Mishlei 3: 26-31

Although we finished last time with verse 18, our commentators have relatively little of interest to say until verse 26. I would note that on verse 19, "Hashem be-hokhmah yasad erets, God with wisdom founded the earth," Rashi assumes that hokhmah means Torah. While this perhaps anticipates the Zohar’s notion that "God looked in the Torah and created the world," it also reminds us of the fundamental split between Rashi and Rasag (and each one’s intellectual successors) about the extent to which we should always see a reference to wisdom as meaning Torah. For Rashi, wisdom resides in Torah; for Rasag, it resides in many places, including Torah.

Those concerned with Torah u-Madda need not despair of including Rashi in their camp simply on the basis of this comment. It is possible that Rashi would say that anything that we perceive as hokhmah must be found in Torah as well. I have encountered numerous people who are anxious to show that any insight valued in the Western world can already be found within Torah (usually referred to as "the seforim"). The difference between Rashi and Rasag, in that reading, becomes the extent to which we feel the urge or obligation to find the root of any kind of wisdom within the province of Torah. To test where you come out, think about how challenged you would feel if you found an insight into the world or humanity whose Torah-origin was uncertain, indeed one that seemed not to have a parallel in Torah proper?

VERSE 26

On verse 26, which reads "for God will your protection, and will watch your leg from becoming entrapped," Gra notes that we can become enmeshed in sin either by lack of knowledge or lack of resistance to the snares of the evil inclination. The verse means to promise protection from both, which is interesting because it assumes that sinning through lack of knowledge is nonetheless sinful. If that is so, sin consists of either the act itself (since the person had no idea that the act was wrong, so it is not his/her experience of the act that counts) or the lack of knowledge (but then the exact sin matters less than the fact of not knowing that it was a sin). Does that set of assumptions match your own notion of sin-- would you imagine that intention was an important element of sin?

VERSE 27

Verse 27, "Do not withold a good from be`alav (literally, its owner), when it is in your power to do it." Most simply, the verse seems to say that we should give a good (do a favor, give money) to those who deserve it whenever we can. Indeed, in his second reading, Rashi takes the verse that way, and so does Gra. Rashi adds that we ought to give money while we can since that in the future we might no longer be able to. That is certainly true, in every economic system ever created. Nonetheless, Rashi's adding that to the plain reading of the verse suggests that he felt that economic uncertainty more tangibly than the other commentators.

Rasag objects to this reading of the verse, since it implies that we ought to give money only to those who deserve it. That in turn assumes that we are able to judge who is truly deserving, and give only to those people. In addition, it would seem to wipe away the concept of hessed, of kindness, and of tsedakah, charity, since by definition the people to whom we give those forms of assistance do not "deserve" it. Rasag therefore suggests a different interpretation, that the verse warns us not to deny those with money the opportunity to give charity. If I am in need of a donation, I should not refrain from asking for it from a person who has the means to give it.

I am reminded of a story I read in one of Pesah Krohn's Maggid books about somebody who was punished by Heaven (or experienced it that way) because he insisted on paying all of the needed money for redeeming captives when, with a little effort, others could have been included in the mitsvah.

Rashi's first reading is similar to Rasag's, since he suggests the verse means not to stop someone else from giving charity when he plans to. While in Rashi's reading, the person is actively discouraging the act of tsedakah, the two commentators agree that the verse is better be read as not stopping a good deed from happening, rather than as urging us to only do favors for those who deserve them.

In my lifelong practice of seeking underlying assumptions, let me point out that Rashi and Rasag view mitsvot as an active good-- in stopping someone else from giving charity (whether by discouraging or not asking), I am denying them a good. This seems related to the halakhah that establishes monetary penalties for denying people mitsvot that are their right (such as leading the birkat hamazon).

VERSE 29

In verse 29, "don’t plan evil for your friend when he is sitting securely with you." both Rashi and Rasag have interesting points. Rashi ratifies the accuracy of the verb that the verse uses, taharosh, which we translated as plan, but literally means to plow. Plowing, Rashi says, creates a place for later planting, and planning evil against someone makes a place in the heart for the ill-feelings that will allow us to go forward with our dastardly plan. I find this particularly interesting in terms of current notions of how the brain works, since when we engage in a certain kind of thinking for a while (as far as I understand it), we ease the neural pathways that support that type of thought, making similar future thoughts more likely. In this sense, also, brain science ratifies the notion of mitsvah goreret mitsvah, that one mitsvah (or sin) leads to another, since each action we do makes a future similar action more likely. In some sense, then, we are indeed plowing our brains when we have negative thoughts towards the other person.

Rasag is bothered by the verse's implication that it is only problematic to plan evil against someone else when the victim has been misled into a false sense of security. It should be obvious, in his view, that we are also not allowed to plan evil against a stranger, despite his having no particular reason to trust us. He therefore notes that the verse comes only to stress the added element of evil, and therefore of punishment, in planning to hurt someone who trusts his antagonist. Who are the people in your life who would qualify as trusting you, and therefore be particularly prohibited to hurt?

VERSE 31

Verse 31 warns us not to be jealous of a robber, and not to follow any of his paths. Rasag sees this verse, and the two that follow, as trying to help us conquer jealousy, which he sees as stemming from seeing someone else doing acts that we are not allowed to. Jealousy, in that view, is not only results-oriented (I am jealous of the car, the wife, the life-style that a person has) but also action oriented (I want to be able to do what that person does).

On the same verse, Gra notes that we might be tempted to imitate some innocuous actions of such a person, which is why the verse stresses not to follow any of his paths. He assumes, then, that evil pervades all of a person’s actions, and cannot be limited to wherever the actual sin occurs—a liar and a thief will be corrupt all the way through, so that we cannot learn even from his practices in circumstances that do not seem related to his usual evil. (The question of whether it is possible to learn only from a person’s good also arises in the case of Elisha b. Avuya, a rabbi in the time of the Mishnah who left the religion and became known as Aher. His student, R. Meir, continued to speak with him, and the gemara asserts that R. Meir was able to withdraw the worthy parts of Aher’s thought, while leaving the points where he had gone wrong. It is clear in that gemara, however, that this ability is not assumed to be widespread.)

The final two verses of the chapter refer to God scorning the scorners, giving grace to the humble, honor to the wise, and shame to fools. Rasag is concerned that we might see this as meaning that God causes these people to act this way, which would raise the question of freewill and fairness. Instead, Rasag claims the verse means only that God will classify all people appropriately (according to their actions), and then treat them accordingly.

Gra, explaining the meaning of the term anav, a modest person, says that it is one who is able to bear the insults of others without returning them. This is an idea from a gemara that says that such people—hane`elavim ve-‘einam `olvim, those who are insulted and do not insult in return—are the true lovers of God. In identifying such people as those who are truly modest, Gra implicitly suggests that what leads us to respond to insult is our need to protect our sense of self. Humility, meaning a lowered sense of what our "rights" are, can help us rid ourselves of the urge to defend our esteem and honor. Another way to interpret the behavior of hane`elavim ve-einam olvim, however, would have been to suggest that despite having healthy senses of self, we might decide to forego responding in kind to those who insult us, simply because of the value of preserving or restoring peace in our lives. What are the insults that you feel obligated (or that you have the absolute "right") to respond to vigorously, and what is it inside of you that makes those particular insults so galling?