Chapter 5 is the closing lamentation of Megillat Eicha, in which the author recounts the actual outcomes of the Destruction: the humiliation, the famine, the subjugation, and the betrayal by the nations. The present lesson examines a selection of the chapter's verses, from verse 6 onward. With each verse, we will explore its plain meaning, the explanations of the Rishonim and commentators, and the insights of Chazal and ethical lessons derived from it.
מִצְרַיִם נָתַנּוּ יָד אַשּׁוּר לִשְׂבֹּעַ לָחֶם׃ - To Egypt we gave a hand, and to Assyria, to be satisfied with bread.
Rashi explains: It is the way of a person who is falling and seeks to stand up to extend his hand to whoever is standing beside him so that they will help him. Here too, we extended our hand to Egypt so they would help us. That is, the meaning is not that Egypt gave a hand to us, but rather "to Egypt we gave a hand" - we reached out our hand like a drowning person crying out for rescue. And we turned to Assyria so they would satisfy us with bread. Regarding the phrasing of the verse, Rashi notes that the dagesh in the nun of "natannu" (נָתַנּוּ) serves in place of a second nun, as in the verse "For all things come from You, and from Your hand we have given to You" (Divrei HaYamim I 29:14), where the meaning is not "they gave" but "we gave." Rather than writing a double nun, it is written with a dagesh.
And on the expression "give a hand": there is a story told of a man who was drowning in the sea. People came to rescue him and shouted, "Give us your hand, give us your hand, we will pull you out!" But nothing helped. A clever bystander stood there and called out to him, "Take my hand!" Immediately, the drowning man reached out his hand and was pulled to safety. That clever man told the crowd: "You do not understand. He does not know a word like 'give.' Tell him 'take' - that he is willing to hear."
The author of the lamentation further conveys: consider what a terrible famine it was, which compelled us to extend a hand to Egypt and Assyria - not so that they would send us luxuries, neither horses nor anything extravagant, but merely bread. "To be satisfied with bread" alone.
In Eicha Rabbah, Chazal state: The people of Israel used to send oil from the Land of Israel to Egypt, purchase grain from there, and send that grain to Assyria. And why did they do all this? In the spirit of "Cast your bread upon the waters," so that when the time came, they would come to their aid. This is as the verse states (Hoshea 12:2): "And they make a covenant with Assyria, and oil is carried to Egypt." Yet even though we helped them with oil and grain, investing in them for years - come and see how they betrayed us. The commentary Chut Shel Chessed explains: "To Assyria to be satisfied with bread" - Assyria gave bread to our enemies so that they would wage war against Israel. Not only did they fail to help us, but they actively assisted in striking us.
This is comparable to what we see in our own days: they constantly pleaded for mercy - that they had no way to build, no way to develop; "give them cement, give them cement." And we saw that they indeed built and developed very well, but underground. They built nothing above ground at all; all the cement was used to construct tunnels in order to attack us when the time came. And it is Hashem's kindness that everything blew open now.
Someone remarked: is there any other explanation for why they did not activate the tunnels earlier? After all, they could have activated them a month or two months prior, and imagine - companies emerging while we were asleep, with no preparation and no warning, twenty to thirty fighters emerging from each shaft. We could have awakened to an unimaginable inferno beyond description, a morning darker than black, something on the scale of the Twin Towers disaster. In a single attack, they could have taken fifty hostages, striking entire communities while everyone was asleep, or carried out a massacre and retreated back into the tunnels without anyone knowing what happened. What tremendous kindness of Hashem that they did not launch it back then. Who can comprehend this, other than recognizing that the Holy One, blessed be He, placed it into their hearts not to do so? For had they acted earlier, who knows what a devastating psychological victory and haul of captives they would have achieved; they could have freed all their prisoners simply through the captives taken into that underground city. This is nothing other than Hashem's providence. Whoever reflects will see how the dog's chain remains in its Master's hand: the Holy One, blessed be He, took pity and had mercy upon us, did not unleash those predatory beasts against us, and orchestrated events so that everything would be uncovered before an even greater disaster struck.
אֲבֹתֵינוּ חָטְאוּ וְאֵינָם וַאֲנַחְנוּ עֲוֺנֹתֵיהֶם סָבָלְנוּ׃ - Our fathers sinned and are no more, and we have borne their iniquities.
The Alon Bachut explains: When the Holy One, Blessed be He, wished to give the Torah, He said to the Jewish people, "Bring Me guarantors." Israel responded, "Master of the Universe, our children are our guarantors. If, Heaven forbid, anything is amiss - our children are our guarantors." As it says, "Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings You have founded strength." Therefore, for the sin of neglecting Torah study (bitul Torah), young children die, for on their account the Holy One, Blessed be He, founded the holy Torah - "Hashem will give strength to His people." And this is what the verse means: "Our fathers sinned and are no more, and we have borne their iniquities" - as their guarantors. Why did we bear their sins? Because we are the children, and as children, we are the guarantors for the sins of the fathers.
In Sha'arei Chaim, another homiletic explanation is offered: "Our fathers sinned and are no more" - when our fathers sinned, if they ever stumbled in iniquity, they immediately repented, "and are no more." "Will you set your eyes upon it and it is gone?" - the sin is gone, instantly erased. When the prophet came to David, what did David immediately say? "I have sinned" - he confessed on the spot, and immediately, "Hashem has also put away your sin." Our fathers sinned and were no more - they knew how to repent immediately, in the spirit of "do not harbor suspicions about a scholar at night, for he has certainly repented," and "for the wind passes over it, and it is gone."
We, however - "and we have borne (savalnu) their iniquities." Were we to commit sins like them, we would bear them on our shoulders and carry them in silence. We feel no urgency to repent, no need to rush, atone, and be purified. "We have borne" - we are able to tolerate and bear our sins upon our shoulders. Our fathers, by contrast, could not bear (lisbol) the weight of sin upon themselves for even a moment: they sinned - and they were no more; they immediately saw to it to repent, ensuring they would not go to sleep with sin upon their hands.
עֲבָדִים מָשְׁלוּ בָנוּ פֹּרֵק אֵין מִיָּדָם׃ - Slaves have ruled over us; there is no one to deliver us from their hand.
The Lechem Dim'ah explains: "Slaves have ruled over us" - because we were not the servants of Hashem. After all, the Holy One, Blessed be He, declared, "For unto Me the children of Israel are servants" - you are to be My servants, and not servants to servants. And since we were not servants to the Master of the Universe, we became servants to servants, and consequently, who rules over us? Slaves.
And why is "there no one to deliver us from their hand"? Commentators explain: The heart of kings and ministers is in the hand of Hashem - "The king's heart is in the hand of Hashem; He turns it wherever He wishes." The reason is simple: a king can, in a single moment, decree severe and terrible things, possessing power over the lives of hundreds, thousands, and millions. Therefore, the master must hold the dog's leash, as the holy Ohr HaChaim phrases it; thus kings cannot simply do whatever enters their mind.
This is also the underlying reason behind the rabbinic teaching that whoever persecutes Israel is made a ruler: in order to elevate him to the status of a king. If he has the status of a king, the master holds the leash, and he cannot do whatever he pleases; Hashem, as it were, can intervene in that person's free will. But if he is not in the category of a king, it is a grave problem, for then he can treat us as he pleases with unimpeded free choice; only with kings does the Holy One, Blessed be He, intervene in their free will.
This also sheds light on the Midrash on Megillat Esther: "'And it came to pass in the days of Achashverosh' - this denotes distress; 'this is Achashverosh who reigned from Hodu to Cush' - this denotes relief." At first glance, this Midrash is astonishing: what connection is there between his reigning from Hodu to Cush and relief? But according to this principle, it is profound: "'And it came to pass in the days of Achashverosh' - before he became king, when some rogue leader wields power over us, that is distress, an acute crisis; how can one deal with him? The Holy One, Blessed be He, does not, as it were, intervene in his free will. But once 'this is Achashverosh who reigned' - he became king? That is relief; here there is already an opening for salvation, for the heart of kings and ministers is in the hand of Hashem, and the Holy One, Blessed be He, can govern it. This is the meaning of the verse: 'Slaves have ruled over us' - the moment our rulers are mere slaves, 'there is no one to deliver us from their hand.' Who can deliver and who can rescue us from their grip? A slave's heart is not in the hand of Hashem, and he can act with great cruelty toward us - and who will save us?
It is important to emphasize that this entire explanation follows only according to the approach, such as that of the holy Or HaChaim and others, that an agent of free choice has the power to harm even someone against whom it was not decreed from Heaven. However, according to those who maintain that an agent of free choice has no power to harm anyone against whom it was not decreed, and no person can touch what is prepared for his fellow by even a hairsbreadth - and consequently, free choice is limited when it comes to harming another person - this explanation does not apply, since in any case no one can harm us unless it was decreed upon us to be harmed. As the masters of Mussar teach, our accepted tradition follows the opinion of the Vilna Gaon, that a person cannot harm his fellow and an agent of free choice has no power to damage another: there is free choice, but it is limited, and an agent of free choice has no power to harm anyone against whom it was not decreed.
The Lechem Dimah offers another explanation: it is the normal way of the world to have pity on distinguished people who have fallen into captivity, and they are not treated in a humiliating and degrading manner. But all this applies when you fall into the hands of ordinary captors; if you fall into the hands of slaves - "there is none to deliver us out of their hand." Slaves have no sentiments; they do not recognize the Geneva Convention or anything of the sort, and there it is truly a serious problem.
Furthermore, when a person falls into slavery, the master can decide whether to intensify his burden or lighten it; sometimes he is harsh and sometimes lenient. But if you fall into servitude under a slave who himself has a master, and that master commanded his slave to subjugate you - "there is none to deliver us out of their hand." This is an inescapable deadlock, because that slave tells you: I cannot refrain from tormenting you, I take orders, and the orders were received from the master. As long as we fell into the hands of masters - the master is his own authority and can decide to stop the torment. But when we fell into the hands of a slave, the slave says: I am not the decision-maker; I received orders, and they are to subjugate you. Consequently, he has no permission to show leniency, and therefore, "there is none to deliver us out of their hand."
The Alon Bachut cites the words of the Midrash: "'Slaves ruled over us' - these are the empires." What does this mean? The king feels great, he rules over us; this is Nebuchadnezzar, he feels immense. But what is the true perspective regarding him? The Holy One, blessed be He, calls him "Nebuchadnezzar My servant." He looks like a king to you, he looks powerful to you, but we view him as a slave - and not just any slave, but a slave subjugated to his own lusts.
It is told of one of the Gedolei Yisrael that on the morning after the United States presidential elections, he immediately went to find out who had won. People asked him: Since when does the Rav take an interest in local politics, let alone world politics? And what does it matter who was elected president of the United States, especially before Shacharit? He told them: I am about to recite Birkat HaShachar, and I want to know whom to have in mind when I say "shelo asani goy" (Who did not make me a gentile). When you recite "shelo asani goy," do you have Ahmad from the kitchen in mind? Certainly not. In "shelo asani goy," one has in mind the president of the United States, the number one person in the world, the person with the most power. Regarding him I have in mind: Thank You, Master of the Universe, for not making me a gentile.
Even if one is the most prestigious non-Jew, and the Jew is the lowliest, a Jew sunk in the deepest mud - the Jew is a diamond. Soiled with filth, covered in mud perhaps, but a diamond. By contrast, the most honored non-Jew is a stone, a clod of earth, wrapped in all kinds of cellophane, but still an earthen stone; when you peel it away in the end, you will discover gravel. But a Jew is a diamond. And this is what the verse tells you: know that even though they consider themselves kings, they are merely playing - playing king. In the past, the game was played with a scepter with an orb on top and a crown, and today they play with other toys, with presidential motorcades and the White House and the like. It is all a game, and we are not awed by it. To us, he is in the category of a slave: "Nebuchadnezzar My servant" - he ruled over the known world, yet he was "My servant," nothing more than a slave, and they never leave the hand of the Holy One, blessed be He, even when they call themselves kings.
The Rishantov explains: "Slaves ruled over us" - instead of us being masters and rulers over others, slaves rule over us. Even though they are slaves, today they rule over us instead of us ruling over them. And this corresponds generally to what we saw from the Lechem Dimah: because we did not fulfill what Hashem commanded, "For unto Me the Children of Israel are servants" - I was not a servant to Hashem, and so I brought upon myself that a slave should rule over me.
In Chut Shel Chesed and Kol Yaakov, it is explained: A slave who has grown accustomed to hard labor and backbreaking work has no pity when he sees others performing those same tasks. Why be moved? After all, he himself has done this countless times. He has no compassion. A refined person, when he sees someone working hard and toiling, feels his heart ache: look how he is sweating. But one who does this himself all the time says: "So what? He is exerting himself, it's work, that is how one makes a living, that is life." He feels no pity. And this is what makes it so hard: "Slaves have ruled over us" - those who rule over us are people accustomed to the harshest labor and hardened by suffering, and therefore "there is none to deliver us from their hand." Who can free or rescue anyone from the hands of such people?
Another reason: slaves do not free their own slaves. We even find in history slaves who had slaves of their own - Ziba, the servant of Mephibosheth, who himself had many servants. When a slave has slaves, he is in no hurry to free them, for it grants him a sense of superiority: "Me, a slave? There are people beneath me!" Therefore, "Slaves have ruled over us" - since a slave rules over me, the chance of being freed from him is practically zero, because he always wants to feel elevated, always wants to feel on top. A free man can release slaves from time to time, for your being his slave does not define his status; but when you are a slave to a slave, you make him into something - instead of a slave, he now feels like a master. Therefore, when slaves rule over us, "there is none to deliver us from their hand."
בְּנַפְשֵׁנוּ נָבִיא לַחְמֵנוּ מִפְּנֵי חֶרֶב הַמִּדְבָּר׃ - "At the peril of our lives we bring our bread, because of the sword of the wilderness."
According to the simple meaning, as described in Yosippon, they would go out with literal self-sacrifice to search for food. There are similar accounts from the 1948 War of Independence and other times, when under shelling and facing genuine starvation, people had to risk their lives to fetch food. It is well known that Rav Elyashiv's daughter was killed in one of the shellings in 1948 when she went out at the peril of her life to bring food; she was a young girl, and she went out risking her life, and there was a bombardment, may Hashem protect us. "At the peril of our lives we bring our bread" - sometimes just going to fetch bread required self-sacrifice, merely to obtain a morsel to eat.
Another explanation: the soul was created to yearn for spirituality, but instead it craves materiality. To what can this be compared? To two merchants. One traded in precious gems and pearls, while the other traded in hides - not the finest of trades, for animal hides have a foul stench, and the tanner's work is unpleasant. One day they said to each other: "Let us switch professions." For generally, a person is never satisfied with his own occupation; he always looks at his fellow and thinks the other is making more money. But is such a thing conceivable? The one who dealt in precious stones arrives at the new business and faints from the smell; while the one who dealt in hides suddenly handles precious gems - they slip through his fingers, he does not know what they are worth or how to distinguish between them, and he is unaccustomed to such delicate matters.
So too, one must know: the soul is a portion of God from above, pure and pristine. When you mix it with mud, with sand, with physical cravings and the mundane affairs of this world, it has no natural connection or affinity for such things. Yet this is man's reality: he prays, and with every word he thinks: "What about the bank? What about my salary? What about the child? What did my wife ask me to buy on the way home?" Throughout his entire prayer, where is his head? On food, on livelihood, on worldly affairs. "With our soul we bring our bread" - even when we are engaged in spirituality and the matters of our soul, our minds are immersed in our bread.
Regarding this, it is homiletically remarked: "Why has the son of Jesse not come, neither yesterday nor today, to the meal [el halechem - lit., to the bread]?" Why has Mashiach ben David, whom we await continuously, not arrived yesterday or today? "To the bread!" Because all of our requests, all of our prayers, and all of our aspirations are directed toward bread: "Master of the Universe, grant gates of livelihood; Master of the Universe, grant health and peace of mind." Everything revolves around livelihood, materiality, bread. And you expect the son of Jesse to come? This is "with our soul we bring our bread" - when we pray and engage in matters of the soul, what does the body demand and toward what does it aspire? Toward bread, livelihood, and physical affairs. As the paytan writes: "Man's origin is from dust and his end is to dust; at the peril of his soul he brings his bread" - and to what is he compared? To a broken pottery shard. If you indeed bring your bread with your soul, and all the soul's concerns are concentrated merely on bread, then one is truly like a broken shard.
Commentators further explain: there are people who work in jobs that, spiritually speaking, are untenable. For instance, a bus driver in Tel Aviv - what are you selling your World to Come for? For an Egged bus driver's salary? Or someone who works as a lifeguard at a mixed beach, may Hashem protect us, or sells popsicles there. You are surrendering your World to Come for what? And the person says: "Look, a livelihood is a livelihood." This is "at the peril of our lives [lit. with our soul] we bring our bread" - you are willing to surrender your soul and lose all spiritual and eternal life merely to bring bread.
Similarly, when someone is asked: "Why don't you attend the shiur? Why don't you come to learn? Why don't you come to the midrasha?" and he replies: "I had work, I had business." What, is all of life just work? "What is this service to you?" Do you never have time for yourself? Do you work until midnight? When you come home, what about spirituality? Invest at least one hour in the World to Come; come to the beit midrash. Such a person exemplifies "with our soul we bring our bread": he gives up his soul, his spirituality, and his eternal life just to bring bread, which is merely fleeting, physical existence in this world.
עוֹרֵנוּ כְּתַנּוּר נִכְמָרוּ מִפְּנֵי זַלְעֲפוֹת רָעָב׃ - Our skin was scorched like an oven, because of the burning pangs of famine.
In its plain sense, this is the continuation of the previous verse: such a terrible famine prevailed that "at the risk of our lives we bring our bread," and "our skin grew hot like an oven." And what is the meaning of nichmaru? In Eicha Rabbah, two explanations are brought. The first: "like kamrita" - like dates ripened and shriveled by the sun. Have you ever seen a date that begins to dry? It looks like shriveled, wrinkled skin; that is kamrita, and we became like drying dates. The second explanation: like an oven that was not properly heated. That is, the body's proper functioning depends on normal body temperature, and when body heat weakens, it is like an oven that has not been heated sufficiently. But the simple meaning of nichmaru is became hot, as in the phrase nichmeru rachamav - his compassion was stirred (warmed). "Our skin grew hot like an oven" - it became as hot as a furnace.
The Lechem Dimah connects this to the previous verse: "At the risk of our lives we bring our bread, because of the sword of the wilderness" - had bread been obtainable, we would have gone to fetch it even at the risk of the sword, ready to hazard our lives to obtain bread. This is also completely logical, just as the four lepers said: If we do not go, we die; and if we go, there is a danger we might die, but at least there is a chance we might live. If we are killed, we are killed, but that is still better than dying of starvation. But what can we do when "our skin was scorched like an oven because of the burning pangs of famine" - when there is nowhere to bring it from, and nothing to bring? Like that servant sent by Martha bat Boethus: "Go and bring me fine flour," "Go and bring me coarse bread" - and there was no longer any bread left and nothing to eat. We are prepared to bring bread and risk our lives for it, but there is no bread to be found that we could bring and eat.
נָשִׁים בְּצִיּוֹן עִנּוּ בְּתֻלֹת בְּעָרֵי יְהוּדָה׃ - Women in Zion they ravished, virgins in the cities of Judah.
An early commentary explains: Since the Jewish women were renowned throughout the world for their beauty, when the wicked invaders entered, they fell cruelly upon the daughters of Israel, both the married and the unmarried. "Women in Zion they ravished" - these are the married women; "virgins in the cities of Judah" - these are the unmarried maidens.
The Targum explains: "Women in Zion they ravished" - women who were married to men were violated by the Romans; "virgins in the cities of Judah" - in the time of the Chaldeans (Babylonians). What is the meaning behind this distinction? Why only virgins in the time of the Chaldeans, and married women in the time of the Romans? The Alon Bachut explains: The reason they did not touch married women then, as related in Midrash Eicha, is that Nebuzaradan commanded his troops, saying to them: The God of these people detests promiscuity; beware, do not touch a married woman. It is well known that even a non-Jew is forbidden from committing adultery with a married woman, as this is one of the Noahide prohibitions - meaning he, too, understands its severity.
When the women heard this, they would approach a man and say to him: "We will eat our own food and provide our own clothing, only let us be called by your name." Just marry us, just register your name upon us, give us a marriage document; do not support us and do not feed us, we will take care of everything ourselves, if only we may be considered married. Incidentally, this was done in Yemen as well: there, an orphaned child was seized by the Imam and forcibly converted to Islam against the family's will, without asking them. Therefore, when there was an orphaned boy or girl, they would marry them off at the age of eight, because once married - that was it, the authorities would not take them; they only took an orphan who had no one, neither parents nor a spouse.
And this is what is written in Yeshayahu: "And seven women shall take hold of one man" - why? Because they wanted his name to be called upon them. Except for three women who were negligent and did not do so, and they were the ones violated. This is the meaning of "women in Zion they ravished, virgins [betulot] in the cities of Judah." Notice how the Midrash expounds the verse: do not read betulot ("virgins"), but rather bi-tlat ("in three") - how many women were ravished in Zion? Three. For the word betulot is written defectively, without the letter vav (בתלת), and tlat in Aramaic means three.
In Minchat Shai, he cites the Matnot Kehunah, who expounds this differently: "Women in Zion they ravished" - the minimum of "women" (plural) is two. And betulot is written defectively without a vav; and as is known, when a plural is written with a vav it denotes many, but when written without a vav it can imply singular, as in basukkot and basukkat - defective basukkat hints to one wall, while with a vav it hints to two walls. Here too, betulot is written defectively, as if it said one virgin. Thus there were three in total: two women and one virgin. Therefore, the Targum explains that this occurred during the destruction of the Second Temple, since during the destruction of the First Temple Nebuzaradan had ordered that married women not be harmed.
The Lechem Dimah cites commentators who explain that the verse is structured as a question and an answer. The author of the lament asks: "Women in Zion they ravished" - how did we reach such a descent? How did such a deterioration occur? How did we suffer such a fall that women in Zion were violated, how could such a tragedy occur? And the Ruach HaKodesh answers him: "Maidens in the cities of Judah" - because maidens were violated in the cities of Judah while the cities of Judah still stood. Modesty was neglected, and are you surprised that enemies subsequently came and committed such atrocities?
Furthermore, one could offer an additional explanation: "Maidens in the cities of Judah" - why are you surprised? After all, the modesty of the Jewish people had drastically declined, and instead of "all glorious is the king's daughter within," maidens were roaming about in the cities of Judah, out in the streets and shopping centers. Why, then, are you astonished that such dire and dreadful situations arise? "Women in Zion they ravished" - this came about only because of the behavior of the "maidens in the cities of Judah." Had modesty been preserved, we would never, Heaven forbid, have reached such a downfall.
In these verses, the author of the lament describes the depth of degradation: our hands were outstretched to Egypt and Assyria merely for bread, yet even they, whom we had benefited with oil and grain, betrayed us and aided our enemies. "Our fathers sinned and are no more" - we, the children, who are guarantors for the Torah, bear the iniquities of the fathers; and unlike the fathers, who were swift to repent and could not tolerate sin upon themselves for even a moment, we are capable of quietly carrying our sins along. "Slaves ruled over us" - because we were not the servants of Hashem, we fell into subjugation under slaves, who show no mercy and from whom there is no redeemer; nevertheless, we know that all the kingdoms are nothing more than "Nebuchadnezzar My servant," and the dog's leash remains in the master's hand. "At the peril of our lives we bring our bread" - this is not only literal self-sacrifice during the famine, but also an admonition for all generations: that we must not surrender our soul and eternity for the sake of physical bread, nor should all our prayers be directed solely "toward bread." And "Women in Zion they ravished" - this testifies that the breach in modesty brought about the downfall, and upon its rectification hinges our salvation.