In this week’s parshah, we learn of the passing of Rachel Imeinu. Our sages emphasized the many ways in which we can learn from her life, experiences, and struggles. If we wish to understand the true price one must pay for the pleasure of being prized, we can learn it from her.
She was the very center of Yaakov Avinu’s heart, the one for whom he labored with love, yet she was ready to surrender her husband, her future, and the privilege of bringing forth the tribes of Hashem—all to spare her sister from shame. And she did so with a full heart.
After all this greatness, the Torah writes: “And Hashem saw that Leah was hated.” In the language of our Torah, hated does not bear its simple meaning, rather it denotes the subtlest measure of diminished affection—a fine distinction.
“And He opened her womb.” In reward for that trace of pain and humiliation, Leah was granted fertility. “And Rachel was barren.” Why does the verse now emphasize Rachel? To teach that because of the extra measure of love and honor that Yaakov showed her in comparison to her sister, she paid a heavy price—remaining childless for many years.
“Because she was infertile, she merited to become the akeres habayis—the mistress of the house.” Rachel’s suffering became the very ladder through which she ascended to greatness. (Zohar; Michtav MeEliyahu, Vol. IV, p. 269)
In her distress, Rachel cried to Yaakov Avinu, “Give me children, or else I die!” Yes, our Imahos were prophets; how did Rachel not already know that she would eventually bear children? The answer lies in the Midrash, which teaches that our Imahos struggled with infertility because the Holy One desired their prayers. From this it follows that Hashem concealed from them knowledge of the future precisely so that they would pray.
Had they not prayed, they would still have borne children by Divine kindness alone; the matter would have depended upon Kesser, the higher level of Divine mercy that comes entirely unearned. But what comes solely through complete kindness does not endure in the same way. Heavenly accusers protest against undeserved gifts.
Completion only comes through the arousal of human action below, which draws forth blessing from above; the very purpose of a soul’s descent into this world and all of the work that it does here.
The Imahos were at first denied children so that they would pray and, in so doing, bring the souls of the future Jewish people down into being in the most complete manner, through the expenditure of incredible spiritual effort.
Had they been naturally fertile, their children would have come automatically through unbounded mercy alone—dependent on the higher mercy of Kesser—and the emergence of the Jewish people would not have reached the same spiritual wholeness.
Now Rachel’s words are understood: “Give me children!”
Through her deeds she sought to awaken the upper worlds, to elicit blessing by her own holy effort. “And if not (im ayin)”—that is, if the children were to come only from the level of Ayin (“Nothingness”), which alludes to Kesser, for this level is utterly unknowable to us—“I die.” If that were to happen, the children would not arrive in the same perfected way, and my life and all its purpose would wither away.
It is now clear that although the Imahos were prophets and knew they would bear children, they did not know from which level their children would come. It was into that sacred uncertainty that they poured their hearts in prayer, shaping the destiny of our people with every tear. (Shem Mishmuel, Vayeitzei 5675)