Psalm 137 is the psalm of exile: the Levi'im who were exiled to Babylonia, captives sitting by the rivers of Babylon and weeping as they remember Zion, hanging their lyres upon the willows, while their captors demand of them: "Sing us from the songs of Zion." To this they reply: "How can we sing the song of Hashem upon foreign soil?" In this part of the shiur, we will examine the oath of allegiance to Jerusalem that followed this refusal, the halachot and customs derived from it, and the conclusion of the psalm with the remembrance of Edom and the retribution against Babylon.
אִם אֶשְׁכָּחֵךְ יְרוּשָׁלָיִם תִּשְׁכַּח יְמִינִי׃ - If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget.
Rashi explains that Knesset Yisrael is speaking here: the Jewish people take an oath to Jerusalem never to forget her. Ibn Ezra explains that these are the internal thoughts of each musician in his heart: they are asked to sing, they refuse, and in their hearts they say, "We will not forget you, Jerusalem."
And why specifically the right hand? Ibn Ezra explains: the lyres were played with the right hand. "Let my right hand forget" - as if to say, may I forget the function of my right hand, something that never naturally occurs to a person. It is used metaphorically: if I forget Jerusalem, it would be as impossible as forgetting my right hand. Ibn Ezra also cites another explanation, that tishkach is related to wasting away, meaning it should wither. However, he adds, "and some say it means wither, without parallel." The expression "without parallel" (beli chaver) was used by the early commentators to indicate a hapax legomenon in Tanach, having no companion verse from which to derive its meaning. Ibn Ezra therefore notes that he finds this interpretation difficult to accept: where else in Tanach do we find the word tishkach denoting withering?
The Malbim explains: just as the right hand is the primary active hand for a person, through which all of his actions are performed, so too Jerusalem is at the center of all our movements and endeavors, to the point that it is as impossible to forget her as it is to forget the right hand. She is our beloved and at the forefront of our minds; just as a person does not forget his right hand, so too I do not forget Jerusalem.
תִּדְבַּק לְשׁוֹנִי לְחִכִּי אִם לֹא אֶזְכְּרֵכִי אִם לֹא אַעֲלֶה אֶת יְרוּשָׁלַיִם עַל רֹאשׁ שִׂמְחָתִי׃ - Let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth if I do not remember you, if I do not set Jerusalem above my highest joy.
The Malbim continues: all my speech is about you - everything I speak praises Jerusalem. And if I do not speak of your memory, let me be like a mute whose tongue cleaves to the roof of his mouth. And this is not only while I am in exile, but even "if I do not set Jerusalem above my highest joy": even when I rejoice in worldly success and material blessings, such as at a wedding and the like, even then Jerusalem will be set above my highest joy. That is, every celebration is, as it were, tempered with solemnity through remembering the destruction of Jerusalem.
This is the source for the custom of placing ashes where the tefillin rest on the groom's head: "If I do not set Jerusalem above my highest joy" - I do not forget Jerusalem, and at the head of the joy, at its very onset, I perform an act in remembrance of the Destruction. The Sephardic custom today is to suffice with breaking the glass. Regarding this, Rav Ovadia Yosef used to arouse attention: people shout "Mazal Tov, Mazal Tov!", cheering with great celebration, while the groom smashes the glass like a youth boasting of his strength in how hard he broke it. People have missed the fundamental point of breaking the glass. The Gemara recounts that when celebrations were held and a sage saw the joy becoming unbridled, he would break a kasa de-mokerisa - a precious glass vessel - to temper the crowd's mood. Thus, the breaking was meant to signify that the Temple was destroyed and we must remember it, fulfilling "if I do not set Jerusalem above my highest joy." Yet people interpret it as an occasion for cheer - which is the exact opposite. Therefore, the Rav notes that the groom must be instructed to recite, "If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget," reminding him that through this we intend to recall the destruction of Jerusalem, so that it is done with appropriate gravity.
Ashkenazim maintain the custom to this day of placing ashes, as recorded in the Shulchan Aruch. Typically, this is done when the rabbi sits with the groom over the ketubah: they burn a piece of paper and place some ash on his head. Some used cigarette ash, but many were meticulous to avoid this - since it is a lethal poison, and one should not handle something deadly where nicotine might be absorbed through the scalp. Instead, they would burn paper, and in this way remind the groom of the destruction of Jerusalem.
The Gemara in Masechet Bava Batra (60b) relates that when the Second Temple was destroyed, ascetics multiplied in Israel who adopted the practice of not eating meat and not drinking wine - the Temple was destroyed, there was grief, mourning, pain. Rabbi Yehoshua engaged them and said to them: "My sons, why do you not eat meat, and why do you not drink wine?" They said to him: "Shall we eat meat, from which offerings were brought upon the Altar, and now it has ceased? The table of the Omnipresent is bare, and shall we fill our table with meat? Shall we drink wine, which was poured as a libation upon the Altar, and now the libations have ceased?" He said to them: "If so, we should not eat bread, since the meal-offerings have already ceased - for they come from flour and semolina." They said to him: "You have spoken well; we will abstain from bread too, for we can sustain ourselves with fruit." He said to them: "We should not eat fruit, since the first-fruits (Bikkurim) have already ceased - for they, too, are offered upon the Altar." They replied: "We can sustain ourselves with other fruits, for Bikkurim are brought only from the Seven Species - one can eat oranges without needing to eat grapes." He said to them: "Then we should not drink water, since the water libation has ceased!" At that, they were silent.
He said to them: "My sons, come and let me tell you: Not to mourn at all is impossible, for the decree has already been enacted. But to mourn excessively is also impossible, for we do not impose a decree upon the community unless the majority of the community can endure it - and if one were to take upon himself no meat, no bread, and no water, this is a decree that the community cannot endure. Rather, thus said the Sages: A person may plaster his house with lime, but leaves a small portion unfinished. And how much? Rav Yosef said: A cubit by a cubit (an amah by an amah). And Rav Chisda said: Opposite the entrance - so that immediately upon entering, he sees it before him." When someone enters a Jewish home, he sees an amah by an amah left unplastered. And whoever does not have this in his home should buy a putty knife, take a tape measure, and scrape away an amah by an amah. This is an explicit halachah in the Shulchan Aruch.
Furthermore: a person prepares all the needs of a meal, but leaves out a small item, such as salted fish or the like. That is, even when hosting a feast, one does not present all the delicacies in full, but withholds a little, so that some grief over the destruction is discernible. And a woman puts on her jewelry, but leaves out a small piece - she does not wear everything. As it is said: "If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget; let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth..."
In light of this midrash, the Chida explains the verse in a wonderful manner. "If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget" - as if one could forget his own right hand, which is impossible. What does this imply? That we really ought not to eat meat, nor drink wine, nor even drink water. Concerning this the verse continues: "Let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth" - we would not even drink water, so let my tongue cleave to my palate. And what is our alternative? To do only what we are capable of doing, which is the continuation: "If I do not remember you" - if I cannot do all that, since one cannot live that way, I will at least make a remembrance. And how will I remember you? I will leave an amah by an amah unplastered on the wall, I will not serve everything at the table, and a woman will wear fewer pieces of jewelry.
The Chida continues: According to this approach, it would have been appropriate not to marry at all, since marriage is pure joy. But God forbid, if we were not to marry, the seed of Avraham Avinu would perish! Concerning this, the verse says: "If I do not set Jerusalem above my highest joy" - if I cannot abstain from marriage entirely, at the very least I will set Jerusalem at the start of my joy, which is the ashes placed upon the head of a groom. That is, when I marry, at the pinnacle and the outset of my joy, I will recall Jerusalem by placing ashes upon my head.
The book Tehilot Mahari"tz adds: From the depth of grief over the destruction, a person cannot truly rejoice; how then can one rejoice at a chuppah and wedding? However, when a person carries a burden that weighs heavily upon him and talks about it and expresses it, he afterwards finds relief. Therefore the verse says, "I will raise Jerusalem at the head of my joy" - "head" meaning at the very beginning: at the outset of the celebration, I will bring up Jerusalem. For this reason, right at the start they place ashes on the groom's forehead, while among Sephardim the custom is to break the glass, which serves in place of placing ashes. And once this has been done at the beginning of the celebration, one can then rejoice properly and fittingly, without that grief weighing down and intruding upon the joy itself.
The Maharsha explains: "If I forget you, O Jerusalem" - if I forget Jerusalem and fail to do all those things the Sages instituted, leaving an amah opposite the entrance, leaving an item off the feast, minimizing jewelry - then "let my right hand forget": at the very least, let me not perform the action with my right hand, but with my left. The left hand is considered a deviation (shinuy); even if not in the strict halachic sense of Shabbat, it is at least less than the normal way. When someone is asked to write or draw, doing so with his dominant hand produces proper work, but if one must write on Shabbat, it is preferable to write with the left hand; and if one is asked to sign for something in a hospital, it is preferable to make a mere scribble rather than actual writing. This is "let my right hand forget": if I cannot achieve a complete reduction, at least let me not perform the matter fully with my right hand as normal, but in a diminished way, like a person acting with his left hand whose work is imperfect - and through this, at least, I will remember Jerusalem.
The Maharsha continues: "Let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth if I do not remember you" - a person might be careful with all these actions, yet there would still be no clear memorial. For people watching might simply assume that this person is left-handed; they see him performing the task with his left hand, and it is not apparent that he does so on account of the destruction of Jerusalem. The general impression is lacking; it is not recognizable that his action stems from mourning the Churban. Therefore: "Let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth if I do not remember you" - if I do not mention with my tongue that all these actions are in memory of the Churban, it will not be evident that they are for the destruction. One must therefore also articulate verbally that what he is doing is a remembrance of the Churban. That is why, before breaking the glass, we recite: "If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget," so that it is unmistakably clear that this act is done to commemorate the destruction of the Beit HaMikdash.
The sefer Haktuv LeChaim explains the verse based on the teaching of Chazal in the Gemara in Sukkah (45a): Whoever takes the lulav in its binding and the hadas in its braided form, Scripture considers it as if he built an altar and offered a sacrifice upon it. And in the Tikkunim it is written on the verse "I said, I will climb the palm tree" (e'eleh betamar): "E'eleh" (אעלה) is an acronym for etrog, aravah, lulav, and hadas. And with what? "In the palm tree" (betamar) - for the date palm is the tree of the lulav, which is the primary and tallest of them all. On the first day, taking the lulav is a biblical commandment, "And you shall take for yourselves on the first day," even outside the Temple precincts.
This is what the verse means: "Let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth if I do not remember you." And how is this remembrance expressed? "If I do not raise [a'aleh] Jerusalem" - through "a'aleh", the etrog, aravah, lulav, and hadas, it is considered as if one ascended to Jerusalem, built an altar, and offered a sacrifice upon it. And when is the primary time? "Above my highest joy [rosh simchati]" - "rosh" means the beginning. And which festival embodies the pinnacle of joy? The holiday of Sukkot. And what is the beginning of Sukkot? The first day. When a person takes the lulav on the first day and fulfills this biblical commandment, it is reckoned as though he ascended to the Beit HaMikdash, built an altar, and brought an offering upon it. This is how we ensure that we never forget Jerusalem.
Ibn Ezra explains: "The tongue speaks in songs" - with that very tongue accustomed to singing, I will mention the destruction and the memory of Jerusalem, as in the phrase, "and the burden of the Lord you shall mention no more." If not, "let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth," and I will not mention or speak of anything at all; that is, I will be unable either to sing or to speak. The Radak explains "above my highest joy": whenever I rejoice in any celebration, I will remember the mourning over Jerusalem.
Up to this point, Radak explains, these are the words of the Levites: they were asked to sing, and when they arrived in Babylon they were told, "Sing for us from the songs of Zion," to which they replied, "How can we sing the song of the Lord on foreign soil?", "Let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth," etc. Now, while the psalmist prophesies about the Babylonian exile, he perceives through divine inspiration the exile of the Second Temple. This introduction is essential, for a difficulty arises in explaining the verse: How does the text suddenly shift to the matter of Edom, when Edom's prominence occurred long after the Book of Tehillim was sealed? Tehillim was not composed during the Second Temple era; how, then, could it speak of a destruction that took place much later, at the hands of Titus? Rather, in the midst of his prophecy concerning the Babylonian exile, he foresaw through divine inspiration the exile of the Second Temple wrought by Edom - by Titus, who hailed from the Roman Empire, which is descended from Edom.
We find the same with the prophet Yirmiyahu in the Book of Eichah: while prophesying about the Babylonian exile, he foresees the destruction of the Second Temple and declares, "Rejoice and be glad, O daughter of Edom" - mentioning Edom for destroying Jerusalem. Even though Yirmiyahu lived during the First Temple era, all this was spoken in prophecy before the destruction of the First Temple even occurred; and as he prophesied about the First Temple and its destruction, he also prophesied about the destruction of the Second Temple. And what is the meaning of "Rejoice and be glad, O daughter of Edom"? By way of irony, Radak explains - an exaggeration, spoken cynically, much like "Rejoice, young man, in your youth": enjoy yourself now, for in the end you will pay for it all. "Daughter of Edom" - Chazal say this refers to Caesarea; "dwelling in the land of Uz" - this refers to Rome. So too here: the psalmist, who did not even witness the Babylonian exile as he lived beforehand, prophesies about the destruction of the First Temple and simultaneously prophesies about the destruction of the Second Temple.
זְכֹר יְהֹוָה לִבְנֵי אֱדוֹם אֵת יוֹם יְרוּשָׁלָיִם הָאֹמְרִים עָרוּ עָרוּ עַד הַיְסוֹד בָּהּ׃ - Remember, O Lord, against the children of Edom the day of Jerusalem, who said: "Raze it, raze it, to its very foundation!"
"Aru, aru" - Rashi explains that this denotes destruction, as in "The broad walls of Babylon shall be utterly demolished [ar'er tit'ar'ar]," expressing dismantling and collapse. The intention is to undermine it from the foundation: when something is uprooted completely from the ground, one says of it, "Raze it, raze it, to its very foundation" - uproot it from the earth and from its root until you reach its foundations. In this manner the children of Edom spoke concerning Jerusalem: demolish its foundations and tear it up by the roots.
Ibn Ezra finds this interpretation difficult to accept, maintaining that the psalm does not refer to the exile of Titus as many have thought. He raises two difficulties: First, the psalm subsequently mentions, "O daughter of Babylon, doomed to destruction, happy is he who repays you according to what you have done to us" - why would the text return to Babylon after already moving on to Edom? Second, Titus the wicked was not of the seed of Edom, for the Romans descend from Yavan (the Greeks), as supported by the verse: "The sons of Japheth: Gomer, Magog, Madai, Yavan, Tubal, Meshech, and Tiras." Rather, since Edom had previously been subjugated under Israel's rule, they gloated over Israel's downfall, as portrayed in the Book of Ovadyah. Thus, the verse refers to the destruction of the First Temple, which the Edomites also witnessed and rejoiced over. The taunts that the Edomites hurled at Israel when Jerusalem was captured and the Sanctuary burned by the Chaldeans were more agonizing for the Jewish people than the tragedy itself, which is why it is written, "Do not speak proudly." And this is the plea of "Remember": they urged the Babylonians to expose and undermine the very foundations of Jerusalem, actively wishing for our total ruin.
According to Ibn Ezra, then, Titus had no lineage connection to Edom, differing from Radak, who asserted that Titus was part of the Roman kingdom descended from Edom. In Ibn Ezra's view, Rome stemmed from Yavan, an entirely separate root unrelated to Edom: Yavan descended from Japheth, whereas Edom descended from Yitzchak, through Esav - two distinct lineages. Here, the psalm refers to the Edomites who gloated when the First Temple was destroyed, and it is regarding them that Scripture brings up the matter of Edom.
The Malbim explains: If I constantly remember Jerusalem and mourn for it, how much more so must You, Master of the Universe, remember against the children of Edom the day of Jerusalem's destruction, for they aided in tearing it down. We remember that which is our obligation, and You, Master of the Universe, remember that which is Yours to remember - to hold accountable those who did this to us, and to exact retribution from the enemies who helped destroy the Beit HaMikdash.
בַּת בָּבֶל הַשְּׁדוּדָה אַשְׁרֵי שֶׁיְשַׁלֶּם לָךְ אֶת גְּמוּלֵךְ שֶׁגָּמַלְתְּ לָנוּ׃ - O daughter of Babylon, the despoiled, fortunate is he who repays you for the treatment you dealt out to us.
Here the text turns back to the kingdom of Babylon. Radak explains that she will be despoiled - that others will plunder her; and "fortunate is he who repays you" refers to Darius and Media, who will repay her by destroying Babylon.
The Malbim explains differently: the daughter of Babylon had already been plundered by Cyrus at that time. That is why it says hashdudah ("the despoiled") - not that she will be despoiled in the future, but that she has already been despoiled, in the past tense. Therefore, this is not speaking of Darius and Media in the future, but of Cyrus, who had already begun to despoil Babylon: the Holy One, blessed be He, had already begun to repay you.
And what is the meaning of "your repayment which you dealt out to us"? The Malbim explains in numerous places that wherever the concept of gemul is mentioned, it means that the one performing the action does so out of an intense surge of emotion: either love or hostility. A gemul always stems from a powerful passion - either love or hatred. The verse is thus declaring: what you inflicted upon us was done out of intense malice and a surge of hatred and enmity; therefore, fortunate is the one who repays you your due for this and exacts retribution from you.
אַשְׁרֵי שֶׁיֹּאחֵז וְנִפֵּץ אֶת עֹלָלַיִךְ אֶל הַסָּלַע׃ - Fortunate is he who seizes and dashes your infants against the rock.
Ibn Ezra says: the verse recounts the cruelty of their hearts, for they dashed the infants of Israel to pieces; because it recounts their callous cruelty, it says fortunate is he who exacts vengeance upon you and dashes your infants against the rock. Radak similarly cites the prophecy of Yeshayahu, "Behold, I am stirring up Media against them," where it is written, "Their bows shall shatter the youths, and they shall have no mercy on the fruit of the womb" - meaning that retribution will be exacted even from their infants.
There are those who find this verse jarring: taking tender little children and smashing them against a rock? Even if they did that to us, why on earth would we do such a thing? But all these bleeding hearts - we know they have no qualms about devouring God-fearing Jews and swallowing them whole. Their mercy is always reserved for the Babylonians, for the Palestinians - they always have an abundance of compassion for them, and it is never in their own front yard, but in your backyard, and with that they have no issue. And then it blows up in our faces: people in South Tel Aviv cannot leave their homes after seven in the evening; they tell you, "Neither I nor my children step outside," sheer terror. In the recent riot, people were filmed walking around with guns in the streets of this country. The people there are suffering, and these critics do not care - if a Jew suffers, they do not care. And do not confuse them with facts, because it does not fit their humanitarian agenda; yet they are the ones who make the rules and set the tone, and these are the results. "We are humanitarians" (humanim) - that was the way of Haman. In short: Hamans.
Whoever understands the damage and what they did understands that this is only a fraction of what they deserve. And when one shows mercy to the cruel, in the end one becomes cruel to the merciful, and the two always go hand in hand.
To what may this be compared? To a doctor who was summoned late at night, in the freezing winter, to a home where a baby would not stop crying, his fever rising until his life was truly in danger. The doctor arrived, treated him, brought down the fever, and ultimately saved his life. He said to the mother: "You have nothing to worry about, Adolf Schicklgruber will live." And that person, when he grew up, was called Adolf Hitler. One might say: what a man of kindness, with what self-sacrifice he came out late at night - while we would have eliminated him with our bare hands! People like this must be stopped when they are small, for one such person equals six million - six million Jews, in addition to all the other devastation he wrought upon the world and the millions of others. And if someone should say to you: "How can you kill a baby? Have you no pity for his tears?" your answer is: "I have pity for six million Jews, and they are our brothers; that is where our compassion begins." Whoever has compassion for such people is like one who shows mercy to Hitler in his infancy. The Torah commands us to blot out the memory of Amalek - that is, blot him out at the root, because if you do not do so, like Saul who spared them out of misplaced pity, in the end he will show no mercy to your people, and throughout the generations you will suffer at his hands.
And so too was the incident with the Convoy of the 35 (the Lamed-Heh): they spotted an Arab who recognized them, and a debate ensued among them - we must kill him, otherwise they will come and kill us. There were some high-minded moralizers among them who argued: Heaven forbid, he is innocent, he hasn't done anything, why kill him? They did not kill him, and all thirty-five walked into an ambush and were murdered. Afterwards, their bodies had to be identified through the Goral HaGra, in the well-known and complete story involving Rabbi Aryeh Levin.
This is what we are taught: do not be more merciful than the Torah. The Holy One, blessed be He, is merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abundant in kindness and truth, and all attributes of mercy reside in Him; to be more compassionate and merciful than the Torah is not true mercy. A person must know that mercy and cruelty are defined solely by the parameters of the Torah - it is not for you to decide. What the Torah commands to do is what must be done, and if one thinks to show greater mercy, he will pay a heavy price. Just as a heavenly voice went forth and said to Shaul: Do not be overly cruel - meaning, when you are overly merciful, you will inevitably end up being overly cruel.
The Malbim explains "Happy is he who shall seize and dash your little ones against the rock" - as it is written, "And I will cut off from Babylon name and remnant." This was fulfilled in the second year, when Cyrus marched against it a second time, destroyed it entirely, and killed everyone in it; that is, it occurred in the second stage.
With this, we conclude Psalm 137.