Chapter 27 of Mishlei deals with a series of principles concerning interpersonal relations, at the heart of which stand two verses entirely dedicated to the proper attitude toward rebuke: who rebukes us, why he rebukes, and how we ought to accept his words. We will examine them in light of the commentaries of the Rishonim, the Vilna Gaon (Gra), and the Malbim.
טוֹבָה תּוֹכַחַת מְגֻלָּה מֵאַהֲבָה מְסֻתָּרֶת׃ (משלי כז, ה) - "Open rebuke is better than concealed love." (Mishlei 27:5)
According to the plain meaning of the verse: a person rebukes his friend for his wrongdoing, and the underlying motive for this rebuke is the hidden love within his heart. Even though open rebuke is unpleasant to us, and we naturally dislike it, it is nonetheless good, provided that it truly stems from concealed love - from a person who genuinely loves you in the depths of his heart.
Ibn Ezra explains that the word tochechah ("rebuke") applies to both parts of the verse, as if it reads: Open rebuke is better than the rebuke of concealed love. This is a common linguistic structure in our classical sources, such as in the prayer, "Who has not made our portion like theirs, nor our lot like that of all their multitude" - where the words "has not made" govern both clauses.
According to this, the explanation is: a person who is rebuked publicly experiences something better than one whose loved ones rebuke him in secret. Why? Because when one is rebuked openly, the very shame and anguish carry within them rebuke and rectification. Therefore, do not dismiss such rebuke and do not complain, "Why did they say this to me in front of everyone?" - for precisely through this public embarrassment one feels the sting of distress, and as a result will not return to that sin again.
However, one must be very cautious not to draw the opposite conclusion: one must not deduce from this that it is permissible to embarrass someone. The one delivering rebuke is explicitly warned not to humiliate the person he is rebuking - "and do not bear sin because of him" (Vayikra 19:17), regarding which Chazal stated: Could this mean even if his face changes color from shame? You are warned that his face must not change color and that he must not suffer humiliation. Ibn Ezra here is speaking to the recipient: you, the recipient, must not despise this rebuke, for open rebuke is better for you than a rebuke administered in secret by one who loves you.
The Gra explains: open rebuke is good for a person when it stems from concealed love. That is, it is beneficial for a person to be rebuked openly by someone who loves him in secret. "Openly" does not necessarily mean in public, but rather that he comes and states the matter directly to his face: "Know that here you were not in the right; here you need to improve; here you must exert greater effort."
The Gra adds that this is not merely an incidental connection; rather, the greatness of the love between the lover and the beloved is made evident through the abundance of rebuke. How do we know that you truly love someone? When you frequently rebuke him. A proof of this is: "For whom Hashem loves He rebukes" (Mishlei 3:12) - whom does the Holy One, Blessed be He, rebuke? The one whom He loves.
We find another proof from our own experience: a father's love for his son. Even though his love for his son is immense - a delightful love, and he desires to bring him pleasure - nevertheless, he disciplines his son and openly rebukes him constantly. The son asks: "Abba, the neighbor's son did the exact same thing!" And the answer is: "Let the neighbor deal with his own son; you are my son, and I care about you." Other relatives will not strike him, but only rebuke him, while strangers will not rebuke him at all. We learn from this that the closer and more loving a person is, the more he rebukes. Rebuke demonstrates caring: you are precious to me, and therefore it is important to me to correct you. (It should be clarified that in our generation, physical discipline is certainly not recommended, especially not at an older age, but the underlying example of a father's deep involvement in raising his son remains fully relevant.)
Therefore, when rebuke is open, it is good, because it proves that it stems from a love hidden deep in the heart. For if that were not the case, why would I rebuke you this way? You could do whatever you pleased, and I would not care.
Today, it is somewhat difficult for us to relate to what was said back then, because people have become very sensitive. Even with a close relative, the attitude is: "Don't comment to me, don't tell me what to do, don't correct me, I know well enough, focus on your own flaws, fix yourself, live and let live." All such slogans cause a person to keep his distance; even when something needs to be said, he is very cautious and sometimes prefers to say nothing at all, fearful of how the words will be received. But the Vilna Gaon says: know that in truth, we rebuke those whom we truly love.
The Vilna Gaon continues and cites: "Because you did not believe in Me" - fortunate are the righteous, for whom the Holy One, Blessed is He, does not show favoritism. See what He did to Moshe Rabbeinu: open rebuke, "you shall not bring this assembly," you will not enter the Land. And woe to the wicked, for whom the Holy One, Blessed is He, shows favoritism - as with Achav, of whom it is said, "Have you seen how Achav has humbled himself before Me? I will not bring the evil in his days." Was this good for him? It was terrible; the reckoning was reserved for him for eternity. And Moshe Rabbeinu - was it good for him? It was wonderful: he was rebuked here, and for all eternity he remains pure and pristine.
It emerges, then, that open rebuke, which testifies to the hidden love of the Holy One, Blessed is He, is better than a situation where the Holy One, Blessed is He, gives a person a pass. You see a wicked person who reached the age of one hundred and two and passed away peacefully, without suffering and without illness - is there any reason to envy him? Exactly the opposite: the very fact that Hashem did not rebuke him shows that He rejected him, and above he will receive the full reckoning. By contrast, one to whom Hashem sent suffering - "Yet Hashem desired to crush him, He made him sick" - it is all meant to refine him and improve his deeds. Therefore, do not despise suffering: fortunate are the righteous, for whom the Holy One, Blessed is He, does not show favoritism.
נֶאֱמָנִים פִּצְעֵי אוֹהֵב וְנַעְתָּרוֹת נְשִׁיקוֹת שׂוֹנֵא׃ (משלי כז, ו) - "Faithful are the wounds of a friend, but profuse are the kisses of an enemy" (Mishlei 27:6).
There are many verses that people mispronounce, and this is the case here as well: many say "vene'etaros", whereas according to the precise grammar of the text, the reading is "vena'ataros".
The Vilna Gaon explains: the wounds inflicted by someone who loves him are more trustworthy to a person than the kisses of someone who hates him. A person is willing to absorb even a slap from his father, but he has no desire for kisses from someone he knows hates him. Do we truly prefer slaps over kisses? It all depends on who is slapping and who is kissing.
The Gra explains the allegorical meaning: The suffering and self-deprivations that stem from the counsel of the yetzer hatov (the good inclination) are beneficial for a person, whereas the kisses of the yetzer hara (the evil inclination) are "profuse" (ne'tarot) - meaning harmful, detestable, and abominable kisses.
On the surface, it seems as though it is the yetzer hara that loves us. He says: "This yetzer hatov is suffocating you, restricting you, giving you nothing. Come enjoy life! Take this, buy this, eat this, look at that - I love you, come let me give you a kiss, take another sin." These are kisses, but they are the kisses of an enemy. The yetzer hatov, on the other hand, constantly deals out blows: pangs of conscience, "do not do that," "this is a sin," "you will be held accountable for this," "here is Gehinnom," "now you must learn," "here you cannot get up," "here you cannot eat." Outwardly, he appears like an enemy who does nothing but restrict me.
Yet the truth is the exact opposite: the yetzer hatov is the true friend, and what you receive from him are wounds about which it is said, "Faithful are the wounds of a friend" - wounds that are desirable, faithful, and good for you, far superior to the kisses of the enemy, the yetzer hara, who feigns concern for your welfare. These are clearly the kisses of an enemy, for he knows what a heavy price one will have to pay for all those "good things" he offers.
Rashi explains that "ne'tarot" is an expression of abundance and magnitude, as in "ve-ha'atartem alai" ("and you multiplied against Me"). Ibn Ezra explains: thick or intense. In other words, the kisses of an enemy are no good for you; they are excessive and superfluous, and one ought to despise them. In contrast, the wounds of a friend are good.
The Ralbag explains "ne'emanim" (faithful) in the sense of upright and reliable, meaning they are delivered for a worthy purpose: either to rebuke him or to rescue him from harm. He provides an example: A person sees that his brother or relative has harmed others, wronged them, and insulted them, and they have resolved to avenge themselves on him. To save him from what they are about to do to him, he slaps him in front of their eyes and sharply scolds him. What does this achieve? It appeases them, making it seem as though he has already received his punishment. It turns out that the wounds you inflicted on your brother were meant to avert a far greater catastrophe; because you struck him, their anger was pacified and you rescued him from their hands. That is something good and faithful. By contrast, the kisses of an enemy do the reverse: they show him affection only to trip him up, entrapping him in their snare and causing him ruin.
It is told that Napoleon besieged a city for a long time without managing to conquer it. He decided to disguise himself, enter the city as a local, and overhear what was being said there. He and his aide disguised themselves as ordinary citizens and went into a tavern - the place where officers and soldiers would gather in the evening for a drink. They ordered drinks and sat down. Suddenly, they heard one patron say to another: "Tell me, the man sitting over there, isn't that Napoleon? I'm telling you, that's Napoleon!" Entering the lion's den like that was the equivalent of someone suddenly recognizing our chief of staff in the heart of Syria or in the Dahiyeh.
What did the aide do? He knocked over his drink as if by accident while shifting the table, and gave Napoleon a resounding slap across the face: "Can't you pay attention? Go get another glass right now!" Napoleon stood up, humbled and disgraced, to fetch a glass. Then the man was heard saying: "Napoleon, eh? A man who takes slaps from his servant, that's Napoleon?" And with that, he was saved. If we were to ask what punishment that slap deserved, the answer is not a punishment, but a medal and a reward: "With that slap, I saved your life." This is precisely the example brought by the Ralbag: such wounds from a friend are faithful wounds.
The Malbim explains: Even when someone who loves his friend strikes him in order to discipline him and steer him back onto the right path, the love is not impaired. This is the meaning of "Faithful are the wounds of a friend" - the love between them remains steadfast, because the motive is entirely for good, and therefore the relationship will not be damaged by the wounds.
And so we naturally see with a child who knows that his father or mother is disciplining him. In past generations, when a child knew he had done something improper and received a slap from his father, he did not hate him as a result or distance himself from him; he knew he had done something wrong and that his father was educating him. When does it lead to hatred? When the child feels that his father is venting his own frustrations on him, that what he received was undeserved, and that the father's anger and distress are being taken out on him. In such extreme cases, the child will indeed feel hatred. A person once related that his father used to kick him, and even now, at forty or fifty years old, he cannot forgive him - it was such a humiliation that it stayed with him for life. But an ordinary child who once received a smack from his father knew he had strayed from the proper path, and it did not lead to hatred toward his parents.
In our generation, hitting is certainly humiliating and far less effective, especially above the age of six, when the child already understands and the emotional hurt is great. There are other consequences that speak to children far more than a slap or a pinch: not going out to play with friends, not receiving a game, or not getting a treat. It is crucial that a parent acts with discretion, conveying the clear message to the child: this is for your own good; you did such and such, and this is the consequence you deserve. When it stems from love, it is received with understanding, and ultimately we even say *yasher ko'ach* to a father who put us in our place, who disciplined us and did not let us stray from the path. As Scripture says: "As a man chastens his son, so Hashem your God chastens you" - He is your God, and even when He chastens, His love for you is great.
An enemy, the Malbim explains, multiplies kisses; he does not chastise or rebuke. On the contrary - when he sees you committing sins, he kisses you so that you will continue.
It is told of a dybbuk in Radin who would encounter people and reveal the sins they had committed. He would see someone in the street, embrace and kiss him, and say: "I love you! Yesterday you did such and such, right?" - reminding him of his transgressions. People would flee from him like fire. And what would happen? Out of sheer humiliation and shame, that person would begin to have thoughts of *teshuvah*, and immediately the dybbuk would pull away: "Why are you contemplating repentance? What, are you doing *teshuvah* now?" It was such a flawed and wicked soul that whenever it saw evil, like found its like and felt energized, but whenever it saw someone drawing near to righteousness, it backed away. See how keenly the dybbuk could sense that the person was contemplating *teshuvah*, causing it to flee from him. Such is the enemy: he kisses you when you commit sins. But the one who loves you is the one who corrects you when you stray from the path.
And so Rabbi Akiva said: "I call heaven and earth to witness that so-and-so complained about me before his master many times, and he chastised me - and each time, I added love upon my love for him." When someone comes to complain about us, even if it is for our own good, a certain resentment naturally arises within us: Why did he do this to me? Why did he go and complain? But with Rabbi Akiva, it was the exact opposite: this person helped correct me, and if he corrected me, I increased my love for him all the more. Such is a person who seeks perfection: when someone comes to correct him, he rejoices in it.
We have discussed this in the past: if someone tells you, "Sir, your suit is dirty in the back," would you answer him, "And what do you think, that you are clean? Everything is fine with you? Do not look for flaws in others; look at yourself first!" We have never heard of such a response. On the contrary: "Thank you very much, *tizkeh le-mitzvot*," and immediately one takes off the jacket, cleans it, and asks for a wipe.
Why, then, when someone points out a flaw in our soul, is the instinctive reaction antagonism, resistance, and an unwillingness to accept it, even if we do not say so openly? Because dirt on a suit is external - the suit got dirty, it happens, and it is not a flaw in me. But when someone comes and says, "Your character traits are flawed; your behavior is improper," he has identified a defect in my personality - I am the one who is corrupted, I am the flawed one. That is an injury hard to overlook, and so one immediately tries to find faults in the rebuker: "What, are you perfect? Is everything with you in order?"
However, one who truly desires to cleanse his soul no less than he wants to clean his suit will say: "Thank you very much; *yasher ko'ach* for bringing this into the light and showing me the path of truth, for what you said is an area I need to work on and correct." That was Rabbi Akiva, who was capable of acknowledging this because he was a seeker of truth.
These two verses teach us how to view rebuke and suffering. "Better is open rebuke than hidden love" - open rebuke, even though it is unpleasant, rectifies and benefits, and is a sign of love: the closer and more devoted a person is, the more he rebukes, and this is also how the Holy One, blessed be He, deals with the righteous, showing them no favoritism. And "Faithful are the wounds of a friend, but profuse are the kisses of an enemy" - the wounds inflicted by a loving friend do not diminish love, but rather testify to it: whether it is a father disciplining his son, someone rescuing his fellow from greater harm, or the yetzer hatov (good inclination) restricting us for our own benefit; whereas the kisses of an enemy, like the kisses of the yetzer hara (evil inclination), are nothing more than a trap. One who seeks truth will accept rebuke just as he joyfully accepts someone pointing out a stain on his garment, and it will only add love upon love.