Introduction
In Chapter 3, the poet speaks in the first person: "I am the man who has seen affliction." He portrays the suffering not only as a national catastrophe, but as an intensely personal experience, step by step - suffering that steadily escalates and worsens. In this section, we examine four verses - verses 13 through 16 - which depict the torment, the mockery of the nations, the bitterness of exile, and the visceral humiliation of the body. We will proceed through the verses in order, citing the classical commentaries, the words of the Midrash, and the moral lessons that emerge from them.
"He Caused the Arrows of His Quiver to Enter My Kidneys" - A Shot That Does Not Kill Instantly
הֵבִיא בְּכִלְיֹתָי בְּנֵי אַשְׁפָּתוֹ׃ (י"ג) - "He caused the arrows of His quiver to enter my kidneys." (13)
Rabbi Moshe Almosnino explains: "Ashpato" refers to the quiver of arrows. When one simply wants to kill someone, he shoots at the heart - one arrow finishes the job. But when someone wants to torture, he does not shoot a bullet into the head; he shoots in the hand, then in the leg, relishing the sight of his agony. This is the poet's grievance: where did He shoot His arrows? "He caused [them] to enter my kidneys." Not into the heart, but into the kidneys, so that death would be slow and agonizing. This continues directly into the next verse, "I became their song all day long" - how deeply the enemy relished toying with me and tormenting me.
The Lechem Dim'ah offers a homiletic play on words: Nebuchadnezzar brought the lowest and most contemptible people here, dredging them from the refuse and the garbage heaps (ashpah), to deal with the Jews. "He brought into my kidneys the sons of his quiver (ashpato)" - He brought the sons of the dung heaps against me. This is terrifying: when your oppressor is someone with self-respect, a "mensch" in some sense, even if he fights you and afflicts you, you are still facing an honorable person. But when you face absolute human refuse, that is the most horrific state of all, because such a person will commit the most monstrous acts, showing cruelty and abuse without a single pang of conscience.
The Ahavat Tziyon explains that this contains an allusion to the diminution of wisdom at the time of the destruction. Chazal describe a spiritual descent of the generations, decline after decline: "The wise began to become like scribes" - those once considered sages fell to the level of mere scribes. The kidneys are counselors, and this is the meaning of "He brought into my kidneys" - those who once stood at an exalted rank were brought down to the level of merely advisory kidneys.
The Rokeach (the Rav of Worms), whose custom is to expound extensively through textual allusions, notes the acronym: "Be-chilyotai Benei Ashpato" forms BABA, an allusion to Rabbi Yehuda ben Baba. And how was Rabbi Yehuda ben Baba martyred? They drove three hundred iron spears into his body. Thus, what was drawn from the quiver - the arrows, spears, and lances - three hundred of them, where were they driven? "He brought [them] into my kidneys."
"I Became a Derision to All My Peoples" - Standing on the Sidelines and Laughing
הָיִיתִי שְּׂחֹק לְכָל עַמִּי נְגִינָתָם כָּל הַיּוֹם׃ (י"ד) - "I became a derision to all my peoples, their song all day long." (14)
This is the way of the world: when someone is enduring suffering, people look at his plight, shake their heads in dismay, and empathize with his pain. Even if it is merely outward, there is a degree of comfort in it - people recognize my sorrow. But when no one shares in his pain at all, his agony is compounded: no one sees my plight, no one notices how deeply I suffer. And if that were not enough, when they actually rejoice over his ruin, the pain multiplies tenfold.
"To all ammi" - the Ridvaz explains that this does not refer to "my people," but rather to all the nations, as in the verse "Who subdues peoples (ammi) under me." I became an object of derision to all the nations; "their song all day long" - I am their melody; all day long they sing about me and endlessly broadcast: the Jews, the troubles caused by the Jews, the Jewish problem. The newspapers were filled with this. Anyone who examines Europe prior to the Holocaust finds precise parallels here: "Strike the Jew and save Europe." Our problem is the Jews; our misery is caused by the Jews. They had a propaganda minister, Goebbels, whose sole role was to portray the Jew as something demonic and terrifying that must be eradicated. They demonized and delegitimized the Jew: Jews are filthy, diseased, like vermin. And once people internalize that this is what Jews are, then just as cockroaches are treated with bug spray, Jews are treated with Zyklon B. After all, they are viewed as a festering abscess, parasites, pests; this is simply pest control. That is why it went so smoothly: once you delegitimize an entire group to the point where they have no right to exist, and even worse, view them as a cancer in the national body - cancer is treated with radiation.
And this is also the reality we experience today, unfortunately, as observant Jews. All the economic problems, all the troubles: if the Charedim would just study core secular curriculum - everything would be solved, a New Middle East, even Abu Mazen would agree to sign a peace treaty with us. If only we solve the "Charedi problem", if only they join the workforce, if only they stop learning - all the problems will disappear. And this is what the lamenter is saying: it is bad enough that we suffer afflictions, but when someone stands on the sidelines, watching and mocking - that is the hardest part of all.
Beitar, Which Rejoiced Over the Destruction of Jerusalem
In the sefer Elon Bachut, he explains that there is an allusion here to the people of Beitar. It is written that when Jerusalem was destroyed, the people of Beitar were engaged in celebration, as the Gemara recounts - they did not mourn over the destruction of Jerusalem. "This does not concern us, it is far away, it is over there; with us everything is fine, we have no problems." The Holy One, blessed be He, said: If so, you too shall drink the cup of poison. And therefore Beitar was also destroyed on Tisha B'Av. This is the meaning of "I have become a laughingstock to all my people" - according to the Elon Bachut, this refers to our own people, your own brothers. Does Jerusalem not concern you? Just because things are good in Beitar, you are not required to share in their pain? You hold celebrations? And because "I was a laughingstock to all my people, their mocking song all day long," the consequence followed: "He has sated me with bitterness, He has drenched me with wormwood" - fifty-two years later, Beitar was also destroyed on Tisha B'Av, because they did not mourn over the destruction of Jerusalem.
"He Has Sated Me with Bitterness" - The Night of Pesach and the Night of Tisha B'Av
הִשְׂבִּיעַנִי בַמְּרוֹרִים הִרְוַנִי לַעֲנָה׃ (ט"ו) - He has sated me with bitterness; He has drenched me with wormwood. (15)
The prophet laments: Hashem fed me bitter herbs to satiety, and drenched me with wormwood - and wormwood refers to poisonous hemlock, for rosh is a lethal poison. And the author of Elon Bachut notes: although I eat maror on the Seder night of Pesach, that is merely a taste; here, "He has sated me with bitterness" - He gave me the bitter herbs until I was full.
In Eichah Rabbah, Chazal expound: "'He has sated me with bitterness' - this is the first day of Pesach, concerning which it is stated: 'with matzot and bitter herbs they shall eat it'; 'He has drenched me with wormwood' - this is the night of Tisha B'Av." What is the connection between the two? The first night of Pesach always falls on the same day of the week as the night of Tisha B'Av. This is the famous mnemonic of At-Bash: Alef corresponds to Pesach, Tav to Tisha B'Av; Beit to Pesach, Shin to Shavuot; Gimmel-Reish, Dalet-Kuf, and so forth - a sign to know on which day of the week each holiday falls.
The Lechem Dim'ah explains what this is meant to convey: because I was blessed with an abundance of goodness on the festival of Pesach, and from a state of immense abundance I suffered a tremendous fall - the pain was magnified greatly. Someone who has always lived as a pauper and then suffers a fall does not find it quite as jarring; falling off a chair onto the floor is not catastrophic, but falling from the top of the Azrieli Towers to the ground is a disaster. This is the idea: on the Seder night of Pesach I stood at an elevated level and an exalted state, and in contrast to that ascent - "He has drenched me with wormwood," the night of Pesach is matched with the night of Tisha B'Av. See how vast, difficult, and staggering the fall was.
Two Kezayit Measures of Maror - A Sign of Destruction
The Elon Bachut further explains the Midrash's idea that "He sated me with bitterness" refers to the night of Pesach: before the destruction of the Temple, people would eat only one kezayit of maror on Pesach night. The measure of satiety (shevi'ah) is a kabeitzah (the volume of an egg), which equals two kezayitim. After the destruction, however, we are instructed to eat maror twice: once on its own, which we do initially, and once wrapped with matzah, which is korech. Thus is our order: HaMotzi and Al Achilat Matzah - we eat a kezayit of matzah; Al Achilat Maror - we eat a kezayit of maror; and then korech. It turns out that we eat maror twice, two kezayitim, which amounts to the threshold of satiety. And why was it not instituted to eat the maror together with the matzah in the first place? So that the taste of the maror would not override the taste of the matzah; therefore we were told: eat matzah first on its own, then maror on its own, and then both together. And all of this came about solely in the wake of the destruction of the Beit HaMikdash. Thus we find an allusion: following the destruction, one must eat maror twice, and "He has sated me with bitterness" - the maror has become something that brings satiety.
The Dubno Maggid: The Bitterness Still Ahead of Us
In Kol Yaakov, he cites the explanation of the Dubno Maggid: that which He sated me with bitterness on the night of Pesach - He drenched me with wormwood on the night of Tisha B'Av. He explains as follows: it is said of the redemption from Egypt that it was not a complete redemption. We tend to think that eating the maror on the Seder night symbolizes the bitterness of Egypt, but in truth, it also alludes to the bitterness of Tisha B'Av. How so? When did we leave Egypt? After 210 years of exile. And how many years did the Holy One, blessed be He, state that we would be in exile? Four hundred years. What happened to the remainder of the calculation? There is indeed an explanation that the harshness of the servitude completed the count, and there is an explanation that because the Jewish people had nearly reached the fiftieth gate of impurity, from which there is no return, there was no choice but to take them out immediately. Yet the reckoning remains: 190 years were still left to be completed. The commentators explain that the Jewish people complete those years in the subsequent exiles; all the afflictions that came upon the future generations serve to make up for the fact that the Holy One, blessed be He, rushed the end. The Holy One, blessed be He, hastened to redeem us - and know that in the end, the price must be paid.
Thus, we eat maror, thinking it comes only to recall that past bitterness; but know that this maror is also futuristic, hinting that you have not yet paid the full price. On the account, another 190 years remain to be settled, and how they are distributed we do not know, but an unsettled account remains. Therefore, Scripture comes and warns repeatedly: remember the Exodus from Egypt. Why is there such a strong warning to remember? Because the Holy One, blessed be He, says: you still have more maror in the future, you will yet eat much maror, and I fear that that maror will make you forget the first maror. For later troubles make one forget earlier ones: "Who remembers being slaves in Egypt? Do you know what our situation is today? Do you know how much we are suffering today?" Today's maror will make one forget that maror - and therefore the Torah warns again and again: do not forget that maror.
The Parable of the Letters
To what can this be compared? asks the Dubno Maggid. To a merchant who traveled from Italy, let us say, to Switzerland. A man meets him there and asks after his wellbeing and that of his acquaintances in Italy. He says to him: Do me a favor - I will give you letters, deliver them to my relatives, I want to know how they are doing. The merchant says to him: No problem at all, I will do it. He wrote him letters and handed them over. Before he departed, he told him: Listen, please, do not forget the letters, deliver them to my relatives in Italy. He replied: You have nothing to worry about. He ran into him again: Remember - the letters to the relatives in Italy! He said: You already told me, it is fine. The merchant boarded the ship's gangway, and the man called after him: Remember, the letters, do not forget! He replied: Listen here, you are driving me crazy, I told you I will deliver them, do not worry!
The merchant arrived in Italy - and behold, he discovered that his business house, for which he had gone to purchase merchandise, had gone up in flames; losses of millions and immense anguish. Only then did he realize: that man in Switzerland had already received a letter from Italy informing him that the business house had burned down. He did not want to break the bad news to him and plunge him into depression, but he knew that once the merchant arrived and learned of the magnitude of the disaster and began dealing with it - who would remember the letters? That was why he reminded him again and again and again: do not forget the letters.
And this is the moral for us, says the Dubno Maggid. The Holy One, blessed be He, knew that the Egyptian exile was just one of many exiles that we endured and would yet endure, and therefore He warns: remember the Exodus from Egypt, remember the Exodus from Egypt. Why? Because when the other exiles arrive, who will remember the letters? Who will remember what happened back then? And this is "He has sated me with bitterness" - the Holy One, blessed be He, sates me with maror on the night of Pesach and says: remember the bitterness of Egypt - "He has saturated me with wormwood," because He knows that you are destined to endure even harsher bitterness on Tisha B'Av. Therefore, I ask of you: remember the letters that I hand you now; I know that when you arrive there, you will find a burned Beit HaMikdash and dreadful troubles, and will you then remember the Exodus from Egypt? We can also expound "hisbi'ani" (He has sated me) from the language of shevuah (an oath): as if the Holy One, blessed be He, adjured us and made a covenant with us - remember that I took you out of the land of Egypt.
The Kinah "Aleichem Edah Kedoshah"
Based upon this principle is the famous kinah that we all know and recite on Tisha B'Av: "Unto you, holy congregation, I shall ask questions: Why is this night different from all other nights?" And what is the connection between the night of Tisha B'Av and the night of Pesach? By the way, why do we eat an egg on the Seder night? Because the egg is a sign of mourning, coming to hint that the day of redemption - the night of Pesach - has turned into the day of exile, which is the night of Tisha B'Av.
And so we say: Why on the night of Pesach do we eat matzot and maror, yet now on this night we are sated with contempt and bitterness, over the slaughter of the righteous, over the seed of the upright, and therefore in bitter weeping I raise my voice like dances? Why on the night of Pesach is the table set with joy, yet now, in our iniquities, on this night there is weeping and groaning, alas, for we have found no rest for the sole of our foot; woe, for distress has arrived, therefore I forget dances? Why on the night of Pesach do we drink the cups with a blessing, yet now on this night we read Megillat Eicha - how in exile I have dwelt and come to a land of bewilderment; therefore, woe over this, I shall raise a voice of wailing? Why on the night of Pesach do we always read the Haggadah, yet now on this night we recite in bitter weeping of wrath; woe, for my mistress has prolonged her stay and the time of visitation has come; woe over the cherished city and the houses of prayer? Why on the night of Pesach do we always complete the Hallel, yet now on this night we lament, eulogize, and wail, for through our iniquities we cannot now pray - as we said, "He shut out my prayer" - for the Beit HaMikdash is desecrated and the sanctuaries are destroyed? Why on the night of Pesach do we say "Pour out [Your wrath]" in song, yet now on this night we have drunk wormwood, hemlock, and gall; woe, for joy has ceased and the ways of Zion mourn? May the children dwelling in desolation be consoled in exile - some mistakenly read "in Zion," but the intention is b'tziyah, in desolation, the children dwelling in parched wasteland - I shall raise you from lowliness, I will prepare the service of Zion, I will build the bridal pavilion, then you shall rejoice with gladness. May Hashem redeem us with an everlasting redemption speedily.
"He Has Broken My Teeth with Gravel" - The Dough Kneaded in Dirt
וַיַּגְרֵס בֶּחָצָץ שִׁנָּי הִכְפִּישַׁנִי בָּאֵפֶר׃ (ט"ז) - "He has broken my teeth with gravel; He has ground me down in ashes" (16).
It is brought in Eicha Rabbah: When Israel went into exile, a person would come to knead his dough and would not know what to knead it in - they did not even have utensils to knead inside. What would he do? He would dig a hollow in the ground and knead inside it, and pebbles would stick to the dough, sand would stick, and small stones would stick. And once he put it in his mouth, his teeth would be blunted, fulfilling what is stated: "He has broken my teeth with gravel."
And why all of this? Because they did not listen to the voice of Yechezkel. The Holy One, blessed be He, hinted to him: "And you, son of man, prepare for yourself exile gear" - a leather bag, a mat, and a bowl. A leather bag - to put flour in and place under his head; a bowl - to eat from and drink from; a mat - to sit on and sleep on. The Holy One, blessed be He, said to Israel: Look at what Yechezkel is doing, you do so as well. Had you listened to him, you would have had a bowl to put the flour into; but you did not listen and did not prepare exile gear. And "prepare exile gear" expresses something deeper: they did not prepare at all for going into exile. In their view - we are staying right here; the prophets always like to frighten people, the Rabbis always talk about Gog u'Magog, everything will be fine, do not worry. And because of this, no one got organized in advance, and they did not even prepare a bowl to take with them. And since that was so - "He has broken my teeth with gravel."
And what is the meaning of "He pressed me into the ashes" (hikpishani va'efer)? Some explain it as an expression of soiling or defilement, and so Rashi says: He soiled me with ashes. Others explain it as an expression of overturning, like a vessel overturned on its rim, for kefishah refers to using a vessel on its inverted bottom. That is to say: not only were my teeth broken, but my entire body, as it were, was thrust into the ashes.
In summary:
In these four verses, the depth of suffering is revealed: "He drove into my kidneys the arrows of His quiver" - slow, deliberate suffering inflicted by people drawn from the refuse, alongside the generational decline in wisdom and an allusion to the martyrdom of Rabbi Yehudah ben Bava. "I was a laughingstock to all my people" - the agony of the mockery from onlookers, from the incitement that preceded the Holocaust to modern mockery of Torah observers, and a rebuke to the men of Beitar who rejoiced when Jerusalem fell. "He has sated me with bitter herbs, saturated me with wormwood" - the link between the night of Pesach and the night of Tisha B'Av: the sheer depth of the fall from abundance, the two kezeitim of maror consumed after the Churban, and the debt that still remained to be settled, which is why we are commanded to remember the Exodus from Egypt so that later tragedies do not cause it to be forgotten. And finally, "He broke my teeth with gravel" - the lot of those who failed to prepare gear for exile and refused to believe the words of the prophets. From here we draw the moral lesson: to share in the pain of our brethren, to remember Hashem's earlier kindnesses, and to heed the voice of the prophets instead of saying, "Everything will be fine." May Hashem redeem us with an eternal redemption, speedily in our days.