In Chapter 25, we focus on two central verses: "Clouds and wind without rain" and "With forbearance a ruler is persuaded." Both are widely known, and precisely for that reason, it is worthwhile to pause and study them in depth. We will follow the order of the verses, drawing on the commentaries of Rashi, Ibn Ezra, Rabbeinu Yonah, the Vilna Gaon, and the Malbim. A preliminary note: from Chapter 25 onward, we do not possess Rabbeinu Yonah's direct commentary on the Book of Mishlei, and what is cited in his name consists of compilations from his teachings in Shaarei Teshuvah.
נְשִׂיאִים וְרוּחַ וְגֶשֶׁם אָיִן, אִישׁ מִתְהַלֵּל בְּמַתַּת שָׁקֶר׃ (יד) - Clouds and wind without rain, so is a man who boasts of a false gift.
Rashi explains that the verse speaks of a vain hope, an expectation that was disappointed: you hoped, you prayed, you waited - and it never came. The mashal is drawn from nature: thick clouds gather, the sky is overcast, the clouds appear laden with rain, showers and downpours are forecast, and the farmer is certain his field will finally be watered. The next morning you wake up, only to learn that the rain fell elsewhere. "Nesi'im" are the clouds; "and wind" - the wind came and swept them away; "without rain" - in the end, nothing fell.
Just so, says Shlomo HaMelech, is "a man who boasts of a false gift." A person boasts and says: "I will give, I will help you, how much do you need? Come to me." Later, people look for him and cannot find him - he is unavailable, nowhere to be seen, behind a locked door. He boasted of a gift that was entirely false, and in the end gave nothing. What did he cause? Exactly what the clouds caused the farmer who anticipated rain. Much talk, much noise - and no rain.
Concerning this it is said, "Do not put your trust in princes, in a son of man who has no salvation." Ironically, from the one who tells you, "I have nothing, I don't know," you ultimately receive. Simple people, not millionaires, are the ones who sustain the Torah world. But the one who declares, "I will give, I will bring, I will grant, rely on me" - plenty of talk, and in reality nothing comes of it.
Note this general rule: the more talkative a person is, the less he accomplishes. This is reality. When you hear someone declaring, "We will bring, we will do, we will not allow it" - know that not much will come of it. We see this with leaders and politicians who make grand declarations, yet in the end produce no action. The one who actually achieves things is precisely the one who remains silent: he is a person of action - he comes, does, gives, and sets it down. Therefore, when someone begins with "Remind me, I will bring you" - let it go. When you bring it, we will talk. Do not tell me what you will bring; just bring it.
Furthermore: as we will see in the words of Ibn Ezra, sometimes the very proclamation is what ruins it. "Thought is effective even against words of Torah" - the very fact that a person announces, "I will do, I will bring," invites spiritual prosecution, and the matter fails to materialize. Therefore, speak as little as possible: do not boast of a false gift; step up and act. That way, there will be neither obstacles nor disruptions.
Ibn Ezra explains that clouds are called "nesi'im" because they are carried (nisa'im) from the ends of the earth, swept along by the wind. In a humorous vein, one might add: our "presidents" (nesi'im) as well - prime ministers and world leaders - are called this because they are like the wind, fond of talking. On what basis are they elected? On the basis of promises: "We will change things, we will accomplish this, tomorrow will be paradise on earth, just vote for me." This is truly "a man who boasts of a false gift."
Yet Chazal expounded the verse regarding literal nesi'im - the princes of Israel, the tribal leaders at the donation for the Mishkan. They said: "Let the Jewish people donate whatever they donate, and whatever is lacking, we will complete." And what happened in the end? "And the work was sufficient for them, and left over" - there was no need for them at all. The Mishkan was built, and they had not given a penny. They said: "Well, we will bring the shoham stones." And from where did they have shoham stones in the wilderness? Were there quarries there? Rather, the clouds brought them the shoham stones and placed them at the entrances of their tents; they woke up in the morning, took the stones, and were left only with the task of carrying them - yet it was credited to their name. Here again you have "clouds (nesi'im) and wind."
The Nesi'im were held accountable for their laziness: they should have said, "We will be the first to give, and what happens afterward, Hashem knows." Since they did not do so, they needed someone else to bring the stones to their doorstep, and they merely transported them, without giving of their own. Therefore, instead of "והנשיאים הביאו" with a full spelling, their name was written missing a yud - for the lack of the letter indicates a flaw and a deficiency.
Rabbeinu Yonah in Shaarei Teshuvah counts the sixth category: "One who promises his fellow to do good for him, and falsifies his words and nullifies his promise." You promised and spoke - and nothing came of it, and from the start you never intended to fulfill it. Indeed, someone once said when asked, "But you promised!": True, I promised, but I didn't promise to keep it. And another said to someone who reminded him of a signed agreement: Hang it up as a picture on the wall. As is well known, before elections the walls scream at you - vote for so-and-so, vote for such-and-such, all the walls are plastered with posters; but after the elections, you scream at the walls, because there is no one to talk to. This is "Clouds and wind, and no rain."
And the reason for this, in the words of Rabbeinu Yonah: once he stated he would do good for him in the form of a promise, and his fellow's heart relied upon him, he must not desecrate his promise, for this is the way of falsehood, and he is like a person who violated a covenant. After all, he did not say, "If I am able," or "If it works out for me," but rather, "I will give you." And it is said: "The remnant of Israel will not commit iniquity, nor speak lies, nor will deceitful speech be found in their mouth."
Rabbeinu Yonah further writes: one who boasts publicly that he will give a gift to a person is glorifying himself in his generosity, which is like a promise, and it is improper for him to retract his words after he was honored and praised for it. You gained a reputation and praise for your generosity - and now you do not give? You took the honor, yet you do not pay the money?
We have already spoken about public appeals of this sort. They bring up an honorable person, a CEO of a company, the director of an institution, apply a bit of pressure - "You can do more, the situation is thus and such" - and extract a pledge of ten thousand shekels from him. He received his honor, received the publicity, everyone clapped for him, they said how generous and helpful he is. And afterward - go look for him! And who even knows that he never gave? No one. He already scored his ratings. It is a well-known rule among novice politicians: what you say is more important than what you do; if you said it and did not do it, it is as though you did it, and if you did it without speaking or publicizing it, it is as though you did nothing. He already received the publicity, so why donate? Of this it is said, "A man who boasts of a false gift."
From here Rabbeinu Yonah brings our verse: just as people are distressed when the signs of rain appear but the rain does not come, so it is with one who boasts of a false gift. The very boasting is a sign that the matter is about to materialize - "He spoke, and before everyone, so surely he will fulfill it" - and when it does not come, the person who was promised the gift is distressed, for his hope was disappointed.
The Gemara says that on account of those who pledge tzedakah publicly and do not give, the heavens are restrained from bringing down rain. They pledge tzedakah in public, as is customary today at appeals: this one pledges so much and that one pledges so much; and in the end, when you come to collect, you hear that business has been tough lately, there was currency devaluation, there is a recession - and in practice, only promises are left hanging in the air.
The Gra asks: Where is the measure for measure here? A person promised and did not give - what does that have to do with withholding rain? He explains: The rain that the heavens give to the earth is an act of charity. For the earth has nothing of its own. The earth is compared to the sefirah of Malchut, the lowest of the sefirot, about which it is said that it possesses nothing of its own - it only receives and passes along. So too the earth: whatever you put into it, that is what it will produce. If you plant the seed of a pomegranate tree, a pomegranate tree will grow; if you plant the seed of thorns and thistles, thorns and thistles will grow. It has nothing of its own.
It turns out that the heavens perform an act of charity with the earth, which is poor and possesses nothing of its own. And the clouds, as it were, publicize this charity: rain is coming any moment now, poor earth, you have nothing to drink, we are on our way - look at these dark clouds, rain will fall shortly. And who brings the clouds? The wind.
And this is the analogue: when a person promises to give charity, with what does he promise? With his mouth - and a "speaking spirit", the mouth is the wind. The promise corresponds to the wind that says, "I will bring rain." And when he boasts publicly - "And I will bring it, count on me" - that is in the manner of the clouds, which already appear on the horizon, dense and full, for one who boasts publicizes himself: "Know that I said I will give, I am the one who will help him." Wind is still just speech; clouds are already the public manifestation of the matter, and you are already collecting dividends from it.
And afterwards he gives nothing - and therefore the clouds, too, continue onward and give nothing. There was a wind that said, "I will bring," and it indeed brought clouds, which is the boasting, looking as though it is about to pour at any moment - but in the end there is no rain. It is truly measure for measure.
The Malbim also explains along similar lines: a person promises and does not give, like a wind that scattered the clouds so that there is no rain. However, according to the Gra's approach, there is a slight difficulty in the order of the words: it should have said "wind and clouds" (ruach unesi'im), since the wind comes first and brings the clouds. According to the Malbim, however, the order is precise: "Clouds" - there are already clouds and it seems that rain is about to fall; "and wind" - the wind comes and pushes and sweeps the clouds away from there; "and there is no rain." Thus, the wind here is not the wind that brings the clouds, but the wind that drives them away.
And so it is in the lesson of the parable, in the words of the Malbim: "And a spirit passed over him and he did not give, and was false to his word" - similar to "and a spirit of jealousy passed over him, and he grew jealous of his wife," which refers to a change in his mood. He had the desire, he was caught up in the excitement of the moment, and later he cooled down and a different spirit came over him, and he did not give. So too with the clouds: a wind passes over them and they do not yield their rain.
בְּאֹרֶךְ אַפַּיִם יְפֻתֶּה קָצִין, וְלָשׁוֹן רַכָּה תִּשְׁבׇּר־גָּרֶם׃ (טו) - Through forbearance a ruler is persuaded, and a soft tongue breaks a bone. (15)
Before the explanation, note that there are many verses that are commonly misquoted, and one cannot bring proof from how people routinely recite them. The text before us is "velashon rakah tishbar garem" exactly as it is written and vocalized in the text, and thus it appears in all editions, with no authority noting any variant reading - a clear sign that this is the correct version, and it is the public that errs.
An example of this: one sometimes hears people say "Midrash Chazit." There is no such midrash - its name is Midrash Chazita, named after its opening verse, "Chazita ish mahir bim'lachto lifnei melachim yityatzav" ("Have you seen a man diligent in his work? Before kings he will stand"). A person heard that such a midrash exists, knows what it discusses, and refers to it by a familiar term - and thus "opened a front" [patach chazit] with the midrash. So too with the previous verse: the version common in speech differs from the precise reading in Scripture. While this is less critical to the underlying message, one should know that common speech cannot serve as evidence for proper grammar; rather, one must look at how it is written in the text itself.
Rashi explains that "ruler" [katzin] here refers to the Holy One, Blessed be He. A katzin is one who stands at the edge [katzeh] of the camp, and there are two edges: the rear edge of "those who lagged behind you," and the edge at the head of the camp. Here, it refers to the One who stands at the head - the Holy One, Blessed be He.
"Through forbearance a ruler is persuaded": the Holy One, Blessed be He, is slow to anger and does not exact retribution immediately, and this window of time is what allows the sinner to persuade his Creator. And how does one persuade the Almighty? Through repentance, good deeds, and prayer. For if the Holy One, Blessed be He, were not patient, and upon every misstep a blow were struck immediately on one's head - when could we ever repent? Rather, because of His forbearance, a period of time is granted to us, and we must utilize it to repent and perform good deeds.
"And a soft tongue breaks a bone": the soft tongue of prayer and supplication breaks the severity of the decree. "Garem" means bone, as in the Targum for "and you shall carry up my bones from here" - "ve'asikton yat garmai," as well as "hevela degarmei," the warmth of the bones. That is to say, even a decree as hard as bone - a soft tongue of prayer and supplication has the power to break it.
Ibn Ezra takes the verse in the opposite, negative direction: since the ruler is patient with those who incur his wrath and does not punish them, his enemies will entice him and prevail over him, and their soft tongue will break bone. In simple terms: a ruler must not be someone who is overly patient and fails to exact justice, because through this, his enemies will entice him and overcome him.
The classic example is Gedaliah ben Achikam. Had he viewed the potential enemy as a dangerous man against whom one must be on guard, he would not have come to the point of being murdered by Yishmael ben Netanyah. But because they warned him that this man was planning to kill him, and he dismissed the report on the grounds of lashon hara - saying he did not wish to hear lashon hara - and did not express anger toward someone who truly deserved it, the enemy succeeded with his smooth tongue in giving the impression that he was one of his loyal men, and cunningly killed him.
So too with a king: "A king establishes the land through justice." If the king is overly patient toward those who incur his wrath - brushing off everything that happens as unimportant, letting it pass, "This time I forgive you" - and does not punish his enemies, in the end his foes will entice him and prevail over him, for their soft tongue will break bone: even a king as hard as bone, they will break through enticements.
This also applies to chinuch, raising children, and in our day this is very much needed. As someone once put it, people today are made of margarine. The child asks - "No." "Abba, why?" - "No, under no circumstances do I agree." Then a tear or two falls, and immediately: "Okay, fine." What have you accomplished by this? You taught the child that anything he wants from Dad, and often especially from Mom, he achieves through pressure: cry, make noise, lie down on the floor, throw a tantrum in the middle of the supermarket - and Mom will say, "Fine, fine, take it, just do not embarrass me." The child learns: do not accept no, scream, and eventually she will give in, because she cannot bear the embarrassment.
A wise parent acts differently: next time he does not take the child with him, or he walks a bit ahead, and the child realizes the parent is out of sight, gets scared, and follows him. And sometimes one needs to pick up the child and hold him firmly by the hand in a less pleasant manner, so he understands that this pressure tactic will not work. But if the parent acts with "through patience a ruler is enticed" - every time he ought to show firmness and anger he quickly relents - the child learns to do as he pleases, learning that it is all a matter of applying the right pressure until the parents give in.
The Vilna Gaon explains: "Through patience a ruler is enticed" - when the ruler is patient, in the course of time people will eventually succeed in enticing him. But what happens when the ruler is indeed patient, yet is as hard as bone and not easily enticed? You know that his judgment still hangs over you, that he will eventually settle the score with you, and in two months he will summon you to court or impose sanctions against you. To this, the second half of the verse responds: "And a soft tongue breaks bone" - even this hardened person, whom you know still holds punishment in store for you, if you use a soft tongue you will succeed in breaking his resolve.
The general rule emerges simply: because the ruler shows patience, you have time to entice him. And if he is a person as hard as bone, such that ordinary enticements do not work on him - know that a soft tongue will indeed have an effect, for a soft tongue can break even bone.
The two verses we studied teach about the power of the mouth, for good and for bad. "Clouds and wind, but no rain" - one who makes grand promises and boasts but does not fulfill them disappoints his fellow's hopes like clouds that gather but produce no rain; and measure for measure, rain is withheld on account of those who pledge charity in public and do not give. The proper path is to speak little and do much. On the other hand, "Through patience a ruler is enticed, and a soft tongue breaks bone" - the Almighty's patience is the gift that gives us time to do teshuvah, and a soft tongue of prayer and supplication is capable of shattering even a decree as hard as bone. On the other hand, the Ibn Ezra and the Vilna Gaon warned that someone who is overly patient toward someone who deserves strictness - whether a king, an officer, or a parent - is liable to be broken by the soft tongue of enticement.