Chapter 17 of Mishlei deals with interpersonal character traits: the danger of keeping company with a fool, the prohibition against ingratitude, and the caution required regarding dispute before it erupts. In this lesson, we will examine verses 12 through 15 and see how these pesukim are linked together like links in a chain: from fleeing the fool, to the warning against repaying evil for good, to the obligation to close the breach of quarrel while it is still small.
פָּגוֹשׁ דֹּב שַׁכּוּל בְּאִישׁ וְאַל כְּסִיל בְּאִוַּלְתּוֹ׃ - Better for a man to encounter a bereaved bear than a fool in his folly.
First, we must clarify what a "bereaved bear" (dov shakkul) means. Modern Hebrew has accustomed us to the term "bereaved parent," so our first inclination is to explain that this refers to a bear that lost its cubs. However, Rashi interprets it as meshakkel - meaning a bear that comes to bereave a person of his children, a bear that bereaves others. Rabbeinu Yonah explains similarly. The Vilna Gaon, on the other hand, understands the verse according to its plain sense: a bear that is itself bereaved of its offspring.
Rashi explains: It is better for a person to cross paths with a bear that bereaves him of his children than to encounter one of the fools - and the fools, according to Rashi, are those who entice him to turn away from Hashem and His Torah. Chazal followed this line of thought when they said, "Better follow a lion than follow a woman." In other words, if someone attempts to lead a person astray from following Hashem, it is better for him to face a predatory bear than to encounter such an instigator.
Rabbeinu Yonah elaborates: It is better to meet a bear that bereaves people than to face a fool in his state of folly and anger - not only when he comes to lead one astray from the service of Hashem, but whenever he acts out his folly. The pasuk comes to warn us to guard against the anger of a fool and from quarreling with him, for one might still escape a rampaging bear, but from a fool there is no chance of emerging unscathed. You cannot escape his fury and harm.
From here stems a tremendous practical lesson in mussar: There are people who, the moment you see them open their mouths, you should simply not be around. Take cover and run. Do not say, "Who does he think he is? Someone needs to shut him down" - you will not get the better of him. He will humiliate you, degrade you, and shame you in front of everyone. Even if this is his calculated pattern, and he acts this way toward everyone knowing no one will confront him, leave it to someone else. Do not be the Don Quixote who rides out into this battle, which will yield nothing but harm for you. You have dignity, a home, a family, a reputation; yet there are people who care about nothing. They are willing to stand in the middle of the street, screaming, cursing, and degrading themselves - and in the process, humiliating you too. What will you gain from it? If you see someone like that, run. Another neighbor will come along and put him in his place.
The Vilna Gaon explains in his own way: By nature, a bear is extremely irritable, and all the more so when it is bereaved, having had its cubs killed; and all the more so if you yourself are the one who killed its cubs - in which case the danger is immense and you are in grave trouble. Even so - "better for a man to encounter a bereaved bear": it is better for you to encounter such a bear, whose cubs you bereaved and whose fury and rage are boundless, than to encounter a fool engaged in his folly.
The Malbim adds the deeper dimension: At most, a bear can kill you - its harm is limited to the physical body. A fool, by contrast, can destroy you for all eternity, for he comes and incites you against the service of Hashem. If you encounter a bear, you might lose your temporary physical life, but your eternal existence remains preserved. But if you encounter a fool, you might live another twenty or fifty years, yet he destroys you for all eternity. It is far better to encounter someone who endangers you physically than one who endangers you spiritually.
The Malbim adds three more distinctions: A bear tears open the enclosure of a man's heart to draw out his blood, whereas a fool tears open his heart to inject his folly. A bear can sometimes be subdued, but a fool will never be overcome in his folly. And a bear sometimes leaves a person alone without attacking at all - perhaps it is fully sated and at rest - but a fool is always a fool, persistently immersed in his folly and silliness. For this reason, the danger he poses is far greater than that of a bear.
מֵשִׁיב רָעָה תַּחַת טוֹבָה לֹא תָמוּשׁ רָעָה מִבֵּיתוֹ׃ - One who repays evil for good, evil will not depart from his house.
Rabbeinu Yonah explains: It is bad enough not to repay good for the good genuinely done for him, but he goes further and repays evil for good - his iniquity is too great to bear. Someone did you a favor, and this is how you repay him? Therefore, evil shall not depart from his house. Rabbeinu Yonah connects this to the previous verse: here is an additional reason not to encounter a fool in his folly, for in his great foolishness, during his moments of anger, the fool forgets all the favors you did for him and repays you evil for good. He is capable of doing you every kind of harm, even though you have done him nothing but good - and therefore his curse is that "evil will not depart from his house."
It was already noted in the name of the Chasam Sofer that there is a tendency in human nature: when someone does a person a favor, the recipient often seeks a way to harm him. Why? Because no one likes to feel indebted. When you do me a favor, I become indebted to you, and I dislike that feeling of debt - so a person reacts in the opposite direction in order to rid himself of the obligation. It is told that there was once a man who persistently harassed and provoked the Chasam Sofer. The Chasam Sofer remarked that this baffled him, as he could not recall ever having done the man a favor that would prompt him to pursue him with such hostility.
This dynamic is seen most often with loans. If you want to end up in a dispute with someone, give him a loan. This does not apply to upright, God-fearing people who, quite the contrary, show gratitude, thank you, make every effort to repay on time, and inform you well in advance if an issue arises - to such people it is a great mitzvah to lend. Unfortunately, however, there are unprincipled people with whom you were friends as long as you had not lent them anything, but once you lend to them: "Please stop calling me; when I have the money, I will let you know." He suddenly becomes the master, the one calling the shots. He even stops saying hello to you on the street, lest you ask about the money. You did him a favor - and ended up causing him to repay you with manifold evil.
Rabbi Lasry once told of someone who approached his friend asking for a loan of ten thousand shekels. The friend said to him: "First spit on me and slap my face, and then we will talk." He replied: "What are you talking about? I am your friend!" The friend insisted: "No, do this first." He did so - spat on him and slapped his face - and then the friend said: "I am not lending to you." The borrower protested: "But you promised!" The friend replied: "I preferred to take the spit and the slaps right now, while my money is still with me, rather than suffer them once my money is already in your hands." And this is precisely what often happens: instead of receiving gratitude, the borrower confronts you with complaints and demands - why are you nagging him, even quoting halachot and verses like "You shall not act toward him as a creditor," arguing that you have plenty of money anyway.
Rav Shteinman once observed how deeply this shift has penetrated even our manner of speech. In the Gemara, a "ba'al chov" (master of the debt) refers to the creditor - the person to whom money is owed: "His creditor (ba'al chovo) came to collect his debt." Today, people use the term in reverse: "He is a major ba'al chov" - meaning the debtor! This is not merely a semantic change, but a shift in essence. In the past, the master of the debt was the creditor: "The money is mine, I am the owner." Today, the debtor acts as the owner: he dictates your payment installments, he determines how you will receive the money if at all, and he decides how much of the debt you will get - perhaps informing you that given his situation, he will pay only half. He has become the master over the debt, while the creditor no longer has a say. He even dictates the scale of the "haircut" the lender must absorb. From here emerges a simple moral: someone did you a favor and lent you money - do not be an ingrate. Repay it, express gracious thanks, and be a decent human being.
The Vilna Gaon interprets the verse from another angle: The earth is full of Hashem's loving-kindness, and when the Holy One, blessed be He, bestows wealth upon a person, He makes it an instrument for his true happiness; therefore, he ought to invest himself more deeply in Torah study, in bringing merit to the public, and in supporting Torah scholars - Hashem granted you abundance and gave to you. But if this person not only fails to do so with the wealth Hashem bestowed upon him, but permits himself, simply because he has money, to purchase indiscriminately whatever distances him from the service of Hashem - frequenting places and entertainment he never engaged in before, purchasing all kinds of devices he would never previously have allowed himself, simply because he now has the funds and the opportunity - this person is "repaying evil for good." Was it for this that Hashem showered bounty upon him, that he should use the money for things contrary to the Torah and for pleasures opposed to Hashem's will?
The Malbim explains this according to the principle of measure for measure: The Holy One, blessed be He, repays measure for measure, "In full measure, in sending her away, You contend with her" - with the very measure a person uses, it is measured out to him. While a person who committed evil can repent for the wrong he did, one who committed evil in return for good done to him - here, as it were, there is no divine forbearance. Being an ingrate is so grave and reprehensible that even if he subsequently improves his deeds, the Holy One, blessed be He, will repay him evil for good, and evil will not depart from his house.
This principle of measure for measure is also linked to the weekly parashah. The Midrash relates that Yaakov said to Leah, "Deceiver, daughter of a deceiver!" After all, throughout the night he called her "Rachel" and she answered him, and "it came to pass in the morning, and behold, she was Leah!" He said to her: "How could you deceive me? You are a deceiver, daughter of a deceiver!" She replied: "From whom else could one learn? Is not deceit synonymous with the name of Lavan?"
In this context, an insightful thought was once noted: Lavan says, "It is not done so in our place, to give the younger before the firstborn" (Bereishis 29:26). Homiletically, this can be read: Lavan says to Yaakov, between us there is a terminology issue and a breakdown of communication; you simply do not understand our language and concepts. Where you come from, when a person says "no" he means "no," and when he says "yes" he means "yes." But with us - "No is done as yes in our place" (lo ye'aseh chein bimkomeinu): when we say "no" we mean "yes," and when we say "yes" we mean "no." And when I say "firstborn" I mean the younger, and when I say "younger" I mean the firstborn. Bear this in mind, and you will not be surprised each time anew.
And there it is cited that Leah replied to Yaakov: "I had a good teacher; I learned it from you. When you went in to your father Yitzchak and he asked you, 'Are you indeed my son Esav?' you answered, 'I am Esav, your firstborn.' If you are Esav, then I am Rachel." And how did she know this? From the fact that the Torah records Lavan saying to Yaakov, "You are my brother," and "Tell me, what shall your wages be?" rather than letting him serve for free. The commentators asked: Why does Lavan suddenly identify him as a brother and show such enthusiasm, and why does he refuse free labor - when in the end that is precisely what he tried to do to him? Rather, Lavan asked him how he arrived here, and Yaakov related the entire episode: the skins on his hands, the words "I am Esav, your firstborn," and the whole matter. Lavan listened and said: "You are my brother! You know how to operate; it all stays in the family; sons take after their mother's brothers; you know the ropes! Precisely for this reason, I do not want you working for me for nothing - with people like you, 'free' service can end up costing very dearly. Let us lock you into a binding agreement from the start, so that you cannot pull any clever tricks. If you were naive and helpless, I would have easily swindled you; but once I see that you are a pro and know how the game is played - tell me what your wages shall be."
From here Leah drew the reckoning: Although Yaakov was acting under divine compulsion, and although his mother had instructed him, nevertheless, with the measure a person metes out, so it is meted out to him. As if to say to him: You had your calculations, and I too had my calculations. You wanted to prevent Esav from receiving blessings that did not rightfully belong to him, and I did not want to be handed over into the hands of Esav. And if you make calculations and act in this manner, do not wonder if others act with you in that very same way.
פּוֹטֵר מַיִם רֵאשִׁית מָדוֹן וְלִפְנֵי הִתְגַּלַּע הָרִיב נְטוֹשׁ׃ - Releasing water is the beginning of strife; therefore, before the dispute breaks out, abandon it.
Rashi explains: One who initiates a quarrel is like a person who breaches an opening in the embankments of a water channel. Consider a fishpond with high banks containing the water: if someone opens it just a little, lowering the earth slightly at the edge and allowing the water to begin trickling out - very quickly all the water will pour out, for the current rushes forth, widening and widening the breach until the water is completely depleted.
Such is a quarrel. In the beginning it is small, and one merely touches it off, but afterward the strife grows and multiplies. As it is written, "And there was a dispute (riv) between the herdsmen of Avram's cattle and the herdsmen of Lot's cattle," and Avraham said to Lot, "Let there be no quarrel (merivah) between me and you." Initially it was a riv - small, and merely between your herdsmen and my herdsmen. But it threatened to turn into a merivah, and the word merivah is grammatically feminine, and the feminine bears offspring. It would no longer remain a quarrel between the herdsmen alone, but "between me and you" - in the end, we too will fight and create conflict between ourselves. Why let it reach that point? "Please separate from me." This is "Releasing water is the beginning of strife": like water, the beginning is merely an opening, and it continues to widen.
There is a famous story, told of Holland with its numerous dikes and dams, about the brave boy who saw a hole in the dike and thrust his finger into it, plugging it for long hours until help arrived to seal the breach. Had he not done so, the hole would have grown wider and wider until the entire dam collapsed, flooding the whole city. From this one can appreciate the vital importance of sealing the outlet of water at its very beginning.
"And before the dispute breaks out (hitgala), abandon it" - hitgala denotes disclosure or revelation, as Ibn Ezra explains. Rashi explains: Before your shame is exposed, abandon the dispute. For any quarrel ultimately brings humiliation and disgrace: you say something to him, he retaliates, and you answer back; in the end no one knows who won and who lost, but it is clear that both lost through the sheer indignity and embarrassment of the fight. Therefore, abandon the quarrel before your disgrace is exposed.
Rabbeinu Yonah explains along similar lines: "Releasing water" (poter mayim) refers to the onset of contention. And why the term poter? It is akin to peter rechem, the firstborn that opens the womb - the initial outflow of water represents the beginning of strife. Therefore, one should close the opening before the water mounts and breaches the barrier.
The Malbim explains that madon (strife) refers to actively seeking a pretext and cause to litigate and be judged. This is comparable to one who releases water and opens its passage: before opening the watergate, it is still possible to close it and hold it back; once it has opened and a torrential flow rushes out, it can no longer be stopped. Thus the beginning of strife is like a person who opens a tiny breach in contained water, in a river or a dam, and the current rushes forward until it is unstoppable. What, then, should a person do? Do not seek legal battles, and do not seek to be judged - and in the Malbim's view, this applies even to going to a Beis Din. Seemingly, that sounds straightforward: instead of arguing, let us go to a Beis Din and hear their verdict. But from there debates and claims proliferate - "You said this," "Not at all, you never told me in advance," "I certainly did, and you are a liar" - and all of this arises because of the desire to litigate. At times, of course, there is no choice when dealing with difficult people; yet it is certainly preferable that "before the dispute breaks out, abandon it."
The Malbim applies "abandon it" (netosh) to the judge: he should diffuse the dispute by effecting a compromise (pesharah) between the parties. Indeed, there is a mitzvah incumbent upon the judge to propose a compromise before issuing a strict legal judgment. As the Shulchan Aruch states: It is a mitzvah for the judge to say to the litigants, "Are you interested in a compromise, that I may mediate a compromise between you?" Compromise means that each side concedes a little and both depart on good terms; strict justice means "let the law pierce the mountain" - a person may lose everything, or come away with not even half of his desire fulfilled, or emerge completely vindicated and ahead. The preference is therefore for compromise, and this is the meaning of "before the dispute breaks out, abandon it": the judge should weaken the dispute and initiate a compromise.
However, all of this - notes the Malbim - applies specifically before the judge has heard their claims. Once you have heard their arguments and know which way the ruling leans, you can no longer say, "Let us make a compromise," merely to grant the other party some concession. A compromise is proposed beforehand, not after seeing that one party is fabricating claims while the other is in the right. Once a clear sense has formed of who is right, it is no longer just to impose a compromise; the judge is obligated to administer strict justice. Thus, "before the dispute breaks out, abandon it": before their claims are revealed and the dispute is heard, step in and make a compromise; but once their claims have been laid bare and each side has spoken, and you see where the law inclines, you have no right to broker a compromise, for by doing so you would condemn the righteous and acquit the wicked.
מַצְדִּיק רָשָׁע וּמַרְשִׁיעַ צַדִּיק תּוֹעֲבַת יְהֹוָה גַּם שְׁנֵיהֶם׃ - He who justifies the wicked and he who condemns the righteous, both of them alike are an abomination to Hashem.
The Malbim connects the two verses: a compromise in a case where the law has already become clear falls under the category of justifying the wicked and condemning the righteous. Only in a situation where the claims have not yet been disclosed - only then may the judge broker a compromise.
The Malbim explains the precise terminology: in Lashon Hakodesh, riv encompasses all kinds of quarrel, whether it involves legal claims or not. But if it involves a legal dispute - "I claim this and you claim that" - it is called madon, from the root ladun (to judge), something to be adjudicated. Before they come to judgment, it is still a riv; once they come to judgment, they are already subjects of litigation. Therefore, the verse warns that even beforehand, at the very outset of the matter, there is an opportunity to resolve the issue through compromise, whereas later it is already too late.
In these verses, we have learned three interrelated foundations. First - fleeing from the fool: it is better to encounter a bereaved bear, which endangers only the physical body and sometimes even leaves a person alone, than to meet a fool whose danger is spiritual and eternal, and who remains persistently in his foolishness. Second - the gravity of ingratitude: one who repays evil for good, evil will not depart from his house, and even his teshuvah does not rescue him as with other transgressions; likewise, one who received abundance from the Holy One, Blessed is He, and uses it for things that distance him from the service of Hashem. Third - caution regarding dispute: like releasing water through a dam, whose beginning is merely a small opening and whose end is an irresistible flood; therefore, one must abandon the dispute before it bursts forth, and a judge is commanded to propose a compromise - but only before he has heard the claims, for if he already knows which way the judgment leans, he has no permission to compromise, lest he end up justifying the wicked and condemning the righteous, both of which are an abomination to Hashem.