Chapter 90 opens the fourth book of Tehillim, and it is the psalm of Thursday. It is a very familiar psalm that we recite on Shabbat: "A prayer of Moshe, the man of God." Rashi notes that the eleven psalms from here until "A psalm of David" were all composed by Moshe. As is well known, ten authors took part in the writing of the Book of Tehillim, Moshe Rabbeinu among them. Corresponding to the eleven psalms he said here, he bestowed eleven blessings upon the eleven tribes in Parashat Vezot Haberachah.
תְּפִלָּה לְמֹשֶׁה אִישׁ־הָאֱלֹהִים אֲדֹנָי מָעוֹן אַתָּה הָיִיתָ לָּנוּ בְּדֹר וָדֹר׃ - A prayer of Moshe, the man of God: My Lord, You have been a dwelling place for us in every generation.
"You have been a dwelling place for us" - ma'on means a dwelling, a place of refuge. The Ibn Ezra also maintains that Moshe our master composed this prayer, and he offers proof: the psalm is spoken in the plural, "You have been a dwelling place for us," which is not David's usual style. David consistently prays in the singular - "Save me," "A prayer of the afflicted when he is faint and pours out his plea before Hashem." Here, the phrasing is "for us," in the plural. Another proof is that the expression ma'on aligns with what Moshe Rabbeinu himself wrote in the Torah: "The eternal God is a dwelling place (me'onah)." The Holy One, blessed be He, is our dwelling place, our residence.
What is a ma'on? The Ibn Ezra quotes in the name of Rabbi Moshe that ma'on derives from the root ayin (eye), a place where the eye looks, meaning that You have always scrutinized us and set Your gaze upon us. However, the Ibn Ezra rejects this interpretation, preferring to explain that ma'on is like "from Your holy habitation (mi-me'on kodshecha)": the definition of ma'on is the upper ceiling, the covering from above, as in "In Salem was His tabernacle (sukko), and His dwelling place (me'onato) in Zion" - sukko is the upper sheltering part, and me'onato refers to the roof of the Temple. Our natural covering is the sky, but in truth, it is not the heavens that shelter us; rather, You have been our dwelling place, You have always been our shelter and shield.
The Radak likewise maintains that Moshe composed the psalm, but that King David found it written down, and they held a tradition that it was authored by Moshe Rabbeinu, so he included it in this book. That is to say, the text and wording are Moshe Rabbeinu's, and King David incorporated it into his Book of Tehillim. On the other hand, the Radak cites an explanation in the name of Rav Saadia Gaon that it does not refer to Moshe himself, but rather to the descendants of Moshe, who were Levites and singers in the Temple, similar to "A psalm by the sons of Korach." Do not wonder why it says "Moshe" rather than "the sons of Moshe," for we find an explicit parallel: "And Yehoyada was the leader of Aharon" - where the meaning is surely the descendants of Aharon, the lineage of Aharon. So too here: "A prayer of Moshe" means a prayer of those who descend from Moshe's lineage.
This psalm, the Radak explains, was said concerning the exile. It portrays how fragile man is and how brief his days are, and on that basis it pleads with Hashem not to punish man severely for his misdeeds. For when a person is powerful and does wrong, he is held strictly accountable; but when he is frail and falters, it is not fitting to exact harsh retribution from him. Therefore, he pleads: Master of the Universe, have mercy on me. As Iyov says, "Are not my days few? Let Him cease" - this fragility itself is a reason to evoke mercy, since my days are so few and I am so powerless.
Why is he called "the man of God"? Moshe was a prophet, which is why he is given this title. Our Sages also explain that Moshe was called "the man of God" because from his waist down he was a man, and from his waist up he was godly. Heaven forbid that this be understood in any literal or foreign sense; rather, it refers to a spiritual distinction. The lower half of man is the more physical and coarse, much like in a home, where the kitchen and waste disposal are located on the lower level. By contrast, the upper half is more exalted, housing the heart and lungs, man's higher faculties. Moshe, as it were, was entirely bound to spirituality in his upper realm, a reflection of the divine, and was therefore called "the man of God." And "You have been a dwelling place for us" is in the sense of a shelter, as in "The eternal God is a dwelling place" - Hashem is the place of the world, and You have always served as our refuge.
The Malbim explains that this psalm and the one following it share a single overarching theme. Here, as the Radak noted, the prayer focuses on the brevity of human life, that man's days vanish in futility before he can achieve the purpose for which he was created, because his time is so fleeting. In the next psalm comes the answer to these laments: one who takes refuge in Hashem is safeguarded from the afflictions of time, is blessed with length of days, and attains eternal spiritual life. In this world he will be granted the longevity needed to complete his divine service, and in the spiritual realm he will live for all eternity.
These points are even backed up today by statistics: the chareidi community has the highest life expectancy in Israel, even though seemingly the only sport one sees there is swaying beside the shtender, not exactly an intense workout. From this one understands that human existence does not depend solely on what a person eats, but on many other factors as well. When the Torah says, "so that your days may be lengthened," and "so that your days may multiply" - one sees this reality in practice. Scientists try to offer natural explanations: a supportive community, people are never alone, there is always help and assistance, surrounded by family and constant encouragement - and all of that is true. But what we know is what Chazal tell us: that whoever frequents the synagogue merits long life. Incidentally, in a study by the Guttman Institute, they found that it depends on the level of frequency: there are those who come only on Shabbat, those who also come on Mondays and Thursdays, those who come every day, and those who pray three services a day - and they found that longevity corresponds to the measure of how frequently one visits the synagogue.
A Midrash tells of an elderly woman who approached the Sages with a plea: "Rabbis, stop the world, I want to get off! All my peers have already departed from this world, I have no one left to share experiences with, what is there for me to do here?" They asked her about her daily routine. She replied: "I get up in the morning and go to the synagogue." They told her: "Here is the cause - stop going to the synagogue." The Midrash relates that for three days she did not go to the synagogue, and she passed away. There was no prohibition in this, nor is it considered taking one's own life, but for our purposes: we understand that the synagogue brings longevity. Rav Mutzafi once noted that he had observed that synagogue gabbaim live long lives. It turns out, then, that a person has no complaint about the brevity of his days, nor can he complain that our days are like a passing shadow - everything depends on his deeds. If you were in the shadow of the Almighty, what would you have to complain about? If you took refuge in Hashem, you would enjoy long life in this world and the Next. And there, in the next psalm, lies the answer to the claims presented here.
The Malbim explains that here, a very precious fundamental principle is revealed: the spirits and souls destined to be created were already beneath the Throne of Glory, with the Holy One, Blessed be He, even before the world was created. There is no difference in man's existence before the creation of the world or after it - man existed in either case, the only question being whether he was here or there. You, too, will exist in any case, the only question being whether you will be here or there. For even after death, the soul does not cease to exist: it endures, going on to receive reward or punishment, but its reality persists. In contrast, concerning the spirit of an animal it is said, "which descends downward into the earth" - the spirit of an animal that dies is nullified, having no continued existence.
One proof brought for this, as discussed in the teachings on dreams, comes from the realm of dreams: a person never sees his deceased dog or cow in a dream, but his father or grandfather - yes. That is to say, their souls endure, and they still arrive from time to time for encounters. With animals, however, there is no continued existence and no eternity.
It turns out, therefore, that man's reality is that he has always existed and will always exist, except that he changes locations: before, you were beneath the Throne of Glory; now, you are here; and afterward, you will return above. The change is merely a change of location, not a change in existence. There is no difference in man's reality between before he emerged into physical existence and after he emerged into physical existence; the only difference is that now he is clothed in a physical garment, whereas previously he was clothed in a spiritual garment. In essence, the soul is the very same soul, whether here or there.
The Malbim adds a parable: this is comparable to a drop of water emerging from its source, from a flowing stream. There is no difference between its previous state and its current state, except that earlier it existed in potential, and now it has emerged into actuality. Nothing has changed in its essence, nor has the composition of the water changed - the same water that was there has flowed and poured forth. Certainly one cannot say that this drop was newly innovated and created just now. In the same way, all of man's changes are merely changes of place: at first we were beneath the Throne of Glory, our location changed to this world with a different garment, and one's location will change after one hundred and twenty years with yet another garment. The change is not in essence, but in place.
A story is told of the Chafetz Chaim, who once notified the yeshivah students that at three o'clock in the morning he wanted to deliver a discourse. They knew that when he made such an announcement, he had something exceptionally important to say. Word spread, and by three-thirty in the morning the beit midrash in Radin was packed with people from the entire town. The Chafetz Chaim opened and said: "I was awakened tonight by a certain matter, and I felt I must deliver it to the public: 'My G-d, the soul You placed within me is pure; You created it, You formed it, You breathed it into me, You safeguard it within me, and You will eventually take it from me and restore it within me in the Time to Come.' 'And restore it within me' - it does not say 'and give me a soul in the Time to Come.' My masters and teachers, whatever you do with your soul today - that is the very soul that will return to you in the Time to Come! They will not create something new for you, nor will they fashion something new for you; rather, the same soul He placed within you is the one that will return within you."
If so, how much effort must one make now to keep the soul pure and refined, to guard it just as He gave it to you: He gave it to you pure - keep it pure, so that at the time of "and restore it within me," it will return in wholeness. For if not, the Chafetz Chaim says, when a person rises at the Resurrection of the Dead and is deficient in mitzvot, he will be deficient in the wholeness of his body: if he did not put on tefillin of the arm - he will arise without an arm; if he also did not put on tefillin of the head - he will arise without a head, and that is exceedingly unpleasant. In short: a person will return flawed and deficient. If so, says the Malbim, understand that man's existence is unchanging, an enduring reality. You can decide whether to refine the soul or the opposite, but the reality of the soul exists, and all changes are merely changes of location. This is what is meant by "O L-rd, You have been our dwelling place in all generations" - during all the generations that passed before man was formed, Hashem was the dwelling place; the soul was in the Divine dwelling place, with the Master of the Universe.
בְּטֶרֶם הָרִים יֻלָּדוּ וַתְּחוֹלֵל אֶרֶץ וְתֵבֵל וּמֵעוֹלָם עַד־עוֹלָם אַתָּה אֵל׃ - Before the mountains were born, and You brought forth the earth and the inhabited world, and from everlasting to everlasting, You are God.
Do not say, the Malbim explains, that perhaps all of this began only at the time of the creation of heaven and earth, and only then was the dwelling place created and the souls brought into being. Therefore it says, "Before the mountains were born, and You brought forth the earth and the inhabited world, and from everlasting to everlasting, You are God." You, Hashem, were a dwelling place for the souls even before the mountains were born, before the earth had yet given birth to everything that exists here - birth in a metaphorical sense, as the Rambam explains that expressions of birth applied to physical entities are allegorical, meaning that the entity was brought into existence. Furthermore, "from everlasting to everlasting, You are God": even after the physical earth reaches its end and the seven thousand years conclude, in the realm of the World to Come, You remain God. You are the source from which they emerged and to which they will return; You are their eternal dwelling place.
What is the meaning of "vaticholel" (and You brought forth)? It is related to "she travailed and also gave birth" (chalah gam yaldah), an expression of labor and childbirth, for the pangs of labor precede birth - "pangs and trembling seized them" - as childbirth is a time accompanied by pain, trembling, and travail. This is the sense of "vaticholel", similar to "and the queen was exceedingly distressed" (vatit-chalchal) regarding Esther, which carries an aspect of illness or trembling. "And You brought forth the earth and the inhabited world" - first the labor pains, and then the birth.
The Radak explains: Why does it say "and You brought forth the earth and the inhabited world" and not "earth and heaven", which would seem more natural - even before the mountains were created, even before the heavens were created? Because the entire purpose of the psalm is to express just how transient man's existence in this world is, how fleeting he is, and how his days are like a passing blossom. Therefore, it does not speak of the heavens but rather of the earth, for man here on earth is temporary, whereas the heavens are enduring. The Radak defines this: on earth, the individuals do not endure even though the species endure. The individual beings on earth do not last - a person lives seventy years, a hundred years, and dies; but the species endure, as the human species has existed for thousands of years. In heaven, by contrast, even the individuals endure: the same angel Gabriel from the creation of the world is the very angel Gabriel of today, unchanged. Here, the verse seeks specifically to emphasize the transient reality of the earth, which is why it does not mention the heavens.
And what is the distinction between "eretz" (earth) and "tevel" (the inhabited world)? The Radak explains: when "eretz" appears on its own, it encompasses everything - both inhabited and uninhabited regions, the deserts and the Siberian steppes, all of it included. But when "eretz" and "tevel" appear together, the meaning is that tevel refers to the inhabited areas, while eretz refers to the wilderness and unsettled land: all deserts fall under the category of eretz, whereas tevel is the place where human beings dwell. It is also very likely that "tevel" comes from the root for "mixed" (balul), a place where human beings are mingled and gathered together.
תָּשֵׁב אֱנוֹש עַד־דַּכָּא וַתֹּאמֶר שׁוּבוּ בְנֵי־אָדָם׃ - You turn man back until he is crushed, and You say, "Return, O children of men."
Rashi explains: You bring afflictions upon a person until You bring him to a state where his strength is broken and he is near death. And then, in that state of suffering, You say to him, "Return, O children of men" - now repent; examine your misdeeds, inspect your wrongful actions.
Rav Galinsky used to tell of a neighbor of his who was a freethinker, who would constantly argue, defy, and raise provocative questions about the Master of the World. One day, returning from prayers - the neighbor lived on the floor above him - he looked up and saw him standing at the window wearing tefillin. Total shock. A day or two later, he met him and asked, "Tell me, did I really see what I thought I saw, you in tefillin?" The neighbor replied, "Don't ask. I went to the doctor; I've had stomach pains recently, and he examined me and said there was suspicion of something malignant." Rav Yaakov Galinsky remarked: I thought to myself, I had always assumed people have genuine philosophical difficulties, that they lack knowledge of Hashem's reality. And it turns out all they were missing was a stomach ache. That was all it took, nothing more. One little stomach ache, and suddenly a person discovers the Master of the World.
What does this teach us? A person imagines that he has intellectual questions, but he raises objections out of convenience, because it is comfortable for him to stay in his current stance and follow the desires of his heart. But the moment he begins to realize that his ground is shaking beneath him, suddenly he cries out, "Master of the World, save me!" What happened? Until now you did not believe in Him? The truth is that he always believed - for "Your people Israel are believers, children of believers" - it was simply convenient for him not to believe. This is the meaning of "You turn man back until he is crushed": when a person reaches the crushing of the spirit, then "Return, O children of men," and we see people return in repentance.
Indeed, we see this often: the turning point at which people return in teshuvah is frequently following the passing of a close relative, a father or a mother. Sometimes this is a person's very first real encounter with the synagogue - he has to come and recite Kaddish. Then he stays a little longer, hears a short lesson between Minchah and Maariv, attends another prayer service, and perhaps decides to keep this Shabbat for the elevation of his father's soul, and so, step by step, he feels his way forward. But why must it come through bereavement? Why through suffering? Return when everything is good! Return while you are healthy! Yet such is human nature: "You turn man back until he is crushed," and only then, "and You say, 'Return, O children of men.'"
Radak explains that "until crushed" (ad daka) refers to the days of old age, meaning that a person's youthful strength will no longer avail him. Often, a person only awakens when he begins to grow old. Why? Because until now, although he recognized God's reality, he "did not feel like it" - there were desires and temptations. But as he begins to age, worldly desires speak to him less, and suddenly he begins to seek the Master of the Universe. This can be seen in many synagogues: although today a younger generation is experiencing an awakening of teshuva, there are still many who begin attending synagogue only in their later years. In his youth he was not among the regular synagogue-goers, but as he grows older - "until crushed," when he begins to feel worn down and broken in his old age - then "You turn man back," and he begins to return. He starts to feel that any moment now he will reach the place of no return, and so he straightens his ways.
The Malbim explains the verse differently: just as You have been a dwelling place, the abode of spirits and souls from eternity, so too when "You turn man back until crushed" - when the body weakens, its strength wanes, it is crushed and returns to nothingness - then You say, "Return, children of man." Here, the intention is not repentance, but that the soul should return to its Creator. You have always been a dwelling place for us, even from the time the earth and world were formed and before the mountains were born, and You are a dwelling place for us also when You return man to Yourself: when his body reaches the grave and the soul returns to the Master of the Universe, to the place where it has always been, even before the world was created. This also explains what we saw earlier, "from world to world You are God" - this world and the World to Come - for the Holy One, blessed be He, returns the soul to the spiritual reality, to the realm of the World to Come.
In Tehillot Me'oratz, there is a wonderful explanation here. The Sages say that this verse contains an allusion to the principle that repentance is effective for all sins except for the three cardinal sins: idolatry, forbidden sexual relations, and bloodshed, for which repentance alone does not suffice. This is the meaning of "You turn man back until crushed (ad daka)" - up to these three sins: dalet stands for dam (bloodshed); kaf stands for kefirah (heresy / idolatry); aleph stands for ishah (forbidden relations). Up to this point repentance is effective, but for these it is not effective on its own.
However, he notes that there is a dispute regarding this in the Gemara in Yoma 86a. On the verse "Return, Israel, to (ad) the Lord your God," the Gemara states: Great is repentance, for it reaches up to the Throne of Glory. The Gemara then cites a dispute: Does "up to the Throne of Glory" mean up to and including, or up to but not including - that is, does it reach near it and stop, or does it actually reach the Throne of Glory itself? In conclusion, the Gemara explains that it depends: when it comes to the community, everyone agrees that it means up to and including; when it comes to an individual, there is a dispute as to whether his repentance reaches the Throne of Glory itself or only near it, without reaching it entirely.
It emerges that for the community, repentance is accepted in every case, up to and including, achieving complete rectification even for blemishes inflicted upon the Throne of Glory. And what constitutes a blemish upon the Throne of Glory? Heresy and idolatry. Thus, when it comes to the repentance of a community, it reaches the Throne of Glory itself, meaning that there is rectification even for damage done to the honor of His kingdom, blessed be He, in matters of heresy and idolatry. Accordingly, the statement that repentance is not entirely effective for the three cardinal sins applies to an individual; but for a community, repentance is effective even for the three cardinal sins.
See how beautifully this is alluded to in the verse itself. There is a textual difficulty here: the verse opens in the singular - "You turn man back (tashev enosh)" - and concludes in the plural - "and You say: Return (shuvu)." According to our explanation, this is magnificent: "You turn man back until crushed" - when it refers to enosh, an individual person, it is "until crushed" (ad daka), reaching up to the three sins of bloodshed, heresy, and forbidden relations (dam, kefirah, ishah) - up to, but not including. By contrast, "and You say: Return, children of man (shuvu benei adam)" - in the plural, when referring to the community, they too can return, and their repentance reaches the Throne of Glory itself. This is deeply profound.
The psalm opens with the prayer of Moses, the man of God, and imparts a precious teaching: the Holy One, blessed be He, was a dwelling place for our souls even before the mountains were born, and He is the dwelling place to which they return. Man's true reality does not change but merely shifts location and garment, like a drop issuing from its source - hence "and to restore it within me," the very same soul will return, and how diligently one must strive to keep it pure. The psalm depicts the brevity of man's days and his frailty as an argument for seeking mercy, and describes how man often awakens only from feeling worn down and broken - "You turn man back until crushed, and You say: Return, children of man." Yet the answer to the claim of life's brevity is already given in the following psalm: one who takes refuge in Hashem prolongs his days in this world and the next, a reality visibly evident among those who frequent the synagogue. Finally, even within the gates of repentance there is comfort: that which for an individual reaches only "until crushed," for the community reaches the Throne of Glory itself.