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The Flax Beater Showed Why God Tested the Righteous

A flax worker beats only the strong stalks. The weak ones shatter on the first strike. Rabbi Yonatan says God uses the same hand on the righteous.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. A Workshop in the Galilee
  2. The Potter and the Kiln
  3. The Barren Mothers Praying Not to Marry the Wicked
  4. The Fallen Who Are Lifted

A Workshop in the Galilee

Rabbi Yonatan walked the problem of suffering into a workshop and came out with an answer that sounds harsher than comfort but lands like the truth. He stood at the bench of a man who works flax for a living. The man has a stack of stalks in front of him. Some are brittle and dry. Some are thick and strong. He picks up a brittle one and brings it down against the stone once. It splinters. He pushes the dust aside. Then he picks up a strong stalk and beats it, and beats it again, and keeps beating until the fiber softens into something worth spinning.

Rabbi Yonatan said: that is why God does not test the wicked.

The Potter and the Kiln

He does not stop at the workshop. He walks next door to the potter. A potter does not test every vessel the same way. She does not press hard on the thin-walled ones. She taps the strong ones. She listens for the ring. She puts only the well-fired pots in the kiln where the heat is serious, because weak clay cracks under heat and strong clay comes out better. The firing is not punishment. It is completion.

Isaiah called the wicked a stormy sea, churning up mud and spitting it onto the shore. One hard blow and they curse heaven and leave. So God leaves them alone. The stillness the wicked experience is not favor. It is the recognition that they cannot hold the weight, so the weight is not placed there. God saves His hand for the stalks that can take it.

The Barren Mothers Praying Not to Marry the Wicked

The second teaching in this passage comes from Psalms 113: He lifts the poor from the dust and the needy from the garbage heap, and He raises the barren woman of the house as a joyful mother of children. The rabbis stop at the barren woman and ask why she had been barren in the first place. Their answer is not biological. It is theological.

God made the matriarchs barren, the Midrash says, because He wanted to hear their voices. Sarah. Rebecca. Rachel. Each one prayed. Each one stood at the edge of what she could endure and opened her mouth and asked. The barrenness was not punishment. It was a shaped vessel waiting for the right content. The prayer that came out of the empty womb was the prayer God wanted, and it came precisely because the womb was empty and the woman had no other resource than the one she finally turned toward.

The Fallen Who Are Lifted

There is a third image in the psalm: God supports those who fall. The Midrash reads this phrase alongside the barren-women passage and hears them as two sides of the same claim. The woman who has been emptied out, who has been beaten down by years of waiting and shame and the sight of other women's children, is exactly the woman the psalm promises God will lift. Not after she recovers on her own. Not after she figures it out. While she is still in the garbage heap, the hand is already coming down to find her.

Bereshit Rabbah holds all three images together: the flax-beater, the potter, the barren woman. They are all making the same argument in different materials. The test is not arbitrary. The empty vessel is not forgotten. The woman who falls most dramatically is the one who will be lifted most visibly. The suffering of the righteous is a compliment paid by a God who believes in the strength of the recipient.

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The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Bereshit Rabbah 55:2Bereshit Rabbah

Bereshit Rabbah, that incredible collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Genesis, offers a fascinating perspective. It's found in Bereshit Rabbah 55 and it all starts with a verse from Psalms: "The Lord tests the righteous, but He hates the wicked and the lover of injustice" (Psalms 11:5).

Rabbi Yonatan dives right in with a vivid analogy. Imagine a linen producer. If the flax is weak and of poor quality, does he beat it vigorously? Of course not! It would fall apart. But if the flax is strong and of high quality, he can beat it extensively, knowing it will only improve. That's the key. According to Rabbi Yonatan, the Holy One, blessed be He, doesn't test the wicked because they simply couldn't withstand it. As it says in (Isaiah 57:20), "But the wicked are like the stormy sea." When they suffer, they lash out, and often turn against God. So, who does He test? The righteous.

Rabbi Yonatan continues, using the story of Joseph and Potiphar's wife as an example, saying: “It was after these matters that his master's wife [cast her eyes upon Joseph]” (Genesis 39:7). “It was after these matters…” He brings another image to life. Think of a potter evaluating the products of his kiln. He wouldn't test the fragile vessels, would he? Even a single tap could shatter them. Instead, he tests the sturdy ones. He can knock on them repeatedly, confident they'll hold up. In the same way, the Holy One, blessed be He, doesn't test the wicked, but rather, the righteous.

Rabbi Elazar offers yet another powerful analogy. Picture a homeowner with two cows: one strong, one feeble. Which one gets the yoke? It's obvious. The strong one. Because that cow can bear the weight and pull the plow. So, the Holy One, blessed be He, tests only the righteous.

What's the takeaway here? It's not that God wants the righteous to suffer. Rather, it's that He knows their strength, their capacity to grow through challenges. It's a evidence of their inner resilience, their ability to remain steadfast even in the face of adversity. They are the strong flax, the sturdy vessels, the powerful cows that are able to carry the yoke.

It's a challenging thought, for sure. But it also offers a glimmer of hope. When we face trials, perhaps we can see them not as punishments, but as opportunities for growth, a sign that we possess the inner strength to endure and even thrive. Maybe it's a reflection of the potential God sees within us.

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Bereshit Rabbah 71:2Bereshit Rabbah

It reminds us that even in the depths of despair, we are noticed, and our fortunes can change.

The verse in Psalms (145:14) tells us, "The Lord supports all those who fall and He straightens all who are hunched." But what does that really mean? Bereshit Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic homilies on the Book of Genesis, offers a beautiful interpretation: the "fallen" are the barren women, who metaphorically fall within their own homes, weighed down by their sorrow. And when God remembers them with children, they "stand erect," their lives transformed (Bereshit Rabbah 71).

To illustrate this, the text turns to the story of Leah. The familiar story is this:. Leah, the less favored sister, who was tricked into marrying Jacob. The Torah tells us, "The Lord saw that Leah was unloved" (Genesis 29:31). But Bereshit Rabbah goes deeper. It says "That Leah was unloved [senua]" – she performed the action of the hated [hasenuim]” (Bereshit Rabbah 71). What does that mean? She acted like sinners, who spend their time praying for repentance.

Leah, knowing the stipulation: the elder sister to the elder son, the younger to the younger. She knew she was destined to marry Esau, the "enemy". Rav Huna tells us prayer is powerful (Bereshit Rabbah 71). She wept, praying she wouldn't fall to that wicked man. And her prayers were answered. She married Jacob, even before her sister Rachel!

But it wasn't easy. People mocked her. As Bereshit Rabbah vividly describes, "seafarers would mock her, wayfarers would mock her, even those sitting in the pits behind the loom would mock her." They said, "This Leah, her inside is not like her outside; she appears like a righteous woman, but she is not a righteous woman. Were she a righteous woman, she would not have deceived her sister” (Bereshit Rabbah 71). Ouch.

Rabbi Hanin, quoting Rabbi Shmuel bar Rabbi Yitzchak, even says that Jacob initially planned to divorce Leah because of the deception. But then, God blessed her with children, and Jacob reconsidered. "Am I divorcing the mother of these?" he thought (Bereshit Rabbah 71). He ultimately gave thanks for her. The text connects this to the verse "Israel prostrated himself at the top of the bed [al rosh hamita]" (Genesis 47:31). Rosh mitato - Who is the head of his bed? Bereshit Rabbah asks. Is it not Leah, the mother of the majority of his children? (Bereshit Rabbah 71).

And what about Rachel? "And Rachel was barren [akara]," the text continues. "Rachel was the primary of the household, just as it says: 'Rachel was akara' – the primary [ikara] was Rachel" (Bereshit Rabbah 71). Even though Leah bore most of Jacob's children, Rachel held a special place in his heart. As Rabbi Abba bar Kahana points out, at the wedding feast of Boaz and Ruth, most attendees were descendants of Leah. Yet, the blessing was, "May the Lord grant that the woman who is coming into your house will be like Rachel and like Leah" (Ruth 4:11; Bereshit Rabbah 71).

Rabbi Shimon ben Yoḥai goes even further. Because all matters depend on Rachel, Israel is called by her name: "Rachel weeps for her children" (Jeremiah 31:15; Bereshit Rabbah 71). And not just by her name, but also by her son's name, Joseph, and even her grandson's name, Ephraim! (Amos 5:15, (Jeremiah 31:20); Bereshit Rabbah 71).

So, what can we take away from this interplay of stories and interpretations? Even when we feel fallen, like Leah, or like Rachel struggling with infertility, we are seen. Our prayers matter. And sometimes, the blessings we receive come in unexpected forms, shaping not only our own lives, but the destiny of generations to come. Isn't it amazing how these ancient stories continue to resonate with our own struggles and hopes today?

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Bereshit Rabbah 45:1Bereshit Rabbah

The Torah touches on this very issue, and the Rabbis of the Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary), those ancient interpreters of scripture, offer some pretty fascinating explanations. to Bereshit Rabbah 45, a section of the great Midrashic commentary on Genesis. The verse It seems straightforward. But the Rabbis see layers of meaning here.

The Midrash connects Sarai's difficulty conceiving to (Proverbs 31:10): "A woman of valor who can find? Far beyond pearls is her value [mikhra]." Rabbi Abba bar Kahana asks, what is her "mikhra"? He answers: her pregnancy. For a righteous woman, conception is difficult, more precious than pearls. It's as if the very act of bringing life into the world is harder for those closest to God. We find a similar idea expressed when the Midrash interprets (Ezekiel 16:3), "Your origins [mekhorotayikh] and your birth," understanding mekhorotayikh to mean conception, implying it comes even before birth itself.

Why would this be? The Midrash hints that great righteousness comes with great challenges. Abraham was older than his brothers, yet his brothers had children earlier. The Midrash tells us that Abraham was one year older than Naḥor, and Naḥor was one year older than Haran. So, Abraham was two years older than Haran. Allowing one year for the pregnancy of Milka and one year for the pregnancy of Yiska, Haran begot children at the age of six years! But Abraham? No children for a long, long time. Was this a coincidence? The Rabbis suggest that because Abraham was so righteous, begetting children was much more difficult for him than for Haran.

Was the problem with Abraham or Sarah? The Midrash presents differing opinions. Rabbi Yehuda says that Sarai could have had children with someone else; the issue was with Abraham. Rabbi Nehemya disagrees, saying neither to him nor to another would she have borne children! So, what does "had not borne children to him" mean? Rabbi Nehemya interprets it as "to him and to her [lo vela]," suggesting the difficulty lay with both of them.

Then there's the curious detail about Hagar, the Egyptian maidservant. The text calls her "her maidservant." The Midrash explains that Hagar was a maidservant of melog property. What's melog? It refers to property that belongs to the wife, but whose profits belong to the husband. He had to provide for her, but couldn’t sell her. So, Hagar belonged to Sarah, not Abraham. If Abraham had full ownership, she would have been "their" maidservant.

The Talmud (Mishna Yevamot 7:1) mentions "melog slaves," and the Rabbis wanted to understand this concept better. Reish Lakish explained it like this: "Pluck, pluck [melog melog]." Like plucking hair that keeps growing back, the husband takes the profits, while the principle remains intact. Interesting. But here’s where the story gets really intriguing. Rabbi Shimon ben Yoḥai offers a stunning idea: Hagar was Pharaoh's daughter! When Pharaoh saw the miracles that were done for Sarah's sake, he gave his daughter to Abraham (or, according to some manuscripts, to Sarah), declaring that it was preferable for his daughter to be a maidservant in that household than a mistress in another. The Midrash sees this reflected in the verse: "And she had an Egyptian maidservant, and her name was Hagar" – here is your reward [ha agrikh]. The same thing happened with Avimelekh, who also gave his daughter to Sarah after witnessing miracles. This is then linked to (Psalms 45:10): "The daughters of kings are among those who honor you; at your right hand stands the consort, attired in gold from Ofir."

So, what does all this mean? It's a reminder that things aren't always as they seem on the surface. The struggles we face, especially those deeply personal ones, might have deeper, even cosmic, implications. Righteousness isn't a guarantee of an easy life; sometimes, it's quite the opposite. And even in the most challenging situations, there can be unexpected blessings, even daughters of kings, hidden within.

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