When Blessing Becomes a Test

by R. Eliezer Simcha Weisz

There is a well-known story about a man who was rushing to an important meeting. He drove around for many minutes searching for a parking space, but found nothing. Time was passing, and he began to fear that he would be late. In desperation, he turned to Heaven:

“Ribbono Shel Olam, please help me find a parking space quickly. If You help me, I promise I will give money to tzedakah — just find me a place to park!”

Suddenly, a parking space opened up right beside him. He looked up and said, “Actually, never mind… I managed on my own.”

Beyond the humor, this story reveals a deep human tendency. When a person faces difficulty, when he feels that he has reached the limits of his own ability, he naturally turns to Hashem. Even a person who does not usually speak about faith or prayer may find himself calling out to Heaven in a moment of crisis.

But what happens when the crisis passes? What happens when the difficulty disappears, when the person receives what he hoped for, and life returns to normal? Does he continue to remember Who helped him?

This question is at the heart of one of the central lessons of Parashat Ekev: the challenge of recognizing Hashem not only in times of need, but also in times of bracha (ברכה) and shefa (שפע).

The Torah reminds us of the years that Bnei Yisrael spent in the wilderness and of the extraordinary gift of the mon:

וְזָכַרְתָּ אֶת־כָּל־הַדֶּרֶךְ אֲשֶׁר הֹלִיכֲךָ ה׳ אֱלֹקֶיךָ זֶה אַרְבָּעִים שָׁנָה בַּמִּדְבָּר, לְמַעַן עַנֹּתְךָ לְנַסֹּתְךָ לָדַעַת אֶת־אֲשֶׁר בִּלְבָבְךָ הֲתִשְׁמֹר מִצְוֹתָיו אִם־לֹא

“You shall remember the entire way upon which Hashem your God led you these forty years in the wilderness, in order to afflict you and test you, to know what was in your heart — whether you would keep His commandments or not.” (Devarim 8:2)

The Torah continues:

וַיְעַנְּךָ וַיַּרְעִבֶךָ וַיַּאֲכִלְךָ אֶת־הַמָּן אֲשֶׁר לֹא יָדַעְתָּ וְלֹא יָדְעוּן אֲבֹתֶיךָ, לְמַעַן הוֹדִיעֲךָ כִּי לֹא עַל־הַלֶּחֶם לְבַדּוֹ יִחְיֶה הָאָדָם, כִּי עַל־כָּל־מוֹצָא פִי ה׳ יִחְיֶה הָאָדָם

“He afflicted you and caused you to hunger, and He fed you the mon which you did not know and your fathers did not know, in order to make you know that man does not live by bread alone, but by everything that comes from the mouth of Hashem does man live.” (Devarim 8:3)

A question immediately arises: Why does the Torah describe the mon as a test?

The mon was one of the greatest miracles in Jewish history. Every day, Bnei Yisrael received their sustenance directly from Heaven. They did not need to worry about planting, harvesting, or storing food for the future. Their needs were provided through a constant revelation of Divine Providence.

Why, then, was this considered a test?

The answer is that the test was not only about hardship. It was also about abundance.

When a person is struggling, it is often easier to recognize his dependence upon Hashem. When he knows that he cannot solve every problem himself, his tefillah comes naturally. He turns toward Heaven because he understands his need for help.

But when a person experiences shefa (שפע) — abundance, success, and blessing — a different challenge appears. Will he still recognize the Source of his brachot (ברכות)? Will he remember that his success, abilities, and opportunities are gifts from Hashem?

The mon taught Bnei Yisrael that even when a person has everything he needs, he remains completely dependent upon the Creator.

This lesson is especially relevant in our generation.

We live in a time of extraordinary shefa. Technology, medicine, communication, and material comfort have transformed daily life. These are tremendous brachot, but every bracha carries a responsibility.

Comfort can sometimes cause a person to forget.

A person may begin to feel that everything he has achieved is solely the result of his own wisdom, talent, and effort. The Torah warns against this attitude:

וְאָמַרְתָּ בִּלְבָבֶךָ כֹּחִי וְעֹצֶם יָדִי עָשָׂה לִי אֶת־הַחַיִל הַזֶּה

“You may say in your heart: My strength and the might of my hand have made me this wealth.” (Devarim 8:17)

The Torah is not teaching that human effort has no value. A person must work, develop his talents, and use the abilities that Hashem has given him.

The danger begins when he forgets the One who gave him those abilities.

Success can create the illusion that everything is the result of human achievement alone. A person may forget that his intelligence, health, opportunities, and circumstances are themselves gifts from Hashem.

This is why prosperity is also a test.

As Shlomo HaMelech writes:

יֵשׁ רָעָה חוֹלָה רָאִיתִי תַּחַת הַשָּׁמֶשׁ: עֹשֶׁר שָׁמוּר לִבְעָלָיו לְרָעָתוֹ

“There is a painful reality that I have seen under the sun: wealth kept by its owner to his harm.” (Kohelet 5:12)

Wealth itself is not a problem. Blessing itself is not a danger. The question is what a person does with what Hashem has given him.

Does his abundance lead him to greater gratitude? Greater generosity? Greater responsibility?

Or does it distance him from the One who granted those blessings?

Those who have been blessed with much have a special responsibility. Their time, talents, resources, and opportunities are not only for personal benefit. They are entrusted to them in order to increase chessed, help others, and create a Kiddush Hashem.

Every bracha carries a mission.

The purpose of shefa is not merely to enjoy what we have, but to recognize its Source and use those blessings in the service of Hashem and for the benefit of others.

The mon was not only a lesson in trusting Hashem when we lack what we need. It was an even greater lesson in remembering Hashem when we have everything we need.

The greatest test of a person is not always how he responds when something is missing.

Sometimes the greater test is how he responds when everything is present.

May we always recognize that every bracha comes from Hashem, and may Hashem grant us the wisdom and strength to use the shefa that He grants us with gratitude, responsibility, and for the sake of increasing Kiddush Hashem.