Introduction
We continue in Chapter 1 of Mishlei, following the commentary of the Malbim. Shlomo HaMelech opens the book by presenting its aims and purpose, and we now arrive at the verses defining the form of the book - how it is constructed and how it should be read - and continue to the great foundation of "The fear of Hashem is the beginning of knowledge," and from there to the first paternal rebuke that a father imparts to his son: distancing oneself from the company of sinners.
The Form of the Book: Parable and Metaphor
לְהָבִין מָשָׁל וּמְלִיצָה, דִּבְרֵי חֲכָמִים וְחִידֹתָם. - To understand a parable and a metaphor, the words of the wise and their riddles.
According to the Vilna Gaon, we noted that "mussar" is the ultimate purpose and "to know wisdom" is the form. According to the Malbim, this verse explains the form of the book. The matter is the mashal (the parable); and the form is that it contains both mashal and melitzah. The mashal is the story, the external garment; while the melitzah is the nimshal (the inner moral meaning), the conceptual core - how one brings these ideas down into practical life.
Children always ask: "Abba, tell us a story, a mashal!" But when you reach the nimshal, the lesson, they say: "That is less interesting; tell another story!" The parable is charming - the lion walked along, there was a fox. But the practical conclusions, what we are meant to learn from it, are less appealing to them. Shlomo comes and says: No. One must understand both the mashal and the melitzah together. For through parables, Divine wisdom is brought down to you and made accessible to your intellect, and the external garment exists solely so that you may recognize the inner truth.
For example: when the Torah speaks of the Tree of Knowledge and the serpent - that is the mashal. The nimshal is the temptation of the yetzer hara and the ways to combat it. And so too in the Oral Torah: the Sages recount stories that never literally occurred in physical reality, but rather exist as allegories. Like the egg that drowned sixty cities and towns - what kind of egg drowns entire cities? It is all an allegory. Only a fool assumes these are literal facts and asks, "How could that be?", whereas the wise person understands that this is a parable and delves deeply to draw out its deeper meaning.
And this is "the words of the wise and their riddles" - those teachings expressed as riddles. When we are told of an egg that drowned cities and are asked what it means, this is a riddle that must be unpacked to understand what it addresses: the ways of the yetzer hara, principles of human conduct. The Malbim explains that a melitzah is something that reveals the inner reality, and this is also the definition of an interpreter: "For the melitz (interpreter) was between them" - he stands between them and conveys the inner meaning of what was said. One spoke and I did not understand, and the melitz arrives and explains it to me. Melitz is akin to melitzah: revealing the underlying meaning behind the words.
The Fear of Hashem Is the Beginning of Knowledge
יִרְאַת ה' רֵאשִׁית דָּעַת, חׇכְמָה וּמוּסָר אֱוִילִים בָּזוּ. - The fear of Hashem is the beginning of knowledge; wisdom and discipline, fools despise.
Every discipline of wisdom has fundamental axioms from which it is learned. Geometry, for example, is based on sensory observation and first principles - you see that one triangle has certain sides, and another has different ones; "a cubit in a square is a cubit and two-fifths in a circle." There are primary axioms, and from there onward calculations are made. Natural science is based on empirical examination and experimentation: in a laboratory, one takes substance X and substance Y, mixes them in a test tube, and observes what reaction occurs.
However, the wisdom of the Torah - and wherever this book mentions "wisdom," it refers to Divine wisdom, the wisdom of the Torah, the wisdom of character traits - deals, as we explained, with realms that possess two opposite states. Pride versus humility: what is the proper conduct? Without knowledge of the Torah, it is impossible to determine. One person may come and say: "In my opinion, one should conduct himself with pride; that is the only way to succeed." Another will say: "Success comes only through lowliness." Who is correct? Neither. The Torah teaches that there are situations where humility is required - and that is the trait generally required on a constant basis - yet there are situations where pride is specifically required, as in the verse, "And his heart was lifted up in the ways of Hashem."
It turns out that Divine wisdom cannot be verified through intellectual proofs alone. You cannot prove to me through pure logic why pride is appropriate in one situation and humility in another. Without the Torah, without accepting that this is what Hashem said and what is written in His Torah, I cannot accept any logical proof from you. On the other hand, if you want to prove to me that water boils at one hundred degrees, I cannot say, "I disagree, that is unacceptable to me": you heat water, it reaches one hundred degrees, and that is that. The wisdom of nature can be attained through empirical examination; the wisdom of the Torah cannot be attained through empirical examination, and therefore it is a wisdom that must be accepted by tradition. It is an external wisdom - as distinct from binah (understanding), which is the internal processing of what we have received and the deduction of one concept from another - and it is acquired and received from the Sages and the Prophets who received it from God, and from within the Torah.
Da'as (knowledge) refers to something known with clear certainty. If so, Divine wisdom seemingly does not fall into the category of da'as, for I do not possess empirical certainty in it, nor does it have scientific proof. You can prove to me that the Torah is true and that the Creator of the world commanded it, but as for an independent proof that one must act in this specific way - there is none.
Here Shlomo comes and says: The fear of Hashem is the beginning of da'as. What causes me to accept the Torah's instructions and its determinations? The same applies to every trait: stinginess and generosity - when is it right to exercise one, and when the other? Cruelty and compassion - and perhaps this is the clearest example, for we all recognize the immense confusion of values that exists on this subject. When dealing with an enemy from among those who constantly seek to kill us - is there room to show him mercy, or to treat him harshly? For someone who possesses the wisdom of the Torah, the matter is clear: the Torah provides guiding principles, such as "If someone comes to kill you, rise early to kill him first," and when facing someone who constitutes an active danger, one must do everything necessary to be delivered from him. Yet this is precisely something that cannot be proven through abstract logic. Try debating an "enlightened" person whose heart overflows with compassion for the population living there and who grieves their suffering, yet does not possess an ounce of pity for the displaced settlers and all those who suffered - when today virtually everyone admits with regret that the entire Disengagement was completely unnecessary. Can you mathematically prove to him who is deserving of mercy? There is no proof. This belongs to the realm of chochmah: the Torah teaches what the correct perspective is, but demonstrable, self-contained knowledge does not exist here on its own.
If so, who accepts the Torah? One who possesses fear of Heaven (yiras Shamayim). For if one lacks fear of Heaven - well, the Torah said so, but what of it? The Creator of the world thinks this way, but the distinguished gentleman chooses to think otherwise. He feels no awe before the word of Hashem. But for one who possesses fear of Heaven, that wisdom becomes deeply rooted in his heart and is elevated to the level of da'as.
A parable illustrates this: If an ordinary person comes and tells me a story, perhaps it happened and perhaps it did not; he may simply be overly excitable. But if someone whom I trust implicitly, an upright and honest person whom I know would never add an ounce of falsehood or exaggeration, comes and tells me something - the matter is absolute for me. There is no need to investigate, no need to listen to conflicting reports or read further. If people ask me, "Do you believe it, or do you know it?" I will say, "I know it." Once such a trustworthy person tells me, it becomes clear knowledge. Exactly so: when one possesses fear of Heaven, what the Torah says does not remain merely unproven wisdom, but becomes absolute knowledge. Reverence is the beginning; it is the foundation upon which wisdom is built, and it transforms it from the realm of chochmah to the realm of da'as - because the Most Trustworthy of all has imparted these words to me.
Who Is the Evil
"Wisdom and discipline fools have despised." Who are the evilim (fools)? Throughout the book, King Shlomo refers to evilim, peta'im (the simple), and kesilim (the foolish). One must understand that these are not mere synonyms; each term expresses a distinct personality type. We will discuss the peta'im and the kesilim later; here we will define the evil.
The Malbim explains: The evil is a person who doubts everything. There is an entire philosophical movement dedicated to this: skepticism, the philosophy of chronic doubt. These are people whose entire agenda is to cast doubt on everything, constituting a complete school of thought and methodology. You say, "I exist" - who says? Prove to me that you exist. Perhaps I am only imagining you; perhaps the sensation of touch is also an illusion; perhaps everything is just a dream. One of their philosophers famously said, "I think, therefore I am" - they require proofs just to feel that they exist! It is told that someone once heard such an assertion, gave the philosopher a sound slap, and asked him: "Is it clear to you now that you exist?"
Another example: there is a philosophical notion that one cannot prove an object exists when no one is observing it. This cup - does it exist when no one is looking at it? Prove it. An island in the middle of the ocean appears on maps, but the satellite has moved past its orbit and is not photographing it right now - does the island still exist? You might answer: according to Halachah, it holds the legal presumption of chazakah, and if it was there three years ago, it is presumed to still exist. That is all fine and well, but a presumption is not philosophical proof. These are people who squander their lives on vanity and emptiness, raising endless hypotheticals, doubts, "Who says?", and "How do you know?", caught up in sterile and futile debates.
King Shlomo has a precise definition for this person: an evil. The word evil is related to ulai ("perhaps"). Tell him there is reward and punishment - perhaps. There is Gan Eden and Gehinnom - perhaps. There is a Creator of the universe - perhaps. He gave the Torah - perhaps. He casts doubt upon every fact presented before him. For this very reason, he of all people despises wisdom and moral discipline, for wisdom does not come with empirical proofs. To say that in one case one must act harshly and in another with compassion cannot be proven like a mathematical theorem. The Torah states this, but there is no secular, scientific proof for the assertion. And the evil demands: Who says? What is your proof? Wisdom and discipline depend on the fear of Hashem, and the evil possesses no fear of Hashem. For one who fears Hashem, wisdom is elevated to da'as - to something tangible, necessary, and intuitively clear that this is how one must live. But for those who lack it - "fools have despised."
Hear, My Son, the Discipline of Your Father
שְׁמַע בְּנִי מוּסַר אָבִיךָ, וְאַל תִּטֹּשׁ תּוֹרַת אִמֶּךָ. - Hear, my son, the discipline of your father, and do not forsake the teaching of your mother.
A father desires only what is best for his son. And just as the discipline of a father - a biological father - is very reasonable and logical, and every person understands that this is how one must act, so too, "do not forsake the teaching of your mother": do not forsake the Torah we are speaking of, which is wisdom (chokhmah). And even though wisdom, which provides paths of conduct, seemingly lacks formal proof, it has foundations in reason - foundations that are acceptable, logical, and compelling to the human intellect.
A Garland of Grace and Necklaces
כִּי לִוְיַת חֵן הֵם לְרֹאשֶׁךָ, וַעֲנָקִים לְגַרְגְּרֹתֶיךָ. - For they are a garland of grace for your head, and necklaces for your neck.
There is an ornament attached to the head, and there is an ornament worn on the neck. "Your neck" (gargerotecha) refers to the throat, as the Malbim explains, meaning the front of the neck; "your head" refers to the human head, a graceful ornament attached to the head. "Necklaces" (anakim) are also a type of ornament, but one typically placed around the neck.
We have previously explained why the ornament worn on the neck is called an anak, and what connection it has to the giants, the nefilim. The Gemara explains that the giants were called anakim because "they wear the sun like a necklace due to their height" (she-ma'anikkim chamah be-komatan). When a person looks up at a giant from below while the sun is behind the giant's neck, the rays of light appear spread around his neck as though a necklace were resting there. Their stature was so immense that the sun looked like an ornamental necklace around their neck.
The head symbolizes thought and intellect, which originate in the human mind; the throat symbolizes speech, which originates there. These, therefore, are two kinds of ornaments: an ornament on the head symbolizing thought, and an ornament on the throat symbolizing speech. And this is what Shlomo came to teach: these moral teachings, which we will discuss shortly, will bestow grace - grace upon thought and grace upon speech. Whoever conducts himself by them will walk a path of grace, a noble path, such that people will say of him, "Blessed is the one who gave birth to him."
And why a "garland" (livyat) of grace? Livyat comes from the root of accompaniment (levayah), as in "this time my husband will be joined (yillaveh) to me" - to accompany. And for those who know, this is also the deeper meaning of the feast of the Leviathan. Do we truly have an overwhelming interest in eating sea monster meat? Ask those who eat whale, and they will tell you that there are tastier foods, especially a leviathan that has been salted for six thousand years! Rather, this all refers to an exalted spiritual reality: Leviathan signifies that we will attain closeness to the Holy One, Blessed be He, that Hashem will accompany us, and we will say, "Behold, this is Hashem; we have hoped for Him" - as if pointing with a finger. This is an exceedingly high level.
Likewise, "In the future, the Holy One, Blessed be He, will make a circle dance (machol) for the righteous": a circle dance is round, and the circle expresses perfection. For distancing oneself from Hashem is a deficiency - the further away we are, the more deficient we are, and the closer we are, the more we attain perfection. Incidentally, the circle is the most complete shape, which is why there are no square objects in nature: there is no square leaf and no square fruit; everything seen in nature is rounded.
Therefore, the term levayah (accompaniment) is particularly fitting here: these ethical teachings stem from wisdom (chokhmah), and wisdom, as explained, comes from the outside. It is not binah (understanding), in which a person contemplates from within himself, but chokhmah, which must be received from the holy Torah and the Prophets. And because it comes from the outside, the designation of accompaniment suits it - it joins the person and is bound to him: "for they are a garland of grace for your head."
The Father's First Moral Instruction: Do Not Associate with Sinners
בְּנִי אִם יְפַתּוּךָ חַטָּאִים אַל תֹּבֵא. אִם יֹאמְרוּ לְכָה אִתָּנוּ נֶאֶרְבָה לְדָם, נִצְפְּנָה לְנָקִי חִנָּם. נִבְלָעֵם כִּשְׁאוֹל חַיִּים, וּתְמִימִים כְּיוֹרְדֵי בוֹר. כׇּל הוֹן יָקָר נִמְצָא, נְמַלֵּא בָתֵּינוּ שָׁלָל. גּוֹרָלְךָ תַּפִּיל בְּתוֹכֵנוּ, כִּיס אֶחָד יִהְיֶה לְכֻלָּנוּ. בְּנִי אַל תֵּלֵךְ בְּדֶרֶךְ אִתָּם, מְנַע רַגְלְךָ מִנְּתִיבָתָם. - My son, if sinners entice you, do not consent. If they say, "Come with us, let us lie in wait for blood; let us lurk for the innocent without cause. Let us swallow them alive like the grave, and whole like those who go down to the pit. We shall find all precious wealth; we shall fill our houses with spoil. Cast your lot among us; let us all have one purse." My son, do not walk in the way with them; keep your foot from their path.
The word chatta'im here has a dagesh in the letter tet, and it does not refer to sins and transgressions, but to habitual sinners themselves. Just as chammarim are donkey-drivers and gammalim are camel-drivers, rather than the animals themselves, so chatta'im are those who practice sin. "Do not consent" (al tovei) - do not agree to follow their ways.
The Malbim explains: when a father comes to guide his son in wisdom, he begins with simple matters that even a child can understand. He does not begin by speaking to him about subtleties and being careful about gezel sheinah (depriving another of sleep), but about obvious matters upon which everyone agrees - undisputed axioms that even a small child can accept. And the very first thing: do not associate with murderers, do not associate with thieves. This is simple and self-evident, and it is doubtful that anyone educates his son otherwise - even a mafia boss. What he does himself is one matter, but to his son he would never say, "I want you to grow up to be my righteous thief."
And why is this so obvious and universally recognized? The Malbim explains: both because of the gravity of murder, which is an abhorrent act contrary to human nature - a person is not born with a murderous nature; although corrupting one's deeds may eventually lead to murder, naturally one is not born a murderer. And also because of the danger: someone who sets out to murder must take into account that he himself might be killed before he even manages to do anything. From both sides together - being contrary to human nature and being inherently dangerous - everyone accepts as a clear premise that one must not associate with murderers and must not raise his son to be a murderer.
Therefore, when a father comes to teach his son fundamentals, he begins with the clear and simple, with what everyone agrees upon, and from there he elevates him level by level, until he addresses even subtleties and nuances - that even speaking an unkind word to someone bears an avak retzichah (a trace of murder). You may not have taken a submachine gun and sprayed him, but you publicly shamed him, which is close to it. Yet those are higher levels; whereas "Do not murder" is something every human being accepts and understands, and with this the father begins, in order to explain to his son just how destructive and harmful folly is, and how far he must distance himself from it.
"Let Us Lie in Wait for Blood, Let Us Ambush the Innocent Without Cause"
"If they say, 'Come with us'" - lechah denotes going together. And why the duplication: "let us lie in wait for blood" and also "let us ambush the innocent without cause"? The Malbim explains that the enticement of the gang of murderers can take two forms. Sometimes the victim is no simple pushover; he will not sit idly by. He will not stand aside and watch his hard-earned property stolen; rather, he will fight back and resist, which poses a danger to the attacker. In such a situation, the murderer lies in ambush: he hides, waits for him to pass, surprises him, and attacks him by stealth.
The Malbim notes the precise distinction between orev (lying in wait) and tzofen (concealing oneself). A tzafun is someone who stands where others cannot see him. An orev, by contrast, is always a tactic of warfare: one does not say, "I am lying in wait for him so he will not see me" - for that, one says nitzpan. An ambush (orev) is always for the purpose of attacking and fighting, as Scripture states: "and he lies in wait for him, rises against him, and strikes him mortally." Therefore it says, "Come with us, let us lie in wait for blood": since these are people capable of killing me if I approach them openly, I have no choice but to act with subterfuge, lying in ambush to surprise them so they cannot harm me. "Let us lie in wait for blood" - lest my own blood be shed, I will preemptively kill him from an ambush.
However, at times those he wishes to attack are weak and frail - an elderly person who will not try to kill you, will do nothing to harm you, and will not fight back. Does such a person require a tactical ambush? Concerning this it says, "Let us ambush the innocent without cause." And why is the victim specifically called "innocent" (naki) here, whereas the strong person was not called innocent? Because the strong person, if ambushed, will retaliate and attack me - and while this is certainly justified on his part, he cannot strictly be termed "innocent," for there is potential bloodshed on his hands as well. By contrast, the elderly person who is incapable of defending himself: first, I do not need a tactical ambush for him; and second, he is genuinely innocent - he did not defend himself, he did not strike back, he did nothing at all.
Yet one still needs to conceal oneself, for if the elderly man sees someone standing there with a knife, even he will not walk down that path. I do not need a military ambush, but I do need to hide and stay out of sight - "let us ambush (nitzpenah) the innocent without cause." And why "without cause" (chinam)? Because the harm you inflict upon him is completely unprovoked: the old man poses no threat to you whatsoever, and even when you rob him, he does not strike, does not attempt to kill, and does not even defend himself. In the case of the strong victim, one might claim, "He struck back, he retaliated, he tried to kill me and I fought him off" - there it is not entirely gratuitous. But in the second half of the verse, the killing is truly without cause.
"Let Us Swallow Them Alive Like the Grave"
This verse is a direct continuation of the preceding one. Since it concluded with "let us ambush the innocent without cause," and the victim of the robbery will not attempt to fight so that I need not struggle against him - therefore, "let us swallow them alive like the grave." We will swallow them and their possessions, yet I have no interest in killing him, but rather in capturing him. Just as it was said of Korach that the earth swallowed them alive into the pit and took them down alive, so too will I swallow them up: I will take the person and his possessions, everything. I have no reason to kill him - I will take him as a slave.
However, regarding those strong individuals who required lying in ambush and setting a trap, it is said: "and whole, like those who descend into the pit." One who descends into the pit is one who goes down to the grave, as in the phrase, "You have spared me from those who go down to the pit." These upright individuals, who walked innocently and whom we robbed, leaving them with nothing, and whom we killed because they fought back and were unwilling to surrender their money easily - they are like those who descend into the pit. And what becomes of the wealth of someone who descends into the pit? It is left to his heirs. So too here: they descended into the pit and left their wealth to us, the thieves.
Precious Wealth and Spoil, One Lot and One Purse
What is the difference between "wealth" (hon) and "spoil" (shalal)? The Malbim explains: precious wealth refers to silver and gold; spoil refers to the items looted during pillaging, as in war, when someone enters a house to plunder spoil. The gold and the precious wealth they do not take home, but rather deposit into the communal hideout of the gang, as we will see in the next verse. What does each person take home? The items looted from the house - the fine sets, the precious vessels, jewelry, and all sorts of things. And this is "we will fill our houses with spoil": we will place the stolen goods in our homes.
And what will be done with the precious wealth? "Cast your lot among us; one purse shall be for us all." As for the items and vessels - each person takes some home, but how much will he take? This one will take the set and that one the vessels, and how shall we divide it? We will cast lots. But when it comes to wealth and money, silver and gold, they tell him: "one purse shall be for us all" - everything will go into a single treasury belonging to all members of the gang, and you will be an equal partner with all of us.
In summary:
King Solomon first teaches us how to read the book: to understand parable and metaphor (mashal and melitzah), to know that the story is the garment and the intended meaning is the inner essence, and that without the melitzah - the deeper message - wisdom remains on the outside. Then he lays the foundation: the fear of Hashem is the beginning of knowledge. The wisdom of the Torah cannot be proven like natural sciences or geometry; it is acquired through transmission from the Torah and from the Sages, and only the fear of Heaven turns it from wisdom that lacks empirical proof into clear and absolute knowledge. In contrast stands the fool (evil) - related to ulai ("perhaps") - who casts doubt on everything, and because he has no fear of Heaven, he despises wisdom and discipline. From here Solomon moves to the discipline of the father: these instructions are a wreath of grace for the head and pendants for the neck, grace in thought and grace in speech, accompanying a person from the outside as wisdom he has received. And the first instruction, simple and clear enough for even a child to understand, is to stay far away from the company of sinners and all their temptations - those who lie in wait, who lurk in ambush, who swallow their victims alive, and who divide spoil by lot - for from what is clear and simple, one ascends step by step to the subtlest of subtleties.