What Is the Purpose of Life Challenges?

When we’re faced with a difficult challenge, our first reaction may be, “Why, Hashem? Why is this happening to me? Why can’t things just go smoothly?” We may even plead, “I could serve You so much better if only I had ____.” (Fill in the blank: a spouse/a child/good health/parnasah/nachat or whatever we feel is lacking in our life.)

And when we as a nation face adversity, such as our current situation, which is unprecedented since the days of the (previous) Holocaust, we may find ourselves asking the same question. 

The words Lamah yomru hagoyim¹ (literally, “Why should the nations say…”) can be read homiletically as “‘Why’ is what the non-Jews say.” We change the vowels on the word and ask instead, “L’mah, for what?” What is the purpose of this? Because we know that it must have a reason. Hashem does not send adversity without intending it for our good. Anything we endure has an ultimate purpose.

But right now it is especially difficult; things are so inexplicable, so difficult to grasp, so incomprehensible, but we know that there is no such thing as Hashem letting go of the steering wheel. He is always in control and He knows the destination. Our task is to dig deep and access what strengths we have, what we can build on, and what task Hashem expects of us. And if we can stay on course, ultimately we will emerge better for it — and arrive at the intended destination.

The best illustration of the benefit of nisyonot comes from the childhood woe known as growing pains, which I learned about as a young mother. When my youngest daughter was a little girl, she would sometimes cry out from her bed that she had terrible pains in her legs. All I could do was massage them and rub in a soothing cream. (Ironically, she was the only child who had such pains, and today she is the shortest of her siblings!) 

One night she seemed to be in excruciating pain, worse than anything until then. The following day we had to see her pediatrician for a follow-up to a visit just a couple of days earlier, and when she was weighed and measured, the doctor’s assistant pointed out that there was a significant change from the previous one! Even allowing for some inaccuracy in one of the two measurements, it was obvious that there was some benefit to those growing pains.

Not only do we sometimes need a jolt to awaken us and stir us to improve, but the effort put in to keep our heads above water is the very thing that strengthens us, like the analogy of the two frogs that fell into a pail of milk. The first frog despaired of survival and sank, while the second one fought and swam and strove to get out — and ended up at the top of a pail of butter.

It hurts to grow — but no one wants to stay the same size. And that’s true of the spiritual even more than the physical.

Our Sages teach² that there is no blade of grass that does not have a mazal in heaven (i.e. a Divine force) that hits it and commands it, “Grow!” Growing sometimes hurts! As Rav Moshe Shapiro commented on the words of this Midrash, we see that some things need to be “hit” in order to grow. 

Not only do we sometimes need a jolt to awaken us and stir us to improve, but the effort put in to keep our heads above water is the very thing that strengthens us, like the analogy of the two frogs that fell into a pail of milk. The first frog despaired of survival and sank, while the second one fought and swam and strove to get out — and ended up at the top of a pail of butter.

The Sfat Emet, the Gerrer Rebbe Rabbi Yehudah Aryeh Leib Alter, points out that when Yosef revealed himself to his brothers, he first said, “Ani Yosef, ha’od avi chai? I am Joseph; is my father still alive?” The brothers were so shocked they could not respond, and he encouraged them to approach, saying again, “Ani Yosef achichem asher mechartem osi Mitzraymah. I am your brother Joseph whom you sold to Egypt.”³

Why, asks the Sfat Emet, did he repeat to them who he was, and why was it necessary to mention that the brothers had sold him to Egypt when they were fully aware of that? 

His answer sheds light on why life is so full of adversity and struggle. He explains that the brothers were stunned when they perceived what a holy tzaddik their brother had become — and in the most immoral country of Egypt, no less! — and were full of remorse. Imagine, they lamented, had they only allowed their brother to remain at home and grow up in the home of their father Yaakov Avinu, how much greater he would have become!

Yosef was assuaging their guilt. No, he said, I am your brother Yosef whom you see today at this high level specifically because you sold me to Mitzrayim. It is only because I was here, davka in this decadent land, where I had to constantly strive to keep close to Hashem and work on myself to avoid being influenced, that I attained this level. Had I remained in Eretz Canaan I would not have grown as much.

Perhaps no one in Tanach suffered as much as David HaMelech. One of his legacies — produced through that pain — is the precious Sefer Tehillim that speaks to us in any situation. Our Sages teach⁴ that after the miraculous survival of Chananyah, Mishael, and Azaryah from the furnace, Nevuchadnezzar began to say such exquisite shirah that, had a malach not come and slapped him on his mouth, it would have put all of David’s Tehillim to shame. How could that be? And if he really could sing such beautiful praise, why did Hashem stop him?

The answer given is that the wicked tyrant Nevuchadnezzar could indeed compose gorgeous poetry. But once he was slapped, that fountain dried up. L’havdil, David sang through all his difficulties: when he was the outcast of his family, watching the sheep in the field; when he was in the desert; when he was being pursued by his father-in-law; when his son attempted to usurp his throne, in any situation….

He said⁵, Eftach b’chinor chidasi, I will solve my riddle with the harp. Yaarot Devash (Rav Yonasan Eibeschutz) explains, to understand the secret of David HaMelech’s neshamah, study the workings of a harp. The harder you pluck its strings, the louder the sound and the more resonant the tone. And the more Hashem “plucked” David’s heartstrings with affliction, the louder and more beautiful his songs became⁶.

We pray for strength, and that we will emerge from this eit tzarah greater, better people, both individually and collectively.

¹ Tehillim 115:2.

² Midrash Rabbah, Bereshit 10:6.

³ Bereishit 45:3,4.

⁴ Sanhedrin 92b.

⁵ Tehillim 49:4.

⁶ Rabbi Avrohom Chaim Feuer, Tehillim Treasury, ArtScroll/Mesorah.