The ancient rabbis certainly did, and their struggles echo even today. to a fascinating story tucked away in Bereshit Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic interpretations of the Book of Genesis.

Our story begins with the verse, "It was as she had difficulty in her childbirth, the midwife said to her: Fear not; for this too is a son for you" (Genesis 35:17). Seems straightforward. But the rabbis, masters of drash (interpretive storytelling), saw much more.

The story unfolds with two students of Rabbi Yehoshua facing a dilemma. It’s a time of persecution, and they've made a difficult choice: they've changed their outer garments to Roman clothes, hoping to blend in and avoid being identified as Jews. It's a desperate act of self-preservation.

But their disguise doesn't fool everyone. A Roman officer – and here's where it gets interesting – who seems to have Jewish roots and some Torah knowledge, confronts them. He challenges them: "If you are sons of the Torah, give your lives for its sake. If you are not its sons, why should you be killed for its sake?" Ouch. He's essentially asking them to choose: live openly as Jews and risk death, or abandon their faith entirely. Talk about a gut-wrenching choice.

The students respond that they are sons of the Torah and willing to die for it, but that "it is not the way of people to commit suicide." They're acknowledging their faith while also clinging to the instinct to survive. It's a very human response, isn't it?

The officer, clearly not satisfied, throws down the gauntlet. He proposes a test: answer three questions, or face religious persecution – convert or die. The stakes are impossibly high.

The first question revolves around two seemingly contradictory verses: "The Lord stands to dispute [and stands to judge the peoples]" (Isaiah 3:13) versus "As there I will sit to judge all the surrounding nations" (Joel 4:12). How can God both stand and sit in judgment?

The students explain that God judges Israel while standing, offering leniency and abbreviating the trial. But when judging the nations, He sits, is meticulous, and extends the trial. A nice explanation, playing on the idea of divine mercy for the chosen people.

But the officer isn't buying it. He claims Rabbi Yehoshua taught that both verses refer to the nations: God judges them meticulously and then becomes an adversary, standing to implement their punishment. According to this interpretation, found in Matnot Kehuna, there is no preferential treatment.

Next, he asks about the meaning of "One who works his land [admato] will be sated with bread..." (Proverbs 28:19). The students offer a straightforward agricultural interpretation: it's better to cultivate one field well than to neglect many.

Again, the officer rejects their answer. He says Rabbi Yehoshua taught that admato should be understood as ad moto – "until the day of his death." In other words, one who worships God will be sustained until their dying day, while those who pursue vanities (idolaters, as the text notes) will be filled with poverty. A clever play on words revealing a deeper spiritual truth.

Finally, he circles back to the original verse: "It was as she had difficulty in her childbirth..." The students say it's a comforting phrase to reassure the birthing mother that she's delivered a male child.

But the officer has one last twist. He claims Rabbi Yehoshua taught that each tribe was born with a twin sister, referencing Abba Ḥalfoi ben Kureya's teaching that Benjamin had an additional twin sister. Rachel’s concern during childbirth, therefore, wasn't just about having a second son, but about whether Benjamin would receive his rightful twin sister. The midwife's assurance, then, was specifically about the birth of the son.

What does it all mean? This passage from Bereshit Rabbah isn't just about biblical interpretation; it's about identity, survival, and the courage to stand by your beliefs. It's about finding meaning in scripture even when facing impossible choices. The students of Rabbi Yehoshua were caught in a moment of crisis, forced to reconcile their faith with the harsh realities of their time. And aren't we all, in some way, still wrestling with that same tension today?