Sefer Yoel, Chapter 2: "Blow a shofar in Zion and sound an alarm on My holy mountain; let all the inhabitants of the land tremble, for the day of Hashem is coming, for it is near." "Blow a shofar in Zion" - the shofar was intended to awaken the people to repent before the catastrophe arrived. After all, we have seen a dire prophecy of an impending locust plague, meant to stir hearts toward repentance.
The Malbim explains that there is a distinction between the previous chapter and this one. In the previous chapter, the prophet witnessed in a prophetic vision that locusts were destined to come. That was the subject of the previous chapter and of ours as well. The difference is that in our chapter, he speaks of the time when the locusts have already begun to arrive and strike the land. In the previous chapter, he spoke of a warning: "I now see this in prophecy; beware." In our chapter, he speaks of the locusts having already reached the land. Therefore, he tells them: "Blow a shofar."
It was their practice to sound an alarm over troubles, so blowing the shofar serves as a kind of siren, warning that the locusts have arrived. Furthermore, the Malbim notes that the purpose of the tekiah was to assemble the people. Hence he says, "Blow in Zion" - throughout the entire city, so that all the city's inhabitants will hear. The teruah, on the other hand, was meant to instill dread in order to prompt them to repent. Thus, there are two distinct objectives: "Blow a shofar in Zion" is to assemble the people, while "and sound an alarm on My holy mountain" is to awaken them to repentance, as the teruah evokes dread. "My holy mountain" refers to the Beit HaMikdash. Through this, "let all the inhabitants of the land tremble" - they will fear Hashem and realize that the day of Hashem has come, His day is near.
That is, the Malbim explains, with mortal man one cannot say a thing has "come" unless it has actually arrived. I cannot say a trouble has "come" unless it is physically present, for as long as it has not yet arrived, there are potential barriers to its arrival; many factors could prevent it from happening. By contrast, with the Holy One, Blessed be He, there are no barriers. You cannot say, "Who knows what might happen in the meantime?" What does "who knows" mean? Hashem knows; Hashem determines reality. Therefore, regarding the Holy One, Blessed be He, we can say "it has come" even if the event is not immediate but is yet to arrive - it can still be described as having come. But with us, how can you say it has come? Circumstances might prevent it! Who says it will arrive? No, with Hashem, it will surely arrive. Here the verse says, "for the day of Hashem is coming, for it is near." With the Holy One, Blessed be He, everything is in the category of "near," and nothing can obstruct His decree. Thus, one can state that the day of Hashem has come, since the matter is truly near, and with Hashem, when something is near, it is as good as arrived. There is no barrier and no impediment.
"A day of darkness and gloom, a day of clouds and thick fog, like the dawn spread over the mountains; a vast and mighty people, like none has ever been from antiquity, nor shall ever be after it, for the years of generation upon generation." "A day of darkness and gloom" - the Radak says that trouble is likened to darkness. Just as joy is expressed through light - "For the Jews there was light and gladness" - joy is reflected in light. Conversely, when expressing sadness and gloom, Scripture speaks of darkness, gloom, and distress. Alternatively, the Radak offers an additional explanation: the darkness here is literal and physical. When locusts arrive, what happens? "And it covered the surface of the whole land, so that the land was darkened." When locusts descend, darkness falls. Thus, on "a day of darkness and gloom," the locusts will arrive in such overwhelming numbers that everything will be blackened, and you will not see the sun.
Regarding this, the verse says: "like none has ever been." No such darkness had ever occurred - or rather, no such locust plague had ever occurred. But ostensibly, we saw that there was the plague of locusts in Egypt! As we have already explained, the commentators resolve this by pointing out that the locust plague of Egypt consisted primarily of a single species, but in a quantity unprecedented in history. In Yoel's time, by contrast, the unprecedented aspect lay in the variety of locust species. It did not match the sheer numerical count of Egypt, but in the diversity of species, it went far beyond: the gazam, the arbeh, the yelek, and the chasil. The uniqueness of Egypt's locusts was in quantity; the uniqueness of the locusts in Yoel's era was in their species. Therefore, concerning both it is written that there was none like it and none shall ever follow. How can one say of both that there was none like it and never will be? The explanation is that like Egypt, there never was and never will be in terms of sheer numbers - the billions of individual insects. In contrast, regarding Yoel's locusts, while there may not have been that numerical quantity - there were millions - there had never been such a diversity of species. Never had so many types arrived in a single blow.
The Malbim explains the apparent duplication in "darkness and gloom, clouds and thick fog." He explains that when describing darkness, it signifies that the day grew dark, resulting in gloom. What does gloom (afelah) mean? The absence of light. The sun has set, so gloom ensues. The verse tells you that it is not merely that; it will also be "a day of clouds and thick fog." That is, there is an privative darkness (choshech he'edri) and there is a substantive, actual darkness. Privative darkness means the mere absence of light: if light is withdrawn, darkness results. If you close the shutters here right now, it will be dark. Did I bring anything inside? Nothing; I merely excluded the sun. When the sun is removed, there is darkness. In contrast, there is tangible darkness, which the Malbim defines as produced by thick mists and dense fogs that obscure vision. If, for instance, we filled this room with thick, black fog, it would be dark, but substantively so - not just an absence of light, but darkness that could almost be felt and touched. He explains that the locust swarm will appear the same way, spread out "like the dawn spread over the mountains" in the morning. It will appear atop the mountain peaks, gleaming and glinting from afar, a people vast in quantity and mighty in quality, the likes of which has never been - as noted, a multitude of four species of locusts unprecedented in history. Thus, there was darkness and gloom through the absence of light, alongside clouds and thick fog as an additional dimension of tangible darkness, and the locusts will arrive "like the dawn spread over the mountains, a vast and mighty people, like none has ever been from antiquity, nor shall ever be after it, for the years of generation upon generation."
"Fire consumed before it, and behind it a flame blazed; like the Garden of Eden was the land before it, and behind it a desolate wilderness, and nothing escaped it." "Fire consumed before it" - the Malbim explains that these locusts left nothing behind. Everything they ate, they annihilated: every tree, every plant, like a fire that devours and burns everything. It is as though a fire advanced before them, incinerating all. That is, once the locusts arrive, nothing remains. Furthermore, once the fire departs - once the locusts pass - fire has nothing left to consume; whatever was edible was devoured as if a fire had gone before it and consumed everything. This is a poetic metaphor. What, then, happens "behind it"? The verse states: "and behind it a flame blazed." The Malbim explains that a flame differs from fire: a flame blazes after the fire, scorching even the roots in the ground. Therefore it is written, "and behind it a flame blazed." The fire consumes what is visible above ground, while the flame continues to burn below, devouring what is beneath the soil. That is "and behind it a flame blazed." Prior to its arrival, the land was like the Garden of Eden, filled with every bounty; after it leaves, the land is like a wilderness. This is even worse than fire, for from fire one can sometimes salvage something, but here, "nothing escaped it" - nothing remained.
"Their appearance is like the appearance of horses, and like horsemen, so they run." These locusts gallop like horses. The Malbim explains: now the prophet will present a series of verses in which he compares the locusts to an army and a military battalion charging in battle. We will see several verses drawing various analogies to an army. He begins with horses. When war breaks out, horses charge to conquer the land. A horse itself possesses natural might; it runs with thunder and clamor. Regarding this, he tells you, "Their appearance is like the appearance of horses" - charging with tremendous noise. If a man rides the horse, what is he called? A parash (horseman). "And like horsemen, so they run." When a horse is mounted by a horseman, it gallops much faster, as there is someone urging it on and whipping it to accelerate. Notice that in poetic language, one always begins with a base description and continually adds to it, for without adding, there is no purpose in multiplying words. For example, if I want to describe an assault: "We will strike the country, destroy the water sources, kill all the warriors, strike women and children..." Notice how each statement adds another element. But if I said, "I will slaughter everyone," and then added, "and afterward I will also burn the oil wells" - what difference does that make? Everyone is already gone; what do the oil wells matter? When expressing a catastrophe or conveying the magnitude of an event, the rhetoric always ascends. If nothing new is added, what have you contributed? What is in your words beyond what was already said? Here, too: initially we are told, "Their appearance is like the appearance of horses" - running horses, yet not at peak speed. Then, "and like horsemen, so they run" - when a rider sits atop the horse, it becomes turbocharged, running at a far higher velocity. What is the underlying poetic concept? A horseman spurs the horse; the locusts are like horses. Who is the horseman? The Holy One, Blessed be He. Hashem is, as it were, the horseman spurring these horses - this locust swarm - to run and devour your land. The command and decree of Hashem rides upon them.
Now, if several horses are hitched to a chariot, the noise is vastly greater. With several horses and a chariot, there is the rumbling sound of wheels and axles. This brings us to the next verse: "Like the sound of chariots on the mountaintops they leap, like the sound of a blazing flame consuming stubble, like a mighty people arrayed for battle." "Like the sound of chariots on the mountaintops they leap" - the Malbim explains that as they swarm together, they make a sound like chariots, with the rumbling of wheels and axles, resembling a chariot drawn by multiple horses. Moreover, although it is not customary for horses and chariots to scale mountaintops, here they leap across the mountain peaks. "Like the sound of chariots... like the sound of a blazing flame": after describing the sound heard during the destructive assault, he states that it will sound like a blazing flame consuming stubble. We have already seen the locusts likened to fire, but now he addresses the sound. When fire burns, it is sometimes quiet; but when it consumes dry stubble, there is a continuous crackling and popping sound. So too, this will be the roar of the fire: not merely fire, but fire that produces a loud din. Understand that the auditory element is vital, since warfare in ancient times relied heavily on psychological tactics. Today we know how to navigate psychological warfare, but in those days battles hinged upon it. Because soldiers engaged in face-to-face combat on the battlefield, each side attempted to make terrifying sounds to instill dread in the enemy's heart - shouting screams, blowing horns. This created an impression of a fearsome monster or an immense horde; even if they numbered only a hundred men, they made noise like three thousand. This caused panic in the enemy camp, causing them to melt away and flee. Here too, likening the locusts to an army, he states that there will be a tremendous roar, instilling fear in hearts and undermining morale. Thus, its burning will be like fire devouring stubble. Now he describes how the locusts prepare to descend from the mountains upon the cities, depicting them as an army preparing for battle: "like a mighty people arrayed for battle." As mentioned, according to the Malbim, the locusts are consistently portrayed in terms of an army marching into combat: organized, descending from the mountains like a mighty people drawn up for battle.
"Before it peoples writhe; all faces gather paleness (kibtzu farur)." "Before it peoples writhe" - the nations are terrified before it. There is an enemy against whom you march out to fight, and there is an enemy before whom you flee in dread. "All faces gather farur": what is "kibtzu farur"? All faces gather in their splendor and radiance; their beauty vanishes out of sheer fear and grief. "Farur" would thus be related to "pe'er" (splendor) - the splendor is gathered in, in the sense of being withdrawn or removed. The father of the Radak questioned this interpretation, noting that "kibutz" (gathering) is not the appropriate expression for withdrawal; the suitable term would be "aseif" (gathered in), as in "Yaakov gathered his feet into the bed." It should have said "all faces ya'asfu farur." Nevertheless, interpreting farur from pe'er is also the explanation of Menachem and Ibn Ezra. The Malbim offers another explanation in his Beur HaMilot: farur is the opposite of pe'er (splendor). How can that be? The Malbim notes that just as we find roots whose pi'el form denotes the removal of the root concept - like "masheresh" or "mesakeil" - one can mean to take root and another to uproot (both from sh-r-sh: "lehashrish" versus "mesharesh acharav," meaning uprooting after him); "liskol" means to stone with rocks, while "lesakeil" means to clear away stones; "kileis" can mean to mock, and it can mean to praise - so too here, "lefa'er" is to beautify, while "farur" is to strip away beauty. The Malbim explains this based on the doubling of the third root letter (resh). Another explanation is that "farur" is related to crumbling (lehitparer): when a face is smooth, it appears as a single unit; when wrinkled in distress, it appears creased into fragments, like crumbs (perurim). Rashi explains that "kibtzu farur" means their faces blackened like the soot of a pot (parur), as in "and they cooked it in a pot" (u-vishelu va-parur), with the alef being extra and silent.
"They run like mighty men; like men of war they scale a wall; each marches in his paths, and they do not swerve from their routes." "They run like mighty men" - they run valiantly, as the locusts are depicted throughout as warriors. Now he describes how they conquer the city wall. Having descended from the mountains, they now advance toward the city to storm the wall. First, they run toward the wall like mighty men. When an army assaults a city, it cannot approach casually, for the defending garrison atop the wall will drive them back. They must advance rapidly, so that before the defenders can prepare and react, the attackers are already at the wall, breaching the gate and entering. Thus, "they run like mighty men" - charging valiantly to scatter the defenders. Next, military tactics are required to scale the wall; therefore, "like men of war they scale a wall." Afterward, they organize their ranks: each company has its own path, and they also designate flank routes, so that in case of difficulty, they can peel off or encircle the enemy from the side. An army always maintains an escape route or an alternate approach, so that if fierce resistance is encountered on the main path, or if attacked, they can counterattack from behind in a pincer movement. Flank paths assist an army in unexpected contingencies. Regarding this, he states: "each marches in his paths" - each company maintains its route; "and they do not swerve from their routes (ve-lo ye'avetun orchotam)" - meaning they do not distort or abandon their flank routes. Let us explain: the Malbim notes the distinctions between derech (a highway or main road), orchot (side paths branching off toward villages and towns), and mesilah (a paved, cleared road). "They do not ya'avtun their paths" - Radak explains that nothing detains or hinders them along the way. He also cites a connection to "ha'avet ta'avitenu" (lending on pledge), though it is less clear how that connects here. The more likely explanation, supported by Ibn Ezra, Rashi, and the Targum, is that "ye'avetun" means "ye'avtun" (from ayin-vav-tav, distortion), even though spelled with a beit and a tet, parallel to Arabic usage, meaning to bend or twist; they do not veer off on a crooked path. Regarding "They run like mighty men; like men of war they scale a wall" - what is the difference between a gibbor (mighty man) and an ish milchamah (man of war)? The Malbim explains that a gibbor is naturally powerful - someone with immense physical strength. An ish milchamah, by contrast, may not be naturally strong, but is skilled in military tactics and strategy. Hence the distinction.
"No one crowds his brother; each marches on his paved way; and falling upon the weapon, they are not severed." "No one crowds his brother" - they do not jostle one another or advance in disorder. When an army marches, soldiers cannot push each other. You are fighting the enemy, not the comrade to your right or left. If armed with swords and spears, jostling would risk stabbing each other. Thus, "no one crowds his brother; each marches on his paved way" - each advances along his assigned lane, neither straying from his fellow nor crowding him. Next, after scaling the wall, the Malbim explains, they leap down from the top or descend with drawn swords. But those below are not passive; they await them with swords to impale them as they jump down. "Shelach" means a sword or dart. Thus, "and falling upon the shelach, they are not severed (lo yivtza'u)." Ordinarily, falling onto a blade wounds a person; "yivtza'u" is interpreted like "yiftza'u" (wounded). Ordinarily they should be injured, but here "they are not wounded" - no injury befalls them. Another explanation connects "yivtza'u" to "betza" (cutting bread), meaning they are not severed or cut by the blade. The Malbim notes: "No one crowds his brother; a gever marches on his paved way." The term "gever" denotes strength and valor; although "gever" usually applies to humans rather than locusts, it conveys that these locusts advance with manly might. Regarding "be'ad ha-shelach," the Malbim distinguishes between shelach and cherev (sword): why does it not say "be'ad ha-cherev"? A cherev is double-edged, used for slashing and slicing, whereas a shelach is designed primarily for thrusting or piercing, like a lance or dart. When attackers jump down from the wall, defenders hold up the shelach so the descending soldier is pierced. Here, however, "falling upon the shelach, they are not wounded" - nothing harms them. Rashi offers another interpretation: "shelach" means a window or opening. They enter through the window despite weapons, and "lo yivtza'u" means they do not come for monetary gain (betza kesef). They come on a divine mission, not for plunder. He also cites Yonatan (Targum Yonatan), who explains "shelach" from the root of "shlichut" (mission): they come because Hashem sent them ("be'ad ha-shelach" - on account of the mission Hashem sent them), and they take no monetary gain. Someone driven by a sense of mission does not work for wages. And fighters acting purely for an ideology or cause are the most dangerous. Consider suicide bombers: who pays them? They are giving their lives! Ideologically motivated fighters, like the kamikazes of World War II, are far more dangerous than mercenaries fighting for money. Here too, they come on a divine mission, not for monetary gain; they are fiercely motivated and exceptionally dangerous. Radak adds another perspective: some enemies can be stopped with a sword; you strike them and halt their advance. But against this enemy, swords are useless: "falling upon the weapon, they are not wounded." Due to their lightness and agility, weapons do not affect them at all.
"In the city they rush about, on the wall they run, into the houses they climb, through the windows they enter like a thief." "In the city they rush about (yashoku)": Rashi explains this from the sound of rustling or swarming, as in "ke-mashak gebim," "dov shokek," "mamshek charul," making noise like the rustling of wings. Thus, you will hear their swarming commotion throughout the city. Another explanation connects it to neshek (weapons) - they enter the city armed. Radak connects it to "shok" (leg), fitting locusts with their long jumping legs: they set their legs upon the city, treading everywhere. Furthermore, the locust is in perpetual motion, never resting, like "ke-mashak gebim shokek bo," a place bustling with ceaseless activity (shokek chayim). The locusts never pause; they continuously teem and swarm. It might also relate to "mishtokeik" (craving), constantly seeking and craving to devour more. "Into the houses they climb, through the windows they enter": nothing will block them; even windows will not keep them out. The Malbim adds another interpretation for "yashoku": from "shevakim" (marketplaces). They traverse the markets and streets with a roar. A marketplace is a bustling, noisy place, full of clamor. He cites the verse in Nachum 2:5, "In the streets they jostle (yishtakshekun)" - an expression of commotion, as markets are places of bustling noise and tumult.
"Before it the earth quaked, the heavens trembled; sun and moon grew dark, and stars withdrew their brightness." "Before it the earth quaked" - upon its arrival, the earth trembles. This is a metaphor depicting pervasive dread. Rashi explains "the heavens trembled" literally: the host of heaven trembled in agitation. When misfortune strikes Israel, there is shuddering in heaven; over the suffering of Israel, the heavens tremble. "Sun and moon grew dark, and stars withdrew their brightness": the celestial bodies darkened, withholding their light. "Withdrew" (asfu) means drawn inward so that light is not perceived outwardly, as in "gather your hands" or "he gathered his feet." The Malbim explains that "before it the earth quaked, the heavens trembled" means the natural order was suspended. This occurs through direct Divine Providence. Hashem says, "I will shake the heavens, and the earth will tremble from its place." When Hashem acts through nature, it is through the celestial system - sun, moon, constellations, stars - which channel physical influences. But in spiritual, direct acts of Divine retribution, Hashem fights directly without relying on nature or physical systems. In Babylon's downfall, described in Yeshayahu, Hashem used the celestial system: "I will shake the heavens and the earth will tremble." Here, by contrast, the destruction is not through natural systems; it is directly from Hashem alone. Therefore, earth and heaven tremble because their authority and function are superseded by direct Divine governance. When direct Providence operates, the luminaries - sun and moon - darken, as Hashem does not utilize natural agents. The stars withdraw their brightness because Hashem is acting directly without the intermediary of nature.
"And Hashem gave forth His voice before His army, for His camp is exceedingly great, for mighty is he who performs His word; for great is the day of Hashem and very fearsome, and who can endure it?" "And Hashem gave forth His voice before His army" - the Malbim explains that here the verse reveals why Hashem suspended the natural order: because Hashem gave forth His voice. Hashem proclaimed this by His direct Providence before His army arrived - the locusts being His army. The Holy One, Blessed be He, announced that although the locust camp is vast, nevertheless, "mighty is he who performs His word." Pay close attention to this.
"For His camp is exceedingly great, for mighty is he who performs His word." One might have thought: who is "he who performs His word"? The locust camp! The camp that Hashem sent, the locust swarm, is great, and mighty in carrying out His command. However, the Malbim does not explain it this way. The Malbim says: "mighty is he who performs His word" refers to anyone who fulfills His word. And what did Hashem command? That they repent! That is Hashem's word. The verse says: Hashem gave forth His voice before His army, for His camp is exceedingly great, yet "mighty is he who performs His word" - he is mightier than that army! If you perform His word and repent, you are mightier than His vast army; you are mightier than the locusts and can overcome them. The Malbim explains this because Scripture does not engage in redundant repetition for mere poetic flair. As we have learned from the Malbim, the verse never repeats an idea twice just for embellishment; whenever a thought is repeated, it introduces a new concept.
Therefore, "His army, for His camp is exceedingly great" refers to the locusts. "Mighty is he who performs His word" refers to the people. He who performs His word - what is Hashem's word? That they repent - is mightier than the locusts. How does one overcome them? Repent, and you will see the locusts retreat. Repent, and you will prevail over them. He further states: "He gave forth His voice, saying: for great is the day of Hashem and very fearsome, and who can endure it?" This day designated by Hashem to punish sinners is great and awesome; who can endure it? Meaning: who is the person who will muster the strength to repent, and through that strength endure it - withstand that day and survive the calamity unscathed? Only one who is truly willing to repent can endure it. And why? Hashem gave forth His voice before His army: many days before sending the army, He voiced a warning through His prophet about the impending catastrophe. Therefore, whoever prepared and repented saved his soul.