Chapter 7 is one great warning against the strange woman. King Solomon details the progression of the hunt: the senseless youth walking in the street, the woman coming out toward him, and her persuasive speech - word for word. In the passage before us, we reach the climax of her speech: from here on, she speaks openly, removes all veils, and dismantles one by one every concern that might hold the youth back. Afterward, Solomon describes the manner of his downfall and concludes with a moral lesson for sons.
לְכָה נִרְוֶה דֹדִים עַד־הַבֹּקֶר נִתְעַלְּסָה בָּאֳהָבִים׃ - "Come, let us drink our fill of love until morning; let us delight ourselves with loves."
Until now, her words were partially veiled: "I have decked my couch with tapestries," and then "I have perfumed my bed" - referring to her bed. Here, she already speaks with him openly. "Dodim" is an expression of affection, while "ohavim" speaks in completely explicit terms - of physical intimacy itself. "Let us drink our fill of love until morning," without concealment and without hints.
כִּי אֵין הָאִישׁ בְּבֵיתוֹ הָלַךְ בְּדֶרֶךְ מֵרָחוֹק׃ - "For the man is not at home; he has gone on a long journey."
Here she addresses the natural apprehension. After all, this is a married woman, a wayward woman - and who would want to risk getting shot in the head by her husband? Therefore, she reassures him: "For the man is not at home" - do not fear my husband. But the young man might respond: That is true, he is not home right now, but perhaps he will return in ten minutes. She therefore adds: "He has gone on a long journey" - he did not just pop over to the grocery store; he is far away, so there is no concern that he will suddenly return.
Incidentally, in our times, this is part of the great tragedy that has developed: one can know at any given moment where someone is located. This works to the advantage of transgressors - for she now knows with certainty that her husband is far away, and her mind is at ease. When such means did not exist, she lived in constant fear that someone might knock on the door in two minutes.
צְרוֹר־הַכֶּסֶף לָקַח בְּיָדוֹ לְיוֹם הַכֵּסֶא יָבֹא בֵיתוֹ׃ - "He took the bag of money with him; he will come home on the designated day."
A lingering concern still remains: sometimes a person sets out on a distant journey for business and runs out of cash flow midway - what does he do? He returns home, lifts a few floorboards, takes out money, and continues on his way. To this she answers: "He took the bag of money with him" - he already lifted all the floorboards before leaving. The cash, the checks, everything is with him; he has no reason to turn back midway.
She also dispels yet another concern: what if a major deal comes his way that finishes quickly, and he returns early? To this she says, "He will come home on the designated day" - he has a fixed, determined timeframe that he set for himself, and on that day he will return, not before. The Ibn Ezra explains "keseh" as in "on the designated day (bakhseh) for our festival" - the time when the moon is covered, namely Rosh Chodesh. According to this, she tells him: He has set a date; he has a ticket with a return date, and Rosh Chodesh is that date - you have nothing to worry about.
הִטַּתּוּ בְּרֹב לִקְחָהּ בְּחֵלֶק שְׂפָתֶיהָ תַּדִּיחֶנּוּ׃ - She swayed him with her abundant persuasion; with the smoothness of her lips she led him astray.
How do we know that at first he did not listen to her? From the very fact that she had to multiply words so much. If he had listened to her immediately, she would not have needed to speak at such length - he would have already been ensnared. From the fact that she continues on and on, it is evident that at first he did not obey her, and she had to use many words to convince him.
"With her abundant persuasion (berov likcha)" - the Ralbag explains: words that capture (lokchim) his heart, words that captivate and convince him. First, "she swayed him (hitatu)" - she turned his heart to pay attention to her; and then, "with the smoothness of her lips she led him astray (taddichenu)" - with smooth words she dislodges him from his place, so that he begins to move and follow her to her house.
הוֹלֵךְ אַחֲרֶיהָ פִּתְאֹם כְּשׁוֹר אֶל־טֶבַח יָבוֹא וּכְעֶכֶס אֶל־מוּסַר אֱוִיל׃ - He follows after her suddenly, like an ox coming to the slaughter, and like a rattlesnake to the chastisement of a fool.
From the moment he moves from his place, he already begins to run: "He follows after her suddenly." And why specifically "suddenly"? Because that is the way of the yetzer, as the Ramchal writes: if a person were to contemplate everything before doing it, he would never come to commit a sin. If we were to calculate the loss of a sin against the reward of a mitzvah - who would ever sin? Rather, the way of the yetzer hara is like a horse rushing into battle; in a single moment, it thrusts the person into sin.
This was the tactic of Pharaoh, which is the tactic of the yetzer: "Let heavier work be laid upon the men, and let them not pay attention to false words" - do not contemplate! Contemplation is dangerous; you might leave me. And so the yetzer hara says: do not contemplate. The moment a person does not contemplate, he is like a horse rushing into battle, and he becomes a regular client. Therefore it says "suddenly" - had he tarried even a little, he would have restrained himself; but suddenly, a person falls.
And yet, at first his conscience pricks him. He is still not at peace with himself, and he walks as if compelled: his face shows cheerfulness while his heart is in mourning, over being drawn after such a sin. Therefore, "like an ox coming to the slaughter" - does an ox being led to slaughter go with joy and gladness? It goes against its will. Here, too, deep down he knows she has ensnared him, and he goes with a heavy heart.
"Eches" - the Malbim defines this as a rattling snake. There is a snake known as a rattlesnake (achsan), which has a kind of bell or rattle on its tail with which it makes noise. Now, there is something puzzling here: the snake goes voluntarily to strike a person, yet beforehand it sounds its rattle - as if warning: "Watch out, I am about to bite you!" This seems almost contradictory - if you are coming to bite, be a quiet snake; why give warning bells? Yet that is its nature.
And the parable here concerns the "evil" (fool). We have explained in the past the difference between a kesil and an evil: the evil is related to the word ulai ("perhaps") - a person who has a question about everything: Who said so? What is the proof? How can anyone know? Where is it written? This is the skeptical method, skepticism, which casts doubt on everything, until even the very fact that you exist is not entirely clear to them. In contrast, the kesil follows the desires of his heart, and because he is drawn after his desires, he constructs an ideology and seemingly logical arguments to explain why this is actually good.
To illustrate: the evil walks down the road and sees a snake. Immediately he begins: "Wait, who says that is a snake? Maybe it is just a pipe? After all, there are colorful pipes..." Then the rattlesnake comes and sounds its rattle, as if to say: "Sir, so you have no doubts, I am informing you that I am a snake." In the same way, the verse says about this man: at the beginning of his walking after her, he has bells ringing from within - alarm bells and cries warning him that he is about to fall into the hands of the serpent. At first, he still has an inner struggle, pangs of conscience gnawing at him.
עַד יְפַלַּח חֵץ כְּבֵדוֹ כְּמַהֵר צִפּוֹר אֶל־פָּח וְלֹא־יָדַע כִּי בְנַפְשׁוֹ הוּא׃ - Until an arrow splits his liver, as a bird hastens to the snare, not knowing that it costs his life.
The liver is the dwelling place of the blood; it purifies the blood. "Until an arrow splits his liver" - the arrow of lust pierces his liver, meaning it causes his blood to boil. "His blood boils" is an expression of lust and promiscuity. And then he is no longer like an ox led to slaughter, nor like a shackled man led to the chastisement of a fool - he has no more warning bells, he feels no pangs of conscience, but rather "as a bird hastens to the snare": he runs swiftly into the trap, willingly and joyfully, and his conscience no longer troubles him.
And this is human nature: the first time a person falls into sin, he feels pangs of conscience, but by the second and third time - in the words of the Gemara - it becomes to him as though permitted. That is, he no longer views it as a transgression at all; it becomes part of his daily routine, a legitimate act.
The Vilna Gaon explains this verse as referring to the World to Come. "He follows after her suddenly, like an ox to the slaughter" - and when will this person finally wake up? "Until an arrow splits his liver": when he arrives at Kaf HaKela, where he is hurled from place to place, destructive angels shoot arrows at him, and dogs devour him - only then will he wake up.
The concept of Kaf HaKela precisely mirrors a person's reality in his pursuit of lusts. The holy books state: a person who was steeped in desires in this world is still drawn to those same desires after death, but he has no body with which to fulfill them. What does he do? His soul runs and is hurled from place to place pursuing its cravings without attaining them - and this is severe, excruciating suffering.
"As a bird hastens to the snare" - this refers to Gehennom, says the Gaon. And as Chazal taught: "Let your evil inclination not assure you that the grave is a place of refuge for you." The grave refers to Gehennom, and who would ever imagine that Gehennom could be a place of refuge? Rather, at first a person is judged with such bitter and severe afflictions that when he sees Gehennom, it seems to him like Gan Eden. After all, Gehennom lasts twelve months, no more, whereas Kaf HaKela and other torments can last for thousands of years, Heaven spare us. Therefore it says, "as a bird hastens to the snare": one ought to flee from a snare, yet the bird flees straight into it - and what is the logic? If you are fleeing a far worse torment, even the snare appears to be a place of refuge.
And this is "not knowing that it costs his soul." What was his mistake? In Kaf HaKela, he is judged in the composite state of body and soul together, whereas in Gehennom, the soul alone is judged - and the torments of the soul are far more agonizing, as we noted previously. Are you so eager to reach Gehennom? Know that there it is "in his soul," and that is far more severe.
וְעַתָּה בָנִים שִׁמְעוּ־לִי וְהַקְשִׁיבוּ לְאִמְרֵי־פִי׃ - And now, sons, hear me, and pay heed to the sayings of my mouth.
Here Shlomo HaMelech conveys primarily the mussar that his father imparted to him. We have mentioned previously that paying heed (hakshavah) is a lower level than hearing (shemiah): regarding the essential matter, the Torah uses "hearing," and for that which is secondary, "paying heed." First, "hear me" - understand the rationale of my words and see that my teachings are correct; and once you see that the principle is correct, "and pay heed to the sayings of my mouth" - you will no longer demand a reason and explanation for every detail, but will simply listen attentively. And this makes sense: when someone has proven the truth of his words in the fundamentals, one does not challenge him over every single point; one trusts him with the details as well.
אַל־יֵשְׂטְ אֶל־דְּרָכֶיהָ לִבֶּךָ אַל־תֵּתַע בִּנְתִיבוֹתֶיהָ׃ - Let not your heart turn aside to her ways, do not stray into her paths.
"Let not turn aside" (al yesht) denotes turning astray. The Malbim explains, as is his regular approach, the distinction between a derech (a broad road or highway) and a nativ (a narrow path): a derech is a public thoroughfare, whereas a nativ is an individual path. "Her ways" refers to the primary road - the central iniquity, illicit relations itself. You must not only refrain from that, but "do not stray into her paths" - do not wander into the smaller side-paths, meaning stumbling in less severe matters: not the actual act of transgression itself, but merely speaking with her or merely gazing at her. Regarding such things, the Rambam notes that a person thinks, "God will not count this as an iniquity against me" - he assumes there is nothing wrong with it: "What did I do? I only talked, I only laughed."
The Malbim adds even further: the evil inclination might entice him by saying, "On the contrary! If you speak with her and do not succumb to sin, you will receive a double reward. After all, what greatness is there in avoiding sin when there is no temptation? True greatness lies in refraining when temptation is present. One who does not speak with her at all has no temptation whatsoever; therefore, come, speak, laugh - and still refrain from sinning." This is similar to what the Gemara recounts: "Let us walk past the entrance of a house of prostitution, subdue our inclination, and receive reward." But who can say such a thing? Only a spiritual giant. To an ordinary person we say: My friend, there is every chance that from the doorway, you will step inside. Therefore it is written "her paths" - do not venture even into the small side-paths; avoid even the secondary branches of sin.
כִּי־רַבִּים חֲלָלִים הִפִּילָה וַעֲצֻמִים כָּל־הֲרֻגֶיהָ׃ - For many are the corpses she has felled, and mighty are all her slain.
Do not turn aside into her major ways - "for many are the corpses she has felled." And do not rely on your own righteousness, saying, "I will not come to sin; do you realize whom you are talking to? That warning is for lesser people" - for "mighty are all her slain." "Mighty" (atzumim) refers to great figures, just as in the phrase "in the mighty waters" (bemayim addirim), where the Holy One, blessed be He, drowned the mighty Egyptians. So too here: those slain by passion are mighty - giants in Torah and giants in fear of Heaven, who stumbled or nearly stumbled in the sin of lust.
The Gemara cites several examples: the sage before whom the evil inclination appeared in the likeness of a beautiful woman at the top of a tree, and he began climbing the tree to sin with her. Or the incident where they cried out, "There is a fire in Amram's house!" And who was Amram? Rav Amram the Pious (Amram Chasida) - not merely an ordinary righteous person, but a chasid, an exceptionally high level of piety - yet even within him the fire of passion raged.
Now, if you should ask: If even a mighty person stumbled and fell, what do you expect from me? The answer is: Why did that mighty person stumble and fall? Because he strayed into her paths. But one who does not approach those paths at all faces no danger of falling. A parable is told for this: A man appeared in court, and the judge said to him, "You are charged with vehicular manslaughter. You drove at 120 kilometers per hour on a city street, a pedestrian stepped onto the road, and you ran him over." The defendant replied, "The facts are true, but could Your Honor have braked in time at 120 kilometers per hour? It was completely beyond my control." The judge told him, "You are right; at the moment of braking, you were indeed powerless - but I am holding you liable for driving 120 in a built-up area." So it is here: one who strays into her paths suddenly discovers that his brakes do not work. It is true that where you now stand, there are no brakes - but had you not approached that path in the first place, you would never have reached a situation where the brakes failed. That is the very essence of the claim against you.
דַּרְכֵי שְׁאוֹל בֵּיתָהּ יֹרְדוֹת אֶל־חַדְרֵי־מָוֶת׃ - Her house is the ways to Sheol, descending to the chambers of death.
"Sheol" is the deep pit, and a person can fall into Sheol even prior to his physical death - the very descent into Sheol is a plunge into a deep abyss. One who even walks by way of her house is already treading the ways of Sheol, already fallen into a deep pit. And know this: within that pit, they "descend to the chambers of death." In Sheol, you may have fallen and suffered injury while still remaining alive, but the continuation from Sheol leads directly to death. Whoever arrives there descends from there into the chambers of death - you will certainly come to actual sin. If sin presents itself to you and you do not distance yourself, but instead draw slightly closer, know that ultimately you will end up inside as well.
The Vilna Gaon correlates the progression of the verses with the wording of the Vidui (confession). First, "Let not your heart turn aside to her ways," then "do not stray into her paths," followed by "for she has cast down many wounded, and all her slain are mighty," and finally, "her house is the ways to Sheol, going down to the chambers of death." Corresponding to this, we recite in the Vidui: "Ta'inu, ti'tanu, sarnu mi-mitzvotecha u-mimishpatecha ha-tovim, ve-lo shaveh lanu" - "We have strayed, we have led others astray, we have turned away from Your good commandments and ordinances, and it was not worth it to us."
The straightforward understanding of "ve-lo shaveh lanu" is: I see now that it was not worthwhile, that the deal with the Yetzer Hara was not profitable. With this, a well-known question is resolved: after all, Teshuvah requires Vidui and also requires charatah (remorse) - yet where is remorse found in the text of the Vidui? "Ashamnu, bagadnu, gazalnu, ta'inu, ti'tanu" is a confession of actions, but where is the remorse? The answer is that "ve-lo shaveh lanu" is the expression of remorse. Now I admit that it was not worth it to me. What remains for me from yesterday's steak? What remains for me from the forbidden food I ate a year ago? From every sin I committed - it was not worth it to us. When looking at the profit-and-loss balance sheet, it was simply not worth it. This constitutes the essence of remorse.
However, the Vilna Gaon explains this downward progression in a marvelous way. "Ta'inu" (we strayed) - this is the first mistake. The Yetzer Hara's way when coming to entice, especially provoking those who engage in Torah - for everyone else is already like his regular clientele, while one who learns Torah is a challenge for him, a serious client. At first, he approaches the learner and does not say, Heaven forbid, "Do not learn." On the contrary: "Learn! But one also needs to enjoy life. There are other good things; both learn and enjoy. What, are you an ascetic? Enjoy yourself!" This is the error: we thought we could have both this and that, both Torah and pleasures, "do not withdraw your hand from either" - and this is "ta'inu."
"Ti'tanu" (we were led astray) - once a person reaches the state of combining learning with indulgence in pleasures, he becomes accustomed to pursuing pleasures and can no longer do without them. Naturally, this comes at the expense of learning: "Do you have a shiur? I'll make it up later." And the Yetzer tells him: "My friend, if you do not do what you are accustomed to, it is unhealthy for you; you might fall ill." In this way, he draws him to cling to those pleasures, until we have abandoned engagement in Torah - and this is "ti'tanu."
"Sarnu mi-mitzvotecha u-mimishpatecha ha-tovim" (we turned away from Your good commandments and laws) - he still performs mitzvot, but he no longer pursues them. Once, he was the initiator; he would organize, search out opportunities, and invite others to join. Now, if a mitzvah happens to present itself, or if people press him - "You are the tenth man, you complete the minyan" - well, fine, he steps in. But the zealous pursuit of mitzvot has ceased.
And finally, "ve-lo shaveh lanu" - the Vilna Gaon explains: it held no value (lo shaveh) in our eyes; even if a mitzvah presented itself to us without effort and without toil, we still did not perform it. Why? Because it simply has no worth in my eyes anymore. That is, at first I pursued mitzvot; then I fell from that level and merely fulfilled whatever came my way; and ultimately, even when told, "Here is a mitzvah requiring zero effort," I say, "Leave it, leave it." The mitzvot no longer possess any value in his eyes, and he considers them as nothing. Such is the method of the Yetzer Hara; may Hashem save us from it.
The seductive woman systematically dispels every concern - "For the man is not at home," "he has gone on a distant journey," "he took a bag of money in his hand," "he will come home on the appointed day" - and with the abundance of her words, she sways his heart and drives him from his place. The fall itself happens "suddenly," for such is the Yetzer's way: to prevent contemplation. At first, a person still hears internal warning bells, and he goes like an ox to the slaughter; but once the arrow of lust cleaves his liver, he rushes like a bird to a snare and the sin becomes permissible in his eyes, and according to the Vilna Gaon, this alludes to Kaf HaKela and Gehinnom. From this comes the moral lesson: one must avoid not only the main highway of sin, but also its narrow paths - speech, looking, proximity - for "all her slain are mighty," and one who steps onto the path discovers he has no brakes. And in the order of the Vidui: ta'inu, ti'tanu, sarnu mi-mitzvotecha, and ultimately lo shaveh lanu - a gradual decline that begins with a small compromise and ends in the total loss of the value of mitzvot.