Psalm 55 was composed against the backdrop of Absalom's rebellion and the betrayal of Achitophel, the counselor who had been close to King David as his confidant. In this section of the psalm, we address the description of the city filled with deceit, and the core of the pain: it is not the hatred of an overt enemy that wounds, but rather the betrayal of a beloved confidant.
הַוּוֹת בְּקִרְבָּהּ וְלֹא־יָמִישׁ מֵרְחֹבָהּ תֹּךְ וּמִרְמָה׃ - Destruction is within it; duplicity and deceit depart not from its plaza.
The Malbim explains here the meaning of toch and mirmah, referring us to his commentary on Yirmeyahu 9:5 on the verse, "Your dwelling is in the midst of deceit" (shivtecha b'toch mirmah). There he explains that the verse should not be read as we might usually think - that you sit inside deceit, within it - but rather that "b'toch mirmah" means: with toch (duplicity) and with mirmah (deceit). This corresponds directly to our psalm: "Duplicity and deceit depart not from its plaza," showing that the word toch itself denotes a form of deceit.
In his characteristic manner, since there are no true synonyms in the Holy Tongue, the Malbim clarifies the precise distinction between them: Toch refers to deceiving someone with a double-edged statement - you say something with two potential meanings; the listener hears and understands one thing, while you secretly intend something completely different. Mirmah is the external speech, what you actually told him and sold him; while toch is what lies within, what you truly thought and intended.
An example of such double-edged speech was discussed previously regarding Yehudah's words to Yosef: "For you are equal to Pharaoh." On the one hand, these are soft and courteous words: You are as esteemed in my eyes as royalty. On the other hand, there is a completely opposite interpretation: I will kill both you and Pharaoh, and what happened to Pharaoh when he harmed my grandmother and was struck with plagues will happen to you. Furthermore: You are a liar just like Pharaoh - Pharaoh swore that no slave would ever rule, yet he appointed you; and you likewise said, "Bring him down to me, that I may set my eyes upon him," and now you seek to enslave him. How is it possible for two such contradictory messages to be conveyed in the very same sentence?
The commentators explain that this is akin to what is known today as calculated, diplomatic speech: phrases you utter where the listener reads between the lines on his own. Politicians often like to respond this way: "Those are your words" - meaning, do not quote me directly, but your understanding is entirely correct; you get the message. This was Yehudah's approach to Yosef: "For you are equal to Pharaoh." If Yosef were to ask, "Are you threatening me?" Yehudah could reply, "Heaven forbid! I merely meant that you are as important to me as the king himself; you are so precious in my eyes." This is speech where the speaker expects the listener to grasp the underlying meaning, yet if caught or challenged, can claim that no such words ever left his mouth.
At times, ambiguous speech is deliberately crafted to outright deceive - one expects the listener to infer something specific, thereby persuading him to purchase the product. This is exceedingly common in marketing. For example, advertisements boasting "Among our clients..." followed by prestigious, high-profile names; or an ad targeted at members of healthcare funds featuring the prominent logos and icons of health maintenance organizations. The vendor is marketing a remedy that has never been tested, trialed, or scientifically proven, yet as a consumer, you read it and assume it is officially endorsed by or partnered with the health fund. The advertisement never explicitly states that the health fund approves it, but it successfully created that exact impression in your mind.
Similarly, a listing might state "Compatible with such-and-such brand devices," and you read it assuming it is made by that brand itself. If questioned, they will say: "No, it is merely compatible with that brand, but it is not an original manufacturer product." For sellers, this is an established technique to drive traffic to their website and product: the merchant knows you are searching for "Nokia," so he writes "Compatible with Nokia," ensuring it appears in your search results. And what did you actually receive? Not genuine brand-name merchandise, but cheap imitation goods - yet you were drawn to him simply because the keyword you searched was on the page.
There are countless ways to manufacture a certain impression, and only when you later attempt to make a claim do you discover the truth. An ad proudly displays "Three-Year Warranty," but when you inspect the fine print, you find clause after clause: excludes this, excludes that, excludes the other. What is left? A factory defect in the motor. And can you ever prove the defect originated at the factory? The same occurs with mobile phones: you bring the device to the carrier claiming warranty coverage, they open it up, declare "water damage," and challenge you to prove otherwise. Another widespread tactic involves companies offering three- or four-year warranties on cameras: you bring it in for repair, they inspect it from every angle, find a minuscule scratch, and declare, "It was dropped!" Drops are not covered, and the matter is closed. In other words, he presents one thing in writing, while inwardly intending something completely different.
This is the essence of toch: what I intended you to understand is one thing, but what I genuinely meant is something else entirely - an ambiguous statement formulated to mislead the listener. Mirmah, by contrast, is the external speech itself. Therefore, in Yirmeyahu the prophet states: "Your dwelling is in the midst of deceit (b'toch mirmah)" - the deceit resides within the duplicity, meaning the deceiver ends up deluding even himself. And in our psalm: "Duplicity and deceit (toch u'mirmah) depart not from its plaza" - there is toch, the hidden internal intention, and there is mirmah, the misleading outward speech.
כִּי לֹא־אוֹיֵב יְחָרְפֵנִי וְאֶשָּׂא לֹא־מְשַׂנְאִי עָלַי הִגְדִּיל וְאֶסָּתֵר מִמֶּנּוּ׃ - "For it is not an enemy who reviles me, or I could bear it; nor is it my hater who magnifies himself against me, or I could hide from him."
First, a note on the reading: in the word yecharfeini (יְחָרְפֵנִי), the letter reish is read with a vocal sheva (sheva na), because it is preceded by a major vowel, the kamatz under the chet. Had there been a patach under the chet, the sheva on the reish would be a silent sheva (sheva nach), and we would read it yachrefeini; but since the chet has a kamatz, this major vowel sets the sheva under the reish in motion.
Rashi explains: "For it is not an enemy who reviles me" - in all my days, an enemy never reviled me and I simply bore his insult. If an enemy reviled me, I rose against him and killed him, as occurred with Goliath. "Nor is it my hater who magnifies himself against me" - and never did a hater lord it over me while I fled and escaped from him. But now, David says, I have no choice and I am forced to bear your disgrace - that you insult me and I remain silent. And why? Because you are a great Torah scholar, as is made explicit in the following verse: "And you are a man my equal, my master and my familiar friend."
King David was not one to remain silent, for he was a man of great inner strength, and when someone came and insulted him, order had to be established - "A king establishes the land through justice," and a king who is reviled exacts retribution. But when it came to Torah, when it came to Halachah, when it came to the anointed of Hashem - King David threw up his hands. He would not harm him even when facing mortal danger: "Who has stretched forth his hand against Hashem's anointed and remained guiltless?" - facing King Saul, he held his peace. And here too, because this concerned a great Torah scholar whom he esteemed, David said: I will not harm you.
The holy Alshich explains that King David is addressing a possible argument from Achitophel. Achitophel could come and argue: Why are you so angry with me? Especially since I am your relative - Achitophel was Batsheva's grandfather, meaning his wife's grandfather. Furthermore, there were people who acted against you in far harsher ways, yet you were patient and forbearing toward them. Shimi ben Gera reviled you in the most blatant manner before everyone's eyes - "Get out, get out, man of blood!" - harsh words he spoke to you, yet you did not allow anyone to harm him. King Saul sought your life and wished to kill you, yet you showed him mercy and spared him. If so, why are you so incensed at me and seeking my harm?
To this, David replies: The cases are not comparable. There is a saying that a person feels the prick of a needle from a friend more than the blow of a spear from an enemy. When a friend pricks you even with a needle, it hurts, because I did not expect this from you. But with an enemy, even if he stabs with a spear, I harbored no expectations from him; I am aware of it and prepared for it. And this is what David is saying: "For it is not an enemy who reviles me, or I could bear it" - had it been an enemy, it would be understandable, I would be prepared to bear it. Shimi ben Gera was an enemy; Saul was an enemy. "Nor is it my hater who magnifies himself against me, or I could hide from him" - had he been my hater, I would have hidden from him. But you were not an enemy, and from you I expected otherwise, for I had a close relationship with you. Therefore, now I am not willing to remain silent.
Our Sages recount that gold once asked iron: Why is it that when you are struck, you scream? The blows of the sledgehammer on iron are heard from afar, clank, clank, clank; whereas when gold is hammered, there is silence, nothing is heard. I too take blows, yet I am far quieter and calmer. Iron replied: You are being struck by iron - the hammer is made of iron, and to you it is an outsider. But I am being struck by my brother; iron is what I am, it is my own brother, and a blow from a brother shatters. For gold, the iron is an outsider, almost an enemy, so there is no cry; for me, the hammer is my brother, and therefore the cries are great.
And this is what David meant: It is not an enemy who reviled me, like Shimi who cursed me, "Get out, get out, man of blood!" - there I paid no heed. Nor was it my hater - this refers to Saul, who magnified himself against me and from whom I hid, fleeing to caves and to the desert and acting as though I had not seen him. But you - you were a friend, and therefore the grievance is far more severe.
We have already explained the root of Achitophel's hatred toward David: he felt that David's action wronged his granddaughter, taking Batsheva through scheme and manipulation as we explained. This method angered him greatly, and as a result, bad blood developed between him and David. He had a granddaughter who lived properly and peacefully with Uriah, and David came and took his granddaughter in such a way, having her husband killed. In short, he had a grievance; he had a reason for hatred.
Yet one must ask: What does he gain from Avshalom reigning? Just as the wife of On ben Pelet said to her husband: What is in this for you? Either way you are a subordinate, so what will it give you? The same question applies to Achitophel, who was clever enough - what was he actually supposed to gain from all this advice?
We explained then that Achitophel was extraordinarily clever. Crowning Avshalom was only the beginning of the plan. The end of the plan was this: after the rebellion subsided and Avshalom became king, to have him executed by the Sanhedrin - for cohabiting with his father's concubines, akin to a wayward and rebellious son (ben sorer umoreh), even though the formal halachic criteria of a ben sorer umoreh were not met here. Consequently, the kingship would be handed to Achitophel on a silver platter. That was his finale; that was the grand encore awaiting him. It turns out that all these schemes ultimately led toward Achitophel himself attaining the monarchy.
Returning to the counsel: Achitophel gave two pieces of advice. The first was to cohabit with his father's concubines. The second was how to eliminate David: to pursue him that very night while David was fleeing and under pressure, taking him by surprise and striking him down. This counsel was thwarted by Chushai Ha'Arki, who suggested that David would not let his men sleep but would remain alert, and like a bereaved bear they would fight fiercely against you. Then people would say: Look, Avshalom attempted to subdue David and failed, and the rebellion would collapse. Rather, what you need is to amass a vast army; then, wherever he is, you will capture him, for you will come with overwhelming numbers and David will have no chance. In the end, it was Chushai's counsel that was accepted.
Says the Malbim: Consider how terrible and appalling these two pieces of advice were on Avshalom's part - to cohabit with his father's concubines, an atrocious act, and to pursue his father that very night to murder him. Regarding this David says: "For it is not an enemy who reviles me, which I could bear" - when dealing with enemies, I could endure it; but when my own son cohabits with his father's concubines, and when my own son now seeks to murder me, that I cannot bear. "Nor is it a foe who has magnified himself against me, from whom I could hide" - this is my son, and here the blow strikes far deeper.
This is akin to the explanation given by the Alshich, except that the Alshich interpreted this in reference to Achitophel, while the Malbim applies it to Avshalom. The Malbim explains the distinction between an enemy (oyev) and a hater (soneh), a distinction he highlights on several occasions: A soneh is less severe than an oyev. A soneh harbors hatred only in his heart, whereas an oyev actively acts to carry out his hatred. Therefore David added: Achitophel was not even among my haters, for he was my friend, my counselor, and privy to all my secrets. And as for Avshalom - even if you were to say he harbored hatred, he was not an outright enemy seeking his destruction, for he was his own son.
וְאַתָּה אֱנוֹשׁ כְּעֶרְכִּי אַלּוּפִי וּמְיֻדָּעִי׃ אֲשֶׁר יַחְדָּו נַמְתִּיק סוֹד בְּבֵית אֱלֹהִים נְהַלֵּךְ בְּרָגֶשׁ׃ - "But it is you, a man my equal, my master and my confidant. Together we would take sweet counsel, into the House of God we would walk in company."
The Midrash states: Rabbi Yochanan said, at first David called Achitophel his teacher, then he called him his peer, and finally he called him his student. Observe how Achitophel's standing progressively diminished in David's eyes. This is what is meant by "But it is you, a man my equal, my master and my confidant" - what is "alufi" (my master)? From the phrase "I will teach you (aalefcha) wisdom, I will teach you understanding", one who teaches and instructs me, meaning his teacher. Then he says, "Together we would take sweet counsel" - with whom does one share sweet counsel? With one who is your equal in standing, meaning his peer. And finally he says of him, "Even my close friend in whom I trusted, who ate of my bread, has lifted his heel against me" - he is subordinate to me, he eats my bread; I am the master and he is the disciple who receives from me. In this way, Achitophel's stature and rank declined in David's eyes.
Rashi explains "a man my equal" - a man as distinguished as I am. He cites an interpretation in the name of Dunash, commenting, "And this is its explanation": for it is not an enemy who reviles me that I could bear his reproach, nor a hater who magnifies himself against me that I could hide from him, but rather my master and my confidant with whom I shared sweet counsel and walked to the House of God in company. Rashi adds: And this matter is well known, that the reproach of a friend is harder for a person to bear than the reproach of an enemy - as we explained according to the Alshich and the Radak - and furthermore, one can conceal himself from his enemy, but he cannot conceal himself from his friend. This is another layer: from an enemy I know to hide, but when it comes to one who appeared to be a friend, the blow is devastating, for it arrives by surprise; I am unprepared for it, and I never expected a friend to do such a thing to me.
And this is what is meant by "magnified against me" - Rashi explains: when we were close friends, I poured out my whole heart to you. Why is the rebellion of a friend against a king the most agonizing? Because the king was more candid with him than with anyone else, confiding all his troubles, laying bare all his private struggles - and suddenly, this confidant turns rebel. And when he rebels, all of the king's intimate affairs are exposed. This is the reality among figures in power: there is always someone who held a prominent, trusted role in the royal court, and later turns around and writes a tell-all book exposing all the unsavory matters behind the scenes, and so it is everywhere. From you I never expected this; with you I behaved with complete candor, and now you become like a state's witness against me, exposing all the confidential dealings and everything that transpired. That is the most painful thing for a person: that the one with whom he was entirely open and vulnerable suddenly becomes his adversary and reveals it all.
The Radak also explains the verse in reference to Achitophel. What does "a man of my equal" mean? I regarded you as though you were equal to me in stature, I honored you, and even treated you as "my master" - someone superior to me and a leader, who teaches me and is like a minister over me. "And my confidant" - in the sense of my friend; or that I would make my thoughts known to you, meaning I was completely open with you. The Radak also offers another interpretation: "My master and confidant" - my minister and chief officer, meaning that he was one of the ministers in David's government. Not in the sense of a master over me, but rather in the sense of one of my chiefs. This is similar to a person saying, "You are one of my rabbis" - meaning one of those I consult with on every question, or that I have a yeshiva and you are one of the Ramim in it. So too here: you are one of the leaders in my government - as we see that he was one of David's chief officers and ministers, listed among the king's ministers and the head of his advisors, as it is written: "And Achitophel was the king's counselor," followed by Yehoyada son of Benayahu and Evyatar.
Chazal, however, expound in accordance with the first interpretation: that he was an officer and master to him, having been his rebbe who taught him Torah.
The holy Alshich finds an expression of critique here: "And you, a man (enosh) of my equal" - even though you do not even fall into the category of adam. The term enosh always denotes a lowlier status than adam; adam is a person of elevated stature, as in "You are called adam," whereas enosh is a lowlier term, referring to anyone belonging to the human species. David says: Even though you were merely in the category of enosh, lower than the level of adam - I valued you and regarded you as my equal, and moreover, I elevated you to the rank of "my master and confidant."
Underlying these verses is one great foundational principle: the corruption of speech and the betrayal of the intimate companion. "Oppression and deceit" are two facets of fraud - the deceit in outward speech and the duplicity in inner intent, ambiguous language designed to mislead, as is found in every generation and in every marketplace. From this pain David cries out: "For it is not an enemy who reproaches me, that I could bear it" - an enemy's reproach can be borne, and from him one can hide, but the blow of a beloved, of the counselor who knew all the secrets, and of one's own son, is a blow that has no comfort, like the parable of the iron that cries out because its brother strikes it. And even though Achitophel was his rebbe and companion, his master and confidant, and David had raised him from the category of enosh to the rank of "my equal" - precisely because of this, the betrayal hurts sevenfold.