מִזְמוֹר לְדָוִד לְהַזְכִּיר׃ - A psalm of David, to bring to remembrance.
Rashi explains "to bring to remembrance" (lehazkir) as meaning to recite it in a time of trouble, to bring the distress of the Jewish people to remembrance before the Holy One, blessed be He. According to his approach, this psalm was composed on behalf of all of Klal Yisrael, unlike psalms that were spoken concerning a personal affliction.
The Radak presents several possibilities. It may be that lehazkir is a musical designation, as we have already seen in his commentary to Chapter 4: there are expressions that open a psalm and indicate the melodic mode in which it is to be sung. Just as today a piece of music notes its melodic mode or maqam - such as Nahawand, Bayati, and the like - so too here, lehazkir may be the name of a melody. A second explanation: lehazkir is in the sense of thanksgiving and praise, along the lines of "Declare (hazkiru) that His name is exalted." And a third explanation, similar to Rashi: to recite it in a time of distress - David composed the psalm for anyone crushed by illness and personal anguish, to remind and make known to every person that he should pray with this psalm.
The Malbim explains that this psalm was composed when David fell critically ill, and after he recovered from his sickness. Thus, according to the Malbim, this is a personal psalm: David sings of his own illness and recovery. This took place after the incident of Batsheva, which is why David attributes his sickness to his sins. His enemies rejoiced over this illness as well, viewing it as punishment for his actions: "Look, we told you David was wicked! Look, you can see that everything charged against him was true!" - all those slanderers celebrated.
Therefore, the Malbim explains, he opens with "to bring to remembrance": David comes to bring his sins to mind. He laments his illness that came as a result of his sins, and in this psalm he recalls them, for his sins are constantly before him. As the liturgy states, "For You remember all forgotten things." When a person sins and forgets his transgressions, that is exceedingly grave, and Hashem will remember them against him. The Holy One, blessed be He, remembers what is forgotten and forgets what is remembered. For Hashem to overlook your sin, it is best that you remember it yourself. Thus David says, "My sin is always before me," and "I drench my couch with my tears," and Chazal state that his teeth turned black from fasting over that deed. When a person remembers his sins, he feels the urge to make amends, and Hashem pardons him. But when a person forgets - "What did I really do? That was ages ago, there is a statute of limitations" - then Hashem remembers. Therefore David says "to bring to remembrance": to recall my sins, for my sin is always before me.
יְהֹוָה אַל־בְּקֶצְפְּךָ תוֹכִיחֵנִי וּבַחֲמָתְךָ תְיַסְּרֵנִי׃ - Hashem, do not rebuke me in Your wrath, nor chasten me in Your hot displeasure.
First, regarding the vocalization: the letter kuf here has a segol, reading beketzpecha, whereas one might have expected a chirik, bekitzpecha. The Radak notes: Do not be surprised, for we find a similar case in "Your wife (eshtecha) shall be like a fruitful vine," even though one might have expected ishtecha. True, the Midrash homiletically explains why eshtecha is vocalized with a segol - three dots - to hint that there are three partners in man: his father, his mother, and the Holy One, blessed be He. In any event, one need not wonder at this reading, since we find precedence for it.
The Radak cites another important grammatical principle here: the negative particle al ("do not") at the beginning of the verse "stands in place of two." This is an essential rule to know, and it appears in several formulations among early commentators. After all, taken literally, "Do not rebuke me in Your wrath, and chasten me in Your hot displeasure" sounds as though he is asking to indeed be chastened in anger, since it does not say "and do not chasten me in Your wrath." Could this be the verse's intent? Certainly not. Rather, the first al serves a dual function, as if written twice: do not rebuke me in Your wrath, and do not chasten me in Your hot displeasure. Another formulation for this principle in the commentaries is that the first al "carries another along with it."
Incidentally, this is the source of the well-known debate regarding the text of Aleinu: "Who has not made our portion like theirs, nor our lot like that of all their multitudes" (shelo sam chelekenu kahem, vegoralenu kechol hamonam). Sephardim customarily say vegoralenu without an extra lo, whereas some insist firmly on the reading velo goralenu kechol hamonam ("nor our lot..."), so that it does not sound, Heaven forbid, like the opposite - some even went so far as to claim that whoever says it without the negative particle might share their fate, Heaven protect us! However, that borders on invoking curses. We should also note that the Yemenite rite likewise reads velo goralenu kechol hamonam. Yet the ruling of Rav Ovadia Yosef is that there is no need to add the second lo, and whoever follows his community's custom fulfills his obligation, as this is not a disqualifying factor.
The Alshich explains: It is well known that there are angels of fury and angels of wrath through whom the Holy One, blessed be He, cleanses a person's sins - "wrath, indignation, fury, distress, a delegation of destructive angels," as phrased in the Haggadah. These angels are called the arrows of the Holy One, blessed be He, and they show no mercy in judgment: once dispatched on a mission, they carry it out to the very end. By contrast, "For whom Hashem loves He rebukes" - Himself; the one Hashem loves, He strikes Himself, for with Him, blessed be He, mercy is applicable. This is comparable to someone visited by bailiffs to collect a debt, who begins pleading with them for mercy; they tell him: You should have asked for that in court; the judge could have judged you with mercy, but I am merely doing my job. So too are the angels - they cannot show mercy; it is not up to them.
Therefore, David pleads: "Do not rebuke me in Your wrath" - let this not be carried out through angels of wrath, who have no mercy. And wrath (ketzef) is greater than fury (chemah); therefore, even for a minor rebuke - do not rebuke me through an angel of wrath. And he adds, "nor chastise me in Your fury" - for although fury is milder than wrath (which is why it is in the feminine form in Hebrew, denoting something weaker), I still cannot endure it, as suffering is a harsh thing. Rather, David asks that the Holy One, blessed be He, Himself rebuke him if necessary, and not through emissaries.
The Malbim points to the similar verse we have already seen: "Do not rebuke me in Your anger, nor chastise me in Your fury" - where "do not" (al) is stated twice. There he explained that there is a difference between anger (af) or wrath (ketzef) and fury (chemah): anger and wrath are displayed openly, while fury is hidden. Af - the nose reddens, seen as breathing fire. Similarly, ketzef - like foam (ketzef) seen on the surface of water; when a person is furious with rage, his lips produce foam. Thus both of these are external. In contrast, chemah is internal, as was said regarding Achashverosh, "and his fury burned within him" - burning inside him, within (and there the Malbim offered a wonderful explanation of the word "within him").
There is another distinction in the Holy Tongue between rebuking (le'hochi'ach) and chastising (le'yaser). One who rebukes aims to turn a person back from sin for the future, so that he will mend his ways. Therefore, rebuke is not done in hidden fury, for an enemy does not rebuke; sometimes it is done in overt anger, striking him with blows. David asks that the rebuke not be in anger, but with gentle words, spoken pleasantly, and if it involves blows, let them be light rather than heavy. One who chastises, on the other hand, always chastises over the past: I am chastising you for doing something improper. Moreover, chastisement does not necessarily mean physical suffering; even a verbal reprimand is a form of chastisement. In summary: rebuke relates to the future, chastisement relates to past sin, and chastisement is always expressed in overt anger, af, whose flushing is visible on the outside. Therefore, David prayed there that it should not be in internal fury, for internal fury is always worse - a person who bears a grudge in his heart is far more dangerous than one whose anger is outward.
Yet here, the Malbim notes precisely, the verse does not say "and do not (ve'al) chastise me in Your fury," but rather "nor (u'vechamat'cha) chastise me in Your fury" - and a different intention lies before us. David sees that Hashem is rebuking him, that is, stirring him to repent and mend his ways, and he sees that this comes with wrath, with outward anger. From this he is completely broken: he is filled with despair, sinks into deep inner sorrow, into a feeling as if all hope is lost and his way is gone - for the rebuke over iniquities comes with great wrath. "Behold, see how severely you have corrupted, that there is such wrath," and wrath, as noted, is visible outwardly. And so it indeed happened to David, who was also afflicted physically: his face darkened, and in some places it is written that he was struck with tzara'at. Thus the blow against him was also an external affliction, and in the words of the Malbim: with cruelty, fury, and an outpouring of anger.
Therefore, he pleads that at least both things should not come upon him at once. Hashem rebukes him with wrath, and this leads to internal suffering - for a person who is despairing and broken in spirit suffers an internal blow - while the affliction of the body is an external blow. David says: Master of the Universe, do not strike me both internally, leaving me broken in spirit, and externally, leaving me stricken in body. It is proper, says the Malbim, that through the internal rebuke and the depth of remorse - which themselves prove that I wish to mend my ways and walk a new path - You remove the external suffering from me. For internal heartache is the greatest thing, as it is true remorse: when a person's heart aches over what he has done and he beats his breast, there is nothing greater than this. And if not, then the reverse: if it is Your will to bring external suffering upon me, at least relieve me of the brokenheartedness and profound despair in which I find myself. But to be stricken both internally and externally - this is what David pleads should not be done to him.
And why did the Malbim explain this verse differently here than he did in chapter 6? Because here there are not two instances of "do not" (al) but only one, meaning: do not do both things to me together. If You strike me with wrath, do not strike with fury; and if with fury, which is internal, do not strike with wrath, which is external; but do not bring two blows at once, not an internal emotional blow alongside an external bodily blow.
כִּי־חִצֶּיךָ נִחֲתוּ בִי וַתִּנְחַת עָלַי יָדֶךָ׃ - "For Your arrows have penetrated me, and Your hand has come down upon me."
"For Your arrows have penetrated me" - nichatu means they have descended upon me. These arrows are "in me" (bi), within, just as "and his fury burned within him (bo)" is always internal. That is, the arrows strike my soul and penetrate its depths: I am in worry, I am in despair - this is the emotional blow. And corresponding to the fury with which You chastise me, it is said: "and Your hand has come down upon me" - these are physical afflictions, and they are manifest, like a person who strikes his fellow on the body with his hand. And David pleads: Master of the Universe, do not do both to me - having Your arrows land within my soul, and having Your hand descend upon my body.
And why is the internal blow depicted specifically through arrows? The Malbim explains: Because one cannot strike an internal blow to the body with a hand. Only an arrow, when shot at a person, does not remain outside but penetrates within. Therefore, arrows are a metaphor for the internal blow - metaphorically, a wound to the soul, for his spirit is anxious and broken, as the arrow pierces deep within. The hand, on the other hand, represents an external blow, like someone striking with a hand or a fist.
אֵין־מְתֹם בִּבְשָׂרִי מִפְּנֵי זַעְמֶךָ אֵין־שָׁלוֹם בַּעֲצָמַי מִפְּנֵי חַטָּאתִי׃ - There is no soundness in my flesh because of Your anger; there is no peace in my bones because of my sin.
Metzudat David explains "There is no soundness (*metom*) in my flesh" - there is no intact, whole place in my flesh, on account of the afflictions brought about by Your wrath. And the Malbim shows that this verse corresponds directly to the two aspects mentioned earlier: Corresponding to "and Your hand has come down upon me," the external blow, it says, "There is no soundness in my flesh because of Your anger" - the external flesh is stricken, leaving not a single healthy spot. And corresponding to "Your arrows have pierced me," the arrow that penetrates inward and strikes the soul, it says, "There is no peace in my bones because of my sin." The bones express the inward essence - just as in Hebrew, when referring to the core of a matter, one says "the bone (*etzem*) of the matter." That is to say: my inner self is filled with grief and despair because of sin. Thus, he is doubly stricken, both psychologically and physically.
כִּי עֲוֺנֹתַי עָבְרוּ רֹאשִׁי כְּמַשָּׂא כָבֵד יִכְבְּדוּ מִמֶּנִּי׃ - For my iniquities have passed over my head; like a heavy burden, they are too heavy for me.
Corresponding to his statement that there is no peace within due to his sins, he now explains: My iniquities have passed over my head, and like a heavy burden they are heavier than I can bear. And what is an *avon* (iniquity)? We have already seen in several places in the Malbim that *avon* refers to a distortion of thought. A *pesha* (transgression) is committed intentionally; a *chet* (sin) is committed inadvertently; but an *avon* is not merely intentional - the person builds an entire ideology around his action. Therefore it is called *avon*, from the root of *ivut* (distortion) of the intellect: he does not merely commit transgressions, but tells you that this is how one ought to live, that this is the proper path.
And since one builds an ideology in the head, in the brain and the intellect, the verse specifically states, "my iniquities have passed over my head," for the head is the seat of thought. A willful transgressor may act out of lust, intentionally yet driven by the heart, for desires reside in the heart. But with an *avon*, he has sat and reasoned why this behavior is justified; he is uncomfortable living as a sinner, as someone living improperly, so he constructs a theory that this is how one should live - and this is already a state of distortion. And these iniquities are "like a heavy burden, too heavy for me," because of the immense remorse and grief he now feels over them.
הִבְאִישׁוּ נָמַקּוּ חַבּוּרֹתָי מִפְּנֵי אִוַּלְתִּי׃ - My wounds fester and rot because of my foolishness.
And corresponding to "There is no soundness in my flesh," reflecting that he was also stricken physically, he now explains what this lack of soundness entails. The Radak explains: *chavurot* (wounds) are boils that form on the flesh due to illness, blisters filled with discharge and pus, and this discharge has a foul odor. Often in those days, without advanced medicines, people could not even approach the sick solely because of the stench. A contusion where blood has pooled is also called a *chavurah*. And *namaku* (rotted) comes from the idea of melting and dissolving - because the discharge lingered in them for so long, the skin over them melted away until the discharge oozed out and putrefied. And all of this is "because of my foolishness," because I went astray and did not keep the path of Hashem.
נַעֲוֵיתִי שַׁחֹתִי עַד־מְאֹד כָּל־הַיּוֹם קֹדֵר הִלָּכְתִּי׃ - I am bent, I am bowed down exceedingly; all day long I walk in gloom.
Having been stricken both in body - "My wounds fester and rot" - and in soul - "My iniquities have passed over my head," which is the distortion of the intellect - David says: "I am bent (*na'aveiti*), I am bowed down (*shachoti*)." "I am bent," explains the Malbim, means that I was filled with a spirit of confusion and madness, which is the desolation of the soul: the spirit is restless, agitated, and clamoring. And "I am bowed down" corresponds to the body, from the expression of stooping and bending, for my body is broken from the blows. And do not think this lasted only a brief hour; rather, "all day long I walk in gloom" - walking about all day utterly broken.
Let us explain. The Malbim says: If a person is broken physically but healthy in morale, King Solomon said, "The spirit of a man will sustain his sickness." This is a monumental statement, and today we are beginning to grasp something of Solomon's wisdom. When someone is ill, even with a severe illness, if his spirit is strong, his chances of recovery are tenfold higher than someone who is broken in spirit. This is supported today by research, and for this reason we have medical clowns today; what are they supposed to do? Raise morale, bolster the will to live, and lift the person out of brokenness and despair. For if there is spirit in a person, it will sustain his sickness and lead him to recovery.
Yet the verse continues: "but a crushed spirit, who can bear it?" Influence flows from the soul to the body, but influence does not flow from the body to the soul. If a person's soul is crushed, who can lift it up? The body cannot build the soul, nor can it rehabilitate it from its brokenness. The soul has the power to sustain the body, but the body has no power to sustain the soul. Therefore David says: See, "all day long I went about mourning," for I am crushed both physically and spiritually, and I have nothing to lift me up and extricate me from the distress I am in.
כִּי־כְסָלַי מָלְאוּ נִקְלֶה וְאֵין מְתֹם בִּבְשָׂרִי׃ - For my loins are filled with disgrace, and there is no soundness in my flesh.
The Malbim explains that kesalai ("my loins") refers to thoughts, especially thoughts of hope. Why are they called this? After the kesalim mentioned in the Torah - the flanks of an animal - which are closely associated with the kidneys that give counsel. Likewise, "and covered his flanks (kesel) with blubber" (Iyov 15:27) and "Hashem will be your confidence (bechislecha)" (Mishlei 3:26), both referring to inner thoughts. And these thoughts of hope "are filled with nikleh," from the word kalon, meaning disgrace: my thoughts are filled with shame and degradation, and they crush the spirit. "And there is no soundness in my flesh" - meaning that I am also stricken in my external flesh. Thus he is doubly afflicted: his thoughts are filled with shame and his flesh is stricken, leaving him twice broken - so who will lift me up and take me out of this state?
The Radak cites in the name of his father that nikleh is related to being roasted (kalui) in fire, expressing the illness he suffered from. Generally, an ill person develops a high fever, and thus "for my innards are filled with burning" - my internal loins are boiling as if roasted by fire, burning from the sickness and fever I suffer from, "and there is no soundness in my flesh." Yet according to the Malbim's explanation, kesalai refers to the spiritual aspect of the soul, consistent with everything he has explained up to this point.
נְפוּגוֹתִי וְנִדְכֵּיתִי עַד־מְאֹד שָׁאַגְתִּי מִנַּהֲמַת לִבִּי׃ - I am faint and exceedingly crushed; I have roared from the groaning of my heart.
Now, the Malbim says, David describes himself as one who has reached the gates of death, like a dying person whose soul is about to depart and whose vital forces are fading away. Nefugoti ("I am faint") is like "and his heart grew faint (vayafoג libo)" (Bereishis 45:26), meaning his heart weakened - the soul has already grown feeble and is poised to depart.
When the soul is about to depart, it is well known that a person experiences a surge of strength at that moment, as it says, "You take away their spirit, they perish" - before expiring, there is a kind of rallying of the spirit. Often you hear people say: The day before my father passed away, he felt better, talked with people, asked when he was being discharged from the hospital - and the next day he collapsed. Our Sages compare this to a candle, which flares up with a large flame just before burning out and dying down; "the soul of man is the candle of Hashem," and the candle is an expression of his soul.
The Malbim defines this: all the powers of the body gather into the heart, which is the last to die. The physical faculties weaken and gather, as it were, into the heart, for final death occurs when the heart falls silent. The heart is surrounded by those valiant forces, those faculties encircling it like a whirlwind (secharḥar), and then the heart emits its final groan. At that moment, all the affairs of a person's life pass before him like a flock of sheep - people who have undergone clinical death describe how within seconds their entire lives flashed before their eyes. At that hour, he stands at the final frontier between the new, future life, the life of the World to Come, and his departure from this world; he is passing from life to life and from world to world.
This is what David describes: "I am faint and crushed" - the internal faculties have faded and grown slack, while the external limbs are crushed and bruised. "I have roared from the groaning of my heart" - this is the final groan with which the soul departs. Yet here he also uses the term "roaring" (she'agah). What is the difference between roaring and groaning (nehamah)? Both terms are used in reference to a lion; a lion can growl, and a lion can roar. The Malbim explains in several places that groaning is the cry of a lion in distress because it has no food, whereas roaring is an expression of joy - when a lion rejoices, it roars.
Accordingly, at this moment two things take place within David at once: a groan of crisis over leaving the body, and a roar of joy over ascending into the spiritual realm. Therefore, at the moment of transition between the worlds, as he departs this world to arrive in the World to Come, he says, "I have roared from the groaning of my heart": there is a roar over the transition to a world that is entirely good, and there is a heartfelt groan over suffering, affliction, and leaving this world behind.
According to the Malbim, Chapter 38 is David's personal psalm during a critical illness brought on in the wake of his sins. He opens with "to call to remembrance" - to recall his sins, for when a person remembers his sins, the Holy One, Blessed is He, forgives and forgets them. His primary plea is: "rebuke me not in Your wrath, nor chastise me in Your fury" - that the two blows should not strike him simultaneously: the internal blow of a broken soul and despair, and the external blow of physical suffering. The psalm proceeds to describe these two blows side by side: "there is no soundness in my flesh" corresponding to the body, and "there is no peace in my bones" corresponding to the soul; "my wounds stink and fester" corresponding to the body, and "my iniquities have passed over my head" corresponding to distorted thought; until "all day long I went about mourning," for "the spirit of a man will sustain his sickness," but "a crushed spirit, who can bear it?" When a person is broken in both, there is no one to raise him up. From there, he approaches the very gates of death, "I am faint and crushed," where the groan of the heart over departing this world merges with the roar of joy over entering a world that is entirely good.