Chapter 32 of Tehillim opens with the word Maskil. Rashi cites the Sages' teaching that whenever a psalm is designated as a Maskil, it was recited through an interpreter - that is, not directly. The Meiri writes that wherever it says Maskil, it means that he contemplated with Ruach HaKodesh (the holy spirit) and composed the psalm.
The Malbim, as is his way, opens with the historical background of the psalm: It was instituted during a time of drought. A fast was decreed, and they confessed their iniquities - as was their practice, during a fast they would examine their deeds and confess - and Hashem responded to them and brought down rain. The rain was torrential, yet nonetheless it was a rain of blessing.
At that same time, the Malbim adds, they were also facing war against enemies. And the rain that was a blessing for Israel became a curse for the foes: the enemies found it difficult to advance and wage war against us. Thus, the rain was a twofold blessing - it both saturated the land and prevented the enemies from attacking. When did this occur? The Malbim suggests that this took place during the days of David, when there was a three-year famine and they inquired of the Urim VeTumim; once their sin was revealed, they rectified it, and rain descended, as recounted in the Book of Shemuel. The subsequent psalm, the Malbim notes, is directly linked to ours and serves as its continuation.
לְדָוִד מַשְׂכִּיל אַשְׁרֵי נְשׂוּי־פֶּשַׁע כְּסוּי חֲטָאָה׃ - Of David, a Maskil: Fortunate is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered.
After King David saw that through confession - when they confessed before Hashem and repented of their iniquities - the distress departed, he understood that the trouble itself came as a consequence of covering up the sin. As long as the sin was concealed and unconfessed, the affliction persisted; the moment it was acknowledged, the distress vanished. Therefore David says: "Fortunate is he whose transgression is forgiven [literally, lifted], whose sin is covered" - fortunate is the one whose transgression is pardoned. And what transgression is this? The transgression of covering up the sin. Nesui comes from the root of lifting, indicating that Hashem, as it were, bears and lifts the iniquity off of him.
For the very concealment of sin is an iniquity in its own right: "Behold, I will enter into judgment with you because you say, 'I have not sinned'" (Yirmeyahu 2:35). When a person claims, "I have not sinned," Hashem says to him: I enter into judgment with you - because that statement itself is a graver offense than the sin itself. If you sinned and acknowledge it, there is still hope of rectification. But if one says, "I have not sinned," what hope is there of improvement? After all, the righteous have nothing to fix, and he, Baruch Hashem, is a "tzaddik" who never sinned...
Because one is "covering his sin" and refuses to confess his misdeeds, explains the Malbim, the sin transforms into a pesha - a deliberate rebellion. A chet (sin) is relatively lighter - a person succumbed to desire, struggled, and fell. A pesha (rebellion) describes someone who stubbornly persists in his wrongdoing. The distinction between them is that with pesha, the person has already constructed an entire ideology around the sin. Initially, if you ask what happened, he will say: "It was hard for me, I couldn't resist." Later on, if you ask him, he will say: "No, this is how it should be; this is reality, you simply do not understand." In short, he built an ideology. One who realizes he made a mistake will yet repair it; one who has constructed an ideology has risen up in open rebellion against Hashem, which is far, far more severe. Consequently, his punishment is much harsher, and fortunate indeed is the one who is forgiven for such an immense transgression.
What is the difference between pesha, chet, and avon? Pesha is rebellion. Chet is the physical deed of transgression itself. And avon is the distortion of thought (ivut hamachashavah) - this is the consistent rule in the Malbim throughout his commentary. Distorting one's thinking is the most difficult element, for it represents building logic and an ideology around the sin: warping one's intellect to assert that this is proper conduct. Fortunate is the person who merits such atonement that even this is pardoned.
אַשְׁרֵי־אָדָם לֹא יַחְשֹׁב יְהֹוָה לוֹ עָוֺן וְאֵין בְּרוּחוֹ רְמִיָּה׃ - Fortunate is the person to whom Hashem does not impute iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no deceit.
The Malbim explains: "He who covers his transgressions will not prosper" - a person who conceals his sin is called one who covers his transgressions, for even though it was originally only a sin (chet), the moment you conceal it, it turns into a transgression (pesha) and rebellion. In contrast, "Praiseworthy is the man to whom Hashem imputes no iniquity" - that even an iniquity (avon), which is a distortion of thought, is not found in him, and as a result, "in whose spirit there is no deceit."
חַטָּאתִי אוֹדִיעֲךָ וַעֲוֺנִי לֹא־כִסִּיתִי אָמַרְתִּי אוֹדֶה עֲלֵי פְשָׁעַי לַיהֹוָה וְאַתָּה נָשָׂאתָ עֲוֺן חַטָּאתִי סֶלָה׃ - I made known my sin to You, and I did not conceal my iniquity; I said, 'I will confess my transgressions to Hashem,' and You forgave the iniquity of my sin, Selah.
It is regarding this that we say, "I made known my sin to You, and I did not conceal my iniquity." An iniquity is more concealed than a sin, for the sin is overt - one can see that he is desecrating Shabbat; but if he holds an ideology that this is how it ought to be and that Shabbat was given so people could drive, that is already hidden. Therefore David says: Regarding the sin - "I made known to You"; and regarding the iniquity, which by its nature tends to be covered up - "I did not conceal," but rather revealed it. "I will confess my transgressions to Hashem" - regarding both of them, which are transgressions against Hashem, I confess before Him. "And You forgave the iniquity of my sin" - You forgave not only the sin, but also the iniquity, the distorted mindset within it.
The Ibn Ezra raises a powerful difficulty: We find David saying, "Preserve my soul, for I am pious (chasid)," and "You will not allow Your pious one (chasidcha)..." - he explicitly refers to himself as a chasid. Yet on the other hand, in several psalms he speaks of his transgressions and iniquities: "For I know my transgressions," and "my sin is ever before me." How can this be reconciled?
Although the Kuzari does not set out to answer this question directly, an answer emerges from his words. The King of the Khazars asks the Chaver: Are you making your people out to be such righteous individuals (tzaddikim)? Look how many times they rebelled against the word of Hashem in the desert, how many sins and how many iniquities! The Chaver replied to him: You are speaking of forty years, and it is said, "They tested Me" ten times - where have you ever found a nation that in forty years sinned only ten times? You could have no greater tzaddik than this! And who is a tzaddik? One whose iniquities can be counted.
A tzaddik who has no iniquities whatsoever is an exceedingly rare phenomenon. Even regarding those who died solely through the counsel of the primordial serpent, it does not mean that they had no iniquities at all, but rather that they rectified them - as we find regarding Yishai, even though we see that he was with his maidservant. When we speak of a tzaddik, the meaning is that his sins are few and countable.
Only among the Christians is there an "All Saints' Day" - everyone is a saint, and no one ever sinned or stumbled. In Judaism, it is precisely the opposite: a tzaddik stumbles and rectifies it. Moshe Rabbeinu, Yaakov Avinu, Avraham Avinu - as the Ramban writes, and others. We do not have anyone in history who can say he never sinned. Rather, what is the case? Even though he stumbled and faltered, he rectified it. We are not speaking of angels, but of human beings, and human beings are liable to stumble, but they must make amends. This itself resolves the Ibn Ezra's question: it is specifically because of this that he is a chasid - he sinned, and immediately his transgression was before his eyes, "I drench my bed with my tears," and when rebuked, he immediately says, "I have sinned." "Seven times a righteous man falls and rises" - he fell, but he also rose, and this does not strip him of the title of tzaddik.
The Ibn Ezra himself initially rejects another proposed answer. Some suggested that David was speaking on behalf of others - that when he mentions sins and transgressions, he is not speaking of himself, but of others who sinned, and composed the psalm on their behalf. The Ibn Ezra says: That cannot be, for what will this commentator do with the words "For I know my transgressions"? This refers to the incident of Batsheva, and one cannot say that he knows their sins as well - rather, these are his own private sins. Therefore, his own answer is that King David's heart was whole with Hashem; he neither rebelled nor sinned against Heaven, and only in interpersonal matters between man and man did he commit sins unintentionally (be'shogeg). The killing of Uriah the Hittite and the taking of Batsheva - these were toward fellow human beings; but toward the Holy One, Blessed is He, there was no sin or flaw in him. And while indirectly we see that the deed was not pleasing before Him, he did not rebel against Hashem in his actions.
A halachah is derived from this verse. The Rambam writes: Regarding sins between man and God, one confesses before Him, blessed be He, but does not reveal his sins to other people. It is forbidden for a person to tell others about his iniquities. It is only regarding sins between man and his fellow that it is said, "He who covers his transgressions will not prosper"; but regarding sins between man and God - "Praiseworthy is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered," one must conceal his sins.
And the reason: the very recounting is itself rebellion. Imagine someone saying to you, "You see that king over there? Once, I spat right in his face - sure, since then I have repented..." The very telling of this story is a tremendous disgrace to the king! Why do you need to tell people that you spat on him? So too, when a person goes around telling others, "I sinned" - it is a disgrace toward the One against Whom he sinned, toward the Holy One, Blessed is He. To be sure, it is written that if his intention is to draw others closer to Torah by sharing where he once was and where he is today, this is not done by way of disrespect but as a means of outreach and inspiration, and in such a case, it is permitted.
The Ra'avad adds: regarding well-known and public sins committed between man and God, it is on the contrary proper to publicize them, so that it will also become known that one has repented. You committed the sins in public, and you do teshuva in secret? It is like a person who shamed you in front of twenty people, and then asks for forgiveness privately after everyone has left - absolutely not! You shamed me in front of everyone, ask for forgiveness in front of everyone, so that everyone understands you were in the wrong. When the sin is public, the teshuva must also be public. But when the sin is not public, it is a flaw and a disgrace, as Rabbi Yochanan states in the Gemara: "Chatzif alai man demefarseim chata'ei" - insolent in my eyes is one who publicizes his sins. Why would you publicize your sins?
The Shelah HaKadosh cites a wonderful Midrash on this verse. "Happy is he whose transgression is forgiven [Ashrei nesui pesha]" - whom does this refer to? To someone whose mother drank the bitter, curse-bearing waters [of the Sotah] and was found pure. That person goes around boasting to his friends: "You know, my mother passed the test of the bitter waters and came out pure!" Concerning this the verse says, "Happy is the person to whom Hashem does not impute iniquity" - happy is the one whose mother never drank at all.
Why boast that your mother drank and emerged clean? Understand how she got there in the first place: your father warned her before witnesses not to seclude herself with so-and-so, and she did not listen; he warned her again, and she still went and secluded herself. She already has a sin and iniquity on her hands, for seclusion itself under warning is forbidden. Then your father, out of suspicion, brought her to the Beit HaMikdash and had her drink the waters. And what became clear? That she was guilty of secluding herself with that man, but the act of adultery itself was not committed - that is all the waters revealed. But your mother's righteousness was hardly demonstrated here! So why are you going around telling this story?
"Happy is he whose transgression is forgiven" - that transgression is completely lifted and removed from him, not that we say "he came close but did not cross the line." This calls to mind the story of an ex-convict arguing with someone on the street, and the other person said to him, "What are you talking about? I have a certificate of good conduct!" The ex-convict asked him, "You have a certificate of good conduct? Who even needs a certificate of good conduct? Only someone who sat in prison, and then after he stays clean of crime for a while, they issue him a certificate of good conduct. A decent person has no need for certificates of good conduct!" So too here: why are you telling us about your mother passing the test of the waters? A decent person never ends up there in the first place. Happy is the one who from the outset is free of transgression, and Hashem does not impute iniquity to him.
By way of a playful insight: "Ashrei nasui" - happy is one who is married (nasui), and thereby "transgression is forgiven, sin is covered," for he is elevated above transgressions and sins. As the Gemara states, there are two reasons for marrying a woman: they raise our children for Torah study and save us from sin. Some might debate this, but it serves as a delightful homiletic interpretation.
And one can add: Chazal say that when a person marries, his sins are corked up (mitpakkin). As the commentators explain, it does not say they are erased, but rather "corked": they take them, put them in a bottle, put a cork on it, and say, "Let us see what happens." If he embarks on a new path and truly straightens his ways and conduct, they are erased and forgiven. But if they see that afterward he reverts to his old ways, they pull the cork and all the sins return and cling to him once again. This is the meaning of "happy is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered": wives save us from sin, and his sins are covered, waiting to see whether he will change his ways. If he changed, he will be forgiven; if he did not change, the cover is removed and they are exposed once again.
A story is told of the Rav of Akko, Rav Lopes, who was a tremendous tzaddik. Once, he was invited to the home of a dying man - a top-tier criminal. The man said to him, "Honored Rav, there is a woman here willing to marry me, and I want the Rav to perform the wedding ceremony for us according to the law of Moses and Israel." The Rav looked at him - a dying man, who clearly had only a few days left to live - what was the point? The man said to him, "I know that whoever marries a woman has all his sins forgiven, and I want my sins to be forgiven." It is related that the Rav attended his funeral. People asked him, "For such a wicked person, why attend the funeral?" He replied, "Look, at least this man, in the final moments of his life, sensed that there is judgment and prepared for it. Even if we cannot say he rectified all his sins, at least he was conscious that there is a Judge and a judgment, and an accounting must be given before Him; therefore, he took steps to contend with that judgment. A wicked man, by contrast, forgets God entirely and accounts to no one. Here, at least, the Jewish spark was ignited. Even if you might say he tried to pull an angle and outsmart the system, something stirred from within - whereas with most such people, nothing stirs at all." In this, the Rav saw a great virtue.
Although we said, "Happy is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered," know that even better than this is one to whom Hashem imputes no iniquity at all - one who has never sinned. "And in whose spirit there is no deceit" - his spirit is always with the Holy One, blessed be He; there are no deviations and no deceit with him, and he has nothing to confess. This is even greater than a ba'al teshuva, for in a ba'al teshuva there were deceit and iniquity, whereas here, from the outset, there was none of that.
And if you ask: is it not written that in the place where ba'alei teshuva stand, even complete tzaddikim cannot stand, implying that the level of ba'alei teshuva is greater than that of tzaddikim? This has been discussed at length more than once, but to state it briefly: according to most commentators - indeed, according to nearly all of them - the level of a tzaddik who never sinned is certainly incomparably greater than one who sinned and repented. A parable illustrates this: compare a brand-new shirt to a shirt that had stains and was laundered. You would tell the shopkeeper, "Pass that one to a gemach, bring me something new!" Even if it was washed and the stain is invisible, brand new is certainly better.
And what is the meaning of "the place where penitents stand"? Many distinctions are made regarding this. The Chovot HaLevavot distinguishes that this refers to minor sins, such as neglecting a positive commandment (aseh), where one who neglected a positive commandment repents immediately and is atoned for. But with sins involving negative commandments (lavin), which require afflictions as well, and Yom Kippur; and if it involves Chillul Hashem (desecration of God's Name) - "This iniquity shall not be expiated for you until you die." In such cases, one who never sinned is certainly superior. And it is beyond doubt that if someone incurred the death penalty by a Beit Din through his sin - the classic example being desecration of Shabbat - certainly one who never desecrated Shabbat is far better than him, for he incurred stoning (sekilah), which is one of the most severe forms of capital punishment. The Maharsha explains that this refers to someone who sinned only in thought, who contemplated committing a transgression and repented for it - in his place, no righteous person can stand; but if he stumbled in actual deed, certainly a righteous person who never stumbled is better than him. And other distinctions follow this line. This is what David says here: "Fortunate is the person to whom Hashem does not ascribe iniquity" at all - which is better than "forgiven of transgression, covered of sin," where he was forgiven for having concealed his sins.
Rashi explains the verse as a condition: "does not ascribe iniquity to him" - on condition that "there is no deceit in his spirit." A person to whom Hashem forgave his iniquity because he repented, this applies specifically when there is no deceit in his spirit. But if he repented while planning to return to his wrongdoing, that is deceit. What, do you wish to deceive the Holy One, blessed be He? Master of the Universe, forgive me and pardon me - and what will happen tomorrow? Most likely tomorrow I will do the very same thing, but forgive me. That is a "deceitful spirit." Likewise, if he does not genuinely regret what he did. When will he be forgiven? When there is no deceit in his spirit, and he returns to Him truly and whole-heartedly.
The Radak cites in the name of his father that there are three levels among the righteous here. The lowest level is "forgiven of transgression" (nesui fesha): a person who sinned and transgressed, and afterward repented, and Hashem lifted the transgression from him and pardoned him. Another level is "covered of sin" (kesui chata'ah): he has many merits, and among them a minor sin, like a millet seed within a se'ah of wheat - where is it? It is covered. In this way, the minor sin is not noticeable within the vast mound of mitzvot he performed. And the highest level is "Hashem does not ascribe iniquity to him": one who never sinned at all, nor did it ever enter his heart to sin, and this is "and in whose spirit there is no deceit" - even in his spirit he never contemplated committing an act of deceit against the Creator, blessed be He.
And why did he mention "forgiven of transgression" first? Because in truth, most righteous people are on this level - they stumbled, and their transgressions were lifted from them and forgiven. A minority are on the level of "covered of sin," possessing a minor sin that is covered by abundant merits and mitzvot. And the rarest of all are those of whom it is said, "Hashem does not ascribe iniquity to him," who have no sin or iniquity at all.
And the Chida cites in the name of Rabbi Menachem of Vitebsk a wonderful homiletic explanation: "Fortunate is the person to whom Hashem does not ascribe iniquity" - do you know what his iniquities are? "Does not think of Hashem" [reading lo yachshov Hashem] - that for a single moment he did not contemplate the Holy One, blessed be He, for a single moment he did not think about the greatness of the Creator. These are his iniquities, and it is for this that he is judged. As is recounted of the author of the Beit Yosef, that one night the angelic Maggid who taught him Torah every night did not appear to him. The next day he asked him, "Why did you not come last night?" He replied, "Yesterday, when you walked in the marketplace, you lifted your foot, and at that very moment you did not contemplate the Creator, blessed be He - and therefore it was no longer fitting that day for me to reveal myself to you." From this we can grasp the exalted levels involved. "Fortunate is the person" whose sins are of this nature - where failing to think of Hashem for a single moment is accounted to him as an iniquity.
כִּי־הֶחֱרַשְׁתִּי בָּלוּ עֲצָמָי בְּשַׁאֲגָתִי כׇּל־הַיּוֹם׃ - "When I kept silent, my bones wore away through my roaring all day long."
כִּי יוֹמָם וָלַיְלָה תִּכְבַּד עָלַי יָדֶךָ נֶהְפַּךְ לְשַׁדִּי בְּחַרְבֹנֵי קַיִץ סֶלָה׃ - "For day and night Your hand lay heavy upon me; my moisture was turned into the droughts of summer, Selah."
Here the Malbim begins to explain how grave the offense of concealing sin is. We noted earlier that they concealed their sin, and when they confessed and disclosed it, the Holy One, blessed be He, forgave them. Now David explains how dire the state is of one who continues to conceal his sins: "When I kept silent" - as long as I remained silent and did not confess my sins, "my bones wore away through my roaring all day long" - all day long I roared in agony, and my bones withered from the sheer intensity of the suffering.
And this occurred when "Your hand lay heavy upon me" - when the Holy One, blessed be He, afflicted them. And what was the affliction? Three years of famine, three years during which no rain fell. And this is "my moisture was turned into the droughts of summer, Selah": "my moisture" (leshadi) - related to "richness of oil" (leshad hashemen), referring to the inner moisture of a substance. Notice that this moisture turned into "the droughts of summer," parched as in summer. The plague of drought turned the moisture of the earth and the fruit into utter dryness. From this it is understood: because I did not confess my sin, the rains were withheld, the hand of Hashem lay heavy upon me, and the suffering intensified, until my bones wore away from roaring over my distress. But when I rectified the matter and repented, the Holy One, blessed be He, forgave me for concealing the iniquity and brought down rain, and that is what delivered me from distress.
And Targum Yonatan interprets "When I kept silent, my bones wore away" as: because I ceased from words of Torah, my bones wore away. When do the bones wear away? When a person is silent from words of Torah. But when a person is engaged in Torah, on the contrary - "and He will strengthen your bones" (ve'atzmotecha yachalitz), the bones become continually invigorated and nourished. That is why we see that Torah giants live long lives: Rav Shteinman lived to 104, Rav Elyashiv to 103, the Chafetz Chaim past one hundred, Rav Ovadia Yosef ninety-something, along with other great sages. The moisture of their bones is continuously renewed within them; whereas without Torah, the opposite occurs.
The psalm was established against the backdrop of three years of famine and drought, during which the people confessed their sins and were answered. From this, David learned a foundational principle: affliction comes through covering up sin, because concealing sin turns it from an unintentional misstep into willful rebellion, and iniquity - the distortion of the mind - is the most severe of all. "Ashrei nesui pesha kesui chata'ah" (Fortunate is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered) - fortunate is the one who is forgiven for the very act of concealment; and even greater than this, "Ashrei adam lo yachshov Hashem lo avon ve'ein berucho remiyah" (Fortunate is the person to whom Hashem imputes no iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no deceit), who did not sin from the outset, for a tzaddik who never sinned is superior to a baal teshuvah. In practical terms, a tzaddik is not someone who never stumbled, but someone whose sins are few, and who repents and rectifies them. Conversely, for one who remains silent and does not confess - "my bones wasted away through my roaring all day," Hashem's hand weighed heavily upon him and his vitality turned into the drought of summer; but the moment he disclosed his sin, Hashem forgave his iniquity and restored blessing to him.