In this part of the chapter, we encounter a series of verses dealing primarily with two subjects: a person's attitude toward wisdom - whether he views it as an achievable goal or as a lofty mountain beyond his reach; and a person's attitude toward his fellow in distress - whether he exerts himself to save him or grows slack and turns a blind eye. Both of these topics actually stem from a single point: how a person views the task set before him, and what he does when it appears too great for him.
רָאמוֹת לֶאֱוִיל חָכְמוֹת, בַּשַּׁעַר לֹא יִפְתַּח פִּיהוּ׃ (ז) - Wisdom is beyond reach for a fool; at the gate he will not open his mouth.
The word is spelled ramot with an aleph (ראמות), but the aleph is silent, so it is pronounced ramot (רָמוֹת). Rashi explains that ramot is a type of rare, precious stone, as in the verse "Corals and crystal" (ramot vegavish). And this is the meaning of the verse: in the eyes of the fool, wisdom is like a precious stone that is impossible for him to acquire. None of us sits down and plans how to purchase the largest diamond in the world. We do not even think about buying something far less valuable, because from the outset you tell yourself: that is beyond my means. This is precisely how the fool views wisdom. He says: How can I engage in Torah? When will I ever master it? Talmud Bavli, Talmud Yerushalmi, Rishonim, Acharonim, Sifra, Sifrei, and Baraitot - who can learn all of that?
And seemingly, is he not right? Rashi says: But the wise person studies a little today and a little tomorrow; "he who gathers little by little will increase." Today another page, tomorrow another two pages, and slowly, all of a sudden, he finds that he has completed the entire Shas. Who told you that you need to master everything all at once? This the fool does not understand, and therefore he looks at the high mountain - and quits.
This is what we have mentioned previously: in the Future to Come, the Holy One, Blessed be He, brings the evil inclination and slaughters it in the presence of both the righteous and the wicked. Both of them weep. The righteous weep and say: How were we able to conquer such a high mountain? And the wicked weep and say: How were we unable to conquer such a single strand of hair? And this is wondrous: What is the evil inclination, a high mountain or a strand of hair? Someone here is not seeing things accurately.
The answer is that everything depends on what you are looking at. When the fool comes and looks at the evil inclination, it truly is a high mountain, because the evil inclination presents him with the entire picture: you have to learn all of this, it is massive, who could ever reach that? But the Holy One, Blessed be He, says: Did I ask you to leap to the summit? What did I ask of you today? One step. Can you take one step? A step is like a single hair, it is nothing. And tomorrow another step, which is another strand of hair. This is the way of the righteous - one strand of hair and then another strand of hair, and when the time comes to slaughter the evil inclination, he finds himself at the top of the mountain and wonders: How did I ever get here? The wicked person, by contrast, discovers at that moment that he was never asked to reach the very top, but only to take the first step. And over that he weeps: A single strand of hair? That I could have done! Why didn't I make the effort?
This is the entire scheme of the evil inclination - to show a person the summit of the mountain and continually frighten him about the future. A person wants to begin Daf Yomi; the Yetzer Hara says to him: Sure, everyone starts Masechet Berachot with enthusiasm, but let's see you in Eruvin and Yevamot, what will you do then? And he breaks down and says: Look, Daf Yomi is too heavy for me, I am thinking of learning something else - and so he remains all his life with "I was thinking," while in the meantime learning nothing. But the righteous person says: You are right, but am I learning Yevamot right now? What is being asked of me right now? Berachot. Berachot I can handle, and from here I will begin. I am not looking at the future; I am looking at right now.
And so it is in every matter. You tell a person: It is of great importance to be careful not to carry on Shabbat in an area without an eruv, for according to Maran the Shulchan Aruch, it is not simple at all that an eruv is valid - take this upon yourself. And he says: I have no problem doing so, but I am still young; in a year or two I will get married and have a child, and how will I walk with a stroller in the street? What will I do then? The evil inclination stitches together an entire future for you, and then says: Forget it, this is not for you. But the righteous person says: When a child arrives, with Hashem's help we will see how to navigate the issue; in the meantime, this Shabbat I can do it, so from this Shabbat I will begin. So it is with every single step - a strand of hair and he conquers it, another strand of hair and he conquers it. This is the path of Avodat Hashem: measured steps and always progressing, "Who shall ascend the mountain of Hashem" - always being in a state of ascent. And in the end, the righteous person marvels: How fortunate that I did not see the summit from the start, for I would have despaired completely; I only saw a strand of hair the entire time, and suddenly I find myself at the summit.
Ibn Ezra does not dispute the core meaning of the verse, but he does not interpret the word ra’mot as Rashi and the Vilna Gaon do, as a precious stone. Rather, he understands it as related to ramut (loftiness, as if spelled without an aleph): in the eyes of the fool, wisdom is high and exalted.
The Malbim explains that the fool (evil) is the opposite of the man of knowledge (ish da’at). The man of knowledge has attained clear, definitive knowledge, like mathematics - one plus one equals two, everything is completely clear to him. His exact opposite is the fool, whose name shares a root with ulai ("perhaps"): for him, nothing is certain; he is always in doubt, lacking proof and clarity. Therefore, "wisdom is out of reach for a fool" - wisdom appears to him like something coming from heaven, not merely exalted, but as something handed down from the sky that the intellect cannot possibly grasp. You suggest that he listen to a shiur on a subject, and he replies: "That is way too high for me; I do not understand such things."
Yet the truth is that no one ever enters a new field and immediately masters it. In every area a person begins - at first there is darkness, lack of understanding, and unfamiliar concepts. Gradually, he reviews, studies, memorizes, and begins to comprehend. The same applies to a Gemara sugya: the Gemara says, "’Darkness was over the surface of the deep’ - this refers to the Babylonian Talmud." A person enters a sugya and everything is pitch black, complete confusion; he has no idea what is being discussed. He reviews it again and again, rereads Rashi, begins to delve into Tosafot - and matters start to clear up. Suddenly he understands what the debate is about, the concepts become familiar, and "the people who walked in darkness have seen a great light." But the fool makes an excuse: "It is too high, it is too high!" Every field seems high when you first begin; start it, and you will see that it is not in heaven.
The Malbim explains: the gate is the place of battle. So it has always been, as in "when they speak with enemies at the gate" - standing before the gate, the enemy seeks to breach the city through it, and one must stop him. Even in soccer today, the struggle revolves around the goal. The battle here is the battle of the mouth, in which one overcomes the enemy at the gate. The fool does not open his mouth, and consequently the enemy enters and conquers the city. But one who understands, opens his mouth, and begins to learn - "From when may one recite the Shema?", "Two hold onto a garment" - suddenly sees how wisdom enters inside, how he connects to the material, and how it becomes a part of him. The mouth always alludes to Chochmah (while the tongue and the inner organs allude to Binah, which is deeper and more internal). Because the fool views wisdom as lofty realms descended from heaven and utterly beyond him, he does not open his mouth with wisdom at the very place where he is commanded to battle the evil inclination - and he never even begins to engage with Torah.
מְחַשֵּׁב לְהָרֵעַ, לוֹ בַּעַל־מְזִמּוֹת יִקְרָאוּ׃ (ח) - One who plots to do evil will be called a schemer. (8)
Rashi explains: one who devises wicked schemes brings evil upon himself, for people call him a "master of schemes" (ba’al mezimot). People say of him: he is a manipulator, a schemer, always cooking up deals and plots to deceive others; he has a criminal mind, beware of him. Such a person never thinks straight; if there is a direct way and a crooked way, he will choose the crooked way. This also shapes his reality down the road: even when he is not planning anything bad, people immediately start to wonder - where is the scheme here? How is he trying to fool me? Where is the catch? He may protest: "This time I acted with complete sincerity; I only wanted to help." It may very well be that this time he truly had good intentions - but it will do him no good, because people know his reputation. One who plots to do evil will be called a schemer, and in every action he takes, people will search for the hidden angle.
This verse can also be interpreted homiletically (by way of remez), with clear applications to our own time, through a slight change in vocalization: machshev lehara lo - a computer brings evil upon a person. The computer (machshev) tells a person, first of all, "brain, sit down" (moach, shev) - since whatever a person needs to think about and calculate, the computer does the calculating for him. Furthermore, through the computer, one can reach all manner of filth and degradation. "A computer brings evil upon him" - how much harm can a computer cause someone! Through this, "he will be called by depravity" - reading ba’al mezimot as mi-zimot (from depravities), as he is summoned and drawn toward the worst things. Therefore, to whatever extent one can avoid the computer, it is better for him, for having a computer can very easily turn out to be to his detriment.
Returning to the straightforward exposition: Metzudat David explains that even if he did not ultimately carry out the evil deed, in the end his disgrace will be exposed and people will call him a schemer - a person who schemes evil and constantly harbors malicious thoughts. That is, even if the matter was never carried out and remained merely a plan, you have already earned a bad name. Therefore, it is far better to walk an upright path and not seek cunning schemes, because even if you do not carry out the plot, people will still label you as such, simply because they heard you planning such things.
The Malbim notes a precision in the language: the verb zamam (to scheme) always denotes deep contemplation, where a person reflects and meditates deeply on a matter, and in mundane contexts it almost always refers to something evil. By contrast, chashav (to think or calculate) denotes an improper thought, but not necessarily one that a person ponders at great length. Examples include "one who plots (mchashev) to do evil" here, or a person who has an improper intention of piggul regarding a sacrificial offering - intending to consume it beyond its designated time or place, thereby disqualifying the meat. Chashav can be a fleeting, passing thought, but a zomem is one who constantly plots, reflects, and deliberates on how to bring the plan to fruition.
And this is the meaning of the verse: even though a person might merely be "plotting," even in an incidental, one-time manner, once people see that you thought to do evil, they will say about you that your heart is constantly devising iniquity. You might claim it was only a one-time thought, but that is how people interpret it. And notice that we treat others the same way: if we see someone looking for a devious scheme, that is it, we view him as a schemer, as someone who is always like that, even if it was a single occurrence. The conclusion is: do not even devise to do evil a single time, for by doing so you will acquire for yourself a definitive reputation as a master of evil schemes.
זִמַּת אִוֶּלֶת חַטָּאת, וְתוֹעֲבַת לְאָדָם לֵץ׃ (ט) - The scheming of foolishness is sin, and a scorner is an abomination to mankind.
Rashi explains: foolish counsel is a loss to its master. "Sin" (chatat) here is in the sense of a deficit or missing the mark, as in the phrase, "and I and my son Solomon shall be deemed lacking" (chata'im) - deficient, as in missing the mark. Thoughts of foolishness and evil scheming will become a stumbling block and an obstacle for you, causing you lack and loss.
"And a scorner is an abomination to mankind" - mockery makes a person abominable both before the Holy One, Blessed is He, and before mankind. In terms of fear of Heaven, we have already seen, "Do not scoff, lest your bonds become strong," and "Judgments are prepared for scorners." The reason is that as long as a person makes fun of everything holy, he is impenetrable, like a shield smeared with oil, in the phrasing of the Baalei HaMussar - every arrow you shoot at it slips right off. And what can be done in such a state? To bring upon him afflictions and blows, and then he realizes that the world is no laughing matter. This is why Korach was punished with such a severe blow, and that is what ended the entire dispute: all the proofs, the firepans, and the miracles did not convince anyone, until a harsh blow and a plague struck, and only then did people begin to understand that this was no place for mockery.
It is told of Rabbi Akiva Eiger that when he entered into a shidduch with a family and was traveling to the place of the engagement, the prospective in-law said to him: "I see that the Rav's face appears sad; does the Rav regret the shidduch?" Rabbi Akiva Eiger said to him: "Heaven forbid, why would you say such a thing?" The man replied: "No, honorable Rav, I was merely joking." Rabbi Akiva Eiger said to him: "You were joking? I do not wish to marry into a family of mockers" - and he broke off the shidduch.
And a similar incident occurred with him: Once visitors entered his room and saw that his face looked somewhat sad. They asked him why, and he told them that the local water carrier had fallen ill and had been without a livelihood for several days, so he was praying for him and felt deeply moved by his plight. The prospective in-law said to him: "The Rav ought to appear a bit more cheerful, so people do not think the shidduch is bad and that the Rav does not desire it; as for the water carrier... it is hardly as though we lost something irreplaceable." Rabbi Akiva Eiger canceled this shidduch as well and refused to marry into that family, saying: "People who lack sensitivity - someone is suffering, and they tell me to smile as if everything is fine? It is bad enough to think such a thing, but to actually say it aloud?"
We understand from this that it is problematic to associate with someone who mocks or someone who lacks sensitivity. And as Rashi states, mockery makes a person abominable to mankind as well. Furthermore, the scorner does not hold back; he mocks everyone. Today it seems very amusing because he ridiculed someone else and we had a good laugh, but today it is that person, and tomorrow it is you - and then it is no longer funny at all, and you are hurt by him. Why? Because yesterday it was at another person's expense, and today it is at yours. In truth, people distance themselves from scorners, because the scorner's tongue is unrestrained; today he lashes out against that person, and tomorrow against me. It emerges that mockery estranges a person both from the Holy One, Blessed is He, and from his fellow men.
הִתְרַפִּיתָ בְּיוֹם צָרָה, צַר כֹּחֶכָה׃ (י) - If you weaken on a day of distress, your strength is meager.
Rashi cites the homiletic exposition of Chazal: "If you weaken" - from the Torah, as in the phrase, "and they journeyed from Rephidim," signifying that their hands weakened (rafu yedeihem) from Torah study. And if you have weakened from Torah, then on a day of distress, "your strength is meager" - the ministering angels will not fortify your strength on a day of distress. When you face hardship, you will find that there is no one to turn to, and those angels who were meant to assist you will not help you; you will suddenly see that you lack the strength to withstand the distress.
According to the peshat, Rashi explains: you showed slackness on the day of your loved one's distress and stood aside. You saw him in his trouble and said: It doesn't concern me; Baruch Hashem, everything is fine by me. You are being slack, slack in aiding and assisting your fellow in his distress. And what will happen? "Your strength will be diminished" - when a day comes when you face distress, you will suddenly see that no one helps you and there is nobody to assist you. This is measure for measure, as we will also see in the next verse. Rashi cites the verse: "For if you remain completely silent at this time, relief and deliverance will arise for the Jews from another place" - if you slack off on a day of trouble, relief and deliverance for the Jews will come from somewhere else, and what will become of you? "While you and your father's house will perish."
Rabbeinu Yonah connects the verse to what we saw earlier: if we learned that "the scheming of folly is sin", that a person is punished for bad thoughts, Scripture comes to teach that a person is also punished for the good thoughts he failed to think in a time of need. A person could have thought of ways to help his fellow, devised plans and raised ideas for how to assist him, and yet he did not do so. "If you slack off on the day of distress": he is slack in helping his fellow and in contemplating ways to remedy his situation and assist him; he no longer thinks about his friend and his plight. And we learn that this is an iniquity in its own right - even if you say that you harbored no evil thoughts, failing to think good thoughts is itself an iniquity.
Rabbeinu Yonah adds that the verse may refer back to what we saw above, "and a man of knowledge strengthens power": a person of understanding strengthens the power of the faltering in a time of distress, assisting them and uplifting them. But you paid no attention to this; you did not devise thoughts on how to rescue and bring relief and deliverance to your fellow - and your punishment is that "your strength will be diminished", measure for measure. The Holy One, blessed be He, has the power to save and fortify your strength, just as you could have helped that person; and since you did not help, you will not be assisted either, and you will suddenly find that your strength is too narrow to pull yourself out of the mire.
הַצֵּל לְקֻחִים לַמָּוֶת, וּמָטִים לַהֶרֶג אִם־תַּחְשׂוֹךְ׃ (יא) - Rescue those taken to death, and hold back those slipping toward slaughter.
What is that matter in which you must not show slackness on a day of distress, and what is required of you to do? "Rescue those taken to death" - if you saw a person being led away to death, it was your duty to try to save him. "And hold back those slipping toward slaughter" - people are slipping toward execution, and you withhold your strength from them and do not help. Regarding this it was said, "your strength will be diminished": you hear that people are taken to death and tottering toward slaughter, and instead of taking action you spare yourself, sitting on the sidelines and doing nothing.
And what counts as "doing nothing," and what counts as acting? Many times a person tells himself: Wait, what can I do, am I a doctor? But you can pray. You heard that someone is in distress - recite Tehillim for his recovery, gather people to say Tehillim for his healing, donate money to tzedakah for his merit. If you withhold this, that is "showing slackness on the day of distress." There are many things you can do, and about these you will be asked: Why did you not make an effort, why did you not exert yourself? Perhaps you cannot provide medical treatment, and perhaps you do not have money to support him, but you can certainly pray for him. Would that not help him? Of course it would help! Why then should you not pray for him? This is what Scripture says: if you showed slackness on a day of distress, then later, when you yourself face trouble, you will see that "your strength will be diminished."
כִּי תֹאמַר הֵן לֹא־יָדַעְנוּ זֶה, הֲלֹא־תֹכֵן לִבּוֹת הוּא־יָבִין וְנֹצֵר נַפְשְׁךָ הוּא יֵדָע, וְהֵשִׁיב לְאָדָם כְּפָעֳלוֹ׃ (יב) - If you say, "Behold, we did not know this," does not the Weigher of hearts understand, and does not the Guardian of your soul know? And He will repay a man according to his deed.
The Malbim explains: we are dealing with a person who slacked off on a day of distress, who saw his fellow's predicament, turned a blind eye, and spared himself from helping him. And how does he justify himself? "If you say, 'Behold, we did not know this'" - I did not know that a death sentence had been decreed against him; I only just heard; nobody told me until today; or: I didn't know I had the ability to save him. Yet after he is already dead, you admit you could have approached that relative who knows the governor... In other words, you try to evade responsibility with excuses of "I didn't know."
Regarding this Scripture states: "Does not the Weigher of hearts understand" - the Holy One, blessed be He, weighs and measures hearts and understands the thoughts of the heart; "and does not the Guardian of your soul know" - a person's deeds are etched and engraved upon the tablet of his soul, and He who guards your soul sees the deeds inscribed upon it and knows what your true intention was. "And He will repay a man according to his deed" - in accordance with your actions. You were capable of saving him from death, you were capable of rescuing him from slaughter, yet you spared yourself; the Holy One, blessed be He, knows whether you truly knew or did not know, whether you thought you could save him or did not think so, and accordingly He will repay a person according to his deed.
Let us make a precise distinction: Why does the verse say yavin (understands) in one clause and yada (knows) in the other? The Malbim explains: Knowledge (yedi'ah) pertains to something perceived through the senses, whereas understanding (havanah) is always from the preceding to the succeeding, deducing one concept from another. Therefore, concerning the weighing of hearts - which cannot be perceived through the senses - it says "He understands," for He deduces one matter from another. And regarding the deeds engraved upon the soul, which are like tangible realities, it says "He knows" - He knows what first crossed your mind and how you brought it to fruition.
In these verses, we have learned of two ailments of the soul and their remedies. The first is the perspective of the fool, in whose eyes wisdom is an unattainable, priceless jewel or something that descended ready-made from Heaven, so that at the gate he will not open his mouth and does not even begin. In contrast, the wise person gathers little by little and increases; he does not gaze at the summit, but focuses on the single step required of him right now - one strand of hair and another strand of hair, until he finds himself standing atop the mountain. The second ailment is thoughts of evil and foolishness, which, even if never brought to fruition, earn a person the name of a schemer and bring about his spiritual decline, as well as mockery, which renders a person loathsome before Hashem and before people. From here, we turn to the positive obligation on the other side: not to falter in a day of distress, not to spare any effort in rescuing those taken toward death, and if you lack the medical means or the money - to pray, recite Tehillim, and give tzedakah. Above all, do not shield yourself with the excuse of "I did not know," for the Weigher of hearts understands and the Guardian of your soul knows, and He will repay every person according to his deeds - measure for measure.