In the passage before us from Chapter 12, King Solomon continues to address the paths of livelihood and character traits: who is the person who builds his life through honest, secure toil, and who pursues easy, empty avenues? We will examine three verses: "He who tills his land" and "he who pursues vanities," "The wicked desires the net of evil men, but the root of the righteous yields fruit," and "In the transgression of the lips is an evil snare." In each of them, there is both a straightforward meaning regarding worldly affairs and an allegorical meaning pertaining to the soul, in accordance with the approach of the Vilna Gaon and the Malbim.
עֹבֵד אַדְמָתוֹ יִשְׂבַּע לָחֶם וּמְרַדֵּף רֵיקִים חֲסַר לֵב׃ (יא) - "He who tills his land shall have plenty of bread, but he who pursues vanities lacks understanding." (12:11)
There is a person who thinks it is worthwhile to abandon his own field and go work someone else's field. He is told: You are abandoning your own field, and later, when you no longer have that other field, from what will you eat? If you work another field, work your own field as well. And as the Vilna Gaon explains: if that other field ceases to yield work, at least you have somewhere to return - you have a field of your own.
On this subject of dependency on others, it is worth recalling the story of the Rav of Pardes Chana, Rabbi Schlesinger. They came and offered him a salary from the religious council, but he refused outright. When they asked him why, he answered: As long as I do not receive a salary, my rulings are carefully weighed and measured according to Daas Torah. The moment I begin taking a salary, I will start doing whatever you want. They told him: You have nothing to worry about; we will not ask anything of you or interfere with your judgment; you will decide and determine everything. He replied to them: Do you really think that once I take a salary, I will wait for you to come and tell me what to do? I will be the one approaching you to ask what you want me to do! When a person receives something from someone, he becomes that person's servant; he becomes his agent. We have seen how many state-appointed rabbis understood from their paycheck which way the wind was blowing and what was expected of them: here a ruling is needed to permit a mamzer, there a conversion must be arranged for an army officer, and everyone knows which side their bread is buttered on and understands the required direction.
What is the allegorical meaning of the verse? The Vilna Gaon explains: It is impossible to sustain oneself in this world through Torah alone. If a person were asked what he ate for breakfast and answered two pages of Gemara, and for dinner another two pages of a mussar book - that is very wonderful, but ultimately that person will die. He must attend to worldly necessities: eating, drinking, washing, and all other basic needs. What does the wise person do? He eats to satisfy his basic needs, as much as he requires, and does likewise with all other matters of this world: he takes what is necessary, and the rest of his time he devotes to Torah and mitzvos. This is "He who tills his land": "his land" is his physical body; he labors and attends to what is needed to sustain his body, and then "shall have plenty of bread," with bread here alluding to Torah, as it is written, "Come, eat of my bread, and drink of the wine I have mingled."
However, there are those who say: Listen, one cannot manage without worldly pursuits; a person is not an angel, we need this. And what does he do? He abandons spiritual matters entirely, completely forsakes the bread, and remains merely "he who tills his land" solely in the sense of his physical body. Because bodily needs are necessary, he is drawn after them, casts aside eternal life, and pursues vanity and emptiness to satisfy his desires. Yet this is not truly "his land" at all, but rather the land of others, for all the desires of this world remain behind here; you do not take them with you to the World Above. Your true land is your spiritual portion, yet you invest your entire being in the fields of others while neglecting your own. What remains in the end? The body decays in the grave, and the person is left "lacking heart" - completely empty - because he did not look after his true needs.
The Vilna Gaon offers an additional explanation: "He who tills his land" refers to Gan Eden. This is similar to what the Zohar writes on the verse "Go forth from your land," that the Holy One, blessed be He, as it were, says to the soul: Go forth from your land - from Gan Eden. The Holy One, blessed be He, created mankind "to cultivate it and to guard it," and originally this labor took place within Gan Eden itself, where Adam HaRishon worked. And what is meant by "to cultivate it and to guard it"? Chazal teach: "To cultivate it" refers to the positive commandments, and "to guard it" - representing "guard yourself," "lest," and "do not" - refers to the negative commandments. Thus, "he who tills his land" is someone who fulfills the positive and negative commandments, working the true land, the celestial realm. Therefore, he "shall have plenty of bread," receiving reward, as the Zohar expounds on the verse "she shall eat of her father's bread" - from the reward that the Holy One, blessed be He, grants. Conversely, "he who pursues vanities" does not labor in the celestial soil and does not build his mansion in Gan Eden; instead, he seeks pleasures and worldly desires, and he is "lacking heart," depriving his own heart.
What is the literal meaning of "lacking heart"? It refers to someone who lacks the power of resolve. He does not have what is termed today a strong character, the capacity to make decisions even when they are difficult. He is led along by whim: suddenly he feels like it, suddenly he has no desire, today he does not feel like getting out of bed for work. How long will an employer keep such an employee? Very quickly he finds himself once again "pursuing vanities." This person lacks self-governance; he is incapable of controlling and mastering himself, and therefore he does not pursue his livelihood in the manner of "one who tills his land," but through all sorts of empty schemes that demand no real effort. He is like the man who arrived for a job and asked what the salary was. They told him: Three thousand the first month, after six months it goes up to four thousand, and after another six months you receive six thousand. He replied: Then I will come back in a year and a half; I might as well start at six. This is "he who pursues vanities lacks understanding" - someone incapable of self-discipline.
The Malbim notes that there is a very similar verse later in the book: "One who works his land will be sated with bread, but one who pursues vain things will be sated with poverty" (Mishlei 28:19) - that is, sated with deprivation - and he seeks to understand the difference between them. There, the following verse reads: "A faithful man will abound with blessings, but one who hastens to grow rich will not go unpunished." This indicates that the text there is addressing a different matter. For "pursuing vain things" can occur in two distinct ways. There is one who seeks to make a living without working the land: trading, buying here and selling there, traveling across seas and deserts seeking bargains. This, too, is called pursuing vain things. Why? Because the profit is uncertain. If you worked the land, you received a return; the earth produced, and you have food to eat. By contrast, these ventures are what Yiddish calls "luftgesheft" - business made of thin air. Either you make a profit or you do not; either bandits rob you along the way or they do not. All ancient commerce, where merchants traveled long caravan journeys for days on end, offered no guaranteed return.
And see what the verse contrasts with this: "A faithful man will abound with blessings." This refers to a person who trusts in Hashem and plants, for the Gemara explains that "emunot" (faith) corresponds to Seder Zera'im (the Order of Seeds). This person will have an abundance of blessings, from the dew of the heavens above and from the deep lying beneath. He has faith and trust, which is why "one who works his land will be sated with bread." But "one who hastens to grow rich" is unwilling for things to grow slowly and steadily; he wants to strike it rich all at once. People pitch him ideas: "Invest fifty thousand, take out loans, and within six months you will have three hundred thousand! Look, so-and-so showed me, someone else told me, and that guy showed me a check." We all know these stories, the pyramid schemes and all the gimmicks that promise easy money. This is called "one who hastens to grow rich," and about him the verse says, "he will be sated with poverty" - he will be filled with destitution.
One must realize: do not seek easy, get-rich-quick schemes. Earning a livelihood requires a slow and steady approach. And if someone tells you, "Didn't you see so-and-so who succeeded?" - yes, I saw him, but I also saw ten thousand others who experienced the exact opposite. Why assume you will be the lucky one? At every roulette table and in every casino, someone sweeps up the jackpot, but how many miserable people before him threw away their money and left with practically the shirts off their backs? Everyone sees only the single winner: "Didn't you see his picture from the lottery, holding a cardboard cutout over his face?" But how many people poured out their hard-earned money and never saw a thing from it?
חָמַד רָשָׁע מְצוֹד רָעִים וְשֹׁרֶשׁ צַדִּיקִים יִתֵּן׃ (יב) - The wicked desires the net of evil men, but the root of the righteous yields fruit. (12)
The Malbim explains that in our verse, "one who pursues vain things" does not mean someone attempting to make a living without tilling the soil, but someone who seeks to grow rich through robbery, extortion, and wrongdoing. The context proves this: "The wicked desires the net of evil men." The wicked person does not want to toil or labor; he wants to live by ensnaring prey just as the wicked do. What does he do? He stands on the street looking for someone to pickpocket, looking for what to take and where to steal. That is the "hunting" of evil men. He desires for himself the "net of evil men," seeking shortcuts to easy wealth through robbery - unlike the previous verse, where the person sought shortcuts through permissible, yet speculative, means. Such a person is "lacking understanding" (chaser lev); his mind does not govern him, and he fails to act in accordance with the laws of wisdom.
In contrast, one who tills his land acts with righteousness: he robs no one and oppresses no one. He sows seeds in the ground; what he planted takes root and yields fruit, which he then harvests, sells, eats, and derives his sustenance from. This is the meaning of "the root of the righteous yields fruit": the root they embedded in the earth, that which they sowed, is what provides them with food and bread. The wicked person pursues easy profit through theft, robbery, and deceitful schemes, whereas the tzaddik understands that one must sow, and that it takes time for crops to grow and time until there is food to eat. Yet this is the secure, proper path, far better than all the shortcuts that ultimately lead only to being "sated with poverty."
The Malbim adds that this verse can also be interpreted on a spiritual level: "one who pursues vain things" is the wicked person who does not cultivate his own soil, but instead desires the "net of evil men" - chasing after every worldly desire and material indulgence. He will be left without a soul, for he is "lacking a heart," and the soul whose seat is in the heart is ensnared into the clutches of the yetzer hara. Conversely, "one who works his land" - who clears away the thorns of spiritual cultivation, meaning he does not follow the counsel of the yetzer hara but instead nurtures his spiritual soul - fulfills "the root of the righteous yields": the root of the righteous is wisdom, and he will merit wisdom befitting the level of the tzaddikim.
Rabbeinu Yonah explains: the wicked person covets the gain acquired by robbers, wrongdoers, and villains; he envies those who practice injustice. "Did you see the score he made? Good for him! Did you see how successfully he stole, how he pickpocketed them?" When he hears about wicked people who succeed, he sighs: "If only I had done that too; if only I had pulled that off." But "the root of the righteous yields": the tzaddik does not covet the deeds of the wicked. On the contrary, he seeks his own root, desiring that what he plants and yields should come from his own labor, not from others. And just as winds cannot uproot a tree with deep, plentiful roots, so too troubles cannot dislodge the tzaddik or sweep him from his place. For the wicked, however, their wealth offers no real benefit because they have no root, as it is written: "One who amasses wealth unjustly will leave it in the midst of his days" (Yirmeyahu 17:11). Even if one amassed wealth and appears to bear fruit, without roots a mere breeze overturns it, leaving nothing behind. The tzaddik, however, establishes deep roots in the ground, and though all the winds in the world come and blow against him, they cannot move him from his place.
Who is called a rasha (wicked person)? The Vilna Gaon explains: a person who transgresses in matters between man and the Omnipresent. And here he highlights a point worthy of close attention. Those wicked people in matters between man and God, whose very root is corrupt, who transgress out of defiance and oppose everything sacred, often appear by nature to be good people. You see him polite, charming, well-spoken, wearing round glasses, yet when he sees a chareidi or a settler he wants to devour him alive; nevertheless, on the surface, he seems like a refined human being. You would not say of him that he is a criminal or that it is dangerous to approach him because he will pull a knife on you. Quite the opposite: sweet as honey, pleasant, sympathetic, eloquent. This is why many of them succeed in capturing the media, because everything is broadcast with intelligence, not like a crude person off the street, and he delivers even the harshest statements in refined language and with good taste.
Therefore, the Vilna Gaon tells us: Understand what Shlomo means by "The wicked desires the snare of evil men." Do not be misled by his outward facade, and do not be swayed by the impression he creates. Know that in his heart, he covets everything that evil and wicked people do: what they plunder, what they seize, and all their malicious deeds. Even though on the outside he appears pleasant, do not buy into it. Consider a striking illustration: those who showed such great pity toward their suffering Palestinian neighbors in Gaza, insisting that all Jewish settlements must be uprooted, and even showed compassion for the dogs. What would become of the poor dogs when the communities of Gush Katif were dismantled? They opened various animal shelters, launched "adopt a dog" campaigns, and the like; people had been forced from their homes with nowhere to take their pets, leaving dogs roaming, what immense compassion! Yet with the height of cruelty, they did not spare a glance for the people themselves who had undergone such severe trauma: they opposed budgets for them, opposed granting them land, and fought against them. A shred of pity or compassion for them? Nothing. This is what the verse is conveying: even if you see such a person seemingly filled with compassion, do not buy into it. Know that deep within he lays his ambush, that inside him lies great wickedness, and he covets the prey of evildoers and desires to act just like them.
By contrast, "and the root of the righteous yields." One whose root is righteous - meaning a righteous person the son of a righteous person, who stems from righteous roots and righteous lineage - possesses a genuine inner nature to give and bestow upon everyone. And why is the emphasis specifically on the root of the righteous? The Vilna Gaon explains: if someone is a righteous person who is the child of a wicked person, or a ba'al teshuvah (penitent), he may indeed be righteous, but he does not necessarily possess the virtue of giving; he is not yet necessarily in the category of "yields" (yitein). But one who comes from a root of the righteous - a tzaddik son of a tzaddik son of a tzaddik - certainly carries within his heart this virtue of giving and benevolence.
Once, people came to tell the Brisker Rav: "Rabbi, your son, a little boy, is cruelly tormenting cats - throwing stones or the like." The Brisker Rav told them, "No, that is impossible; it is not my son." They said to him, "What do you mean? We saw it with our own eyes." He replied, "It is impossible." They asked him how he could know - did he possess divine inspiration (Ruach HaKodesh)? He answered them: "If you knew my father and the immense trait of compassion he possessed, you would understand that it is impossible for him to have such a grandson." They went and checked, and indeed it was a mistake; it was someone else's child, whom they had mistaken for the Rav's son.
It is worthwhile to reflect on this root. The Brisker Rav's trait of chessed (lovingkindness) was astounding. His home was wide open. Sometimes he would go to sleep and find someone sleeping in his bed; he would not wake him or make him leave, but would lay a blanket on the floor and sleep there. In his living room, people made coffee and tea, ate, and drank, and people looking for work or advertising their services would hang notices there: "Technician needed," "Plumber offering services," "Shoemaker on such-and-such street in Geula." Who can fathom such hachnasat orchim (hospitality)? So too regarding the Beis HaLevi, the progenitor of the Brisk dynasty, the famous story is told of the guest who was not welcomed into his house and was made to sleep in the hallway; the Beis HaLevi could not forgive himself until he brought the man into his own home and said to him, "You will be my guest." That man stayed with the Beis HaLevi, witnessed what true hospitality meant, returned to his town, and became an innkeeper renowned throughout the entire region for welcoming guests, earning wide acclaim. This is what the Brisker Rav meant: with such benevolence in my grandfather and my father, it is impossible that a son of mine could harbor such cruelty as to lift a finger against a cat. This is "and the root of the righteous yields": when a person is a tzaddik from the root, his very nature is to give and bestow upon others, without a trace of malice.
בְּפֶשַׁע שְׂפָתַיִם מוֹקֵשׁ רָע וַיֵּצֵא מִצָּרָה צַדִּיק׃ (יג) - "In the transgression of the lips is an evil snare, but the righteous comes out of trouble." (13)
The Vilna Gaon explains: A person who intends to harm his fellow conceals his intentions and ensures that no one knows, in order to preserve the element of surprise - for if it were known beforehand, the righteous person would know to guard and protect himself. But the Holy One, Blessed is He, does not permit the righteous to fall into the hand of the wicked; He causes the wicked person to stumble in his speech and inadvertently reveal his harmful plots, and as a result, the tzaddik is saved. This is "In the transgression of the lips is an evil snare": the wicked person who seeks to harass and harm the tzaddik inadvertently transgresses with his lips, encounters a snare, and lets the matter slip out. Through this, word reaches the ears of the tzaddik - "and the righteous comes out of trouble" - and the tzaddik knows to take care not to fall into that trap.
The Malbim explains according to the consistent distinction he draws in many verses: there is a difference between safah (lip) and lashon (tongue/speech). Lashon refers to internal, deliberate speech, whereas safah refers to external speech - words spoken without deep reflection or careful thought, what people commonly call lip service ("from the lip outward"). In the Malbim's phrasing: only his lips move without understanding and intellect. Sometimes, when a person speaks in this careless manner, his lips bring him snares. You did not think before speaking, and you uttered words that brought troubles upon yourself. What is this comparable to? To a person speaking before a king who inadvertently utters an inappropriate phrase, like Uriah the Hittite who said, "and my master Yoav." He did not pay attention; had he reflected, he would never have used the title "my master" for Yoav while standing before the king. Or like a person on trial who lets a word slip, which the judge catches and says: "Well, from your own words I see that you are indeed guilty; through your own slip of the tongue, I discovered that the fault lies with you."
But with the tzaddik, this is not so. All the words of the tzaddik are guided by righteousness and uprightness, and he never allows anything improper to cross his lips, as it is written, "The lips of the righteous feed many" and "The lips of the righteous know what is acceptable." Even when a tzaddik utters something casually or outwardly, know that there is wisdom within his words and he does not stumble in what he says. The Gemara expounds regarding the righteous, "That yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither": "its fruit" refers to the Torah he learns, which is wondrous, but also "its leaf does not wither," teaching that even the casual conversation of Torah scholars requires study - it requires contemplation to grasp what he is saying. These are the leaves, which are not the fruit itself. Therefore, not only the lashon of the righteous - words spoken with profound thought and contemplation - but even their outward words "feed many" (lead many) and "know what is acceptable."
From here, the Malbim adds regarding our verse: even when the righteous person already finds himself in distress, it is through his lips that he emerges from that trouble, because even through his outward speech, "the righteous comes out of trouble." What in another person would merely be an inadvertent "transgression of the lips" and a snare, in the tzaddik is quite the reverse: even his outward speech contains words of wisdom and utility that can rescue him from distress.
Three verses, with one thread connecting them: the secure path is the path of honest toil. "He who tills his land" is one who takes from physicality only what is necessary and returns to the true bread - to the Torah and to the elevated cultivation of the soul through positive and negative mitzvos - and therefore he will be sated with bread and reward. "He who pursues worthless things" is one whose heart is not under his control: at times he chases easy, perilous profits and hastens to become rich, only to end up "sated with poverty"; at other times he covets "the prey of evildoers" and seeks to enrich himself through robbery and extortion, ultimately remaining devoid of sense and empty of everything, because he has no root. "The root of the righteous yields": the tzaddik sows patiently in his soil; his roots run deep and no wind in the world can uproot him, and one who stems from a root of righteous people has a natural inclination to give and bestow. Do not be misled by the pleasant exterior of the wicked person, for in his heart he covets the deeds of evildoers. In contrast, the tzaddik is protected even by his lips: that which becomes a snare for others contains wisdom even in his superficial speech, and HaKadosh Baruch Hu orchestrates events so that the very transgression of the wicked man's lips becomes what delivers the tzaddik from his distress.