The three concluding verses of Chapter 28 address three fundamental principles in a person's divine service: what a person relies upon when deciding how to act, what happens to one who gives charity, and what impact the wicked and the righteous have on society as a whole. We will examine them in order, through the explanations of the Vilna Gaon, the Ralbag, Rashi, Ibn Ezra, and the Malbim.
בּוֹטֵחַ בְּלִבּוֹ הוּא כְסִיל וְהוֹלֵךְ בְּחָכְמָה הוּא יִמָּלֵט׃ (כ"ח, כו) - "He who trusts in his heart is a fool, but he who walks in wisdom will escape."
The Vilna Gaon offers an original explanation here: "He who trusts in his heart" refers to someone who says, "The inclination of my heart is an exact compass for proper conduct. When I ask myself how to act - this way or that way - and my heart tells me, that is enough for me." He is convinced that if his heart leans in a certain direction, that is that; this must be the right path.
In truth, there are situations where the heart is indeed a compass, but that is the level of great tzaddikim. Regarding King David, when he cut off the corner of Saul's robe, Scripture states: "David's heart struck him." The Malbim explains there that for the righteous, the heart serves as a compass. How did King David know his action was improper? Because his heart struck him. The pangs of his conscience were proof enough: a sign that what I did was wrong.
We find this same dimension with Avraham Avinu. "And Avraham ran to the herd," and from the verse "Please do not pass away from Your servant" we learn that hospitality to guests is greater than receiving the Divine Presence - Avraham said to the Holy One, Blessed be He, as it were: Master of the Universe, please do not pass, for I have guests. That is magnificent, but the question arises: how did Avraham know to act this way? On the surface, this seems like great insolence. The answer is that Avraham became entirely holy, and his two kidneys were like two springs flowing with wisdom. Therefore, when he felt his feet running and carrying him toward the guests, he understood that this was the correct decision, and thus he immediately said, "Please do not pass away from Your servant" - for my body indicates to me that there is a mitzvah here. Similarly, David says, "I considered my ways and turned my feet to Your testimonies" - my feet tell me that there is a mitzvah here; they walk on their own. When a person attains immense refinement, his body and feet can act as a compass: whatever they do is a sign that this is the right path. However, this holds true only for someone who is completely pure and refined.
In contrast, for an ordinary person the rule is the exact opposite. This is how the Vilna Gaon explains the verse in Megillat Ruth: "And when she saw that she was determined to go with her, she ceased speaking to her." Naomi initially attempted to dissuade Ruth from following her, but when she saw that she was exerting herself to go, she stopped. What exactly did she see?
The Vilna Gaon explains: by nature, man is drawn toward evil. "Man is born a wild donkey's colt," and therefore, when it comes to a mitzvah, we immediately feel that it is difficult, that it demands effort. But a transgression goes easily. Tell a person that he needs to walk from here to there for a transgression, and he will run. Tell him it is for a mitzvah, and he immediately protests: "Is there no ride? It is so far... If there is a ride, I will come." Naturally, a mitzvah is hard for us to perform.
And this is what Naomi saw: she was walking calmly, while Ruth was walking and panting - "And she saw that she was exerting herself." If the walking was difficult for her, it was a sign that this was a mitzvah, for a transgression comes easily; for a transgression, one runs. From here, says the Vilna Gaon, is a rule of thumb for a person: if one is uncertain whether or not to do a certain thing, let him see where the inclination of his heart lies - and do the opposite.
A person faces a dilemma: should he go out to a Torah class or perform a particular mitzvah? Let him ask himself which one he feels more drawn to. If he feels more drawn to the class, let him go perform the mitzvah; if he feels more drawn to the mitzvah, let him go to the class. That is to say, whichever way you feel more naturally pulled indicates that it is less of a true mitzvah, since man is naturally not drawn toward mitzvot. If he actually feels a natural inclination, he must examine just how much of a mitzvah it really is.
According to this, the verse is well understood: "He who trusts in his heart is a fool" - a person who lives under the illusion that he is already like King David and Avraham Avinu, that his heart is a compass, that whatever his heart dictates is the correct path, and that if his heart is drawn to something, that must be the will of Hashem - he is a fool. And what is the proper way? "But he who walks in wisdom will escape": one who walks according to wisdom and the fear of Heaven, allowing them to guide his path, will escape from every trouble in this world as well as from the snares of the evil inclination.
One who says, "If my feeling directs me here, then this is where I should go," fails to understand that his feelings are deceptive, for the yetzer hara cloaks itself within one's emotions. As explained elsewhere based on the teachings of Rav Dessler, the sin of the Tree of Knowledge was so grave that it created an absolute fusion between the yetzer hara and the human "I." Before the sin, the evil inclination was external to man - embodied in the serpent; to tempt man, an external serpent was required. After the sin, man came to identify with the evil inclination to such an extent that when the yetzer hara speaks, a person feels, "This is me; this is my inner self."
This is the meaning of the "Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil" - da'at denotes connection, as in "And Adam knew [vayeda] Eve his wife." Within man, good and evil became intertwined. The result, Rav Dessler explains, is such an intense identification with evil that when a person desires something, he says, "I want it," or "I feel like it." In contrast, when the yetzer hatov speaks, he says, "I felt pangs of conscience." The yetzer hatov feels external and separate, whereas the yetzer hara cloaks itself within him so completely that when asked why he did something, he answers, "Because I felt like it, because I wanted to." The person and the yetzer hara have become one single entity: whatever the yetzer hara wants is perceived as "what I want," while what the yetzer hatov wants feels like an external figure lecturing him.
Therefore, the Gra explains, a person who relies on his heart and says, "Whatever my heart desires is the will of Hashem" - how foolish he is! Your heart is not truly your own; it is the yetzer hara that has enveloped your heart, giving you the illusion that what you desire is the true will of Hashem, whereas in reality it stems from flawed character traits, lusts, and base inner cravings. If so, how can one overcome it, when any personal desire might merely be the will of the yetzer? "And he who walks in wisdom shall escape" - study mussar, study the fear of Heaven, learn the ways of Hashem, and through this you will escape the yetzer hara. There is no other way to fight against it.
This is the great distinction between a person who studies Torah and one who does not. There are people who are observant or "religiously casual" - but what is the difference between them and a Jew who studies mussar and listens to Torah shiurim? The one who learns mussar at least does not deceive himself: if he does something wrong, he knows he is mistaken and recognizes that he needs to improve. In contrast, one who does not study Torah lives as though all is smooth and clear: he is convinced that whatever he does is exact, correct, and the proper middle path, and he will always come up with excuses and rationalizations.
This is the Achilles' heel of anyone who has not engaged with Torah or studied mussar, and the pitfall of one who does not listen to words of encouragement and introspection, for he tends to believe that whatever he thinks and does is the correct way. By contrast, one who studies Torah and mussar constantly scrutinizes himself: "I wanted to help, true, but how much of it was genuinely for the sake of helping? I had good intentions, but how pure were they?" He knows how to suspect his own motives, just as the Torah giants always scrutinized themselves and examined the root of every action. But an am ha'aretz who does not engage in Torah is confident that everything he does is purely for the sake of Heaven: "I have a clean heart, a pure heart, and a clean conscience." And do you know why his conscience is clean? Because anything that is never used stays clean... he has never used it. In this way, such a person lives in perpetual self-deception, believing he is fine and everything is proper. "He who trusts in his heart is a fool, but he who walks in wisdom shall escape."
The Ralbag explains that before doing anything, the fool does not reflect, does not examine his paths, and does not investigate - he trusts in his heart and says, "Don't worry, it will be fine." Wait a moment: are you about to open a business? Did you conduct market research? Did you check how much of a demand there is? Did you see whether there is another business of this kind nearby? Did you check the profit margins on these products? Did you check whether they sell locally or whether most people order them from abroad? There are so many metrics and parameters to check before opening a business, but the fool simply trusts his heart - what is colloquially called the "trust me" attitude (shitat hasmoch). "It will be fine" - they build the Maccabiah bridge with that "trust me" mindset, and we all know how that turns out.
Someone once told a joke: A man arrived in the Upper World and was asked which Gehennom he preferred. He asked, "What are the options?" They told him, "There is American Gehennom, with such-and-such hours, such-and-such temperatures, and such-and-such breaks; there is German Gehennom, with precise hours and scheduled breaks; and there is Israeli Gehennom, with such-and-such hours and temperatures." He said, "I'll take the Israeli one." They asked him why. He replied, "Come on, I know the Israelis - an hour isn't really an hour, the temperature isn't accurate, the schedule isn't kept..." That is the "trust me" mindset: it will be fine, we'll get around to it, we'll handle the problems, everything is under control.
Says the Ralbag: this is a fool. A sensible person, before doing anything, does thorough groundwork, examines the matter, studies it, and evaluates his paths. This is the meaning of "And he who walks in wisdom shall escape" - in all aspects, both spiritually and materially, in business and in every endeavor. He will escape all trouble because he prepared properly for every scenario, evaluated every possibility, and has a contingency plan for every situation. But one who is not like this - someone asks him, "Are you coming on a hike?" and he says, "Let's go, get in the car," and suddenly he finds himself stranded in some dry ravine under the scorching sun, without water, without reception, needing search and rescue. Had he walked in wisdom, he would have escaped: he would have brought plenty of water, notified the park rangers of their group size and destination, and ensured phones were fully charged rather than drained because the child was playing games. But the fool says, "Listen, my friend, I served in an elite unit, we did navigations, this is nothing for us, trust me, it will be fine." A person must realize: in every action, examine all possibilities and all aspects - that is "walking in wisdom," and then he will escape all harm.
The Malbim leans somewhat toward the Vilna Gaon's interpretation, based on the verse, "for the inclination of man's heart is evil from his youth." The impressions and imaginations of the heart consist of physical desires, material pursuits, and an attraction to worldliness. A person who follows wisdom is rescued from the impressions of his heart, breaks free from these illusions, and discovers the upright path he ought to choose. But one who trusts in his heart, following its imaginations, is a fool, for he distances himself from wisdom. What naturally arises in the human heart are physical drives and material concerns, and following the heart inevitably leads to failure. Yet for one who walks in wisdom - wisdom guides him against the impressions of the heart, against illusions, and against the evil inclination, steering him along the upright path.
נוֹתֵן לָרָשׁ אֵין מַחְסוֹר וּמַעְלִים עֵינָיו רַב מְאֵרוֹת׃ (כ"ח, כז) - "He who gives to the poor lacks nothing, but he who hides his eyes will have many curses" (28:27).
Rashi explains that "he who gives to the poor" refers to charity, and "lacks nothing" means that giving charity will actually increase his wealth. That is, giving charity to the poor will never cause a person to become impoverished, for no one ever becomes poor from giving tzedakah; on the contrary, his wealth will only multiply.
Our Sages teach something similar regarding a rebbe who does not withhold Torah from his student. When a rebbe teaches Torah to a student, he might worry that it will detract from his own learning: "During this time, I could have learned on my own, gained greater wisdom, and studied at an advanced level. When I teach, I merely review what I already know, whereas when I learn alone, I discover new insights." Thus, he might feel that giving over Torah to a student diminishes his own growth. Regarding this, the verse declares, "He who gives to the poor lacks nothing." Just as one who gives tzedakah does not become impoverished, so too, one who teaches Torah to others will not lose out - his Torah knowledge will not diminish, but rather flourish and increase.
This is equally true in practical reality. It is well known that the Steipler Gaon would always instruct avreichim and bnei Torah to create a mechayev - an external binding commitment. What is a mechayev? When a person undertakes to deliver a shiur, that is a mechayev, because he cannot show up to class unprepared. Theoretically he could, but before long the students would stop coming, sensing that he had not prepared properly. When there is a mechayev, there are no excuses like, "Today didn't work out," "I didn't manage," or "I had to go shopping with my wife." You have to deliver a shiur, so you must be ready. The obligation inevitably compels you to fulfill your commitment. But if one takes upon himself to learn without a mechayev, it is easy to say, "Today I didn't get around to it; I'll make it up tomorrow or the next day," and so on.
People often ask: Is it better to take out a loan and buy a property, or to save up money and purchase it later? In theory, it is certainly preferable to save first and then buy. In practice, however, taking out a loan is often better, because saving up the required amount takes far too long, whereas a loan serves as a mechayev. Whether you like it or not, three thousand shekels leave your account every month for the mortgage; consequently, you economize and make every effort to meet the payments. But if someone simply says, "I will save three thousand shekels every month," then this month brings unexpected expenses, a refrigerator broke down, after-school activities have to be paid for, and what are the chances he will actually save that money? There is no binding obligation. Someone might object: "Do you realize how much interest you are paying?" That is true, the interest is high, but without that structure, one would never acquire the property at all. The framework of a mechayev is an essential tool.
Incidentally, positive social pressure often functions as a mechayev as well. When someone says, "I learn on my own every day," there is no binding structure: today worked out, tomorrow might not, or he arrives late. But when there is a regular shiur and he misses a day, others ask him: "What happened yesterday? We missed you." That creates accountability; he belongs to a framework and is connected to something. When a person binds himself to an obligation, it is vastly more effective than mere good intentions like "I will try my best" - and we all know how likely that is to endure. This reveals an added virtue when a rebbe teaches a student: the commitment itself compels him to prepare properly and study diligently so that he can teach effectively.
Ibn Ezra explains "He who gives to the poor lacks nothing" in light of the verse, "He who is gracious to the poor lends to Hashem" (Mishlei 19:17). One who shows favor to the destitute is effectively lending to the Holy One, Blessed be He. If so, there is certainly no reason to worry about coming up short - you have extended a loan to the Master of the Universe, and the Holy One, Blessed be He, is hardly suspected of defaulting on His debts! In contrast, "he who hides his eyes" from the poor will have "many curses" (me'erot), meaning curse and lack.
The Vilna Gaon follows a similar approach, citing the verse, "There is one who scatters, yet increases more" (Mishlei 11:24). When a person gives, his wealth only increases. Not only will he never suffer any lack, but he will receive even more. As Ralbag notes, this is precisely what the Torah states: "Because for this thing Hashem your God will bless you" (Devarim 15:10) - the very act of giving brings an abundance of blessing.
And as we have mentioned, anyone who opens his eyes and looks around will see that people with an open hand to give always have enough. But those who constantly worry about every penny, pinch pennies, and do not give - suddenly suffer damage here and a loss there. This is reality. When a person is open to giving, he has Divine assistance; Heaven provides for him so that he can give. But when that is not the case, there are always different reasons that cause him lack. And this is measure for measure: "and he who hides his eyes shall have many curses" - he will suffer great deficiency, for since you do not care about the lack of the poor, Heaven does not care about your lack either.
בְּקוּם רְשָׁעִים יִסָּתֵר אָדָם וּבְאָבְדָם יִרְבּוּ צַדִּיקִים׃ (כ"ח, כח) - When the wicked rise, a person conceals himself, and when they perish, the righteous increase. (28:28)
This is the verse that concludes the chapter. Who is the "person" (adam) mentioned here? The Ibn Ezra explains that this refers to those who administer justice - the people whose role is to execute judgment and justice. When the wicked rise, they hide themselves from the wicked, and when the wicked perish, "the righteous increase", meaning those who execute justice and righteousness will multiply.
The Vilna Gaon explains that "when the wicked rise" refers to rising to power - when the wicked ruler takes charge, then "a person conceals himself." Notice the change in wording: "a person conceals himself" is in the singular, while "the righteous increase" is in the plural. What is the difference? The Gaon explains: when the wicked rise, even if there is just one person, one tzaddik, he conceals himself - as it says earlier, "and when the wicked rise, a person is searched out," meaning they search for the righteous and persecute them. Therefore, it is stated in the singular. But "when they perish," when the wicked are destroyed, the righteous increase - not just one person, but many. For when there are no wicked leaders, people see that the righteous do not perish, which strengthens the righteous and those who walk the path of integrity to continue on their way. And when people see the wicked being stricken, it inspires them to cling to the path of the righteous, and more people seek to join their ranks.
Ralbag likewise explains that "when the wicked rise" refers to wicked leadership, and "adam" is an expression of distinction, as in "you are called adam," referring to the righteous, good person. Why does he hide? First, as the Gaon explained, people flee from wickedness: when the wicked rule, they persecute the righteous, so the tzaddik must flee from them. Second, because people witness the success of the wicked, they favor evil over justice, and it becomes impossible to find a tzaddik in the world. Where are the righteous? You cannot find them, because people see that everyone who acts wickedly succeeds, so they emulate the wicked and act like them, since success seems to lie with the wicked. Consequently, when the wicked perish, the righteous increase: first, when the wicked are gone, the righteous who had fled return; and second, when the wicked perish, people realize why they fell - because of their wickedness - and understand that it does not pay to be wicked, for the wicked suffer loss and are stricken. Through this, people are drawn to walk in the way of the righteous.
The Malbim explains that when the wicked rise to power, whoever is truly an "adam" conceals himself. What is the deeper idea here? People begin to deny Divine Providence, for when they see the wicked "spring up like grass," flourishing and prospering, a person says, "It is futile to serve God" - look, the one who provokes Hashem succeeds, while the one who serves Hashem is trampled underfoot, so heaven forbid, it seems better to be wicked. Through this, people fall into heresy, abandon the path of Hashem, and become like animals. That is why it specifically says "adam conceals himself": for if one is not an adam, what is he? He falls into the category of a beast, since those who follow evil are likened to animals. At that point, the righteous man must hide himself from the mockers and persecutors. But "when they perish," the opposite occurs: Hashem's providence becomes evident. When the wicked rise and prosper, Hashem's guidance is hidden; but when the wicked fall, Hashem's guidance is clearly revealed - everyone sees why the wicked person fell, because he provoked Hashem, and that brought about his downfall. Through this, the righteous increase. May Hashem so help us.
The final three verses of the chapter teach three fundamental principles. "He who trusts in his heart is a fool" - the heart serves as a true compass only for tzaddikim like Avraham and David; for the rest of us, ever since the sin of the Tree of Knowledge, the evil inclination cloaks itself in the "I." Therefore, the path of escape is "he who walks in wisdom": mussar, reverence, evaluating one's paths, and careful forethought in every area. "He who gives to the poor shall not lack" - a person never becomes impoverished from tzedakah, and even a teacher sharing Torah does not lose out but rather gains; furthermore, the very commitment itself serves as a catalyst that elevates a person. "When the wicked rise, a person conceals himself" - when evil holds power, the righteous hide and Hashem's providence is obscured from sight; but when the wicked perish, Providence becomes evident once again, and many cling to the path of the righteous.