לַמְנַצֵּחַ עַל־אַיֶּלֶת הַשַּׁחַר מִזְמוֹר לְדָוִד׃ - For the conductor, upon Ayelet HaShachar; a psalm of David.
This psalm is familiar to all of us: it is the psalm that Chazal expound as referring to Esther, and which we recite on Ta'anit Esther and Purim. Let us begin by clarifying the title - what is "Ayelet HaShachar"?
The Radak cites several explanations, and as is our custom, we will mention these interpretations first and then proceed along the path of the Malbim. Some say - and this is the approach of Rashi and those who follow him - that "Ayelet HaShachar" is a musical instrument, like Gittit and Yedutun, and "for the conductor upon Ayelet HaShachar" refers to the musician conducting upon this instrument. Others explain (the Targum, Menachem, and cited in Rashi) that "ayelet" is an expression of strength, as in "my strength (eyaluti), hasten to my aid," meaning that the psalm was recited with the strength of the dawn's rising. And there are those who explain that "Ayelet HaShachar" is the morning star, as brought in the Yerushalmi in Berachot (Chapter 1, Halachah 1), where the morning star is called "Ayeleta," and "for the conductor upon Ayelet HaShachar" refers to the star that rises at dawn.
In Shir HaShirim Rabbah and Midrash Shocher Tov, this psalm is expounded as referring to Esther, and to the Jewish people who were in exile at that time. The Alshich HaKadosh adheres to this approach, explaining the entire psalm in the context of the era of Esther. Yet the Alshich raises a question: What is the connection between David and Esther? "A psalm of David" - how is it that David is singing about Esther?
He provides a wonderful explanation. The verse states, "There was a Jewish man in Shushan the capital," and the Gemara asks: He is called a Yehudi (from the tribe of Yehudah) and he is called a Yemini (from Binyamin) - did he descend from Yehudah or from Binyamin? It answers: It is on account of David, who descended from Yehudah, for had he not spared Shimei, Mordechai would never have descended from him. That is, when Shimei ben Gera came and cursed David with a vicious curse, David had the power to execute him; had he killed him, we would have had neither Mordechai nor Esther, as Mordechai was the son of Yair, the son of Shimei. It turns out that the very existence of Mordechai and Esther came about through the power of David, who restrained himself and did not strike Shimei down. Therefore, it is fitting for David to sing of this salvation: "For the conductor, upon Ayelet HaShachar" - this refers to Esther, whom the Holy One, Blessed be He, assisted, and were it not for David's action, that salvation would not have come to the Jewish people. We will not follow this approach in our explanation of the psalm, but it is well worth knowing.
The Radak cites another interpretation: that it refers to King David himself, who sang this psalm when fleeing from Shaul. However, in his view, the correct interpretation is that "Ayelet HaShachar" is said concerning Knesset Yisrael while in exile. Why is she compared to a doe (ayelet)? As we find in Shir HaShirim, "by the gazelles or by the hinds of the field." And what is "ha-shachar" (the dawn)? It connotes beauty and radiance, as in "Who is this that looks forth like the dawn?" It follows that the Jewish people as a whole are "Ayelet HaShachar" - that doe, beautiful as the dawn, whom Hashem has now seemingly forsaken and abandoned in exile, and on whose behalf David prays.
This is also the approach taken by the Malbim. The psalm divides into two: the first part up to verse 17, and the second part from verse 17 until the end. The first part depicts "gloom of anguish, and driven darkness" (in the phrasing of Yeshayahu 8:22) - a state of siege and distress, where the Jewish people are in the utmost lowliness, forsaken by Hashem, taunted and humiliated by the nations, and bereft of all hope. The second part describes "Ayelet HaShachar" itself: the light rising from the east and beginning to illuminate the darkness, depicting trust in Hashem, divine providence, and miracles.
From here comes the title of the psalm. "Ayelet HaShachar," defines the Malbim, is the boundary point between darkness and light. Darkness is the ultimate negative, light is the ultimate positive, and the intermediate point between them - flanked by the boundary on either side - is the stage where the darkness gradually dissipates and the dawn begins to break. This is the point between tribulation and salvation, between despair and trust, between weakness and strength: the transitional period between the harsh times when Israel was subjected to disgrace and contempt, and the era in which the Holy One, Blessed be He, delivers them and shines His countenance upon them.
אֵלִי אֵלִי לָמָה עֲזַבְתָּנִי רָחוֹק מִישׁוּעָתִי דִּבְרֵי שַׁאֲגָתִי׃ - "My God, my God, why have You forsaken me? Far from my salvation are the words of my roaring."
The section depicting degradation itself divides into two parts: until verse 11 he laments that Hashem has forsaken him, and from verse 11 to 17 he prays for salvation. The first part is a plea of grievance, and the second is a prayer.
What is the repetition "My God, my God"? The Malbim explains: You are my God - and You alone are my God; and the second - You have been my God from time immemorial, for I have never had any other god. If so, why have You forsaken me? I have no other power upon which I can rely and turn to for salvation.
"Far from my salvation are the words of my roaring" - the word "far" carries over to the second clause as well, as if it were written: far from my salvation and far from the words of my roaring. This is similar to what we say in Aleinu, "Who has not placed our portion like theirs, nor our lot like that of all their multitude," where "has not placed" applies to both parts. This reveals the depth of the grievance: When Hashem is near, as soon as a person faces trouble He delivers him; and when He draws away - which is not physical distance, but a metaphor - He does not deliver. Yet there is still an intermediate state where one can cry out and He draws near again. But here David says that even this is not so: You have distanced Yourself so far that even the words of my roaring make no impression, as though, as it were, Hashem is unaware of my distress entirely.
The holy Bobover Rebbe recounted that during World War II, an opportunity arose to obtain passports: the country of Costa Rica permitted the issuance of passports in exchange for substantial sums of money, which provided exit permits from Germany. Many Jews rushed, liquidated all their savings, and brought enormous sums to save their families, and indeed there were transports saved thanks to these passports. He too gathered a large sum and handed it over to the agent who was supposed to handle the matter. But when they arrived at the consulate, it turned out that everything was shut down and it was no longer possible to issue passports. The sole opportunity to escape the valley of tears had slammed shut, and what was worse, the person who had taken the money disappeared with it.
Brokenhearted, he stepped into a synagogue, approached the bookcase to study a bit and strengthen his heart before returning home, and Hashem led to his hand the sefer Tiferes Uziel by Rabbi Uziel Meisels. He opened it - and happened upon an explanation of our chapter, regarding "Far from my salvation are the words of my roaring" and "My God, I call by day and You do not answer." There, the explanation is presented based on the holy Shelah.
The Shelah explains the verse, "And as for me, may my prayer to You, Hashem, be at a favorable time; O God, in the abundance of Your lovingkindness, answer me in the truth of Your salvation": At times, a person prays for something and imagines that it is for his good, confident that from this his sun of success will rise and his paths will be illuminated - unaware that its end is bitter as wormwood. Therefore, a person must ask of Hashem: Master of the Universe, if I request things that are not truly good for me, do not grant them to me; do not bestow something upon me merely because I asked for it. This is the meaning of "answer me in the truth of Your salvation" - if a matter truly holds salvation, answer me; but if not - even though I cry out and plead, block my prayer and do not accept it.
Based on this, the verse is interpreted - and the Dubno Maggid likewise noted a similar idea: "My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?" - I cried out, so why have You forsaken me? Rather, "Far from my salvation are the words of my roaring": If that for which I roar and plead is far from my salvation, something from which no good will emerge for me - then I ask of You, "My God, I call by day and You do not answer." However much I call out day after day - do not answer me, for that which I roar about is far from true salvation.
When the Rebbe saw these words, his spirits were lifted and his heart was strengthened, realizing that Heaven was showing him at that very moment that his redemption was not meant to blossom from that path. He returned home encouraged and uplifted. It was not long before it emerged that the cursed Germans discovered the operation at the Costa Rican consulate, seized all the records, rounded up all the Jews who were registered and had not yet managed to leave, and murdered them all. It turned out that had he succeeded, he and his entire family would have been swept up in that tragedy. He then realized the immense lovingkindness Hashem had shown him: He may have taken the money as an atonement, but He ensured they would not be there, and the Rebbe lived a long life (recorded in Imrei Kodesh of the Bobover Rebbe, Parashas Naso 5769).
From this one can see how much there is to learn: Do not grieve if your prayer was not fulfilled. When praying intensely for material matters, a person cannot know whether they are truly beneficial for him; and if Hashem did not grant your request - on the contrary, it may well be the greatest good for you.
In the sefer Divrei Yisrael, it is cited in the name of a certain tzaddik that the verse should be read as a question and an answer: "My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?" - and the answer: "Far from my salvation are the words of my roaring."
A parable of a foolish prince who angered his father until he banished him from the palace. He wandered about, scraping together a meager living hand-to-mouth, until a village woodchopper agreed to hire him as a laborer. However, the woodchopper's tools were poor, the axe was dull, and the youth exerted tremendous effort, taking double the time to finish work that could have been done in a quarter of the time. Remembering that his father was a king, he wrote to him: "Father, do me a favor and send me sharp axes and good saws, for my axe is blunt and the labor is grueling." The father read the letter and thought to himself, "What a foolish son!" - and did not reply at all. In time, the son had an awakening; he remembered that he was a prince who once lived in a royal palace, and saw where he was now cast away. He wrote a letter to his father begging for mercy, pleading to be brought back to the palace - and immediately the father sent special regiments to bring him home, restoring his days as of old.
This is "My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?" - to which the Holy One, blessed be He, replies: "Far from my salvation are the words of my roaring." You send Me letters like the first letter - give me livelihood, give me success, give me health, give me a shidduch. When your roaring is for the ultimate salvation itself, I will come to save you; yet all our requests are merely for a better axe and a sharper blade! Therefore, "I call by day, and You do not answer": we cry out and there is no answer, because the request itself is misguided. And this is the meaning of the verse, "Why has the son of Yishai not come to the meal, neither yesterday nor today?" - why has the Mashiach not arrived for so long? Because all our requests are merely "to the bread" - for small, material successes.
Certainly, one must pray for success in battle and for the return of the captives; but once you are already standing before Hashem, pray also for the Mashiach, that He redeem us with an everlasting redemption, and everything else will naturally be included within it. We must remember what the ultimate goal is and what matters most: the Shechinah is in exile and in sorrow, and the Holy One, blessed be He, yearns to bring His children back to Him - over this we must cry out. If we utter the right cry, we will see how close Hashem is to our roaring.
אֱלֹהַי אֶקְרָא יוֹמָם וְלֹא תַעֲנֶה וְלַיְלָה וְלֹא־דֻמִיָּה לִי׃ - My God, I call by day, but You do not answer; and at night, yet there is no silence for me.
This is David's second complaint: not only has Hashem forsaken him, but his prayer is not being accepted. I call all day - and there is no answer; and the night is not silent for me either, for even at night I do not cease calling and praying. If so, why do You not answer?
וְאַתָּה קָדוֹשׁ יוֹשֵׁב תְּהִלּוֹת יִשְׂרָאֵל׃ - Yet You are holy, enthroned upon the praises of Israel.
David pleads before Heaven: What have the praises of Israel always been? Two praises - "holy" and "enthroned." "Holy" signifies being separate and transcendent: as in "Harei at mekudeshet li" - you are set apart to me from the rest of the world; and holy meat is consecrated, permitted to be eaten only in purity and in its designated place. You, Hashem, are holy and transcendent, beyond all corporeal attributes and physical limitations. And "enthroned" - the Rambam explains in The Guide for the Perplexed that whenever "sitting" is attributed to Hashem, it refers to absolute permanence without change: "For I, Hashem, have not changed"; with Him, blessed be He, there is no change.
From this David asks: If so, how can it now appear as though You have changed? Throughout all generations You saved our forefathers, as will be explained in the next verse, yet now You do not save. It is as if You were overcome by weariness - fatigue - which belongs to "corporeal attributes," things applicable only to physical beings; could one possibly say of the Transcendent One, free from all matter, that He has grown weary? Furthermore, this contradicts the concept of "sitting," for sitting denotes constancy, whereas here the divine conduct appears to have changed - our forefathers trusted and were delivered, yet we cry out and are not delivered.
This does not mean, Heaven forbid, that David is asserting that Hashem has changed or is no longer holy. Rather, it is a plea of anguish: Why do things appear this way? For when they appear like this, we are the ones who lose - faith weakens, divine service falters, and a person begins to doubt and question. We praise You as "Holy" and "Enthroned," these are the praises of Israel, so why do You reveal Yourself to us in other ways that create such difficulty in our faith?
בְּךָ בָּטְחוּ אֲבֹתֵינוּ בָּטְחוּ וַתְּפַלְּטֵמוֹ׃ - In You our ancestors trusted; they trusted, and You rescued them.
Upon what does this plea rest? On the experience of generations. Our ancestors trusted in You, and they enjoyed a double benefit from their bitachon: first, the trust itself - when a person trusts, he has peace of mind and someone to rely upon. Second, You ultimately did not disappoint - "and You rescued them," delivering them in practice.
אֵלֶיךָ זָעֲקוּ וְנִמְלָטוּ בְּךָ בָטְחוּ וְלֹא־בוֹשׁוּ׃ - To You they cried out and were saved; in You they trusted and were not put to shame.
Here he explains the two benefits. The ultimate outcome: "To You they cried out and were saved" - they cried out, and You answered and delivered them from distress. And this, the Malbim explains, is superior to trusting in flesh and blood: one who trusts in flesh and blood will not always find salvation from him, for the savior is not always near to the one relying on him - he might be a powerful king, yet still absent in the hour of need. You, however, were close to hear whenever they cried out.
And the second benefit is the intrinsic virtue of trust itself: "In You they trusted and were not put to shame." One who trusts in flesh and blood experiences shame in his reliance, feeling: "I am worthless, I have no strength, I am weak and need you to save me." A person's ego constantly insists, "I can manage on my own, I am capable, I do not need anyone." But when one trusts in Hashem, could anyone imagine being great before Him? Before Hashem, it is obvious to all of us that we are small and dependent on Him, and there is no shame in that. Thus, their trust in Hashem granted them peace of mind, and this bitachon is incomparably superior to trusting in flesh and blood, which brings shame with it.
These two verses carry a special significance: the insight offered on them by the Ben Ish Chai in his sefer Od Yosef Chai is a timeless and foundational teaching.
The Ben Ish Chai asks: What are the three types of trust mentioned here - "they trusted," "they trusted and You rescued them," and "they trusted and were not put to shame"? Furthermore, why is "and were not put to shame" mentioned only at the end and not at the beginning? Moreover, what does shame have to do with trust - would anyone who trusts in Hashem be ashamed? And why the repetition altogether, seemingly reiterating the same idea three times?
Rather, explains the Ben Ish Chai, there are three levels of bitachon. The first and most common level: in a time of trouble, a person hopes that Hashem will help him. If you ask him, "Do you have anything solid to rely on?" - he does not know; he hopes and anticipates, like a drowning person clutching at a straw. This is a low level of trust, lacking true attachment to Hashem, and the trust remains tenuous in his heart.
The second level is higher: a person is completely confident that a miracle will be performed for him. And on what basis? On the basis of the past and personal experience: "Every time I was in distress and trusted in Hashem, He saved me." This is a person who knows that the Holy One, blessed be He, has supported him until now, and therefore his trust is firmer, having become accustomed to miracles.
And the third level is lofty and exalted: a person who trusts in Hashem to such an extent that he is prepared to present public proof and signs that things will turn out this way - and if it does not come to pass, he will be disgraced and humiliated in public. To reach such a level, where a person gives an overt sign and in the end is not put to shame, is a far greater virtue.
The Ben Ish Chai cites, in the name of the Gaon Rabbi Shmuel Garmizan, a story recorded in the book Masa Yerushalayim concerning Rabbi Moshe Galante, the teacher of the Pri Chadash, who served as Rav in Jerusalem after Rabbi Shmuel Garmizan. There was a terrible famine at the time following several years of drought; people had nothing to eat and were dying like flies. Everyone went to pray to their god; the Jews also prayed, going to the tomb of Rachel and the tomb of David - yet no rain fell.
The Pasha sent a message to Rabbi Moshe Galante saying: "You have until Friday to bring rain, and if not - I will expel all of you from the city. It is only because of the Jews that the heavens have withheld their mercy, and yet you boast of being Hashem's chosen people, calling Him 'You are our Father' - give us proof of this in this time of distress, and show us that God will listen to your supplication; and if not, by the life of the prophet, just as I have spoken, so shall I do." And the congregation of Israel was deeply distraught.
And this is what the prophet says: "Are there any among the vanities of the nations that can bring rain?" - ask any of the forces they believe in, Christians, Muslims, Buddhists, to bring down rain; let them dance a rain dance from morning till evening, gash and cut themselves - not a single drop will fall. But throughout history, everyone knew that if there was a problem, they would go to the Jews and threaten them, and then rain would fall. This was also famously the case in Yemen: when there was a drought, they would threaten the Jews with expulsion; the Jews would go to the cemetery, and by the time they returned, the rain was already falling.
Rabbi Moshe Galante decreed a three-day fast. They wept, pleaded, and recited Selichot before the Western Wall day and night. On the third day, when they were already exhausted and depleted, he instructed them toward evening to go to the tomb of Shimon HaTzaddik and pray there for rain. However, he added an instruction: everyone must come in winter gear - coats, umbrellas, and boots, everything needed for rain. Imagine: three years without rain, a scorching sun and terrible heat, and you are told to show up in winter clothes.
On the way, a local police officer saw them and could not understand the meaning of this bizarre procession - had they confused the date of Purim? What was with the costumes? They told him, "The Rav said it is going to rain." He scoffed, "What rain? Who sold you this nonsense?" He walked up to the Rav and slapped his cheek with brazen insolence, and the Rav did not respond.
They arrived at the tomb. The Rav knelt and prostrated himself upon the head of the tomb, while the entire crowd around him raised their voices and wept with wailing and supplications. Then they saw the Rav whispering softly with his lips against the headstone, speaking into the tomb as if conversing with the deceased. Suddenly, a great and mighty wind arose until all the trees in the field swayed, and the clear blue sky was blanketed with heavy rain clouds. While the Rav was still speaking there, torrential rains poured down like a sweeping river, and all those present covered themselves with scarves and blankets. That same officer who had struck the Rav on the cheek came, fell on his knees, and begged for forgiveness, and he carried the Rav all the way back into Jerusalem. For three days and three nights the rain fell without ceasing, filling the cisterns and supplying all the needs of the city, and everyone acknowledged that the God of Israel performs miracles for them.
Reflect on what Rabbi Moshe Galante did: this was a tremendous risk. Imagine if they had gone there, cried and wept, and returned just as they had come - what shame and disgrace that would have been! They arrived with umbrellas and boots; the Rav said it would rain, and it did not. This level of bitachon is even greater than the bitachon of the wife of Rabbi Chanina ben Dosa, for she did not present an outward sign and proof of what was to happen, whereas he provided a sign that, had it not materialized, would have resulted in utter disgrace.
Now, says the Ben Ish Chai, see how wonderful are the words of David. "In You our fathers trusted" - this is the first level: a person is in distress, and what of him? He trusts in Hashem. And what kind of trust is it? Hesitant and uncertain - "Hashem will help, God willing, I hope." And what is he relying upon? Our fathers trusted, so I trust too; it is routine habit, hoping that things will be good.
"They trusted, and You delivered them" - this is the second level, a trust backed by experience: they were already saved in the past, they relied upon their trust and You delivered them, and therefore their trust is now more complete and absolute, as they are accustomed to miracles.
"To You they cried out and were rescued; in You they trusted and were not shamed" - this is the third level, just like the deed of Rabbi Moshe Galanti: they fasted for three days and cried out, and through this they were rescued. Not only that, but their trust was such that they were prepared to stake tangible proof that this would happen - "and were not shamed," for Hashem did not disappoint them.
Based on this, the Ben Ish Chai explains the verse: "Why do you cry out to Me? Speak to Bnei Yisrael and let them journey forth." Everyone asks: What should a person do in a time of distress if not pray? What is the meaning of "Why do you cry out to Me?" Rather, Hashem was telling him: To merit salvation here, the first level of trust - merely hoping for good - is not enough, nor is the second level, trusting because Hashem already acted on one's behalf in the past. Here, the third level is required: providing proof and a sign that this will happen, knowing that if it does not happen, humiliation will follow. This is the meaning of "and let them journey forth": Enter the sea, go until the water reaches up to your neck. A person says: I am certain the waters will split, and if they do not, I will drown, and people will say of me that I went and committed suicide. There would be utter shame and humiliation if they entered, the water reached up to their neck, and the sea did not open. Hashem told them: Here, the third level of bitachon is needed, where they give of themselves completely and are willing to stake tangible proof that this will happen out of the sheer greatness of their trust, even though if it does not materialize, great shame would result.
Chapter 22 is titled "Ayeles HaShachar" - the point between darkness and light, between distress and salvation, between despair and trust. In its first part, David laments on behalf of Kneset Yisrael in exile: "My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?" - and I have no other power; "Far from my salvation are the words of my roar" - even my crying out seems to make no impression; "I call by day and You do not answer." From here we learn not to be grieved when our prayers seem unanswered, for perhaps our salvation lies precisely in that non-answering, and that it is fitting to direct our roar toward what is essential - toward the complete salvation and not merely toward "bread." "Yet You are holy, enthroned upon the praises of Israel" - two praises of Hashem: transcendent beyond all physical reality and steadfast without change, which explains the grievance over why His providence appears to change. In contrast, "In You our fathers trusted" - three levels of bitachon: the one who hopes, the one who trusts based on past experience, and the one whose trust is so complete that he stakes an open sign upon it. One who merits this level - "they trusted and were not shamed."
May it be Hashem's will that we make the right request, cry out the complete cry, and merit to see the King enthroned in His palace, and the complete redemption, Amen and Amen.