And whenever the day came for Elkanah to present his sacrifice, he would give portions to his wife Peninnah and to all her sons and daughters. But to Hannah he would give a double portion, for he loved her even though the LORD had closed her womb. Because the LORD had closed Hannah’s womb, her rival would provoke her and taunt her viciously. And this went on year after year. Whenever Hannah went up to the house of the LORD, her rival taunted her until she wept and would not eat. “Hannah, why are you crying?” her husband Elkanah asked. “Why won’t you eat? Why is your heart so grieved? Am I not better to you than ten sons?”
For at one time we too were foolish, disobedient, misled, and enslaved to all sorts of desires and pleasures—living in malice and envy, being hated and hating one another.
Later, they set out from Bethel, and while they were still some distance from Ephrath, Rachel began to give birth, and her labor was difficult. During her severe labor, the midwife said to her, “Do not be afraid, for you are having another son.” And with her last breath—for she was dying—she named him Ben-oni. But his father called him Benjamin. So Rachel died and was buried on the way to Ephrath (that is, Bethlehem).
If this is how You are going to treat me, please kill me right now—if I have found favor in Your eyes—and let me not see my own wretchedness.” ... But Moses replied, “Are you jealous on my account? I wish that all the LORD’s people were prophets and that the LORD would place His Spirit on them!”
while he himself traveled on a day’s journey into the wilderness. He sat down under a broom tree and prayed that he might die. “I have had enough, LORD,” he said. “Take my life, for I am no better than my fathers.”
After this, Job opened his mouth and cursed the day of his birth. And this is what he said: “May the day of my birth perish, and the night it was said, ‘A boy is conceived.’ ... Why did I not perish at birth; why did I not die as I came from the womb? ... Why is light given to the miserable, and life to the bitter of soul, who long for death that does not come, and search for it like hidden treasure, who rejoice and greatly exult when they can find the grave?
Cursed be the day I was born! May the day my mother bore me never be blessed. Cursed be the man who brought my father the news, saying, “A son is born to you,” bringing him great joy. May that man be like the cities that the LORD overthrew without compassion. May he hear an outcry in the morning and a battle cry at noon, because he did not kill me in the womb so that my mother might have been my grave, and her womb forever enlarged. Why did I come out of the womb to see only trouble and sorrow, and to end my days in shame?