength, intellectual ability, and in their surrounding environment…As our rabbis said, “Just as no two faces are alike, so too, no two minds are alike.”  But why is that?  Don’t all humans have the same goal, i.e. to merit the world to come through service of God? If we all have the same goal, then how come our preparations are different?

 Rav Dessler’s answer is a challenge to all of us.  We look different, so that we may all have a unique way of serving God.  He thus sees suffering as an example of God’s great kindness. 

 When we overpower our inclinations in order to do the will of Hashem, we are sanctifying God’s name…God does not require this honor, as it is for our benefit so that we merit the great merit of honoring His name and sanctifying Him and exalting Him over all His creatures.  However, if a group of people all came to honor a king of flesh and blood, and all of them praised the king in the exact same way, how will each one feel when they realize that they are not adding anything to what the previous person said.  Thus, God added another kindness by creating every individual with separate strengths and different inclinations and different spiritual battles.  Hence, his Kiddush Hashem must be different than that of his friends and so every individual will have his own special part of the World to Come which is his own in its entirety.  No one else preceded him to that place.  And everyone has complete satisfaction in his reward.

On this account, the surroundings of everyone are different according to everyone’s different Kiddush Hashem.  Some are faced with the challenge of wealth and the pleasures of this world…and some are faced with the challenges of poverty and great afflictions….

 Mesillat Yesharim teaches that the challenge of the poor and the rich (and these are both literal as well as metaphorical terms) is the same: to serve God.  Indeed, the rich man’s challenge may be greater, because it is easier to be humble when you are poor than when you are rich.

 The essence of all of our lives is service of Hashem.  And the uniqueness of our lives reminds us that we all have a unique way of serving God. In the end, all of our tasks are the same.  We just have a different path.  In this respect, suffering is not an affliction.  It is a responsibility to serve God with uniqueness.

 Taking it one step further perhaps this is what meant by the term yisurin shel ahavah, afflictions of love.  Rav Dessler sees the afflictions of the world as a direct result of God’s love.  God desires each of us serve Him with our own sense of pride and accomplishment.  In this sense the affliction should be seen as a gift, not a punishment.

 When I think of the people I know who have suffered tremendously, I often think of they way they have contributed to Kiddush Hashem in a unique way a as result of their afflictions.  This is not to say that any would want their afflictions—of course, not!  But by seeing their contributions to the world, perhaps we are seeing in an infinitesimally small way, an inkling into God’s mysterious ways.  We still don’t see the big picture; but in some way we are allowed a glimpse into the wonders of God.

 Every morning I have the honor of studying Torah with Rabbi Avraham Cohen, a chaplain for the US Air Force. Recently Rabbi Cohen showed me a copy of a memorial speech that he wrote for a family that gave birth to twin stillborns.  It was especially moving to read, since Rabbi Cohen has himself lost an infant child. Here are his words:

 There are no words that can adequately describe the pain that a parent endures when his/her child dies. When a beloved parent, or family, or friend, or loved one passes away, there is grief, and a sense of loss.

 When one’s baby dies, the feeling is more like horror.  It’s as if part of one’s soul has been torn out. Those of us who share this raw nerve know the feelings of self-blame, of unforgiving guilt.  We find ourselves second-guessing our every thought, word and deed from the time our baby was conceived until our child’s death.  If only we would not have… If only we would have…

 We don’t understand why this happened.  Or we do know why.  Or we do want to know, or we don’t want to know.

 It’s so terribly confusing, and frightening.  We are so sorry that we let our child down.  That we weren’t able to protect him, that we weren’t better parents.  If only G-d would let us have those moments over again, we would surely do things differently.

 Please let my baby live.  Take me, but let me baby live.  I’ll do anything You ask.  I’ll be a better person, more generous, more sensitive, more caring, more understanding. But just let my child live.

 Forgive me!

 These are some of the things that we feel as parents when we endure such a loss.

 And we don’t know why these things happen.

 They just do.

After reading these words, I shared with Avraham the Torah of Rav  Dessler.  We don’t know why Avraham also lost a child—ein beyadeinu.  But we do know that know that he now has a unique Kiddush Hashem.  When tragedy happens we feel helpless.  As a community we can turn to help each other.  But someone who has been there knows and understands the situation with much greater insight and can help much more.  As a person and a rabbi, Avraham can now be a source of comfort to so many people struggling with his loss--the loss of a child. 

 So which answer is correct? Or are multiple answers correct? Or are none of the answers correct? No one can say for certain.

 Let us return to the question with which we started.  What might we have in mind when we recite the Unetane Tokef prayer?  This prayer is attributed to the tenth century figure, Rabbi Amnon of Mainz .  The legend goes that Rav Amnon was approached repeatedly by the Bishop of Mainz and asked to convert to Christianity.  Finally, Rav Amnon said, “Give me three days to think it over.”  Rav Amnon felt so bad that he had even implied that he might convert that he did not show up after three days.  When the Archbishop brought Rav Amnon by force, Rav Amnon pleaded guilty and asked that his tongue be cut out.  The Archbishop said, “Not only your tongue, but also your arms and legs!” Rav Amnon courageously went to Synagogue a few days later.  When the Hazzan arrived at the Kedushah, Rav Amnon interrupted him and ascended to the bimah and chanted the Unetane Tokef prayer.  His soul then expired.  Three days later, Rav Amnon appeared in a dream and taught the prayer to Kalonymous ben Meshullam.

 This story is very powerful.   But why is there a legend connecting it to Unetane Tokef?  (Historically, we have evidence that Unetane Tokef pre-dates Rav Amnon.)  What is the deeper message of this legend?

 I believe that this story is the essence of our discussion.  Physically Rav Amnon suffered tremendously.  But in his suffering he wrote the most powerful prayer of our liturgy.  In his suffering he came to realize that he had a unique story to share with the world; he had a unique Kiddush Hashem; he has a unique place in heaven which he shares with no one.  And so the legend attributes to him a prayer which teaches us that our role is to serve God with the uniqueness of our lives.

 As many rabbis explain, “maavirin roah hagezerah” does not mean that the harshness of the decree is annulled; rather it means that it is mitigated or averted.  Understanding our uniqueness comes through attention to teshuvah, tefillah, and tzedakah.  And this in turn will mitigate the decree.

 Further, the Talmud in Tractate Yoma (86B) explains that Teshuvah is capable of turning our sins into merits, our zdonot into zechuyot.  I can understand how repentance can erase our sins, but how can it turn our sins into merits? How can the sin become a good thing?

 Perhaps we can understand this through a personal example.  Who can best warn someone not to take a certain path in life?  The most effective person would be someone who took such a path and failed as a result.  If one has sinned and then repented, his sins become merits if as a result of his sin he now reaches out to people to prevent them from committing the same sins.  No one would advocate committing a sin, so that you can prevent others from sinning. But since you have already sinned, we are now grateful that you have the experience to be able to guide others. The sin has become a merit.

In a similar vein, we can say the same about suffering.  No one wants the suffering.  Of course not!  But the truth is that those who have suffered often have a much deeper understanding of life and can be guides for the rest of us.  Their Kiddush Hashem is to be a guide for us.

 Granted, all this is easy to say and incredibly difficult to understand.  Moreover, one who suffers with an affliction may quite understandably be horrified and repulsed by all these ideas.  But the basic idea is one which is found in the words of the prayer that we recite at every funeral known as Tzidduk ha-Din, the Righteousness of Judgment.  God’s ways are true and just. “Hashem natan ve-hashem lakahch ye-hi shem Hashem mevorahkh.  The Lord gives and the Lord takes.  May the Lord’s name be blessed for ever and ever.”