Chapter 18 of Sefer Mishlei continues the theme of the preceding chapters, focusing on modes of speech: who speaks and why, who scorns and reviles, and whose words are deep waters. In this lesson, we will examine two verses: verse 3 - the way of the wicked person and the base man to scorn and disparage everyone; and verse 4 - the depth of the wise person's words, and the source of wisdom that is like a flowing brook.
בְּבוֹא רָשָׁע בָּא גַם בּוּז וְעִם קָלוֹן חֶרְפָּה. - When the wicked person comes, contempt comes too, and with disgrace comes reproach.
The Ibn Ezra explains: "When the wicked person comes" - when he enters the world. When a wicked person is born and enters the world, contempt enters along with him. And what is this contempt? Rabbeinu Yonah explains that it is the way of the wicked to despise everyone. This is the behavior of a negative person: "Do not be scornful of any person" - yet he does the exact opposite. "Forget it, he is worthless, this one is like this and that one is like that"; he disparages everyone and mocks everyone.
And what does "too" (gam) mean? Rabbeinu Yonah explains: the wicked person himself ought to keep quiet and feel ashamed of his own actions. Yet not only is he unashamed of his corrupted deeds, he goes further and scorns others for theirs! This is the meaning of "too" - in addition to his own corrupted deeds, he also heaps scorn on others.
"And with disgrace comes reproach" - the word "disgrace" (kalon) does not stand in isolation; it means "and with a man of disgrace." When a wicked person arrives, contempt comes along, and with a man of disgrace comes reproach. Reproach (cherpah) means reviling and insults, while "a man of disgrace" denotes a base, low person: neither distinguished nor respected, but a despised individual who reviles, curses, and humiliates everyone.
To summarize the words of Rabbeinu Yonah: the verse teaches that there are two categories of people who scorn others. One category is the wicked - a person may be prominent and respected, yet wicked. The second category consists of the boors and base people, the lowest echelon of society; they, too, have no qualms about scorning, cursing, and speaking derogatory words. In truth, "Who is honored? He who honors others." But this person, being a man of disgrace and a base individual, allows himself, from his lowly station, to scorn and belittle everyone.
There is a saying: what the fool blurts out, the wise man merely thinks. Something happens, and the wise man has that exact same thought cross his mind, but he will not say it, because it is unbefitting to utter. The fool, by contrast, will blurt it out and shout it. He has neither sense nor discretion; he is base, and therefore he does not even comprehend that speaking such words is shameful. He feels no shame - he just flings it out. "What, am I the only one who noticed?" Fool, the wise man noticed it too, but the wise man has the good sense to keep silent. Not everything you think needs to be spoken. But the base individual flings out whatever crosses his mind, and consequently there is reproach as well: he reviles and insults.
Rabbeinu Yonah offers another explanation, noting that this verse is a continuation of the preceding verses. There we saw: "A fool does not desire understanding, but only the airing of his heart" - the fool has no interest in true understanding, but only in airing his own opinion. People tell him, "Come listen, someone has good advice for you" - but he wants neither insight nor counsel, because he thinks he alone is the one who understands and knows.
Accordingly, when people gather to consult and consider the best course of action, "when the wicked person comes" into that gathering, "contempt comes too." It is not enough that he fails to listen to others, having arrived solely to broadcast his own views; whenever someone else speaks, he dismisses them: "Why is he talking nonsense? That is completely off-topic!" If someone else makes a suggestion: "No, that person is totally out of touch." And why? Because once you realize that everything everyone else is saying is nonsense, now you must listen to what I have to say. "I came to say what I want; I did not come to listen, nor did I come to take advice. I came so you would realize how wise I am, that I perceive reality correctly, that I am the expert here." Therefore, because he desires only the airing of his heart and demands an audience, he holds everyone else's words in contempt.
Rabbeinu Yonah explains that the wicked person (the rasha) is worse. Regarding the rasha, we find the expression "a wicked evil one," as in "gives the wicked evil one according to his wickedness" - the concept of wickedness is inherently tied to malice. In contrast, the fool (the kesil) is someone lacking understanding, or according to the Malbim, someone who knows the truth but does not act according to his intellect; yet it is difficult to define him as genuinely wicked or malicious. The rasha actively harms people: theft, violence, lashon hara, public humiliation, and disgrace. Therefore, the rasha is certainly worse than the kesil. First, the verse stated that the fool does not desire understanding but only to express what is in his heart, and now it adds: know that beyond this - when the wicked person arrives, contempt and disgrace arrive with him for everyone around him.
The Vilna Gaon explains: when the rasha enters the beis midrash, he does not come to learn. He comes to watch for someone to make a mistake, so he can correct him and prove that he himself knows better. In the beis midrash we might not see this as often, but in the synagogue, unfortunately, we see it all too well. One person comes to hear the Torah reading to fulfill his obligation, while another comes specifically to catch a mistake by the ba'al korei, eager to correct him out loud so everyone knows that he is the one who truly knows and understands.
Notice the precise wording: why does the verse state, "When the wicked comes, contempt also comes" (bevo rasha ba gam buz), in two stages? The Vilna Gaon explains: the initial arrival of the wicked person - "when the wicked comes" - his entire purpose in entering the beis midrash or the synagogue is merely to seek out flaws and shortcomings, to prove he is superior to everyone else. Yet the humiliation itself does not begin immediately; he arrives with that intention and stands poised and ready, waiting to pounce the moment he hears an error. At first, the reader has not made a mistake; but gradually an error occurs, and he already has his weapon drawn, ready to strike. Therefore, "contempt also comes" - the contempt comes afterward.
By contrast, "and with disgrace comes reproach" - it does not say "and with a disgraceful person contempt also comes," but immediately: "and with disgrace comes reproach." That is because a disgraceful person arrives with the immediate intent to reproach and insult, eager to criticize this person and gossip about that one; thus, reproach accompanies him at once, without any delay.
Such a person must realize that this involves a severe and outright transgression. This is a common phenomenon, including among Yemenite communities, where precision in reading is deeply emphasized. Rav Ratzabi once cited a work from two hundred years ago that spoke with tremendous severity on this matter - showing that this phenomenon already existed two centuries ago. Someone reads from the Torah and makes a mistake, and people instantly jump on him, forcing him to repeat: "No, from the beginning of the verse!" - thank you very much, it is a wonder they did not tell him to start from the beginning of the parashah. He repeats it, only to make another mistake; he is told to read again, makes a third mistake, and is made to read it yet again. What terrible humiliation and shame they inflict upon that person!
And consider: even if the obligation for reading that verse was not fully met, what actually happened? Many poskim rule that the obligation of reading the Torah is a communal obligation (chovat hatzibbur), not an individual one, meaning there is no practical halachic consequence for the individual regarding fulfilling the mitzvah. Yet without any doubt, what was done here is outright bloodshed: this person went up to read the Torah, he feels embarrassed, and everyone calls out corrections, shouting at him and humiliating him. It is better for a person to cast himself into a fiery furnace than to publicly shame his fellow - yet here, his blood is being spilled.
Therefore, when one sees someone begin to stumble in his reading - remain silent; do not correct him at all. "But we might not fulfill the obligation!" - since when did one become such a pietist, that fulfilling this obligation suddenly matters so much? If fulfilling the obligation is important, avoiding bloodshed is incomparably more important. There are situations where it is better for the gabbai to shorten the reading and let him conclude, rather than having him read forty verses when it is clear he is unprepared, or to ensure that next time he prepares properly in advance. But stepping in to correct him over every minor detail is certainly wrong. Even if he makes mistakes, it is far better to remain silent.
The Ralbag explains: "When the wicked comes, contempt also comes" - it is the way of the wicked to disparage people. "And with disgrace comes reproach" - with the very disgrace and contempt inherent in himself because of his corrupt deeds, he reproaches others, for whoever disqualifies others does so with his own blemish (kol haposeil b'mumo poseil). The wicked person searches for flaws, and it is precisely the flaws within himself that he identifies in others. That is, unlike our earlier interpretation that reproach comes along with a disgraceful person, here it means: through the shameful traits within himself - things that are disgraceful and better left unspoken - he insults and humiliates others.
This is also human nature. On the surface, the principle of "whoever disqualifies others does so with his own blemish" seems counterintuitive - if one is ashamed of a particular fault, should he not avoid mentioning it altogether? The answer is that precisely because a person possesses that flaw, he seeks out those in whom it is even more pronounced, in order to divert the focus from himself to them. If someone is stingy, he looks for someone even stingier, saying, "Did you see how stingy he is?" - "Wait, are you so generous?" - "No, but at least I am not like that!" Seeing someone worse brings him comfort, much like an overweight person who takes comfort in seeing someone heavier, suddenly feeling lean: "Look, he weighs two hundred kilos and I am only one hundred and fifty; I have plenty of room to spare." It gives a person a deceptive sense of satisfaction to demean others for the very flaw he possesses, because it reassures him that he is not the worst, and that others are in a far worse state.
The Malbim explains: the attribute of righteousness dictates honoring every person, whereas the way of the wicked is to treat everyone with contempt, as it is written: "and the wicked causes disgust and shame." All people are degraded in his eyes, for he is arrogant and feels superior to everyone else. And wherever disgrace is found, verbal reproach accompanies it. Disgrace (kalon), says the Malbim, is the opposite of honor; and the way of the wicked is to treat the honorable with contempt (buz) and to actively reproach the lowly (cherpah).
Let us clarify the difference. A person can be distinguished yet wicked - one does not preclude the other. He may be an honorable, distinguished figure, yet his deeds are evil. To give a visual example: a person might walk out in a tailored suit and tie carrying a James Bond briefcase - a very distinguished person - yet be thoroughly wicked. Another person might walk outside in shorts without a shirt and a pack of Marlboros in his pocket, appearing low and degraded. The Malbim explains: the wicked person disdains the distinguished one, for relative to someone honorable, the opposite of honor is contempt and disgrace. But the lowly, who are truly at the bottom, he reviles. He does not allow himself to openly revile a distinguished person - it is unseemly to verbally curse an honorable figure, so he merely disdains him. Toward a lowly person, however, he has no inhibition against cursing and heaping outright abuse upon him. Therefore, "and with disgrace comes reproach" - those who are already disgraced, he reviles and blasphemes.
In terms of the nuances of Lashon HaKodesh: contempt (buz) is related to mockery - to despise someone is to mock them. However, mockery is external, expressed with the lips, whereas contempt can dwell solely in the heart: "and he despised (vayivez)" - in his heart, the matter was degraded in his eyes without him uttering a word. Disgrace (kalon) is the opposite of honor, and a degraded person (nikleh) is already considered lowly; yet the wicked person is not satisfied with this unfortunate man being lowly, but goes further to revile him. Reproach (cherpah) is far worse than mere disgrace: disgrace means being stripped of honor, the antithesis of honor, whereas to revile means actively cursing and heaping insults - a state far worse than before.
מַיִם עֲמֻקִּים דִּבְרֵי פִי אִישׁ נַחַל נֹבֵעַ מְקוֹר חָכְמָה. - "Deep waters are the words of a man's mouth; a flowing brook, a fountain of wisdom."
Rabbeinu Yonah explains: a man who is a flowing brook from a fountain of wisdom - the words of his mouth are like deep waters. When a person is a source from which words of wisdom and insight flow, know that his words are deep waters. And what are deep waters? When one wishes to draw deep water, one must invest great effort; it is deep and requires drawing, which is not easy. When water is shallow, one simply reaches down with a hand and immediately has water; but when the water is deep, tremendous effort is required to draw it up.
Thus, Rabbeinu Yonah writes: "No man will understand the words of the wise and discerning, nor grasp his thought, except through toil and preparations of the heart to comprehend them." A person who is a flowing brook, a fountain of wisdom - a man of deep intellect and wisdom - his words cannot be grasped casually in an instant; one must delve deeply into them to understand them. And why was this said? So that if a person hears the words of a wise man, he should not assume he immediately grasped them. Reflect, delve deeper, for the words are not self-evident - and if you think you understood immediately, it may be a sign that you did not reflect enough.
The best example is Rashi on the Chumash. Children study Rashi on the Chumash and understand it, and adults study Rashi on the Chumash and not only understand it, but discover magnificent pearls that the child never even noticed - and this is the genius of Rashi's commentary. One of the works on which the most commentaries have been written is Rashi on the Chumash, and another is the Rambam. Remarkably, both of them - Rashi and the Rambam - write in language that is clear, pure, straightforward, and simple. One reads the Rambam's wording and thinks: it is so simple, what is there to puzzle over? Yet despite this, Rav Fadida, the Rav of Or HaGanuz, has an entire hall filled with books written on the Rambam, commentaries on the Rambam collected from all over the world. What is there to explain in the Rambam, if it is so simple?
The same is true of Rashi: countless commentaries and books have been authored on his words by the greatest Torah luminaries. The Mizrachi was among the first to author a supercommentary on Rashi, and the Maharal of Prague composed an entire commentary explaining every comment of Rashi: what Rashi intended, what difficulty he faced, why he rejected another interpretation, why he sometimes writes "as translated" and other times "and Onkelos translated." Every nuance comes to teach something different; they are not interchangeable. And when Rashi offers a particular explanation, it represents his deliberate approach. Why did he cite a Midrash here and omit it elsewhere? What difficulty troubled him in the plain meaning of the text? It is an extraordinary, wondrous depth.
Rabbeinu Tam famously remarked: "To do what Rashi did on the Shas, I could also do; but to do what Rashi did on the Chumash, that I cannot do." Rashi undertook 613 fasts before composing his commentary, and not for nothing did he earn the title "Parshandatha" - parshan hadat, the master interpreter of the Torah. Incidentally, who was the first person in the world to learn Chumash with Rashi? Rashi's father, who learned Chumash with his son when he was a boy.
This also holds true for Rashi on the Gemara: whenever Rashi writes "that is to say" (kelomar), he is resolving multiple difficulties; a question troubled him. Often, anyone who studies Rashi properly sees that within his concise words he has already answered the question of Tosafot, addressed what the Rashba asks, and resolved what puzzled the Ran - all embedded within brief phrases where everything was hidden. "Deep waters are the words of a man's mouth" who is a flowing brook, a fountain of wisdom: turn his words over in your heart two or three times, reflect and delve deeply into them, and never assume you can grasp them casually.
The Rambam writes this explicitly in his introduction: if you find something perplexing in my words, something you do not understand, do not reject it lightly, for I toiled and labored intensely to remove every pitfall and flaw from this work. I invested many hours and immense effort delving deeply into everything I wrote, and these matters are like refined flour; therefore, if you did not understand, delve into them again. Not like today, when someone writes, "If you find a mistake, the error is mine, please let me know." In earlier times, when their minds and hearts were as expansive as a palace hall, they told you: I wrote these words with the utmost depth of analysis. And we see that sometimes, when people treated a work of the Torah giants disrespectfully, or said "he made a mistake here," there was an immediate stricture from Heaven upon them. What was written was formulated with exactitude, not off the cuff. Therefore, when you study - "The words of a man's mouth are deep waters": delve into them so as to understand them properly.
And Rabbeinu Yonah adds that this may very well be a continuation of the previous verse. For we saw, "When a wicked man comes, contempt comes as well" - the wicked man scorns the words of the wise. And why? Because he failed to realize that "The words of a man's mouth are deep waters." He heard something and immediately reacted: What is this nonsense? Why are you so quick to scorn? Delve deeper, study it again, and then: How could I have missed what wonderful things are written here, what a magnificent thesis! But the wicked man scoffs immediately, without bothering to delve into the matter.
The Vilna Gaon explains that an "ish" (man) is someone who studies Torah for its own sake, and his words are deep waters - profound, internal, and marvelous concepts that one must contemplate deeply to comprehend. And see how marvelous this is: one who learns Torah for its own sake merits many things, as taught in Pirkei Avot, and those very virtues are the exact opposite of what we saw in the preceding verses regarding one who does not study for its own sake.
"And he loves modesty" - he possesses modesty and humility. And what did we see earlier? "A fool takes no pleasure in understanding, but only in revealing his heart." The fool is the antithesis of modesty; what does he want? Look how much I know, look how smart I am! He did not study Torah for its own sake. But one who studies for its own sake conducts himself with modesty, and does not seek to broadcast his wisdom to everyone.
"Patient" - and this is the opposite of what we saw earlier, "and with disgrace comes reproach." Who reproaches? One who hears something he dislikes and immediately snaps: You are talking nonsense, what do you know anyway, you are an ignoramus. And why does he scorn? Because he has a short fuse; he lacks patience. In contrast, one who studies Torah for its own sake is patient: he is willing to listen, willing to tolerate your words, and he will think them over again - perhaps he did not understand them properly; and even if they do not appeal to him at all, he will not immediately refute them.
"Forgiving of insult" - and this is the opposite of "When a wicked man comes, contempt comes as well." One who studies Torah for its own sake not only refrains from scorning others, but even when he is insulted, he remains silent and forgives the slight. The wicked man, however - not only can he not bear being insulted, but he goes further and scorns others.
And corresponding to what we saw, "He clashes with all sound counsel," meaning that such a person's disgrace is exposed in public, and ultimately everyone sees that he is an empty vessel who only disparages others with no real substance to him - for one who studies Torah for its own sake, "[the Torah] magnifies and exalts him above all creations." Suddenly this man becomes renowned; suddenly he is in the forefront, seated at the head of the kingdom, among the greatest of Israel - and who knew or heard of him before? It is the Torah itself that magnifies and exalts him. But with the wicked man - "he clashes with all sound counsel": not only does he fail to gain positive renown, but his disgrace is exposed to all. Thus you see that one who learns Torah for its own sake is the absolute opposite of one who walks, God forbid, in the path of the wicked.
Metzudat David explains differently, and it is worth presenting his view as well, as both hold truth. "The words of a man's mouth" refers to wisdom that is not from the Torah, which is like deep waters: anyone wishing to drink from them must labor and draw them up from the depths; they are not simple or easy to grasp, and one must expend great effort on his own to understand them. The wisdom of the Torah, however, is a flowing stream that automatically flows to the mouth of the drinker if he draws near to it; similarly, the wisdom of the Torah enlightens those who engage in it.
That is to say: one cannot say of someone who studied a great deal of algebra that he now possesses divine assistance to comprehend on his own, to delve deeper and innovate. That does not exist in algebra, nor does it exist in any secular subject you might study - mechanics, quantum physics, whatever you like. One cannot say that after you have studied extensively, the subject itself will come to your aid and assist you. In Torah study, by contrast, we say, "The appetite of the laborer labors for him" - he toils in one place, and the Torah toils for him in another. When a person truly invests himself in Torah, suddenly the Torah itself reveals itself to him, teaches him its secrets, and discloses hidden matters that he could never have grasped on his own, concepts beyond his human comprehension. You labored to understand a sugya here, and by virtue of your toil here, you receive divine assistance, and the Torah itself unveils its secrets to you elsewhere. In Torah, there is a unique divine assistance that stems from the Torah itself, which does not exist in secular disciplines; there, you must always study and invest effort just as you did at the beginning, whereas with the Torah, the Torah itself helps you and presents itself before you.
This is "A flowing stream, the source of wisdom": the source of wisdom, which is the holy Torah, is like a flowing stream that pours its waters toward you. At first, great effort is indeed required, but later it flows on its own and influences you through the holiness you have acquired. And so it is said of one who studies Torah for its own sake, "and secrets of the Torah are revealed to him" - he even receives a maggid from Heaven who comes and teaches him Torah. Is there a maggid to teach you algebra? No. Even if you delved deeply and studied extensively, there is no maggid, and you must simply continue to labor. But in Torah, there is a stage of "and from the gift to Nachaliel," where a person merits Torah as a gift - it is granted to him as a gift, and he even merits a maggid who teaches him words of Torah.
The Malbim explains: when a person speaks words of wisdom, they are deep waters. Wisdom is profound, hidden in the depths of the soul, and bringing it up from there to the surface is a great distance. Yet at the same time, the source of wisdom is like a flowing brook.
As is known, the Malbim consistently explains the concept of wisdom as pertaining to conduct: wisdom is knowing what is upright and what is not upright, what is decent and what is indecent - matters of personal conduct and character traits. As previously explained, these things cannot originate from man on his own; they require transmission, received through a prophet. Woe to us if man had to determine for himself what is moral and what is immoral! Where, then, does this come from? From what we received by the word of Hashem: that this is moral and that is immoral, this is proper and that is improper - and on this basis we have the rules of morality.
Regarding this, the verse says, "a flowing brook, a fountain of wisdom": realize that the basic rules of morality reside deep within man, built-in; the Holy One, Blessed is He, implanted this within human nature. This means that there is no society in the world where theft is legitimate, where murder is legitimate, or where adultery is legitimate. There may be a society with less scrutiny or criticism of someone who commits such acts - as the story goes about Ceausescu, who walked around the world with a flashlight looking for justice, and when he reached Romania, he had to start looking for the flashlight! There are places where theft is widely practiced and adultery is common, but to say that it is the law, that this is how one ought to behave rather than merely how people behave - that does not exist anywhere. Why? Because deep down, everyone knows it is immoral to steal, to murder, and to commit adultery. Likewise, there is no society in the world where people walk around naked; perhaps in some remote African jungle there are minuscule tribes about whom it is said, "he is likened to the beasts that perish," but we are not discussing them; we are speaking of an orderly society. And why is this so? Because deep inside, a person has a fundamental awareness that being naked is immoral and shameful; it is ingrained within him.
This is the meaning of "The words of a man's mouth are deep waters": what a person expresses in wisdom, he draws from within, for Hashem endowed us internally with the recognition of what is moral and what is not. "A flowing brook, a fountain of wisdom" - from there it flows effortlessly for someone who has truly succeeded in nullifying the forces of evil within himself, overcoming lusts and desires. For such a person, that inner wisdom and innate morality emerge naturally. But if not, he will ask: Why not? Why not walk around naked? Why not kill when necessary? Why not steal from someone who has plenty? Where do all these distortions come from? From lusts. When desires take over, a person manages to obscure the inner core of truth and follow his impulses.
Verse 3 teaches about two classes of scorners: the wicked man, whose very arrival is intended to find faults, and therefore "contempt comes along" - the contempt follows in the next stage, once he finds something to pounce on; and the man of shame, with whom disgrace arrives immediately, since his entire objective in coming is to revile. The wicked man despises the honorable and reviles the lowly, disqualifying others with his own flaw in order to deflect criticism away from himself. From here emerges a profound lesson: to take extreme care never to humiliate another person, and that even the reading of the Torah is not worth shedding blood. Conversely, verse 4 teaches: the words of a wise man are deep waters that must be drawn out with effort and deep contemplation - like Rashi and the Rambam, whose simplicity of language conceals infinite depth. One who studies Torah for its own sake, whose words are deep waters, merits modesty, patience, forgiveness of insults, and finding that the Torah magnifies and exalts him. And the source of wisdom itself is a flowing brook: the Torah makes itself accessible to one who toils in it, and the principles of morality are etched into the human soul, flowing from it naturally - if only one has subdued the forces of evil and his physical desires.