Parashat Ki Tavo
What If the Thing Going Wrong Is Actually a Blessing?
When life doesn’t go according to plan, we may be seeing only part of the picture. Parashat Ki Tavo offers a powerful lesson about hidden blessings and trusting Hashem.
- Rabbi Yeshayahu Vind
- | Updated

The entire city was buzzing with sensational news. Word spread quickly that Yitzchak had won the lottery, and an enormous sum of money had suddenly fallen into his hands.
Yitzchak was far from intelligent. In fact, it seemed he had never even encountered the concept of common sense. He was known as the village fool. But what can you do? Bread does not necessarily go to the wise, and wealth does not always go to the clever.
The first thing Yitzchak did was buy a huge lot in an upscale neighborhood, where he planned to build himself a magnificent home. As was customary in those days, houses were built from wood and beams. Yitzchak sat down with the contractor and received a list of the finest, strongest beams he would need to order.
Once the order arrived, the workers got to work. They began sawing the thick beams to the exact dimensions required for the house.
Yitzchak came by to inspect the construction site and was horrified by what he saw. The workers were taking the expensive wood he had paid good money for and cutting it into pieces.
“What have you done?” he shouted. “You’ve ruined all the expensive beams I bought! Do you know how much I paid for them?”
In his foolishness, he did not understand that in order to build the house according to the plans, the beams had to be cut to fit the structure.
The contractor quickly realized what he was dealing with and decided to get out of the situation. He settled with Yitzchak on the spot, and they canceled the contract.
“Please,” the contractor told him, “take your wood and beams and manage with them yourself. I am no longer part of this project.”
Sometimes Things Have to Break Before They Can Be Built
The Maggid of Dubno, of blessed memory, tells this parable to teach us a powerful lesson.
A person makes plans, building castles in the air in his mind. But sometimes things do not work out exactly as planned. Something breaks here. Something goes wrong there. He becomes angry and discouraged and asks himself and Hashem: Why?
What he does not understand is that this may be exactly how things need to happen. It was supposed to break, because only in this way can the path of his life be built.
Nothing has been destroyed. This is simply how you build a house. You cut the beams to size.
When a person is full of complaints because something did not work out the way he expected, he resembles the fool who became angry when the workers cut his beautiful wood. He, too, failed to understand that this is the only way to build.
The Creator of the world prepares a unique path for each of us, according to the plan and according to our individual needs.
“Be careful,” the Maggid of Dubno continues. “If you have too many complaints, the Creator of the world may simply leave you with the broken pieces and not finish the building. In your foolishness, you are angry? Fine. Manage on your own!”
Each of us needs to remember that the world is being run by the best possible hands. If I do not understand what is happening, that only demonstrates the limits of my own understanding.
This sheds light on a verse in Psalms: “For they do not understand the works of Hashem and the work of His hands; He will destroy them and not build them” (Psalms 28:5).
Those who do not understand the works of Hashem and the work of His hands fail to recognize that everything that happens to them comes from Heaven. Even when the Creator’s guidance runs contrary to their wishes, it is ultimately for their benefit, building them a magnificent palace in this world and the next.
Such a person is described by the words, “He will destroy them and not build them.” Hashem says to him: If you lack faith in the way I am guiding you, then I will stop building for you. Everything I cut in order to build, I will leave as it is.
Do We Really Know What Is Good for Us?
The truth is that in any given situation, we simply do not know what is truly good for us and what is not.
We have seen people who were certain they were about to close the deal of a lifetime, just moments away from fulfilling a lifelong dream, only to discover that what seemed like an incredible opportunity led them from the frying pan into the fire. Not only did they gain nothing or improve their standard of living, but they lost what little they had before.
So who can truly know what is good for us and what is not?
A well-known folk tale illustrates this idea beautifully.
In a village in the vast country of China lived an old and wise man with his only son. He did not own much, but he was content with what he had and believed that there is a Creator of the world who always knows exactly what to send him.
One day, a wild horse wandered out of the forest and arrived at the entrance to the old man’s home. His son seized the opportunity, caught the horse, and brought it into the stable.
But the old man did not celebrate.
“Father, why aren’t you happy?” his son asked. “I caught the horse and brought it into the stable. Don’t you think this is good? We need a healthy, strong horse.”
The old man shook his head.
“Whether this is good or bad, we will know only in the future.”
The next day, the horse escaped from the stable. The son was devastated, but his father said nothing.
“Father, don’t you think it’s a shame that the horse escaped?” the son asked. “We needed it.”
Once again, the old man shook his head.
“Whether this is good or bad, we will know only in the future.”
Three days later, the horse returned, bringing two more horses with it. The son was thrilled and brought all three into the stable. His father, however, remained unmoved.
The son could not understand his reaction.
“Father, this is a reason to be happy. We have three horses now!”
The old man simply replied, “Whether this is good or bad, we will know only in the future.”
That evening, the young man was exhausted from caring for the horses. As he tried to tame one of the wild horses, it kicked him and broke his leg.
“Father!” the young man cried. “I broke my leg. You were probably right. Maybe it wasn’t so good that the horse came after all.”
The old father set his son’s leg and replied, “Whether this is good or bad, we will know only in the future.”
A few weeks later, war broke out. Army officers arrived in the village and drafted all the young men. The old man’s son was left behind because his broken leg made him unfit for military service.
The war was extremely difficult, particularly on the front where the young men from the village were sent. After several days of bloody fighting, every soldier in their unit was killed.
When the terrible news reached the village, the old man turned to his son.
“You are young,” he said. “Do not forget the chain of events we have experienced. Always remember that we are too small to understand the ways of the Creator of the world. The good we desperately want is not always truly good for us, and something that seems terrible is not always truly bad. Sometimes it may be the very best thing for us, as you have now seen with your own eyes.”
When the Blessings Have to Chase Us
The grandson of the Ba’al Shem Tov explains this idea through a verse in this week’s parashah, Parashat Ki Tavo, in his book Degel Machaneh Ephraim.
The Torah says: “And all these blessings will come upon you and overtake you” (Deuteronomy 28:2).
The wording of the verse seems unusual. We might have expected it to say the opposite, that a person will reach or attain these blessings. Why does the Torah say that the blessings will come after him and “overtake” him?
Sometimes a person runs away from the very things that are good for him. With his limited understanding, he does not know what is truly good and what is not. Without realizing it, he may actually be running away from a blessing.
That is why King David prayed in Psalms: “May only goodness and kindness pursue me” (Psalms 23:6).
Even when I am running away from something because it appears terrible and harmful, let goodness and kindness pursue me and catch me. After all, I do not always know how to pursue what is truly good for me. On the contrary, I may run away from it and desperately try to escape it because, from my limited perspective, it looks like the worst thing imaginable.
This is also what the Torah means when it blesses us: “And all these blessings will come upon you and overtake you.” Even when you do not recognize them as blessings, may they pursue you, catch you, and ultimately bring you good.
The very belief that whatever happens to us is ultimately for the good helps transform the experience itself. In Chassidic teachings, this is called hamtakat hadinim, sweetening the judgments.
In every situation, when we try to find the good that still exists within it, that positive perspective can transform the way we experience what is happening. If we look carefully, we can find something for which to be grateful even in the most difficult circumstances.
Even if, Heaven forbid, someone is seriously ill in the hospital, he can still notice the good that surrounds him: the parts of his body that are functioning, the air conditioning in his room, the devoted family members beside him, and the medical staff caring for him.
Through these thoughts, a person transforms every situation for the good. He moves from transgression to abundance, from trouble to light. He transforms what appears bad into good and judgment into complete mercy.
There is no evil in the world at all. Everything is ultimately for the good because Hashem is good. Even if, Heaven forbid, something painful happens in our lives, it can serve as atonement for sins after we have damaged our souls through our actions.
Suffering can be compared to surgery. The operation itself hurts, but its purpose is to heal the patient.
What looks like something breaking may, in fact, be part of the building process. What looks like misfortune may contain a blessing we cannot yet see. And sometimes the blessings we would never choose for ourselves are the very blessings that must pursue us until they finally catch us.

