Our tradition wrestles with this too, offering some pretty powerful imagery to explain it.

Consider this from Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, a fascinating early medieval text filled with stories and interpretations of the Torah. It zeroes in on a verse, Ezekiel 17:24: "All the trees of the field shall know that I the Lord have brought down the high tree, have exalted the low tree, have dried up the green tree, and have made the dry tree to flourish.”

What does it all mean?

The text doesn’t leave us hanging. It sees those “trees of the field” as representing the nations of the world. Okay, so far so good. But who are these specific trees? Well, the “high tree” that God brings down? That’s Nimrod.

Nimrod, as you might recall, was a mighty hunter, a king who, according to tradition, led the building of the Tower of Babel – a symbol of humanity's arrogance and attempt to reach God. He represents the height of earthly power, a power ultimately humbled.

And who is the “low tree” that God exalts? Abraham, our father. Abraham starts as one man, almost insignificant in the vast landscape of the ancient world. Yet, through his faith and his covenant with God, he becomes the patriarch of a nation, a beacon of monotheism, and an enduring symbol of spiritual strength. The ultimate underdog story. But the imagery doesn't stop there. What about the drying up of the "green tree" and the flourishing of the "dry tree"? Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer interprets the "green tree" as the breasts of the wives of the nations. A slightly strange image, perhaps, but stick with me. It's about to get interesting.

The "dry tree" that flourishes? That’s Sarah.

Specifically, Sarah's breasts.

Now, we know Sarah's story. She was barren for many years, considered past the age of childbearing. Yet, God miraculously granted her a child, Isaac, in her old age. Her ability to nurse Isaac becomes a symbol of divine favor and a testament to the impossible becoming possible.

But the story goes even further! Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer adds a remarkable detail: the other women of the world brought their children to Sarah to be nursed! "For Sarah gave suck to all their children in peace," the text says, referencing Genesis 21:7, "'Who would have said unto Abraham, that Sarah should give children suck?'"

What a powerful image! Sarah, the once barren woman, now nourishes not only her own child but the children of others. It speaks to a universality, a sense of shared humanity, and the transformative power of faith. It's almost a vision of redemption, where even the most unlikely source can provide sustenance and blessing to all.

So, what can we take away from this? Maybe it's a reminder that power isn't always what it seems. That true strength can arise from unexpected places. That even in times of upheaval and change, there's a deeper pattern at play. A divine hand, perhaps, shaping the world in ways we can only begin to understand.