Chapter 23 of Mishlei continues the warning against the power of human desire. King Solomon opened by saying, "When you sit down to dine with a ruler, consider well what is before you" - the evil inclination is the "ruler," and he tries to draw you into his feast. From here, the chapter moves to an additional warning: the race after wealth. And from there, to a warning against eating the bread of one with an "evil eye," which is an allegory for a distorted approach to wisdom and Torah. Let us follow the order of the verses.
אַל־תִּיגַע לְהַעֲשִׁיר מִבִּינָתְךָ חֲדָל׃ (ד) - Do not weary yourself to gain wealth; cease from your own understanding (4).
Rashi explains that the verse speaks of engaging in Torah study: "Do not weary yourself to gain wealth" - do not gather your study into heaps and bundles, for in the end you will forget it. There are those who might say: "Within a year, I completed the entire Shas, learning seven dapim a day." First of all, one should certainly praise such dedication and willpower. But the question that must be asked is different: Did he truly learn the Shas properly, and what remains with him from it? It is told that Rav Elyashiv once went to examine a kollel that had completed Shas, and remarked that only two avreichim among them had actually learned the Shas; the rest "davened the Gemara." An interesting definition: they davened the Gemara. Just like reciting "Ashrei yoshvei veitecha," page after page after page - very nice, you finished Shas. Rashi says: Do not think that the main point is merely to cover ground, rushing to finish tractate after tractate. What remains with you from that? It is far better to learn more slowly, to reflect on what you are learning, and to truly understand it.
On the other hand, overburdening oneself excessively is also not good. Sometimes it weighs too heavily on a person, it becomes too difficult, and it can lead to despair. One must find the balanced path. But merely rushing through and saying, "I covered the material, I completed it, I finished" - that is not the goal, since in the end it will be forgotten.
Rabbeinu Yonah explains the verse more according to the peshat: If you have enough for your livelihood and sustenance through moderate effort, do not exhaust yourself to acquire more and become rich. And "cease from your own understanding" - stop thinking that wealth depends on your own cleverness or intellect. Wealth is determined by the decree of Hashem, blessed be He. A person could labor day and night and not become wealthy, while another exerts little effort and becomes very wealthy. Why, then, exhaust yourself, if toil does not necessarily yield riches?
A story is told of a math teacher who was walking through the market and saw a former student, a young man of about twenty-five, standing behind a stall of tomatoes and cucumbers. He asked him how things were going, and the young man told him, "Baruch Hashem, I have two houses, three cars, and several stalls in the market." The teacher asked, "Tell me honestly, how did you manage this? I was your teacher; you didn't even know that two plus two equals four!" He replied, "Believe me, teacher, one doesn't need to know much math. I buy a crate of tomatoes for four shekels, sell it for forty shekels, take my five percent, and that is enough for me." If the Holy One, blessed be He, decrees that a person will have wealth, he will have it. Clever or not, even if he makes every possible mistake, Heaven will ensure his success.
The Malbim explains that after warning us not to be drawn after the desires of the evil inclination - the "ruler" who tries to bring us into his feast - Solomon also warns us not to be enticed by wealth, which causes one to diminish their study of Torah. Note the distinction: according to the first explanation, "cease from your own understanding" is a command - cease relying on your own schemes, for wealth does not depend on them. According to the Malbim, however, this is a consequence: if you weary yourself to gain wealth, you will cease from your understanding; you will lose your wisdom and forget your Torah learning.
This is how it happens in reality. A person can be a talmid chacham and a diligent learner; he opens a business and says, "My wife will manage it, and I will just oversee things occasionally from above." Sometimes it starts like that, but he is drawn further in, until in the end he loses his focus entirely and abandons all his Torah pursuits.
It was very customary in Europe that a wealthy patron who wanted an exceptional son-in-law for his daughter would take a diligent yeshivah student, an *illui* (prodigy), arrange full support for him and provide a large sum of money as a starting fund, so that he could invest and have a livelihood. It is told that such an *avreich*, a brilliant *illui* and diligent scholar, came to the Chafetz Chaim; a year or two after the wedding, he had invested in a bad business and lost all the money. Everything went down the drain, and he was under immense stress, deeply embarrassed before his father-in-law. The Chafetz Chaim said to him: Look, one who merits a large dowry from his father-in-law - if he possesses merit, the Holy One, blessed be He, sees to it that he loses the money immediately after the wedding; but if he lacks merit, he loses it after ten or fifteen years. What is the difference? One who loses it right after the wedding - what does he know how to do? To learn. He returns to the beit midrash. There were quite a few such individuals who emerged as absolute giants, genuine leaders of Israel. But one who did not merit this, who was drawn into a bit of business here and a bit there, gradually forgets his learning; after fifteen years, he is already well-entrenched in business, and encounters the beit midrash mainly on Shabbat or occasionally for the Daf Yomi. And when he loses his money after fifteen years - he has nowhere to return to. His Torah capacity is gone, and he is left without money and without Torah. He said to him: It is the kindness of Hashem that He took your money early, so that you could return to the beit midrash. And that is indeed what happened: this person returned to the beit midrash, was later appointed a Ram (maggid shiur) in a yeshivah, and rose higher and higher.
הֲתָעִיף־עֵינֶיךָ בּוֹ וְאֵינֶנּוּ כִּי עָשֹׂה יַעֲשֶׂה־לּוֹ כְנָפַיִם כְּנֶשֶׁר יָעוּף הַשָּׁמָיִם׃ (ה) - Should you blink your eyes at it, it is gone; for it will surely make wings for itself, like an eagle flying toward the heavens. (5)
Let us continue with the Malbim's explanation: your understanding - you cannot take your eyes off it even for a moment. If you weary yourself to become rich, you will forget your Torah study. It is comparable to a bird in your hand: the single moment you do not watch it, it is no longer in your hands; it has flown away. Such is human intellect: the understanding within a person vanishes from him in an instant, and if he does not constantly stimulate himself through diligence and effort, that engagement in Torah will not remain with him.
"*Hata'if*" - Rashi explains that this is an expression of folding, folding the eyelid to shut it; and so the Targum translates "*ve-khipalta*" (and you shall fold) as "*tayeif*". That is to say, in the blink of an eye, in the folding of the eyelid as you close and open it - it is already gone. Understanding makes wings for itself and flees from you. And so the Gemara expounds: "'Bird' refers only to Torah, as it is said, 'Will you blink (*hata'if*) your eyes at it, and it is gone?'" - meaning that in a single moment Torah can be lost to you.
And this is something seen with our own eyes. A person who in yeshivah was a *talmid chacham* and diligent student, and then, may Hashem spare us, abandoned the Torah path - catch him after a year and ask him: Do you remember the *sugya* you studied? Nothing. A tabula rasa. A blank slate, everything erased, the hard drive formatted. He once possessed extensive knowledge; ask him to deliver a shiur on a *sugya*, to elaborate on what he learned, to state a halachah - nothing. "Right, *Takpo Kohen*, a famous sugya" - and nothing more. How is it that everything was wiped away? That is the reality: "Will you blink your eyes at it, and it is gone?" The Gemara says that words of Torah are as difficult to acquire as golden vessels, and as easy to lose as glassware. A glass vessel - a slight tap and it shatters. So it is with the study of Torah: we forget quickly, whereas actually learning and acquiring it takes a very long time.
Rabbeinu Yonah adds another dimension here regarding wealth: even if you weary yourself, achieve wealth, and become very rich - will you blink your eyes at it, and it is gone. Do not be certain that it will endure in your hands; in a single moment it can be lost. And this does not refer only to someone who built his wealth on illusions and sold people empty promises, but even to someone who made his money in an orderly fashion, who owns factories and properties. How many people do we know about whom it is said one morning: thirteen billion dollars were wiped out in a few days. Over what? Shares dropped, the regulator did not permit joint ownership, antitrust laws - and as a result, that entire fortune vanished. A person says to himself: "Ah, I used to have it."
And today in particular, much of the money is virtual. There are already virtual currencies - Bitcoin. One cannot go to the bank and withdraw so-and-so many Bitcoins; it exists on the computer. There are orderly trading mechanisms for this, but look at the extent to which we live in a virtual world, and how temporary wealth is, capable of disappearing in an instant. And why are coins called *zuzim*? Because they are constantly in movement (*tizuzah*). Today they are with you; tomorrow they move from you to someone else. Therefore: do not weary yourself to become rich, lest you suddenly discover that nothing remains of it.
כִּי־תֵשֵׁב לִלְחוֹם אֶת־מוֹשֵׁל בִּין תָּבִין אֶת־אֲשֶׁר לְפָנֶיךָ׃ (א) - When you sit down to dine with a ruler, consider diligently what is before you. (1)
All of this connects to what was stated above. A person draws close to those in power, and often for what? To receive favors and perks: "I am with him, he will arrange government tenders for me, it pays off." Yet in truth, it does not always pay off. Learn from life: there was a secretary who became close to a ruler, and in the end she had to serve time in prison, with the ruler following her to prison shortly after. When the ruler saw the noose tightening around his neck, he immediately pinned everything on his subordinates: "Ask the secretary, ask the secretary." It was then that the secretary began to realize she was the scapegoat. They tell her: "Don't worry, I will reward you later." In other words: lay your neck on the chopping block for me. But it does not work that way.
Regarding this, Shlomo tells you: consider carefully what is before you. Do not run after the king - it will not endure in your hands, and it will vanish in the blink of an eye. Suddenly you will open your eyes and see that nothing remains of it. After all, the ruler only draws you close for his own benefit and pleasure, and when the axe falls upon his head, it will strike your head as well. How much wisdom there is to learn from the words of King Shlomo, who ruled over the entire world; he is able to offer you sound counsel in matters of government: what to do, whom to draw close to, and what to beware of.
אַל־תִּלְחַם אֶת־לֶחֶם רַע עָיִן וְאַל־תִּתְאָו לְמַטְעַמֹּתָיו׃ (ו) - Do not eat the bread of a begrudging person, and do not crave his delicacies.
Rabbeinu Yonah prefaces that the reason will be clarified in the verses that follow. The Malbim likewise explains that this is stated as an allegory: that one should not eat the bread of a begrudging person, nor crave his delicacies. And regarding what this actually refers to - that is explained in the next verse.
כִּי כְּמוֹ שָׁעַר בְּנַפְשׁוֹ כֶּן־הוּא אֱכוֹל וּשְׁתֵה יֹאמַר לָךְ וְלִבּוֹ בַּל־עִמָּךְ׃ (ז) - For as he calculates in his soul, so is he; "Eat and drink," he says to you, but his heart is not with you.
Rashi comments here: "Its accent is below," and therefore it is a verb and not a noun. This is a fundamental principle that Rashi notes in many places, and one who is familiar with it can understand many verses. When one says "sha'ar" - the accent is at the bottom, at the end of the word, which is milra; whereas if the accent is at the top, at the beginning of the word, it is mile'el. Here, the cantillation mark (a ma'arich) appears beneath the letter ayin, and therefore "sha'ar" is read as a verb; had it been placed beneath or above the shin, it would be pronounced "sha'ar" - a noun, meaning a gate or an entrance.
This is something that many people do not know - and sometimes even teachers. A young girl once came home and related that her teacher had said "Bóaz", and she corrected her, saying it should be pronounced "Bo'áz". The teacher replied: "Not at all, tell your father to bring proof." And does this really need proof? Just open Megillat Rut and see where the accent mark is placed. If the accent is on the beit, it is "Bóaz", and if the accent is on the zayin, it is "Bo'áz". And so it is always: David, Moshe, Shlomo - the accent is at the bottom, milra.
And why is it so important to know where the accent falls? Because many times it changes a word from a verb to a noun, and sometimes it changes the meaning of the word entirely. "Ratza" can mean desire, while "ratzah" can mean running. "Ba'ah" can mean she came yesterday, while "ba'ah" can mean she is coming now - and in Megillat Esther this constitutes a change in meaning for which the ba'al korei must be made to repeat it, as one has not fulfilled the obligation otherwise. "Hodu la-Shem" is an expression of praise, whereas "me-Hodu ve'ad Kush" is the name of a place, a proper noun.
Another detail that helps us here is the vowelization: in "kemo sha'ar" - the first vowel is a kamatz and the second is a patach, which denotes reckoning and estimating. By contrast, "sha'ar" meaning a gate would have had a patach. Ashkenazim and Yemenites, who distinguish between a patach and a kamatz in their pronunciation, hear the difference clearly.
Rashi explains that "sha'ar" here is like "the vile figs" (hate'enim hashô'arim), which are bitter and spoiled figs. That is to say: if you eat the bread of a begrudging person and partake of his delicacies, know that it is as though you ate something bitter - like those bitter figs. Such is the case for anyone who eats in the home of a begrudging host.
Rabbenu Yonah, followed in the same vein by the Malbim, explains that sha'ar ("reckoned") derives from the root of shiur, an estimation or calculation. That is to say: the miser calculates in his mind that you are just like him. Someone once remarked: there are people who invite you to a wedding - their job is to invite, and your job is not to attend. Yet some people forget their job and are convinced that if they were invited, they must show up. A person must assess the extent of his acquaintance with the host and discern whether this is merely a perfunctory invitation extended out of politeness or social awkwardness. If someone hung an invitation in the synagogue "to all my friends and companions" - are you truly his friend? You merely daven with him and see him once a month. He felt obligated to put up an invitation, but whom does he really mean? Those close to him. Similarly, there are very friendly people who distribute invitations by hand and then also extend verbal invitations: "You know I am marrying off a daughter at such-and-such hall." He informed you and did his part; but the recipient felt he would not do his part unless he actually came. Then a hall prepared for four hundred guests fills with six hundred, and no one can move. Did they count RSVPs? They counted, but people were also invited verbally.
And what does the miser, the one with an evil eye, think? He says to himself: When I invite, it is merely lip service; I only invite you because I feel uncomfortable not doing so. And I rely on you having a mind like mine, being a miser like me, so you will say to yourself: Would I have invited him? So why on earth would he genuinely invite me? He says, "Yes, we are having lunch, come sit down and eat" - only so that you will reply: Thank you very much, they are waiting for me at home. He is waiting for you to decline gracefully. But you do not take the hint - someone says, "We are having lunch," and you sit right down.
Someone related a story about a neighbor who lived nearby: the family was sitting down to eat lunch when they had visitors. They waited for them to leave, but they did not leave. Finally, having no choice, they said to them: We are about to eat lunch. The guests said: Wonderful, we will sit down and eat with you. And the neighbor later remarked: What chutzpah! We barely had enough food; the schnitzels were not enough for us. This was not a case of poverty, but rather, as Shlomo says, a person with an evil eye, someone who begrudges giving to others. A person needs to be wise and discern - "discern well what is before you" - what the host's intentions are, and whether the invitation is truly offered with a good eye. Therefore: "Do not eat the bread of one with an evil eye, and do not crave his delicacies, for as he calculates within himself, so is he." He calculates in his mind that you are just like him, and that is why he allows himself to extend the invitation. And you must be clever enough to decline the invitation politely and not burden him, for it is unwise to eat from a begrudging host - and even harmful, as we will see immediately.
A story is told of a rabbi who came to the home of a man who had pressured him intensely to come eat at his house. When he arrived, he saw that the man was poor and destitute, and his meal was insufficient even for his own household. The rabbi told him that he could not eat, apologizing: My doctor has forbidden it. After they parted ways, the rabbi's attendant asked him: Why did the Rav say "the doctor"? The Rav feels fine - no high blood pressure, no sugar, no salt issues, everything is in order. The rabbi answered him: The Rambam wrote that it is forbidden to partake of a meal that does not suffice for its owner, and the Rambam, as is well known, was a physician - so my doctor forbade it. And that is always received far better than telling a person that he does not have enough to give you.
פִּתְּךָ־אָכַלְתָּ תְקִיאֶנָּה וְשִׁחַתָּ דְּבָרֶיךָ הַנְּעִימִים׃ (ח) - "The morsel you have eaten you will vomit up, and you will ruin your pleasant words."
The Malbim connects the verses and explains: The natural philosophers have already explained that harmful sparks emanate from an evil eye, rooted in the pettiness of the soul of the one casting this begrudging look, and they are like sparks of death cast upon the object beheld. This concept appears frequently among early authorities. We are not truly familiar with it in this form, though some have noted that researchers claim to have found a kind of yellowish venom emanating from the eye of one casting an evil gaze. Regardless of how well-grounded modern scientific studies may be, in the writings of the Rishonim this is stated very clearly: harmful sparks emerge from the malice of a person's soul, and this has genuine power to cause harm. They already recorded an account of a begrudging person who stared fixedly at a loaf of bread, and death and ruin were found in it - whoever ate from that bread died. Through what power? It was beheld with an evil eye, and that begrudging gaze created a reality of harm within the object itself.
According to this, the verse becomes clear: "For as he calculates within himself, so is he" - like the corrupt and repugnant quality in his soul, so is the bread. For when he looks at the bread with an evil eye, the defect and malice in his heart and soul penetrate the bread itself. "'Eat and drink,' he says to you" - he really does tell you: Please, help yourself, eat, and serves it to you; and you tell yourself there is no begrudging gaze here, that he served me with a good eye. Shlomo says: Do not buy into it - "yet his heart is not with you"; in his heart he has no intention to give to you. Therefore, "The morsel you have eaten you will vomit up" - the bread you ate will end up harming you, and your stomach will not be able to retain it.
And why does it suddenly say, "and you will ruin your pleasant words"? Until now, the verse spoke of food, and suddenly it speaks of words? Here Shlomo reveals to us, says the Malbim, that everything discussed up to this point does not refer to literal food at all - the food is merely a parable. The allegory refers to intellect, wisdom, and Torah: "your pleasant words."
The Malbim explains as follows: In the acquisition of intellectual concepts, the contemplation of wisdom and Torah, one must not eat the bread of one with an evil eye - meaning, one must not comprehend them through the prism of an evil eye. This does not necessarily refer to a teacher; rather, a "good eye" and an "evil eye" apply to all matters of the intellect. The mind can look at something negatively, critically, seeking out flaws - this is observing with an evil eye. Alternatively, it can look at that very same matter with a good eye, seeing the good within it, its advantages and its excellence. A person with a good eye judges everything favorably, while one with an evil eye judges everything unfavorably.
And why does the text use the term "eye," the language of vision? Because the concept of sight always corresponds to the intellect and wisdom. The principles of understanding, says the Malbim, are matters that every person can grasp: if you analyze something and reach a logical conclusion, anyone who examines it will arrive at that same conclusion - "in matters of understanding, all people are equal." But spiritual and elevated concepts differ from person to person: there are those who grasp them in a sound and positive way, and those who grasp them in a negative way. Since intellectual attainment is a spiritual and elevated matter, everything depends on which eye of the intellect you look through, and with what perspective you study these concepts.
An example of this: how many entered the Pardes? Four. And how many emerged in peace? One. And what happened to Elisha ben Avuyah, known as "Acher"? He went astray. Here you have contemplation through the intellect: when a person looks with positive reflection and a good eye, he attains immense spiritual heights; but if, through that very same contemplation, he looks with a negative and evil eye, he will arrive at faultfinding and erroneous conclusions. The exact same entrance, and the exact same subject, yet each person can arrive at a completely different conclusion. And this is precisely "You will vomit the morsel you have eaten" - just as happened to Elisha Acher, whose entire learning was vomited out of him. "And ruin your pleasant words" - you ruined your pleasant intellectual attainments because you viewed them with an evil eye.
The Malbim explains: a person with a good eye judges wisdom as it truly is, learning and understanding it according to its truth, for wisdom is inherently good - it directs a person toward a good heart and brings him to proper conduct and refined character traits. But a person with an evil eye will judge according to his malevolent outlook, drawing specifically the negative slant from the Torah: "It is a mitzvah not to give to him," "Know that he is only looking to take from others," "If you give him charity you are only enabling his behavior, it is forbidden to give him" - and from the Torah itself, he arrives at conclusions contrary to the Torah. It turns out that this person, through his negative perspective on Torah study and by learning intellectual concepts in a cynical way, reaches conclusions shaped by his evil eye. And then, "You will vomit the morsel you have eaten, and ruin your pleasant words": instead of the Torah being a pleasant thing that aligns you toward proper conduct, you derive corruption and ruin from it - bringing proofs from the Torah, citing sources from the Torah, persecuting those who should not be persecuted and distressing those who should not be distressed, and a pleasant thing you bring to ruin.
King Solomon warns us in two directions. First, "Do not weary yourself to become rich" - do not amass your learning in unmanageable heaps, and do not chase after wealth, for wealth does not depend on your intellect but on Hashem's decree, and it sprouts wings and vanishes in the blink of an eye; and one who is drawn after it - "cease from your own understanding," he will lose the wisdom of Torah that he acquired through immense toil, which is as difficult to acquire as golden vessels and as easy to lose as glass vessels. Likewise, proximity to the ruler - whether the ruler of the yetzer hara or flesh-and-blood rulers - does not endure in your hands. And second, "Do not eat the bread of one with an evil eye" - do not partake of the stingy person's food, for the pettiness of his soul clings to his bread, and he inwardly presumes that you are just as petty as he is, while his heart is not with you. And all this is an allegory for the profound moral: do not study wisdom and Torah with an evil eye and a negative perspective, for if you do - "You will vomit the morsel you have eaten, and ruin your pleasant words." One who looks with a good eye merits that the Torah directs him toward a good heart and refined character traits.