Take the poignant moment when Rachel, mother Rachel, goes into labor. Genesis 35:16 tells us, "They traveled from Beit El, and it was still some distance to arrive at Efrat, and Rachel was in childbirth, and had difficulty in her childbirth." But the rabbis of the Midrash, in Bereshit Rabbah, don't just read the surface. They delve deeper, asking: When, exactly, did this happen?
Rabbi Eliezer ben Yaakov offers a beautiful image: "It was at the time when the land is perforated like a sieve [kevara] and the grain [bar] is plentiful." – the end of summer, a time of abundance, the harvest nearly complete. The wordplay is exquisite in the original Hebrew, linking the land being like a sieve, kevara, to the plentiful grain, bar.
The Rabbis offer another perspective. They say it was when the grain [habar] is already [kevar] growing, the rainy season has passed, and the summer has not yet come. A time of transition, a liminal space between seasons. A moment pregnant with possibility, just like Rachel herself.
But the verse also speaks of Rachel's difficult labor. "Rachel was in childbirth, and had difficulty in her childbirth." This leads the Midrash to a somber reflection on other women who faced similar trials. The text identifies three women who encountered difficulty in childbirth and died after giving birth: Rachel, Pinḥas’s wife, and Mikhal daughter of Shaul.
We've already heard about Rachel. For Pinḥas’s wife, the prooftext is found in I Samuel 4:19: "His daughter-in-law, wife of Pinḥas…[she crouched and gave birth, as her pangs of labor overcame her]." And for Mikhal, II Samuel 6:23 states, "Mikhal daughter of Saul did not have a child until the day of her death." Or does it?
Rabbi Yehuda bar Simon offers a startling, yet compassionate, interpretation: "Until the day of her death she did not have, but on the day of her death she had." He sees a possibility where others see only barrenness. And he finds support for this idea in I Chronicles 3:3, which mentions Yitre'am, son of David, "by Egla his wife." The Midrash proposes that Egla is another name for Mikhal.
Why call her Egla? Rabbi Yehuda bar Simon suggests it's "because she lowed like a calf [egla] and died." A heartbreaking image, evoking the primal pain of childbirth and the fragility of life. It's a powerful, almost brutal, image that captures the intensity of the moment.
What are we to make of this? The Midrash doesn't shy away from the pain and complexities of life. It acknowledges the difficulties faced by these women, while simultaneously searching for glimmers of hope and meaning. It reminds us that even in moments of profound sorrow, there can be hidden connections, unexpected turns, and the enduring power of interpretation to find new layers of meaning in stories we thought we already knew. Perhaps, in remembering these women and their struggles, we can find strength and solace in our own lives.