Like good people suffer, and… well, you know the rest. That feeling isn't new. It’s a feeling that echoes through the ages, a question that’s been wrestled with in our texts for millennia.

Bamidbar Rabbah 19, a section of the ancient Midrash Rabbah, grapples with just this. It starts with that heartbreaking line from Numbers 20:12, the one that hits Moses and Aaron so hard: “Because you did not have faith in Me.” It’s a harsh judgment, a seemingly disproportionate consequence.

The Midrash then throws us into Ecclesiastes (Kohelet) 8:14: “There is futility that is performed on the earth, in that there are righteous who receive as accords with the action of the wicked, and there are wicked who receive as accords with the action of the righteous. I said that this too is futility.” Isn’t that frustrating? It feels like the universe is playing a cruel joke. The tzadik (righteous person) suffers, while the rasha (wicked person) prospers. Where's the justice in that?

To illustrate this apparent cosmic unfairness, the text brings up the story of the serpent in the Garden of Eden. Remember him? God curses the serpent after the whole forbidden fruit incident. But, the Midrash points out, God doesn't even let the serpent plead his case! The serpent could have argued, “You told Adam not to eat, but I just suggested he should. Why are you cursing me?” It’s a valid point. The serpent's being punished for… well, for being a serpent, it seems.

And then, the text brings it back to Aaron. Poor Aaron. He could have protested, “I didn’t disobey You, God! So why am I being punished with death?”

What’s the Midrash trying to tell us here? Is it saying God is unfair? Of course not!

But maybe, just maybe, it's acknowledging the inherent complexities of divine judgment. It's not always a simple equation of action and consequence. There are layers upon layers, mysteries we can't fully grasp.

The Midrash isn't offering easy answers. It’s holding space for the discomfort, for the questions that don't have neat and tidy resolutions. It’s saying, “Yes, life can feel unfair. Yes, sometimes the righteous suffer. But don’t lose faith.”

Perhaps the point isn’t to understand why these things happen, but how we respond to them. Do we become bitter and cynical? Or do we hold onto our faith, even when it’s challenged? Do we continue to strive for righteousness, even when it seems like it doesn't matter?

As Rabbi Tarfon famously said in Pirkei Avot (Ethics of the Fathers), “It is not your responsibility to finish the work [of perfecting the world], but you are not free to desist from it either.”

Maybe that’s the answer. We may never fully understand the ways of the Divine, but we are still called to act with goodness and compassion in a world that so desperately needs it. And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.