Chapter 15 of Mishlei opens with a series of verses dealing with the power of speech: how a person responds, what tone of voice he uses, and the potency of a gentle word versus a hurtful one. In this lesson we will examine the first two verses, touch along the way upon verse 7, and see how Rabbeinu Yonah, the Vilna Gaon, and the Malbim each illuminate these verses from a distinct perspective.
מַעֲנֶה־רַּךְ יָשִׁיב חֵמָה וּדְבַר־עֶצֶב יַעֲלֶה־אָף׃ - A soft response turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger.
Rabbeinu Yonah explains according to the plain meaning: when a person gives a soft response, he turns away wrath. Someone is furious, and you answer him calmly and gently - he calms down. In contrast, "a harsh word" - someone who speaks with annoyance and rage - "stirs up anger," provoking frustration and wrath. There is a feedback loop here: what you put out is what you get back; whatever tone you project is how people respond to you in turn.
The Vilna Gaon distinguishes between af (anger) and cheimah (fury). Af is the anger present in thought and speech - the beginning of rage. Cheimah is the culmination of anger, when it translates into action: "one who smashes vessels in his fury." Out of the internal af, which also found expression in speech, one reaches cheimah - tearing, smashing, striking. This is as Scripture says, "For I was afraid of the anger (af) and the fury (cheimah)": first comes af, internal anger that may extend to speech, followed by cheimah, which is anger erupting into physical action.
Based on this distinction, the Gaon notes two brilliant nuances in the verse. First, on the positive side it says "a response" (ma'aneh) rather than "speech" (dibbur), while on the negative side it says "a word of sorrow" (u-devar etzev) rather than "a response of sorrow." Second, on one side it says "turns away" (yashiv, literally repels or restores), while on the other it says "stirs up" (ya'aleh, literally raises). Why?
The answer is that cheimah is anger that has already manifested in action - the person is already smashing and destroying things in his fury. Consequently, when you speak up, you are not initiating a topic but reacting to what he is doing, which is why it is called a "response" (ma'aneh). And because the cheimah already exists, Scripture says "turns away" (yashiv) - even fury that is already blazing can be dispelled if you offer a soft response. In contrast, "a harsh word" (devar etzev): davar denotes speech that I initiate, not a reaction. If I say things to you that hurt and agitate you, it "stirs up anger" (ya'aleh af): previously there was no anger here at all, the person was calm, and you arouse within him something that was not there, the beginning of anger. And from that af, he may subsequently progress to cheimah as well.
The Malbim explains just the reverse. Cheimah is anger harbored in the heart - an inner heat simmering within: "and his fury burned within him" - within him, not on the outside. Af, by contrast, is outward indignation that is visible and openly revealed. When there is af, retribution follows: "And the anger (af) of Hashem flared against them, and He slew their stoutest," or "For a fire is kindled in My anger (af)" - the rising smoke is visible to all.
Even so, the Malbim explains, cheimah is far graver than af. Although cheimah is less visible, an instance of af that did not stem from prior cheimah is far less severe. Consider a father who becomes angry at his son and strikes him; does he hate him in his heart? Heaven forbid, he loves him dearly! Rather, his outward temper flared up (and of course, one must never strike out of anger, but we are describing an existing reality). Internal cheimah, however, represents deep-seated hatred: I may take no action against you, but inside I am seething. Something simmering internally has a vastly more destructive impact than something expressed outwardly: once it comes out, you have vented, and it is over. But when it is bottled up inside, it breeds further hatred, resentment, and bitterness, and a person eats himself up over what so-and-so did to him. It is better for a person to blow off steam than to bottle it up inside, for whatever is hoarded within only festers and multiplies.
According to this, the verse is interpreted: When you respond with a soft answer, you will succeed in settling even the inner fury - the intense, severe anger that mounts and swells - and you will turn an enemy into a friend. But "a grievous word": when you respond with words that grieve your fellow, not only will you fail to turn away his inner fury, but you will also arouse outward wrath in him - he will immediately seek revenge against you, erupt against you, and even strike you.
In light of today's reality, this is exceedingly dangerous. A person says a harsh word to another and does not know what knife will be drawn against him. It is advisable to walk during daylight hours and to be extremely cautious. It is difficult to walk in the street today; there is violence and terrible fear, and an educational system that has raised a youth devoid of mussar, devoid of values, devoid of Torah, devoid of good character traits, and devoid of derech eretz - youth before whom it is perilous to say something out of line, lest those be one's final words. Therefore, put your house in order before stepping outside, Hashem have mercy. Woe to us that this has befallen us: lawless individuals who seized leadership a century ago brought the Jewish people to such deterioration, the likes of which was never seen or known in thousands of years. May Hashem save us.
לְשׁוֹן חֲכָמִים תֵּיטִיב דָּעַת וּפִי כְסִילִים יַבִּיעַ אִוֶּלֶת׃ - The tongue of the wise makes knowledge good, but the mouth of fools pours forth foolishness.
Rabbeinu Yonah explains: It is not enough for the wise merely to inform you of the path of knowledge and tell you, "This is the way, walk in it"; their tongue also beautifies the knowledge. In his words: "It magnifies reasons and exalts expressions until the knowledge is accepted in the ears of the listeners, and the matter becomes pleasant to them through the greatness of its straightforwardness." You can tell a person, "Do this," and if he asks why, you answer, "Because I said so." Or, you can say, "Do this," and provide a satisfying explanation: how good it is, how necessary it is, how vital it is, and how worthwhile it is for him to do it. This is "the tongue of the wise" - they not only convey the content, but they also make it appealing and palatable, so that you understand it properly and apply it in the right way.
We see this principle even among the greatest figures. Yaakov Avinu wished to leave the house of Lavan because the Holy One, Blessed is He, appeared to him in a dream and told him to return to the land of his fathers. What, seemingly, should he have said to his wives? "My dear wives, pack your bags - I received an order from the Creator of the world, we are leaving." Yet he did not do so. He called them to the field and laid it out before them: You know how hard I worked for your father and devoted myself to shepherding his flock; scorching heat consumed me by day and frost by night, and sleep fled from my eyes; and your father mocked me and changed my wages ten times over. And since this is the case, we have exhausted our time here and must leave. Only at the very end did he add: By the way, the Holy One, Blessed is He, also told me to go.
Would Rachel and Leah, the holy Matriarchs, have refused had he told them, "Hashem commanded it"? Certainly not! Rather, Yaakov came to teach us the proper approach: Even when presenting the word of Hashem, do not open with, "Hashem said so, accept it" - this arouses antagonism and resistance, as no one likes to have things forced upon them. He persuaded them why leaving was good for him and for them, and they immediately answered him: "Do we still have any portion or inheritance in our father's house? Are we not considered foreigners to him? For he sold us and has entirely consumed our money as well" - we have nothing to expect from him and nothing left to do here. Only then did he tell them: And Hashem also commanded it. How wonderful it is when the word of Hashem aligns with our own will as well.
A person must bring the mitzvos close to the mind, bringing the service of Hashem close to the intellect. This is the purpose of ta'amei hamitzvos (the reasons behind the commandments): when you bring the matter close to the mind, you fulfill the mitzvah with joy and find taste and meaning in it. But when a person performs a mitzvah while saying in his heart, "Why am I doing this? I would have preferred otherwise; what can I do, I was born on the wrong side" - that is a terrible approach. Rabbi Uri Zohar once defined it: there was a tinok shenishba (a captive infant) among the nations, then people spoke of a tinok shenishba among the secular, and today there is someone who is a tinok shenishba among the Charedim. Poor fellow, he was born Charedi, this is forbidden to him and that is forbidden to him, and he did not choose it. That is how he views himself, and that is how his behavior looks. This is an extremely negative mindset, and such a person falls into the category of a fool.
A person must see the beauty of the mitzvos and their praise, the corruption of sin, its damage, and the anguish of transgressors; through this, he will cling to the mitzvah out of love and joy, performing the will of Hashem with willingness and enthusiasm. Not in a state of "Hashem said so and I have no choice," but rather: I do have a choice, and nonetheless I do it, because I know it is good for me and it is the will of Hashem. And not, Heaven forbid, solely because it is good for me, but because I know that the will of Hashem is what is best for me. This is the correct path, and this is "the tongue of the wise" - what you know, the sage makes good to you, demonstrating with reasons, parables, and poetic phrasing just how beautiful, good, and rewarding it is for you.
Rabbeinu Yonah brings another explanation: "The tongue of the wise makes knowledge good" - the knowledge of people. When a wise person leads his community, the community's mindset is set straight, for there is someone leading it uprightly. However, he himself notes that this explanation does not align so well with the continuation of the verse, "and the mouth of fools pours out foolishness," since the latter clause speaks of the person himself and not of his influence on the public; therefore, this explanation fits only the first half of the verse.
The Vilna Gaon explains: "The tongue of the wise makes knowledge good" - everything they say is spoken with presence of mind, and their tongue adorns their knowledge. When they speak, it is spoken from clear understanding, properly framed, and through this their knowledge is recognized as sound: they have learned well and know well. But fools and simpletons - not only do they utter folly due to a lack of knowledge, having not studied and not knowing, but they also say it rashly, without composure, which is why it says "pours out."
This is the concept of "a single coin in a jug rattles loudly." One sees people lacking discernment who feel compelled to talk constantly, to express an opinion on everything regardless of context, even where silence would serve them far better. First, he is a fool - he speaks folly because he lacks knowledge. Second, he spouts opinions on every topic, suddenly an expert in every field; just give him a microphone and watch him talk endlessly. If you do not know something, say "I do not know." Have you ever seen a politician say, "I do not know, I have not studied the material"? Only when facing a serious indictment does he remember to say, "We are still reviewing the material." But regarding everything else, he knows it all and has something to say about everything, as long as his name is spelled correctly. This is "the mouth of fools pours out foolishness." In contrast, when the wise person speaks - "makes knowledge good" - he speaks with wisdom, intelligence, and presence of mind, and it is evident that he truly knows what he is talking about.
In the Malbim's commentary, there is a consistent distinction running like a golden thread throughout the book between chochmah (wisdom), binah (understanding), and da'at (knowledge). Chochmah is what we have received through tradition from the prophets, from Moshe Rabbeinu, and from the giving of the Torah: what the upright moral path is, what is good, and what is evil. This is received tradition, and no person can arrive at it on their own.
For in the realm of morality, every person has their own moral code, and every group claims that what others do is immoral while their own actions are moral. Morality must be received from a Higher Source; man cannot invent his own morality, for then morality becomes warped and molded to fit his character traits and desires. Morality must be objective, not subjective, dictated from Above by One Who has no personal bias. Consider "Do not steal" - try arguing with someone who contends: "If I need extra supplies and would otherwise pay dearly, I will steal." Someone once said, "Do not steal, lest others steal from you," to which the thief can reply, "I will steal enough to build walls and security measures." How could you convince him? Every matter of morality requires an absolute authority to establish what truth is; otherwise, someone will simply counter: "What you consider moral, I consider immoral, and what you consider immoral, I consider moral."
The Chazon Ish once remarked, when dialogue was proposed between the Torah-observant public and those far from mitzvot: How can there be dialogue? Dialogue presupposes that at least the language is the same, but here even the language is completely different - what they call love, for us is chareit (spiritual excision). What is there to discuss? If there were an area of common agreement, that would be one thing; but when one person says this is the most wonderful thing possible, and you say, Heaven forbid, this incurs chareit - where the soul is cut off from its supernal Root, loses its spiritual portion, and perishes prematurely - the very terminology itself is fundamentally different.
This is the definition of chochmah: this is what we have received through tradition. And if you delve into it and contemplate it - that is binah: analyzing and deriving one concept from another based on what was transmitted to you. Through contemplation and deep study, you arrive at da'at, which is clear and absolute knowledge. What was previously accepted simply because "this is our tradition," followed by your reflection, now reaches full comprehension, and you understand why it is good, why it is decent, why it is upright, and why one ought to act this way. "Two plus two equals four" - that is da'at; "Do not steal" - that begins as chochmah, until you delve deeper and make it da'at.
The Malbim further distinguishes between mouth, tongue, and lips, a distinction that recurs frequently throughout Sefer Mishlei. The mouth represents chochmah - wisdom as received, an internal matter that is not yet fully articulated. The tongue represents binah - the tongue chews and grinds the concepts, contemplating them, cognate to the Hebrew word for kneading (lalush). And the lips represent the external part, bringing things forth into expression, which corresponds to da'at: the matter is now clear to me, and I can articulate it aloud.
Accordingly, the Malbim explains: If a person delves into chochmah and speaks of it with words of understanding, he will thereby contemplate and look deeper into the concepts, reaching the level of da'at. "The tongue of the wise" - the tongue, which represents binah, the contemplation and kneading of the words of chochmah - "makes knowledge good" - enables one to attain wisdom at the level of complete da'at, of absolute understanding, where one comprehends why it must be so, rather than remaining merely at the stage of chochmah, accepted simply because it was received.
Earlier it was said, "The wise treasure knowledge." Why? A wise person does not reveal the inner secrets of the Torah to just anyone; rather, he conceals them, discussing them only with discerning individuals who can digest these matters and apply them properly - to them alone does he reveal these hidden depths. This is true regarding the esoteric wisdom of the Torah and the Divine Name, which are transmitted only to one who is modest, humble, wise, and capable of understanding on his own. Many spiritual levels are required before a person is deemed worthy of the Torah's hidden treasures.
שִׂפְתֵי חֲכָמִים יְזָרוּ דָעַת וְלֵב כְּסִילִים לֹא־כֵן׃ - The lips of the wise disperse knowledge, but the heart of fools is not so.
And when they speak in external language - and speech, as mentioned, corresponds to the aspect of Da'at - this is "the lips of the wise yezaru knowledge." The word yezaru derives from zer (a crown or border), and the Malbim explains that this refers to something that encloses and covers: even when they speak, they encircle and conceal knowledge, not revealing it to everyone.
By contrast, the kessil has accepted the laws of wisdom; he agrees with them and acknowledges them. As explained previously, a kessil is not someone who lacks intelligence; a kessil can be brilliant, even a professor. Rather, he follows the lusts of his heart. He knows what ought to be done, the truth is clear to him, and he can explain exactly how and why - yet his physical desire overpowers him.
The evil, on the other hand, is the skeptic, related to the word ulai ("perhaps"): "Who said so? What is the proof?" He casts doubt on everything. Notice the difference: the kessil at least knows the truth, but admits that his desires entice him; the evil doubts the truth itself. Now, is it dignified for a person to admit, "I know the truth, yet I do the opposite because my heart's desires pull me"? That would be admitting to being weak-willed and incapable of self-control. Therefore, the kessil wraps himself in the guise of an evil: when asked, "How can you do such a thing? It is forbidden!" he replies, "Who said it is forbidden? What proof is there? Nobody has ever returned from the World to Come to tell us!" - and other foolish "perhaps" questions. He poses as an evil because it feels more respectable to play the skeptic than to admit, "I know better, but my desires overpowered me."
This is precise in the wording of the verse: "and the mouth of fools pours out foolishness" - it is his mouth that expresses foolish skepticism, but inside, in his heart, there is no foolishness at all. In his heart lies wisdom; he knows the truth, knows he is acting wrongly, and knows that he will eventually have to give an accounting and be punished. Only outwardly, with his mouth alone, does he express skepticism, saying "perhaps," "it is not definitive," and "there is no proof." Therefore, the verse does not say "the heart of fools pours out foolishness," but rather "the mouth of fools."
The first two verses of the chapter teach us the tremendous power of speech. "A soft answer turns away wrath": according to the Vilna Gaon, af (anger) is the beginning of fury, while cheimah (wrath) is its culmination; thus, a soft answer can turn back even wrath that has already erupted into action, whereas grievous words stir up anger where none previously existed. According to the Malbim, cheimah is the internal fury burning in the heart - the most severe of all - and a soft answer soothes even that, whereas hurtful words engender external anger and revenge. "The tongue of the wise makes knowledge pleasing": the wise person does not settle for merely telling you what to do; he makes the knowledge appealing with rational explanations and eloquent presentation, as Yaakov Avinu did with his wives, bringing the mitzvos closer to the intellect until one fulfills them with joy and enthusiasm. In the words of the Malbim, contemplating wisdom elevates a person from mere acceptance to clear intellectual understanding. In contrast stands the kessil, who knows the truth in his heart but is overwhelmed by his desires, masquerading as an evil and expressing skepticism with his mouth - yet it is his mouth alone that expresses foolishness, while his heart knows full well the truth and the judgment to come.