The two verses before us, which conclude chapter 18, address one major question: in what does a person place his trust, and upon what does he lean? First, King Solomon contrasts the pauper and the rich man, teaching that not only is poverty deplorable, but wealth also carries its own deficiency; afterward, he turns to the acquisition of friends - what constitutes a true friend, and who is the beloved companion who sticks closer to a person than a brother.
תַּחֲנוּנִים יְדַבֶּר רָשׁ, וְעָשִׁיר יַעֲנֶה עַזּוֹת׃ (כג) - The poor man speaks with supplications, but the rich man answers insolently. (23)
Rashi explains that the verse comes to describe two typical behaviors: the poor man's way is to speak with supplication, and the rich man's way is to speak with insolence. Rashi adds an instruction in proper conduct (derech eretz): even though the rich man treats the pauper harshly, the pauper should not respond in kind, but rather speak to him entreatingly. The same applies to a master and disciple - and this will be clarified further in the Vilna Gaon's explanation below.
Rabbeinu Yonah explains that "rash" denotes poverty, and in it lies a disgrace for a person. Why? Because poverty leads him to plead and supplicate, debasing himself before people and flattering them. Fear of people and flattery are soul-degrading, and being dependent on others is disgraceful. The ideal state is when a person does not depend on others - when he does not have to flatter anyone or fawn for scraps, nor stand as a pauper begging at the door.
Yet the verse continues: "but the rich man answers insolently" - telling you that wealth also carries disgrace and degradation, from a different angle. Wealth leads its possessor to arrogance and insolence: he feels no shame, speaks insolently, and roars boastfully, for a lion roars over a basket full of meat. Not only that, but he stubbornly insists on his opinions and despises the words of those who disagree with him, as Solomon said: "A rich man is wise in his own eyes." And this is truly astonishing: people say, "He who has the money has the say" - yet what does he actually understand or know? He simply possesses millions. One must always ask: on what does this wealth depend, intellect or fortune? After all, "wealth does not belong to the wise," and most wise men do not possess riches. Yet the rich man is certain that if he has money, he must also have wisdom, but unfortunately - or perhaps fortunately - the two do not necessarily go together. Rabbeinu Yonah adds: even if he recognizes the truth, he will not humble himself to admit it, but will obstinately harden his spirit to uphold his position, simply because he is rich.
It turns out, therefore, that extreme poverty is harsh and great wealth is also fraught with peril. This is the plea of the verse: "Give me neither poverty nor riches; feed me the bread of my allotted portion." I ask for neither extreme, but rather a moderate standard, my daily sustenance; "lest I be full and deny You" - if things are too easy for me, I will become arrogant; "or lest I be poor and steal" - if things become too dire, I will sin. "The poor man speaks with supplications" is undesirable, as he flatters everyone and holds out his hand; "but the rich man answers insolently" is also bad. Therefore, it is best for a person to follow the middle path.
The Vilna Gaon explains: "The poor man speaks supplications" - prayer is called tachanunim (supplications), and when a person prays, he must view himself as a destitute person, as it says, "A prayer of the afflicted when he is faint." When is a person's prayer heard? When he considers himself poor.
The Gra continues and elaborates on what Rashi alluded to. "Rich" refers to one who is rich in Torah, and a rabbi who teaches Torah must be firm and unyielding, as Chazal said: any Torah scholar who is not as hard as iron is not a Torah scholar. Seemingly, hardness is not a positive trait; would it not be fitting for him to be gentle? Rather, the intention is that he must not be an elastic rabbi who shifts his stance according to changing moods and pressures. When pressure mounts from all sides and one's role conflicts with halachah, suddenly a person becomes flexible. There are those who have publicly stated an explicit halachah, and when an uproar ensued, responded: "There I expressed the view of the halachah, but I must emphasize that this is not my personal opinion." Meaning: this is what the Master of the Universe said, but excuse me, I disagree with Him; that is the halachic view, but not my personal stance. That is not the way: if this is the halachah, if this is the Torah - we do not budge from it by a hairsbreadth.
It is told of Rav Ovadia Yosef that back in Egypt he ruled regarding a certain slaughterer that one may not eat from his slaughter, and this was an intimidating man whom everyone feared. That man took acid to throw at the Rav, hitting someone else outside the synagogue instead. Later, both of them immigrated to Eretz Yisrael, and Rav Ovadia notified the Rabbinate: this slaughterer is a criminal, one may not eat from his slaughter, for he feeds people non-kosher meat (neveilot and treifot). The man came to his home and said: "Here too you pursue me? I will murder you" - and he brandished a knife. The Rav unbuttoned his shirt and said to him: "Do whatever you wish to me, but a slaughterer you will not be; as long as I live, I will never allow you to feed people neveilot and treifot." This is someone who does not compromise, who does not calculate what people will say - this is the Torah, and I follow it all the way through, even prepared to give my life for it. This is "and the rich answers impudently": one rich in Torah - say what needs to be said, clearly and explicitly, and fear no one.
Another explanation, following Rashi's direction: it is the student who must speak supplications, as Chazal said, that any student who sits before his teacher and his lips do not drip myrrh - let them be burned. A student sitting before his teacher must sit in awe and reverence; he is called "poor," for even if he is wise, relative to his teacher he is still impoverished. And the teacher - "and the rich answers impudently," as Chazal stated, "Cast fear among the students." For if a teacher is lax and spineless, the students will walk all over him, dance during class, throw paper airplanes, disrupt, skip tests, and fail to do homework. Therefore, the teacher must be firm, to establish discipline and ensure that their learning endures.
Another explanation: "The poor man speaks supplications" - even though "the rich answers impudently." That is, even if a student sees that his teacher does not show him a welcoming face, he should still speak supplications, in order to receive and acquire Torah from his master, even when his teacher is angry with him. As the Gemara in Masechet Berachot expounds on the verse, "For the churning of milk brings forth butter, and wringing the nose brings forth blood" - any student whose teacher gets angry with him the first time and remains silent merits distinguishing between ritually impure blood and pure blood; "and the forcing of wrath brings forth strife" - any student whose teacher is angry with him a first and second time and remains silent merits distinguishing between monetary laws and capital laws, and Rashi explains that monetary laws are particularly profound. Thus, even if the teacher rebukes him, he should not break. Someone might say: "The rabbi spoke to me like that, my feelings were hurt, and I left" - and such a person does not succeed. Whereas one who perseveres and swallows his pride merits becoming an authoritative halachic decisor (moreh hora'ah); suddenly he sees that he begins to understand, begins to discern which questions to ask and which not to ask, and then gains great insight in Torah.
The Ralbag explains that the poor person desires life and livelihood, and therefore he speaks supplications; thus, not only does he avoid causing quarrels, but he even silences the dispute. And this is reality: when there is a dispute and people are shouting, and a person responds respectfully, with derech eretz and composure, he manages to calm his surroundings. But when he does not, chaos ensues: you react, he fires back, and the turmoil escalates.
There is a story written by Yair Walder about a woman who was in a supermarket with her daughter. Near the frozen foods section, the girl began to shout: "Mommy, I want an ice pop!" The narrator heard the mother say: "Racheli, in twenty minutes we will be home; we will sit down, eat, and relax." They continued, passed by the sweets, and the child threw herself on the floor, screaming that she wasn't moving. The narrator heard the mother again: "Racheli, in fifteen minutes we will be home; we will eat, drink, and relax; there is no need to get worked up or make a fuss." As they exited the supermarket, another woman approached her and said: "I admire you so much; with such composure and patience you handle your Racheli!" She replied: "Racheli is not my daughter - Racheli is me." A person gets stressed and tense, the child throws a tantrum and drives one crazy, and one is about to explode - and then one talks to oneself: "Calm down, soon we will be home, soon we will have a cup of coffee, soon we will rest, this will all be over soon." First, a person must speak calming words to oneself, and then one's interactions with others will be calm as well.
And this is the poor man: "The poor man speaks supplications" - he does not come to a dispute; he silences the quarrel and deflects the anger from himself. But the rich man, whose wealth is his strong city, is full of self-confidence and speaks with impudence and arrogance. Such conduct gathers enemies for him, causes people to gossip about him, and ensures that no one wants to associate with him. But one who speaks supplications - his friends and admirers will multiply.
The Malbim offers an innovative explanation: *ya'aneh* does not stem from affliction (*inui*), but from subjugation (*hachna'ah*), as in "and money answers (*ya'aneh*) everything" - meaning that money subjugates everything. According to this: "A pauper speaks supplications" - when the pauper speaks with supplication, then "and a rich man subdues impudence," the rich man subjugates the brazenness within himself. The rich man initially intended to speak with insolence and chutzpah, but how often do you see a person getting heated, and you say a few calm words to him and soothe him, and suddenly all the air goes out of him? Through "a pauper speaks supplications," the rich man subjugates his brazenness.
It is told of the Brisker Rov, the Gri"z, that poor people would constantly come to him to ask for charity, for he harbored many halachic stringencies: he always feared that if an outstretched hand came to him and he did not give, he would violate "You shall not close your hand" and "You shall not hide your eyes" - so he would give to everyone who approached. The beggars, knowing this, would make two rounds to him in the synagogue, and on the second round he still would not turn them away. Once, he was walking with the Rav of Kharkov when a man approached asking for money, but the Brisker Rov ignored him and kept walking. The man pursued him and asked again, yet the Rov ignored him once more and gave him nothing. The Rav of Kharkov, knowing his meticulous concerns, asked him: "Does the Rov not fear violating 'You shall not close your hand'?" He replied: "He is not poor." He asked: "And from where does the Rov know this, through Ruach HaKodesh?" He answered him: "King Solomon says, 'A pauper speaks supplications, and a rich man answers impudently' - one who speaks with impudence is a sign that he is not poor."
Yet a qualification must be made: this was true in the generation of the Brisker Rov. In our generation, however, when insolence has descended upon the world and "chutzpah will increase," one can see a person who possesses nothing - destitute of intellect, destitute of Torah, destitute of money, poor in everything - speaking with the utmost brazenness as if he were the greatest tycoon in the world. This too has changed in the final generation: even the poor have become insolent. The holy Ari stated that the brazen-faced of the generation were non-kosher animals in a previous gilgul, so do not be surprised when you see a person behaving like a Rottweiler. And so it is written: "And the dogs are of bold spirit" - brazenness is an animalistic trait. At any rate, in their times, at least among the poor, brazenness did not exist.
אִישׁ רֵעִים לְהִתְרֹעֵעַ, וְיֵשׁ אֹהֵב דָּבֵק מֵאָח׃ (כד) - A man of companions may associate with them, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.
In its plain sense: if a person acquires companions, the day will come when he will need them and must associate with them. "And there is a friend who clings closer than a brother" - there is a beloved companion who is more important to you and clings to you more than a brother. Therefore, Solomon seeks to teach that one should seek companions, for that friend may become attached to him, benefiting him and assisting him even more than his own brother.
The Ibn Ezra explains: a person loves companions so that they will associate and bond with him. That is, a person loves companions for his own benefit. Simply put: a fisherman loves fish, not out of any special fondness for them, but because he eats them. And when a man "loves" a woman, it is not always born of a deep desire to give to her, but because being with her makes him feel good. Thus, this sort of love is nothing more than self-interest. He does not love them; he loves himself, and his self-love is actualized through having many companions. The companion is merely an instrument of entertainment for him, through whom his life is made more pleasant.
And this is not the Torah's path. To a bride and groom we say, "Gladden the beloved companions (*re'im ha'ahuvim*)" - not the *loving* companions (*ha'ohavim*). Rabbi Chaim of Volozhin explains in *Ruach Chaim* on Pirkei Avos, regarding one of the forty-eight ways through which Torah is acquired, "He is called a companion, he is called beloved": Why does it say "he is called beloved (*ahuv*)" and not "he is called loving (*ohev*)"? Because more than a person needs to bring the love of Hashem into his heart, and more than he must strive to love Hashem, he must strive to be beloved by the Holy One, Blessed is He. If only you could truly sing, "Fortunate are you, the Holy One, Blessed is He, loves you" - that is the aspiration. "And You, in Your abundant mercies, will desire us and find favor in us"; the *Mesillas Yesharim* states that this is the pinnacle of the aspirations of the righteous: that their desire find favor before Hashem and that He desire them. And this is what is conveyed to the bride and groom: let each of them see how to make themselves beloved to the other. Not how much I love her, or how much she loves me - which still means nothing other than what each wants from the other and what each seeks to gain. Rather: what will I endeavor to do so that I become beloved to her, and what will she endeavor to do so that she becomes beloved to me? This is "beloved companions," not loving companions.
Rabbeinu Yonah explains that "lehitro'ea" does not stem from friendship (re'ut), but from boasting and praise, as in the verse, "Over Philistia, shout in triumph (hitro'a'i)" - boast. "A man of many companions is for glory": someone who has many companions gains praise and glory through their multitude, his honor increases, he has no fear of other people, and he does not fall into crisis or poverty, because there is always someone to support him and assist him.
And "there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother" - beyond the honor that comes from friends and companions, there is also practical benefit: it is possible that such a person, who is not your actual brother but with whom you share a deep friendship, will help you and cling to you even more than a brother. From this one can see how important it is to acquire companions, for it brings a person praise and glory, and the more companions he has, the better off he will be.
The Vilna Gaon interprets this in the opposite direction: "lehitro'ea" is an expression of breaking, as in "The earth is utterly broken (hitro'a'ah)," and "You shall break them (tero'eim) with an iron rod" - break and weaken them. And Chazal taught: A person should not multiply companions inside his home. According to the Gra, the verse comes to say the exact opposite: Do not think that having many companions will benefit you - many times, it causes only harm.
The word "rea" is very interesting, as it carries both a positive and a negative meaning. "This is my beloved and this is my friend (vezeh re'i)," "beloved companions (re'im ahuvim)" - a positive meaning, a friend and companion; yet "rea" also connotes breaking. On the surface, these two meanings seem contradictory, so how are they reconciled? The answer is that in order to have a true friend (rea), you must break (lero'ea) the ties of companionship you have with other friends. If a person wants a good relationship with his wife, he cannot continue hanging out with the guys as before and expect the bond with his wife to remain strong; when you want a strong bond with someone, it inevitably comes at the expense of something else. "Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and cling to his wife" - one cannot be fully attached both here and there. This does not mean he should quarrel with them or sever ties completely, but rather that he cannot maintain the same level of closeness with others when he seeks to acquire deep closeness with one. One cannot be everyone's best friend and deeply bonded with all.
The Gra continues: There is a friend who is not physically close to him, yet from wherever he is, he loves him - and even though he is far away, he clings to him more than a brother. As it is written, "And the soul of Yehonasan was knit with the soul of David," yet Yehonasan was not in David's proximity, and they were far apart, nevertheless his soul clung to him. There is a friend who is geographically distant from you, yet his soul is attached to you more than a brother. And why? Because the love between brothers, says the Gra, stems from having come from one place, one womb, and having grown up in one house - yet now they are separate. But a true friend clings in his heart always, and the soulful bond with him exists at all times.
On a deeper level, the Gra explains: We have learned that a person has three companions. The first is his money; the second is his relatives; the third is the mitzvos and good deeds he performed. Wealth is the foremost companion, for a person does not walk attached even to his wife as closely as his money is attached in his pocket. And this is the meaning of "a man of companions (re'im)" - what is the minimum of the plural "companions"? Two. That is to say, out of the three companions, he pursues only two, and it is understood that this refers not to Torah and mitzvos, but to money and relatives. Such a person "will be broken (yitro'ea)." Why? Because in the end, how will these benefit him in the grave? How will they help him after one hundred and twenty years? "And your righteousness shall go before you" - this is what will truly accompany a person, for neither silver nor gold, nor precious stones and pearls accompany a person, but only Torah, mitzvos, and good deeds. Even if he falls ill and lies on his deathbed, they cannot save him; no matter how much they love him and desire his life, it will not avail him. If he has merits, they are what can save him - "and charity saves from death." But for one who has only two companions, money and relatives, they cannot save him.
"And there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother" - who is that friend who is not physically near, and may even seem distant, yet clings more than a brother and will always save a person? The Torah, mitzvos, and good deeds. This is the third companion, and it is the true beloved. For relatives do not necessarily love a person selflessly: they may have expectations of him, they may be counting on an inheritance, and various other reasons might draw them close. Who is truly close? The one who seeks only a person's ultimate good - the Torah, mitzvos, and good deeds, which remain with him for eternity. Therefore, when the Torah calls upon a person to engage in it and come to the Beit Midrash, it is the true beloved - far more than an invitation to drop by a wedding or visit someone not seen in a long time. Who is the true friend? The one who looks after one's eternity. This does not mean completely discarding one or the other, for life certainly presents situations that require balance, and at times a person needs a bit of both; yet one must clearly see the proper path, so that he is not drawn after companions and acquaintances or after his wealth, thereby forfeiting his world in this life and the Next World. "When you walk, it will lead you" - the Torah is what remains attached to him in this world and in the World to Come.
The Malbim cites what the thinkers and philosophers observed: one who acquires many friends has not even one. For genuine love is singular, and as it multiplies, it becomes diluted and dissipated.
We have previously mentioned the parable of the father whose son was constantly socializing with companions, boasting of his numerous friends and comrades. The father asked him, "How many friends do you have?" He replied, "Around thirty." The father asked, "True friends?" He answered, "True friends, with heart and soul." The father said, "What you say astonishes me greatly; I have only half a friend. Half - and you have dozens? Let us put this to the test." The father slaughtered a sheep, took its head, placed it in a sack, and told his son, "Take this, flee, and tell your friends that you murdered someone, that his head is here in the sack, and ask them to hide you. Then you will see." All night long, the son went from friend to friend and companion to comrade. One could not help because his parents would not allow it; another had no way to assist right now; another was studying law and did not want to get entangled lest his license be revoked. The son returned home in utter disappointment. His father said to him, "Now go to my half a friend, tell him you are so-and-so's son, and see if he helps you." He went there, and immediately: "Ah, the son of so-and-so! Of course, without question, come right inside!" He took care of him, comforted him, gave him a drink, prepared a bed for him, hid him, and said, "You have nothing to worry about. As long as you are with me, you can be at peace." The son returned home and abandoned that social circle, having realized that one who has many has nothing at all.
This is easily understood through simple common sense as well: can a man be married to many wives and truly love them all? There is no denying it; it is simply impossible. If he is married to one wife, there is a real possibility that he will love her and be deeply bound to her; but for him to have five wives and be deeply bound to all of them - there is no such thing. A genuine bond is directed toward one, and it is impossible to be truly bonded to several, for whenever love multiplies, it becomes diluted and dissipated.
There is another linguistic principle of the Malbim that we have encountered several times: the hitpa'el grammatical form consistently indicates an imagined or simulated action, rather than a real one. "There is one who feigns wealth (mit'asher) yet has nothing" - mit'asher, as if he has become rich; "and there is one who feigns poverty (mitroshesh) yet has great wealth" - as if he has become poor. Here too, "a man of many companions to associate (lehitro'ea)" - in the hitpa'el form, as if he has companions, ostensibly your friends, but not in reality.
There are "battery-operated" friends: he is your friend and everything is pleasant and fine, but suddenly when you need him, it turns out the battery has run out, and the next time around - nothing, it does not work, except when he needs you. An electrician once framed this differently: this is a "diode" friend. A diode conducts in only one direction, not in both directions. So too with that friend - it is only about receiving from you. You need something from him? Suddenly he cannot, he has no time, he is under pressure, he just lent money to someone, the bank just called him - and you can never reach him. That is the meaning of lehitro'ea: you imagine that you have companions; it is an illusion of friendship, not a true friend. But "yet there is a friend" - not a multitude of companions, but one, true friend - and he "cleaves closer than a brother," clinging to you even more than brotherly love. Why? Because he genuinely loves, and he is one. But if you have many companions, you have nothing at all.
The two verses teach the same principle from two distinct angles. "The poor man speaks supplications, but the rich man answers insolently" - there is a flaw in poverty, for it breeds flattery and dependence upon others, and there is also a defect in wealth, for it breeds arrogance, insolence, and a refusal to acknowledge the truth. Therefore, Scripture sought the middle path: "Feed me my allotted bread." On a deeper plane: in prayer, a person should approach like a pauper, whereas in Torah, he should stand firm as an unyielding, wealthy man of iron; a student should speak supplications even when his rebbe rebukes him, while the rebbe must maintain a measure of sternness to firmly establish the study; and through pacifying speech, a person quells dispute and subdues the insolence of his counterpart. And "A man of many companions comes to pretense, yet there is a friend who cleaves closer than a brother" - having a multitude of companions is usually an illusion of friendship, for as love multiplies, it becomes diluted and dissipated, whereas the single true friend cleaves to a person even from afar. And the true friend who never abandons a person, neither in sickness nor in the grave, is neither wealth nor relatives, but the Torah, the mitzvot, and good deeds, of which it is said, "When you walk, it will guide you."