Introduction
We continue in chapter 26 of Mishlei, in the section dealing with the contentious man and the talebearer (nirgan): the destructive power of words, the way an instigator ignites strife, and the mask a person puts on his face to conceal an evil heart. We will examine two verses: "The words of a talebearer are like blows..." and "Silver dross glazed over pottery...", and explore the explanations of Rashi, Ibn Ezra, the Gra, the Ralbag, the Metzudos, the Malbim, and the Griz.
Who Is the Nirgan?
דִּבְרֵי נִרְגָּן כְּמִתְלַהֲמִים וְהֵם יָרְדוּ חַדְרֵי בָטֶן׃ (כב) - "The words of a talebearer are like blows, and they descend into the innermost chambers of the body (22)."
We have already encountered the nirgan in verse 20: "Where there is no wood, the fire goes out; and where there is no talebearer, strife ceases." There we saw three definitions. Rashi explains that the nirgan is one who speaks lashon hara, going about stirring up trouble between disputants. The Gra explains that the nirgan is the accuser, a man of controversy. And the Malbim explains that the nirgan is the chronic complainer - as we would define it today: a serial complainer who has grievances, arguments, and objections about everything, with nothing ever pleasing him.
Kemitlahamim - Like Those Who Wage War
The word mitlahem is familiar to us in modern Hebrew (meaning heated or inflammatory), and its origin is here. Rashi explains that kemitlahamim is like kemitlachamim (with a ches, meaning 'waging battle'), since the letters heh and ches are interchangeable: they come from the same phonetic family, the throat gutturals, and they even look similar in writing. That is to say, the words of the nirgan are like perpetual warfare: over everything he wages a battle, over everything he has grievances and complaints.
Kemet Lahem - The Midrashic Exposition
Rashi cites the derashah of Chazal, who divide the word in two: kemitlahamim - kemet lahem ('like death to them'). Who were the murmurers (narganim)? "And you grumbled (vatargenu) in your tents and said, Because Hashem hates us, He brought us out of the land of Egypt." Those murmurers who spoke out against the Holy Land - this brought death upon them. "And they descend into the innermost chambers of the body": this was the punishment of the spies (meraglim), as worms emerged from their navels and crawled up to their tongues, while their tongues were extended. The affliction reached all the way into the inner chambers of the body. Rashi adds an alternative explanation: "chovrei vaten" (the chambers of the belly) refers to death by dropsy (hidrokan), a severe affliction, may the Merciful One preserve us.
Mitlahem - Mit-halem, an Expression of Striking
Ibn Ezra explains that kemitlahamim is like kemit-halemim - the letters are transposed, like lahak and kahal, keves and keshev, simlah and salmah. Mit-halem comes from the root of striking, as in: "and she struck (vehalmah) Sisera, she crushed his temple." Thus, the words of the nirgan are strikes: blow after blow. "And they descend into the innermost chambers of the body" - according to Ibn Ezra, this refers to the heart, a blow that strikes a person right in his heart.
The Metzudas David also explains: "The words of a nirgan" refers to one who speaks lashon hara, and kemitlahamim is from the root of striking (holmim), as in: "Then the horses' hoofs struck (halmu)." This does not mean physical blows, but rather that the words batter away at you relentlessly. The nirgan is a talebearer, and he strikes with words - as is said, "He strikes him with the rod of his mouth," "He strikes him with the rod of his tongue." And the Metzudas Tziyon cites the source for this from Tehillim 141: "Let a righteous man strike me (yehelmeni)" - an expression of a shattering blow.
The Vilna Gaon: Kaf HaKela and the Depth of the Abyss
The Vilna Gaon explains this verse as referring to the punishment of the slanderer. It is well known that on account of evil speech, a person is punished with Kaf HaKela (the hollow of the sling), Heaven protect us, where his soul is slung from one end of the world to the other. This is the meaning of "The words of a talebearer are kemitlahamim" - from the root of striking, a blow: he is struck as he is slung back and forth. Much like a game of paddleball, where the ball flies to the other side once struck by the paddle - so too his soul is struck and slung. "And they descend into the innermost chambers of the belly" - and afterward, they descend into the depths of the great abyss, which are the inner chambers of Sheol.
According to the Vilna Gaon, then, both the preceding verse and our verse deal with the punishments of the wicked. In the previous verse, it spoke of the unlearned and their wives, stating that they serve as coals and wood for the fires of Gehinnom, which is where their punishment lies. And now it speaks of the talebearer, who will be mitlaham - struck and battered by the angels from one end of the world to the other, after which he descends into the chambers of Sheol.
Ralbag: Broken Words - Kindling a Fire
The Ralbag offers an original and insightful explanation here. In his view, kemitlahamim is related to brokenness: his words are fragmented and broken in half. He explains that this refers to an instigator of strife, and such people possess great sophistication in how to kindle a fire - not with ordinary kerosene, but with gasoline, so that the fire blazes fiercely. And how? When he comes to tell you something, he does not tell you the full facts, but only a fraction. "Their words are broken" - he intimates: I will not tell you everything; I will not say the whole story. In the words of the Ralbag: "And through this, a powerful emotional reaction will be stirred in the soul of the one listening to their words."
"What, you haven't heard what happened with Reuven? You haven't heard that he flew abroad because of... well, never mind, I don't want to finish that sentence." "Don't you know about the feud that... forget it, I don't want to talk." Now, had he simply said, "He had an argument with his son," the story would have ended right there. But since he only gave half a sentence, I feel compelled to know what went on. Immediately, mounds of wild imagination pile up: he must have run into trouble at the factory, surely with his wife too, probably on the verge of divorce, and he must have had a falling out with so-and-so, and I already heard that once before... all based on half a word tossed out by that person.
Thus, had the instigator spoken complete statements, the matter would have ended easily: "Oh, is that all? Fine." But because he said only half - mitlaham, broken and fractured - therefore "they descend into the innermost chambers of the belly": their words sink into the chambers of the listener's heart, for he assumes that what was left unsaid is far worse than what was said. All you received was the promo; the real story is in the full feature.
And isn't this precisely how media scandalmongers manipulate us? They craft a sensational headline along the lines of, "Is so-and-so using drugs?" and inside the article, it says that nothing has been proven and there is no evidence whatsoever, only that someone claimed that back in high school someone offered him something. What does that have to do with the headline? Yet the headline has already prompted you to think: who knows what really happened there?
This is also one of the traps that novice interviewees fall into. A person arrives for an interview and speaks freely; the journalist gives him the feeling that he is only there to listen to him and share what he knows with everyone. Afterwards, he discovers that a tiny fragment of a sentence was plucked out and turned into a massive headline, leaving everyone astonished: how could he have said such a thing? Yet if you listen to the recording, you see that it was mentioned so casually in passing that you would never have even noticed it. But that is why the journalist studied journalism, knowing how to extract the juicy morsels. This is the talebearer: he presents a tiny fragment, creating an impression that who knows what lurks behind it.
Wounds That Cannot Be Healed
The Metzudat David elaborates along these lines: "The words of a talebearer" refers to the complainer, following the approach of the Malbim, and his words are as harsh as crushing blows - mitlahamim in the sense of shattering, in line with the Ralbag's reading. "And they descend into the innermost chambers of the belly": when a person strikes someone, the blow is external; but wounds that penetrate into the innermost chambers of the belly are exceedingly difficult to heal.
A parable has been cited regarding this. There was once a man who had a bear as a friend - not someone named Dov, but an actual bear. They lived together and got along wonderfully, and whenever the man arrived, the bear would embrace him. One day he came, and the bear hugged him, but a terrible stench emanated from the bear's mouth - it had evidently eaten a carcass or something putrid. The man said to it, "Ugh, you smell awful!" and pulled away, distancing himself. Time passed, and the man noticed that the bear had withdrawn into itself, sullen and quiet. The bear then took a stick and brought it to his friend: "Hit me." The man asked, "Why should I hit you?" The bear replied, "I am asking you to. Are you my friend?" "Yes." "Do you want to do what I ask?" "Yes." "Then hit me." He beat the bear until it bled, until the bear said, "That's enough." The bear then pointed to the wounds and said, "Do you see what you just did to me?" The man answered, "Yes, but you asked for it." The bear said, "True, and these wounds will heal. But the hurt you caused me before - that was a wound to the heart, and that will never heal."
This is what the Metzudat David explains: wounds that are superficial are easy to heal. If a person suffers an injury to the arm, a fracture, a cut - anything physical is easy to heal. But wounds that reach the innermost chambers of the body, the deep interior, the heart - these are very difficult to heal. In this way, it is hard to heal the wounds caused by a complainer: his grievances, his insults, the affronts and complaints he constantly harbors - this is an injury to the soul, and it is far harder to heal than a physical injury to the body.
The Malbim: One Who Grumbles Against the Attributes of Hashem
The Malbim explains that our verse is a direct continuation of the previous one: "As charcoal is to embers, and wood to fire, so is a contentious man to kindle strife." The Malbim defines *pecham* (charcoal) as glowing sparks: to ignite embers, sparks are sufficient, but to kindle a fire one needs actual logs of wood. So it is with stirring up strife: to kindle strife, a contentious man (*ish medanim*) is enough - a person who constantly stirs up disputes and demands legal redress, insisting on every matter, "I demand justice!", turning everything into a quarrel. He is like a spark and charcoal to kindle and ignite the dispute. But to kindle a great fire, that is not enough - for that, the words of the whisperer (*nirgan*) come into play, which are "like crushing blows," as though battering a person with heavy strikes; and even though these are not external strikes, they are blows that descend into the innermost chambers, inflicting an internal wound.
And to what does this refer? The Malbim explains that this is an allegory for one who grumbles against the ways of the Holy One, Blessed be He, acting as a contentious man - picking a fight with Hashem: Master of the Universe, why did You do this to me? Why am I suffering? Why did You not give me what I wanted? Even worse than him is the one who believes that Hashem created man to harm him - and that is the *nirgan*, the chronic complainer. As we learned in Sefer Iyov, there were philosophers who attempted to prove that man was created for his own detriment, arguing that if you examine life, most of the time man suffers, the evils outnumber the good things, and troubles and tribulations far exceed the blessings - and from this they drew their conclusion. Says the Malbim: this is the greatest misconception of all, and it falls under the category of *nirgan*.
This is akin to what the Jewish people said: "Because Hashem hated us, He brought us out of the land of Egypt." To come and say that Hashem hates me and therefore brought me out of Egypt - that is the mark of a *nirgan*. We have already discussed at length how they arrived at such a conclusion: quite simply, because "as water reflects face to face." They examined what was within themselves, and since their own hearts harbored resentment toward the Holy One, Blessed be He, they were convinced that Hashem hated them as well.
Silver Dross Coated Over Earthenware
כֶּסֶף סִיגִים מְצֻפֶּה עַל חָרֶשׂ שְׂפָתַיִם דֹּלְקִים וְלֶב רָע׃ (כג) - Silver dross overlaid on earthenware is fervent lips with an evil heart.
Rashi explains: like silver dross adhering to earthenware, which artisans melt down to glaze an earthen vessel before firing it, so that the clay vessel gleams as if it were made of silver. Yet in reality there is no value to it: the silver itself is mere dross, and the interior is nothing more than cheap clay. So it is with "fervent lips and an evil heart."
Notice how Rashi interprets *dolekim* ("burning" or "fervent"). At first glance, one might assume it derives from fire, but Rashi explains it as an expression of pursuit, as in "Why did you hotly pursue (*dalakta*) after me?" These are people who pursue others to seduce and corrupt them, doing so with smooth speech. On the outside, such a person makes a show of wanting only your best interests and your success, yet they merely pose as friends - while in his heart he devises wicked schemes. And just as one would not purchase a clay pot coated in silver dross, knowing the silver is merely a thin exterior while the interior is base earthenware, know this as well: when a person pursues you with his lips, his heart is evil. One who comes to corrupt and seduce you with smooth talk harbors an evil heart; keep far away from him.
The Vilna Gaon: Do Not Be Impressed by Fervent Lips
The Vilna Gaon interprets *dolekim* according to its straightforward meaning, related to fire. When you hear him speak - words that hew out flames of fire, wondrous lectures, inspiring words of mussar. But know that very often, an evil heart lurks behind it all. You look at him and say: "Look at his prayer, what passion, see how he studies, his voice carries so far, what a tune - a holy fire envelops him!" Says the Vilna Gaon: frequently this is nothing more than silver dross overlaid on earthenware, and his internal core possesses no genuine substance. Therefore, when you see burning, passionate lips, do not be overly impressed: often it is cheap clay coated in silver, the burning lips are merely a superficial veneer and a performance, while in truth the heart is corrupt, akin to brittle earthenware, akin to deception, and the entire exterior is designed solely to mislead.
In truth, this applies to all the self-styled "babas" of various kinds, each attempting to project an image of being a holy man of God, making grand promises, distributing blessings, and presenting himself as exceptionally pious. Someone once related that he visited such a figure, who demanded around two thousand shekels for a "tikkun." When asked why it was so expensive, the man replied: "What are you talking about?! I ascend to the Heavens, and you don't even want to know what is written about you up there; I personally erase it! Do you think that is a simple matter?" And the person recounted this in complete seriousness. What can be said nowadays is that suckers never disappear, they are merely replaced; naive people are always the ones fueling these charlatans and frauds, actually buying into stories of someone ascending on High and erasing decrees. One had to ask: does he carry correction fluid with him, or might he forget it down here and then how will he erase anything? Thus we are all too familiar with this reality of silver dross coated over earthenware, fervent lips and an evil heart.
The Brisker Rav: Why Specifically "Silver Dross"?
In his chiddushim, the Gri"z explains that the overlaid silver represents the lips, while the earthenware represents the heart. He asks: If the lips are burning with fervent passion, why does the pasuk call them "silver dross"? It should have said "pure silver overlaid on earthenware"! After all, you are describing a person who, in his speech, appears to be holding in exalted spiritual realms; "silver dross" is flawed, adulterated silver full of refuse. If you want to convey that his lips are wonderful while his heart is evil, you should say that the lips are fine silver.
To this he answers: A person whose heart is corrupt, even if his lips burn with fervor and even if they appear coated in silver - someone who understands, observes, and pays close attention will see that this is only silver dross. A person with true discernment and a sensitive ear will know how to scrutinize those fervent lips and not buy into the act. A simple person who sees someone with burning lips immediately buys the notion that his heart is gold as well; but realize that often, those fervent lips are meant precisely to cover for an evil heart.
The Gri"z adds: Shlomo said "silver dross" to teach you that the perceptive, refined, and wise individual will detect straight from those fervent lips that this is mere dross. How so? He will listen to the wording; he will listen to the expression. After all, the tongue is the pen of the heart. If you hear someone speaking words that seem inspiring and uplifting, and suddenly you notice an inappropriate slip of the tongue - whether on grounds of modesty or for other reasons - the wise person is acutely sensitive and immediately registers: wait, something here rang false. Someone lacking this depth only hears the inspiring message and gets excited, unaware that an evil heart lurks underneath. But the wise person, while listening, has an ear sensitive enough to hear that even within the silver - that is, within the speech itself, which outwardly seems like wonderful silver while only the inside is earthenware - dross can already be found; in the very speech itself, he detects flaws.
Sensitivity to Corrupt Beliefs
From here we turn to corrupt beliefs. There is a story told of a man who used to visit the Chazon Ish to speak in learning, and each time he would bring along a bottle of wine. Once they were discussing a particular teaching of Chazal, and the man said dismissively: "Rabbi, come on, that is not how it really was." The Chazon Ish was deeply offended and said to him: "How can you speak like that? The Gemara says that an apikores (heretic), even if he denies just one single matter, is considered an apikores." He rebuked him, and then added: "Next time, do not bring wine."
The Chazon Ish held that a person harboring heretical beliefs who touches wine renders it non-kosher, like wine poured for idolatry (yayin nesech). For to become an apikores, one does not need to deny the entire Torah; it is enough to hold a corrupted belief, to treat a mitzvah with contempt - not out of human weakness like "it is hard for me to observe," but by dismissing and rejecting it - and you have already disqualified the wine. Your entire kitchen may be strictly Badatz certified, yet your wine becomes yayin nesech. From this we see how grave corrupt beliefs are. And someone with a sensitive ear assesses the true nature of his conversation partner from his speech alone.
"You Spoke With Him for Five Minutes and Did Not Recognize Who He Was?"
It is told of Rav Yerucham of Mir: A new young man arrived at the yeshivah seeking admission, and one of the students spoke with him for a few minutes. Afterward, Rav Yerucham asked the student: "Tell me, what is the character of this young man?" The student replied: "Rebbe, I do not know him." He assumed the mashgiach asked because he thought they were from the same hometown, having seen them conversing. So he said: "No, Rebbe, I do not know him; I only spoke with him for five minutes." Rav Yerucham exclaimed: "You spoke with him for five minutes and you did not recognize who he was?!"
A discerning, complete person can perceive someone inside out within five minutes: he hears the phrasing, observes the manner of speech, notices the subtle nuances - and in five minutes has already read him completely. The wise person manages to grasp who stands before him simply from the tones of his speech.
In summary: Both pesukim address the power of words to harm and deceive. "Divrei nirgan kemitlahamim": whether the nirgan is a talebearer sowing discord, a contentious instigator, or a chronic complainer - his words are warfare, striking blows that are often broken and fragmented intentionally to ignite the listener's imagination. And these are blows that sink down into the innermost chambers, causing internal damage far more difficult to heal than a physical wound. Allegorically, the Malbim explains, this refers to one who complains against the ways of the Holy One, Blessed is He, and worse still, one who believes man was created for evil. And "Kessef sigim metzupah al chares" teaches us that all that glitters is not silver: there are those who pursue you with flattering lips while harboring an evil heart, and there are lips burning with enthusiasm that are nothing more than a thin coating over cheap earthenware. Our task is to develop a sensitive ear, as the Gri"z noted, knowing that the tongue is the pen of the heart, and to identify the dross within the speech itself.