Facing Life’s Exigencies
The most daunting question religion must confront is how to explain the existence of evil in the world. This profound challenge, known as theodicy, asks how a benevolent deity could allow—or worse, cause—suffering and misfortune.
Parshat Haazinu, Moshe’s poetic farewell to his people, contains a famous verse that addresses this issue:
The Rock (HaTzur), His acts are perfect,
for all His ways are justice.
A steadfast God without wrong,
true and right is He. (Deuteronomy 32:4)
The plain (peshat) sense of this verse is well captured by Professor Jeffrey Tigay:
“[This verse] is a representation of God’s qualities. The first of these in this song is that God conducts Himself with Israel with justice and righteousness. The qualities of God expressed in this verse are the qualities of trustworthiness and reliability… In Him there is no injustice.”
(Devarim, Mikra L’Yisrael, p. 767)
Here, God is not portrayed as the source of evil. Indeed, the following verse places responsibility squarely on human beings:
Did He act ruinously? No, His sons the fault –
a perverse and twisted brood. (Deut. 32:5)
Still, this does not fully resolve the problem. The sages themselves acknowledged the difficulty. A series of midrashim from the early rabbinic period offer alternative ways of affirming trust in God despite doubt and suffering. Their very diversity underscores an important truth: in Judaism, such ultimate questions remain open to speculation rather than dogma.
The first midrash draws on a wordplay: Tzur (Rock) – Tzayar (Artist). God as Creator is the master artisan, whose work—including humanity itself—is “perfect.” Variance from this perfection stems from human choices, for which God holds people accountable (See Sifre Devarim 307, Finkelstein ed., p. 344).
A second interpretation emphasizes God as the ultimate, unquestionable judge. Like an unbreakable rock, His decrees are resolute and beyond challenge, whether in granting priesthood to Aaron, kingship to David, or punishment to Sodom and Korach (ibid., pp. 344–45).
A third reading turns to the problem of deferred justice: God withholds both the reward of the righteous and the punishment of the wicked until the world to come, as Scripture says: “Is it not stored up with Me, sealed in My treasuries?” (Deut. 32:34) (ibid., pp. 345–46).
The rabbis then present a dramatic story of faith under persecution: Rabbi Hanina ben Teradyon, condemned to be burned with his Torah scroll, responded by reciting: “The Rock, perfect is His work.” His wife and daughter, also condemned, each invoked verses affirming God’s justice. Rabbi Judah the Prince marveled: “How great are these righteous ones, who in their moment of affliction vindicated God’s justice with verses unparalleled in all of Scripture!” (ibid.).
Part of this account is familiar from the Yom Kippur liturgy, where it serves as an ultimate expression of tzidduk hadin, accepting divine justice even in the face of horror. The lesson is neither simple nor easy: to view life’s tragedies with faith and equanimity remains one of religion’s greatest challenges. Yet all of us eventually face moments of loss, great or small, that force us to wrestle with this truth. Perhaps this is why the verse on which these midrashim are built plays such a central role in the Jewish funeral service.
The Rock (HaTzur), His acts are perfect,
for all His ways are justice.
A steadfast God without wrong,
true and right is He.
May it indeed be so.
