Finding Meaning in Suffering: A Jewish Perspective
Shalom Bayit Journal
Grief is one of the most universal human experiences, yet many people struggle to know what to do with it. In modern society, we are often encouraged to "process" our emotions, but are rarely given a clear model for how to do so. Judaism approaches grief differently. Rather than leaving a mourner alone to navigate loss, Jewish tradition provides a path.
When a loved one passes away, Judaism surrounds the mourner with a framework of support, ritual, and community. Through shiva, Kaddish, and the customs of mourning, our tradition guides individuals through one of life's most difficult experiences. The seven days of shiva bring family and friends together to comfort the bereaved. The recitation of Kaddish, observance of the first thirty days, and the customs of the first year of mourning provide structure during a time that often feels chaotic and overwhelming. These practices do not erase the pain of loss. Rather, they acknowledge grief, give it expression, and allow it to be carried with dignity.
As a counselor, I have sat with many people in the aftermath of loss. Again and again, I have come to appreciate the wisdom found in Judaism's approach to mourning. Many people find themselves overwhelmed by grief, uncertain how to express it or move through it. Yet Judaism recognized long ago that mourning requires both time and community. Grief cannot be ignored, reasoned away, or rushed.
The structure of Jewish mourning transforms loss from an isolating experience into one that is shared and supported.
Perhaps this is why Judaism places such emphasis on mourning rituals. Human beings inevitably encounter suffering, loss, and death. The question is not whether these experiences will come, but how we will respond when they do. This leads to one of humanity's oldest questions. If Hashem is good, why does the world contain so much suffering? Why are there illnesses, tragedies, and death? For many, the existence of suffering is the greatest challenge to belief itself.
Jewish tradition does not pretend to possess a complete answer. Judaism teaches that life is not random. The world is governed by Hashem, who is both just and compassionate, even when His purposes remain hidden from us.
The well-known phrase gam zu l'tovah—“this too is for the good”—is often misunderstood. It does not mean that painful events should be celebrated or that suffering itself is good. Rather, it reflects a profound trust that Hashem has a purpose, even when we cannot see it. It is an expression of faith that our lives are part of a larger story and that Hashem guides us toward spiritual growth, even through life's greatest challenges.
For this reason, Judaism encourages a person not only to endure suffering but to seek meaning within it. While we may never fully understand why a particular hardship occurred, we can ask how it might deepen our character, strengthen our faith, or inspire greater compassion for others. Orthodox Jewish sages have long taught that the challenges of this world contribute to the refinement of the soul, both in this life and in the World to Come.
Judaism does not offer a solution to the mystery of suffering. What it offers is a way to live through it. Through faith, community, prayer, and the rituals of mourning, grief becomes not an experience of isolation but an opportunity for connection, growth, and trust in Hashem. Even in moments of loss, we are reminded that our lives have meaning, that we are not alone, and that Hashem continues to walk with us through both our joys and our sorrows.
Knowing that suffering can have meaning does not automatically make suffering easier. A person who has lost a loved one, received a difficult diagnosis, experienced betrayal, or faced disappointment may still feel overwhelmed, confused, angry, or heartbroken. Judaism never asks a person to deny these emotions. In fact, many of our greatest figures openly expressed grief, fear, and anguish. King David poured his pain into Tehillim. Job cried out in confusion. Jacob mourned for Joseph. The Torah does not present emotional pain as a sign of weak faith; it presents it as part of the human experience.
The first step in navigating suffering is to acknowledge reality. Too often people attempt to move immediately toward explanations, solutions, or spiritual lessons. Yet Jewish mourning practices teach a different approach. Before the mourner returns to normal life, there is shiva. We are first called to sit with our pain and allow it to be felt.
The second step is to resist isolation. One of the remarkable features of Jewish life is that suffering is rarely meant to be carried alone. During shiva, the community comes to the mourner. Friends visit, meals are provided, prayers are recited, and support is offered. This reflects a deeper truth: pain often becomes heavier when carried in isolation and more bearable when shared with others. Whether through family, friends, community, or professional support, healing often begins when we allow others to walk alongside us.
The third step is to search for purpose rather than answers. There are questions in life that may never be fully answered. We may never understand why a tragedy occurred or why a particular burden was placed upon us. Yet Judaism encourages us to ask a different question: "What can I do with this experience?" While the reasons for our suffering may remain hidden, the opportunities within it often do not.
Suffering can reveal strengths that comfort never could. It can develop patience, humility, resilience, empathy, gratitude, and faith. It can deepen our appreciation for life's blessings and increase our sensitivity to the struggles of others. Orthodox Jewish sages have long taught that the challenges of this world can refine the soul, deepen a person's faith, and draw them closer to Hashem. While pain itself is not good, the growth that emerges from it can become one of life's greatest sources of meaning.
Many people who have experienced profound loss describe grief not as something that disappears, but as something they learn to carry. Over time, life grows around grief. The pain may become less sharp, but the absence remains. The loss becomes part of a person's story. Judaism offers a hopeful perspective on this process. The goal is not simply to survive suffering or endure grief until it fades. Rather, we strive to allow our struggles to deepen us rather than diminish us, and through faith, the burdens we carry can elevate us.
The burden itself may not disappear, but it need not be carried alone, nor without purpose. We may not always find an answer to our suffering, but we can often discover a purpose within it. While we cannot always choose what happens to us, we can choose who we become because of it.
The final step is to remain connected to Hashem even when we do not fully understand His ways. Faith is not the absence of questions or pain. It is the willingness to continue despite those difficulties. Prayer, Torah study, acts of kindness, and participation in community life help anchor a person during seasons of uncertainty. Rather than demanding complete understanding, Judaism invites us to trust that Hashem remains present even when His plan is hidden.
For those who find themselves walking through a difficult season, perhaps the most meaningful question is not, "Why is this happening to me?" but rather, "How can I serve Boreh Olam through what I am experiencing right now?" While we may never fully understand the reason for our struggles, we can choose how we respond to them. How can this challenge bring me closer to Hashem? How can it deepen my relationships with the people I love? How can it help me become more compassionate, more faithful, more grateful, or more resilient?
No one chooses suffering, and no one should seek it. Yet when hardship arrives, we are not without guidance. Judaism teaches us to acknowledge our pain, lean on others, search for purpose, and maintain our connection to Hashem. These steps do not eliminate suffering, but they can transform it from a source of despair into an opportunity for deeper faith, stronger character, greater connection, and a more meaningful life. Even when we cannot understand the reason for our suffering, we can strive to let it bring us closer to Hashem and to the people who matter most in our lives.