In this section of Chapter 26, King Solomon continues to depict the character of the fool (*kesil*), moving from there to a sharp description of the lazy person (*atzel*). Both character types intersect at one point: "wise in his own eyes." While the *kesil* knows the truth yet is drawn after his desires, the one who is "wise in his own eyes" has turned his error into an ideology. The passage before us teaches why the person who is wise in his own eyes is the most hopeless case, and how laziness breeds this very trait.
רָאִיתָ אִישׁ חָכָם בְּעֵינָיו תִּקְוָה לִכְסִיל מִמֶּנּוּ׃ - If you see a man who is wise in his own eyes, there is more hope for a fool than for him.
The Ibn Ezra explains that this verse speaks of the sluggard, citing proof from the subsequent verse: "The sluggard is wiser in his own eyes." For whatever advice you offer the lazy person, he already knows better than you: utilize your time, do something with your life, find a job, get organized, you could even get married. About everything, he understands better than anyone. He also has plans - and lazy people usually have many plans: "God willing, next year I will begin studying this and that." And he keeps his word on this: it is always "next year." Another year passes, and another year, and there is always an excuse: "I heard that right now it's problematic to start, and we'll see later." The sluggard is full of excuses like a pomegranate, as long as he does not have to budge or take any action.
According to the Ibn Ezra, this yields a novel interpretation of the words "there is hope for a fool from him" - what can be expected from him? A fool; nothing will come of him other than a fool. Since this person does nothing with himself, does not invest in himself, and does not develop his abilities, what hope is there from him? A second interpretation is according to the plain meaning: even for a fool there is more hope that something good will emerge than for this sluggard. There is more to expect from a fool than from one who is wise in his own eyes.
Rabbeinu Yonah - whose direct commentary on the verses in this final section of Mishlei is not extant, but rather collected from *Sha'arei Teshuvah* and other works - speaks here of a very contemptible trait: the trait of mockery and cynicism (*leitzanut*). A person who does not listen and will not accept rebuke (*mussar*), turning everything presented to him into a joke and mockery. This is an extremely difficult trait, because there is no way to reach such people. Anything said to him is like an oiled shield; he turns it into ridicule and the words cannot penetrate.
What, then, is the way to penetrate the scoffing of cynics? "Judgments are prepared for scoffers" - blows. Only blows. When the scorner begins to take a beating, whether financially, at home, or Heaven forbid medically, the smirk suddenly vanishes from his face and he becomes serious: "Tell me, do you have a rav? I need a blessing. Do you know of a righteous person's grave? I must have a *pidyon nefesh*." What happened? Until now everything was jokes and cynicism. But when a person starts taking hits, that is the only thing that may bring the scorner to realize that his path is mistaken.
In the words of Rabbeinu Yonah: one who constantly scoffs at ideas and actions, seeking to demean those who advance them, shuns things that should not be shunned and rejects the benefit of constructive actions. People tell him, "Do this and it will help," yet he dismisses it all with laughter and cynicism. This leads to the affliction of refusing to hear reproof: who can give him *mussar*, who can rebuke him? The underlying trait that leads him to this is being wise in his own eyes. What caused him to ridicule everything? The sense that "I know what everyone else does not know; everyone else is talking nonsense and I am the discerning one." This trait dominates him so thoroughly that he scoffs at the judgment of anyone else. And this is the trait for which there is no hope, as it says: "If you see a man who is wise in his own eyes, there is more hope for a fool than for him." For such a person, who can advise him, and who can tell him what to do and how to act, when he believes he understands better than everyone? He has no chance and no hope.
The Malbim explains that here lies the explanation for what we saw earlier. We were told, "Do not answer a fool according to his folly": even in matters of Torah, do not answer him with sharp, profound arguments based on the deep truth of the matter; rather, brush him off with a flimsy reply. And why? Why should we not give him substantive, truthful answers?
Those who remember, back when Goren permitted the mamzerim: a deal was struck that he would permit them and be appointed Chief Rabbi. There were siblings with a mamzerus issue in the army, and he issued a ruling permitting them and retroactively annulling the marriage. How? Under the law, since a beit din possesses the power to annul marriages. Which beit din? Confidential; their identities were forbidden to be revealed. In short: he permitted mamzerim, permitted an eshet ish, permitted everything. The matter caused a storm throughout the Torah world. Gedolei Yisrael held an assembly, and who was not there: the Tchebiner Rav, the Steipler, everyone. They said sharp things about him that had rarely if ever been said about someone holding a rabbinic post: that he had no rebbe, that his rulings were not rulings, and that his words were nonsense.
Goren was very sharp, brilliant, and at the time it was said that no one was as proficient in the Yerushalmi as he was, so in terms of capability, he was certainly no lightweight. He published a booklet in which he ostensibly proved all his claims through specious arguments. Someone came to the Steipler and said: "I want to publish a pamphlet to prove that everything he wrote here is nonsense." The Steipler replied: "Under no circumstances." He asked: "Why?" The Steipler told him: "The very fact that he wrote something and you sit down to write a booklet to refute it makes it seem as though there is substance to his words, as though there is a legitimate argument here that needs to be disproven. His words are baseless and completely unfounded, and if you sit and respond to each point, treating it as if there were a valid claim, you lend importance and credibility to his words."
This is what the Malbim means by "lest he become wise in his own eyes." Do not sit and debate with him, arguing that for this claim one must bring evidence from here and proof from there, for what will he say? "You see, my arguments have merit - after all, he is debating me and answering me!" And from then on: "You answer me, and in the traditional manner of Torah study, I will reply to you." A dispute is then born: he wrote to prove one thing, they wrote to prove the opposite, and the conclusion is that there is a legitimate debate here. You turned him into a valid side, a recognized authority, a legitimate school of thought, and an onlooker will think there are two valid opinions here. Gedolei Yisrael stated that there is no such thing - there is no such opinion and no such concept. Did the Torah giants of previous generations not know that it is possible to permit mamzerim? Did they not hear or study what the Gemara says about annulling betrothals? Did anyone in any generation ever use this heter? If so, we could solve every problem in the world: we would just annul marriages and permit everything!
Therefore, there is no point at all in entering into a debate, for if you debate him, he will become wise in his own eyes: "You see, I have valid arguments, and he even bothers to answer them." And concerning this, the pasuk comes and says: know that there is more hope even for a fool than for one who is wise in his own eyes. What is the difference? One who is wise in his own eyes acts not out of desire, but out of absolute conviction that the ways of wisdom belong to him, that wisdom is on his side. The fool, on the other hand, as explained several times, knows the truth but follows the desires of his heart. Who has a better chance of repenting? Undoubtedly the fool, for when his desire wanes, he at least feels pangs of conscience, because in his heart he knows wisdom is not with him and that according to wisdom what he did was wrong. But one who is wise in his own eyes turns heresy into an agenda, an ideology, a methodology. Therefore, when you go and answer one who is wise in his own eyes, you give him further validation that he has a valid system and path, and he will say: "Look, they are taking me seriously; it is a sign that my arguments carry weight and demand a response." So do not answer him; do not treat him as a legitimate side, do not make him into an accepted view, do not make him into a recognized authority.
אָמַר עָצֵל שַׁחַל בַּדָּרֶךְ אֲרִי בֵּין הָרְחֹבוֹת׃ - The sluggard says, "There is a lion in the way; a lion is among the streets."
The Vilna Gaon explains: *shachal* is an older lion, while *ari* is a young lion. The *shachal* is out on the road, far from the city, whereas the *ari* possesses greater boldness and ventures right among the streets. As is well known, all of Shlomo's words are allegorical, so the Gaon explains the allegory as well. It is written: "Those who pass by on the path, who go straight on their ways" - the yetzer hara lies in wait for those people who walk upon the road and straighten their ways, meaning those who wish to repent. The yetzer hara does not allow a person to change his course; it prevents him from resolving that from today onward he will conduct himself uprightly. This is what the sluggard claims: "There is a lion in the way" - on the path of Hashem, the lion stands in ambush. I want to repent, I want to mend my ways, but out there on the road, the lion lies in wait for me.
"A lion among the streets" corresponds to "and she lies in wait at every corner," which refers to talmidei chachamim: the moment they step away from the Torah even slightly, the forces of impurity and the sitra achra come and lie in wait for them. The yetzer hara simply waits for the scholar to withdraw from Torah study just a little, and immediately the lion ambushes him. And what are the "streets"? The Gaon explains: "streets" refers to the Torah, as it is written, "She raises her voice in the broad places," and her voice is the voice of Torah. Thus, the *ari* lies in wait for talmidei chachamim, while the *shachal* lies in wait for ordinary people who are not scholars.
And why is the talmid chacham described as being "between the streets" rather than "in the streets"? Because he has not departed completely; he only has a slight deviation, a bit of idleness, a brief hiatus from Torah. He is not fully out in the streets, but rather between the streets, and there the lion awaits him. That is why one who completes a masechet must immediately begin a new one, and this is the meaning of "do not linger at the chapter's end" - the point where you have finished one thing and have not yet begun another is a vacuum, a void. I finished this street and have not yet begun the next street, and that is when the lion enters. The yetzer hara says: "Perhaps we should start this one? No, that masechet over there is one I have wanted to study for a long time. But I really need to review this one already." And another day passes, and another day, spent in planning. As long as there is continuity, the lion has no opening to enter. But when you wander between the streets and have not yet set your street - when you have not connected to the next chapter and the next masechet - that is where the lion waits to devour him.
And why did the pasuk specify an *ari* for the streets and a *shachal* for the path? When speaking of the sluggard, it refers to a person who is not a talmid chacham and possesses no great wisdom. In what, then, is he sluggish? In the performance of mitzvot. In contrast, "an *ari* among the streets" refers to talmidei chachamim whose Torah study was interrupted. And what is the difference between Torah and mitzvot? Concerning Torah, it is said that it "protects and rescues," whereas mitzvot protect but do not rescue. Mitzvot protect from calamity, keeping troubles from befalling a person, but Torah also rescues from sin: "A loving doe and a graceful mountain goat, be intoxicated always with her love." Similarly, the Rambam writes that thoughts of immorality are found only in a heart that is void of wisdom. Torah has the power to rescue from sin, whereas mitzvot do not possess this power; they only protect against calamity.
Now see how wondrous this is. When a person who was performing mitzvot ceases to do so, who comes after him? The *shachal*, the older lion. But when a person who was immersed in Torah study pauses briefly in his learning, who comes after him? The young lion, the *ari*. Did the one engaged in mitzvot have no yetzer hara until now? Of course he did, for mitzvot do not rescue from the yetzer hara, they only protect from calamity. It is just that now it gains even greater strength over him. Thus, his yetzer hara is already a veteran, an old foe, making it the *shachal* on the path. In contrast, for the one engrossed in Torah, as long as he clung to it, it protected and rescued him - free from both calamity and the yetzer hara. When he steps away from Torah even slightly, the impulse that comes to confront him was just born, and therefore it is a young lion, an *ari*. Hence, regarding the scholar, the pasuk uses the term *ari*, while regarding the performer of mitzvot, it uses the term *shachal*.
The Malbim explains that out of sheer laziness, the sluggard does not seek wisdom. Seeking wisdom demands effort and toil: one must attend a shiur, listen attentively, delve deeply, review, and memorize, and the sluggard lacks the energy for all of this. Because he does not study, he must justify himself, lest he view himself as a fool. Therefore, he becomes "wise in his own eyes": "I do not need to study; I already know, and I am wiser than all those who have studied." Thus, because he does not seek wisdom, the sluggard descends into the corrupt trait of being wise in his own eyes - which is worse than being a fool. Since wisdom requires alacrity and immense labor, and he is unwilling to toil yet unwilling to appear foolish, he declares: "We are all wise, we are all discerning, we all know the Torah, and there is no need to study."
And how does he justify himself? "The sluggard says: There is a lion on the road." The Malbim also explains that a shachal is a large lion, while an ari is a smaller one. If you tell him to study the lofty, sublime wisdoms - the Works of Creation (Ma'aseh Bereishit) and the Divine Chariot (Ma'aseh Merkavah) - he responds: "We know what happened to Ben Azzai and his companions who entered the Pardes, and what became of Elisha Acher. A lion is on the road! It is dangerous; one can lose one's mind, fall into heresy, apostasy, confusion!" "If so," you tell him, "at least study the accessible teachings: the four sections of Shulchan Aruch, the Talmud." To this he replies, "A lion is in the streets" - here there is no great beast, only a small lion; the danger is not nearly as great, but who knows? Perhaps through study he will come to heresy, or perhaps "it would be better had his placenta turned over his face" if he learns and does not fulfill! He begins fabricating reasons why it is dangerous to study Torah even when it does not involve mystical secrets, preferring to remain with what he already knows and consider himself sufficiently wise without actually knowing what is written in the Torah. This is the sluggard who is wise in his own eyes, full of excuses: a lion on the road, a lion in the streets.
הַדֶּלֶת תִּסּוֹב עַל צִירָהּ וְעָצֵל עַל מִטָּתוֹ׃ - The door turns on its hinge, and the sluggard on his bed.
While others have long awakened from their sleep, active and on their way, this man is still lying in bed. And what is the connection between the door and the sluggard? The Vilna Gaon explains that the parable describes a house filled with people. The time to wake up arrives, and people get up and leave, get up and leave, and the door turns on its hinge, opening and closing, opening and closing. And what does the sluggard do? He turns as well, on his bed: stomach, back, stomach, back. The door has opened countless times for those heading out to their daily labor, while this man still turns on his bed. Correspondingly in Torah, he lies down instead of sitting up and engaging in it. And according to what the Malbim explained earlier, this is why the sluggard does nothing to acquire wisdom: he considers himself wiser than everyone, he has all sorts of excuses, and his entire occupation is turning on his bed.
טָמַן עָצֵל יָדוֹ בַּצַּלָּחַת נִלְאָה לַהֲשִׁיבָהּ אֶל פִּיו׃ - The sluggard buries his hand in the dish; he is too weary to bring it back to his mouth.
This is a well-known Hebrew idiom: "so-and-so did not bury his hand in the dish," meaning he was not passive, but took action. But what is the meaning of this unusual expression? With phrases such as these, whose meaning is not self-evident, the creativity of the commentators shines through as they explain the intended meaning, and several interpretations are offered here.
Rashi explains: the sluggard feels cold. He does not get out of bed because it is cold outside, and the tzallachat is a warm pot. He buries his hand in the pot to warm it. People tell him: "Go out and work!" "No, absolutely not," he says; he needs to warm his hands. "He is too weary to bring it back to his mouth" - as if he becomes exhausted and lacks the strength to bring his hand to his mouth, meaning to perform any action to earn his sustenance so that he will have food to eat.
The Vilna Gaon explains the progression of the verses: "The door turns on its hinge" speaks of laziness of the body, as his body remains in bed; "the sluggard buries his hand" speaks of laziness of the hands; and "he is too weary to bring it back to his mouth" speaks of laziness in action. What do these allude to? There are mitzvot whose reward is in the World to Come, and these he certainly neglects, for the sluggard deals only in cash. Credit? He has no patience for that, not now. Yet even those mitzvot whose fruits a person consumes in this world he fails to perform. This is "he is too weary to bring it back to his mouth" - even that which reaches his mouth immediately, yielding instant benefit, wearies him, and he refuses to act even for that.
Metzudat David explains that this does not refer to warming one's hands, but to wiping clean the food sticking to the dish. The sluggard spends all day eating; he has no energy to work or exert himself, and he wipes the dish until it shines. There are people who finish eating and their plate is so clean it could go straight into the dish rack! Yet in the end, "he is too weary to bring it back to his mouth": Do you think you can spend all your time eating without doing any work? You will not have the means to buy food to bring to your mouth. The weariness that prevents you from doing anything for your livelihood will ultimately leave you with no food for your mouth at all.
The Malbim explains: Even when food is provided to the sluggard, he reaches his hand into the dish, but from that point on, one must take the food out and put it into one's mouth, and he is weary of returning it to his mouth. It is already served to him, he has already put his hand inside, yet he lacks the energy to lift the food to his mouth. The parallel is clear: even if he is given the essential sustenance of the soul, he will bury his hand in the dish containing the food and not take it for himself. For example, if he is given the basic Torah narratives that are necessary to know. After all, the Torah contains hidden secrets, inner dimensions, derash, and the Torah narratives, which are the basic fundamentals. When a person becomes a ba'al teshuvah, or when a child begins to learn, first of all he must know what the Torah recounts: what happened during the creation of the world, who Yaakov and Esav were, the tribes, the descent into Egypt, the building of the Mishkan. This is the simplest peshat, the bare minimum. And even when this is presented to him, says the Malbim, he merely uses the outer garment, the narrative tales, without taking the mussar and wisdom concealed beneath the vessel and garment. To chew over the ideas, bring them into his mouth, digest them, and understand their inner essence - this he fails to do. He treats everything as mere stories and parables, rather than as expressions of depth, inner meaning, and truth.
חָכָם עָצֵל בְּעֵינָיו מִשִּׁבְעָה מְשִׁיבֵי טָעַם׃ - The sluggard is wiser in his own eyes than seven men who give a reasoned response.
According to the order outlined by the Vilna Gaon: First we spoke of the body, "as the door turns upon its hinges," where his body turns upon his bed; then of the hands, "the sluggard buries his hand in the dish"; then of the action, that he does not even bring it back to his mouth; and now we ascend from the hands to the head, which corresponds to wisdom. And this sluggard considers himself wiser than seven who give a reasoned response.
And who are these "seven who give a reasoned response," and why specifically seven? Because in those times there were seven prominent figures known for offering sound counsel. The Vilna Gaon explains: either the seven who see the king's face, as we find with Achashverosh, who were the wise men standing before him, or the seven leaders of the Sanhedrin. And he considers himself wiser than these leaders, believing he possesses greater wisdom in his head than they do.
And how is his wisdom expressed? The Metzudas David explains: in that he knows how to give a reasoned response. Just as they know how to provide reasons for everything, he knows how to offer justifications for why he does not work, why he takes no action, why he does not study, and why he does not advance anything in his life. For everything he has justifications, reasons, and explanations, and he is cleverer than seven who give reasoned responses. Counselors are people who can provide an explanation for everything, and this sluggard is brilliant with his excuses: "With Hashem's help I plan to start, but things just didn't work out, and they told me it will only be next semester; and I wanted to begin, but they said they aren't starting the project right now, and as soon as they do they will call me." Look at how many reasons and excuses he has, all to avoid exerting himself and doing anything at all.
The Malbim explains that the sluggard is wiser in his own eyes than seven great sages who would offer him insight, for "ta'am" signifies the inner essence and depth of a matter. This corresponds to what was stated earlier: if one relates to him the Torah narratives that are essential to know, he consumes only the external garment and discards the inside. Therefore, even if seven insightful teachers were to stand before him and explain the inner depth of these matters, he remains wiser in his own eyes than they are, convinced that things are exactly as he understands them superficially, and he cannot be swayed. This is what we saw earlier regarding "there is more hope for a fool than for him": the fool at least recognizes that his path is flawed, but is simply drawn after his desire; but this sluggard cannot be persuaded by any reason, for he has no interest in taking action and wishes to persist in his indolence, and therefore all his justifications appear stronger to him than seven who offer sound reasons.
The verses before us present a single downward trajectory: laziness breeds the trait of being "wise in his own eyes," and this trait is the one for which there is no hope. The fool knows the truth and stumbles due to his desire, and therefore has a path of return; but one who turns his error into an ideology, mocking and ridiculing any reproof, is locked away from all correction, and nothing will open his heart except suffering. From here also emerges the practical instruction: do not engage in reasoned debate with someone whose premises are baseless, so as not to elevate his stance into a legitimate ideology. And from here comes a warning to each of us: do not leave a gap between the streets - finish one maseches and immediately begin the next; do not be satisfied with the external garment of the Torah's stories, but extract the inner depth and wisdom; and do not let fine-sounding excuses like "there is a lion on the road, a lion in the streets" halt your very first step.