Our tradition grapples with it head-on.

Sifrei Devarim, an ancient commentary on the Book of Deuteronomy, offers a powerful perspective on this. It states, "without wrong": meaning, God did not create men to be wicked, but to be righteous."

Think about that for a moment. We’re born with the potential for goodness, for tzedek, righteousness. The text then quotes Kohelet (Ecclesiastes) 7:29: "God made man just, but they sought many devices." So where does the crookedness come from? It's not baked into our essence, but something we actively choose, a deviation from our inherent potential. It’s a powerful statement about free will, about the responsibility we bear for our choices.

The Sifrei continues: "Righteous and just is He": He deals justly with all of His creations. This isn’t a claim that everything that happens is good, but that God’s dealings are fundamentally just. It's a subtle but crucial distinction.

Now, here's where it gets really interesting. The text offers a variation, a different way of understanding God's actions. "The Rock": "the Resolute." "Perfect is His work": His work is whole with all creatures, and His ways are not to be brought into question.

This isn't about blind faith, but about recognizing the vastness of the divine plan, a plan we can only glimpse imperfectly. It's an invitation to humility, to acknowledging the limits of our understanding. It's also a call to accept that His ways are beyond our grasp.

The Sifrei then launches into a series of rhetorical questions, probing the consequences of human actions throughout history. These aren't just historical curiosities; they're moral parables.

"What did the men of the generation of the flood see that brought the deluge upon them?" What choices did they make? What values did they abandon that led to such a catastrophic end?

"What did the men of the Tower (of Bavel) see that caused them to be scattered from one end of the world to the other?" The Tower of Babel, a symbol of arrogance and misplaced ambition. What was the internal vision that led to their downfall?

"What did the men of Sodom and Amorah see to be swept away by fire and brimstone?" What level of corruption and disregard for human dignity brought such devastation?

Then, the questions shift, focusing on individuals who were elevated. "What did Aaron see that accorded him the priesthood?" What qualities of leadership, compassion, and dedication merited such a sacred role?

"What did David see that accorded him kingdom?" What vision, what understanding of justice and responsibility, earned him the throne?

And finally, the tragic counterpoint: "What did Korach and his congregation see to be swallowed up by the earth?" What envy, what rebellion against divine authority, led to their destruction?

These questions aren't meant to be answered definitively. They’re meant to provoke introspection, to force us to examine our own motivations, our own choices. What are we seeing? What paths are we choosing? Are we building towers of arrogance or striving for righteousness? Are we contributing to a world of justice and compassion, or are we paving the way for our own destruction? The Sifrei Devarim reminds us that the choice, ultimately, is ours.