“Moses spoke to the tribal heads of the Israelites, saying, ‘This is the word that God commanded.’ ” (Numbers 30:2)
The question is well known: Why does the chapter not open with a verse explaining that God spoke to Moses, as it does in most other places? Rashi (ibid.) explains that while other prophets announced their prophecy with the words “So says God,” Moses’ prophecy was superior in that he announced it with “This is the word.” If this is so, then why, at the time of the exodus from Egypt, when there was such tremendous revelation, did Moses say (Exodus 11:4), “So says God,” while here, at this juncture, he said, “This is the word”?
We learn in the Talmud (Berachoth 10a); R. Samuelb. Nahmani said in the name of R. Yochanan: “Every chapter of Psalms that was particularly cherished by David, he commenced with ‘Happy’ and concluded with ‘Happy.’ He began with ‘Happy’ as it is written, ‘Happy is the man,’ and concluded with ‘Happy’ as it is written, . . . happy are all they that take refuge in Him.’ ” The Tosaphists (ibid.) ask: “Why does R. Samuel say ‘Every chapter’ when only one chapter in the entire Psalms begins and ends with ‘Happy?’ The very first Psalm begins, ‘Happy is the man,’ and the second Psalm ends, ‘happy are all who take refuge in Him.’ ” [Psalms 1 and 2 are one long chapter.] The Tosaphists answer: “Perhaps the Talmud does not mean specifically “happy,” but, more generally, whenever the closing lines resemble the opening lines, e.g., those Psalms beginning with ‘A song of David’ and ending with ‘I sing,’ or those beginning and ending with ‘Hallelujah,’ etc.”
Let us attempt to learn something appropriate to our situation from this teaching. We need to understand why David ended every chapter that he cherished with the same expression as that with which he opened.
Perhaps it is thus. In the introduction to the holy Zohar (1 a), we learn that the sephirah of Binah (Understanding) is sometimes called the world of Miy—Who, since it is open to inquiry but cannot ever be known, as it is so far beyond the boundaries of comprehensibility. The sephirah of Malkhut (Sovereignty) is sometimes called the world of Mah—What, because a person questions and inquires, trying to peer and penetrate from one level to the next, to the ultimate level where, upon his reaching it, we ask, “What do you know? What did you see?” For it is all is as mysterious as before he began searching. The tikun (Restoration) of the sephirah of Malkhut to its original perfection happens only when the unknowable quality of Mah is clearly revealed.
We learn in Talmud (Hullin 60b) on the verse (Genesis 1:16) “God made two great luminaries, the greater light and the lesser light” that the moon said to the Holy Blessed One, “Sovereign of the Universe! Is it possible for two kings to wear one crown?” God responded to the moon, “Go then and make yourself smaller.” When the Moon—Malkhuth (Sovereignty) proposed equality with the five higher sephirot of Ze’er (Small Faces), she caused a blemish. She wanted to be known, and the response to the moon was “Go then and make yourself smaller,” because fixing the blemish required the moon to negate her desires. She had to become unknowable, to be at the level of Mah (What). So it is with a person who, after all his worship and Torah study, realizes that he has not worshipped and has not grasped anything. As the holy Zohar said: “What do you know? What did you see? All is as mysterious as before.” The person becomes a manifest revelation of Koach Mah, The Power of What. [The Hebrew word for wisdom is chokhma, and the four Hebrew letters that make up the word chokhma—cheth, chaf, mem, and heh—can be rearranged to read Koach Mah, which translates as The Power of What.] By realizing that he knows nothing, the person becomes a revelation of the sephirah of Chokhma (Wisdom), which is Koach Mah, The Power of What. This is a revelation of the supernal Chokhma within his lower Chokhma, as is well known. Malkhut, the World of Mah that we all inhabit, is also known as the lower Chokhma. Hence the well-known kabbalistic aphorism “Father establishes Daughter,” Chokhma (Wisdom) = Malkhut (Sovereignty).
King David was the paradigm of Malkhut, and, as the Talmud tells us, whenever he cherished a particular psalm, he began and ended it with the same phrase. What it means is this: As we said earlier, the tikun (restoration) of the sephirah of Malkhut happens only when the unknowable quality of Mah is clearly revealed, and so whenever David set about perfecting the world, the beginning and the end of his psalms had to be the same. Above, at the beginning, are the two supernal sephiroth, Chokhma and Binah, Wisdom and Understanding, Koach Mah (The Power of What) and Miy (Who). Below, at the end, is the lower sephirah of Malkhut (Sovereignty), which is only perfected when Mah (What) is revealed. This is why David closed with the same phrase he used in the opening.
Another possibility could be this. We learn in the Talmud (Pesachim 117a): “Why do chapters sometimes begin, ‘To David, a Psalm,’ and sometimes, ‘A Psalm of David’? ‘To David, a Psalm’ indicates that the Divine Presence rested upon him before he composed the psalm, while ‘A Psalm of David’ indicates that he began composing that particular psalm, and only later did the Divine Presence come to rest upon him.” Obviously, when he composed a psalm before the Divine Presence come to rest upon him, the beginning of the psalm could not have been the same as the end, because it began without Divine Inspiration. When, however, the Divine Presence rested upon him from the outset, then the beginning was the same as the end. This is what was so cherished by David, for then the whole chapter was composed with Divine Inspiration. It rested upon him right from the beginning, and therefore he made the beginning and the end the same, for both beginning and end were equally infused with the spirit of prophecy. This was not the case with those psalms that opened without the Divine Presence—when the Divine Presence came to rest upon him only later. Then, the beginning and end were not the same quality and David did not give them endings that mirrored the beginnings.
If, as the Talmud states, whenever it is written “To David, a Psalm,” the Divine Presence rested upon him before he began, then the beginning and the end of these chapters should always be the same—but this is not the case. An explanation may be as follows. Only when the Divine Presence came to rest upon him as a consequence of his own devotions, after he had “awakened it from below,” did David make the psalm’s opening and closing the same, for when this happened, he himself was the same at the beginning and the end. But when the Divine Presence rested upon him as a gift, without his prior devotions, as “an arousal from Above,” then he himself was not in the same state at the end as he was in the beginning. To begin with, he was unprepared for Divine Inspiration, while by the end, he would have aroused himself to that level. Therefore, in those psalms he did not make the end the same as the beginning. In fact, a close reading of the text in the Talmud quoted above reveals a hint at this idea. The Talmud reads: “Every chapter that was particularly cherished by David.” When the chapter was accomplished by David, and brought about by his devotion as an “awakening from below,” he made the end the same as the beginning.
With this we can understand why the Talmud says that every chapter of Psalms particularly cherished by David commences with “Happy,” etc. As the Tosaphists say, this does not refer just to “Happy,” but to whenever he opened and closed with similar phrases, as in “I sing” and “Hallelujah” and so forth. Why does the Talmud specify “Happy”? Informed by what was just said—that it depended on whether David brought the Divine Presence to rest upon him through an “awakening from below”—the answer may be as follows. David could only achieve an awakening from below when he was happy, not when he was in pain and grief, and so the Talmud says, “He commenced with ‘Happy,’ ” because this—his happiness—enabled him to begin and end his psalm with the same expression.
It is impossible for someone to draw the Divine Presence down upon himself in times of pain and grief, may the Merciful One protect us. In the holy book Etz HaChayim by R. Chaim Vital, of blessed memory, we learn that one of the conditions of prophecy is that even in times of pain and suffering the prophet must be in a state of simcha (joy). Nonetheless, the prophet Elisha said (II Kings 3:15), “Bring me a minstrel,” in order to bring himself to a state of simcha. This would seem to indicate that even though he was always in a state of joy, nevertheless his pain blemished the joy, destroyed the conditions for prophecy, and prevented the resting of the Divine Presence, especially as it was to be brought about with “an awakening from below.”
This could also be one of the reasons why our sages, of blessed memory, say that the prophet Jeremiah wrote the Book of Lamentations before the actual destruction of the Temple, for the Book of Lamentations was dictated by Jeremiah and written by Baruch b. Neraiah (Jeremiah 36:4). We can understand this with what was said above. Lamentations was uttered with the spirit of prophecy, as the verse (Jeremiah 36:1) says: “Thus came the word of God to Jeremiah, saying, ‘Take a scroll and write in it all the words that I have spoken to you.’ ” After the destruction of the Temple, Jeremiah’s pain was so great that he would have been unable to utter Lamentations with any Divine Inspiration, because without at least some scrap of joy it is impossible to cry and lament with any spirit of prophecy. This is why he had to write the Book of Lamentations before the actual destruction of the Temple.
It is impossible to achieve prophecy in a state of depression. The Talmud (Shabbath 30b) says: “The Divine Presence rests upon a person only through simcha, and similarly in matters of Halachah (Law).” This also affects one’s ability to take some homiletical teaching from the painful experience, for even this is impossible if a person is grief-stricken and spirit-crushed. There are even times when it is impossible for a person to force himself to say anything or to interpret events because of the immensity of the breakdown and decline, may the Merciful One protect us.
With what can he strengthen himself, at least a little, so long as salvation has not appeared? And with what can the spirit be elevated, even the tiniest bit, while crushed and broken like this? Firstly, with prayer and with faith that God, Merciful Father, would never utterly reject His children. It cannot be possible, God forbid, that He would abandon us in such mortal danger as we are now facing for His blessed Name’s sake. Surely, He will have mercy immediately, and rescue us in the blink of an eye—but with what shall we gather strength over those, the holy ones, who have already, God protect us, been murdered—relatives and loved ones, and other, unrelated Jews, many of whom touch us like our very own soul? And how will we encourage ourselves, at least somewhat, in face of the terrifying reports, old and new, that we hear, shattering our bones and dissolving our hearts? With the thought that we are not alone in our suffering; God, blessed be He, bears it with us, as it were, as it is written (Psalms 91:15): “I am with him, in distress.” And not with just this thought, but with another, additional reflection: There is suffering we endure individually for our sins, or pangs of love that soften and purify us. In all of this, God merely suffers with us. But then there is suffering in which we merely suffer with Him, so to speak—suffering for the sanctification of God’s name. In the liturgy for fast days and High Holy days, we say, “Our Father, our King, act for the sake of those who were murdered for Your Holy Name.” They are murdered, as it were, for Him, and for the sanctification of His blessed name. In the Hosanna liturgy of the Sukkoth Festival we say, “Hosanna, save the one who bears Your burden, Hosanna,” because Jews are carrying His burden. The chief suffering is really for God’s sake, and because of Him we are ennobled and exalted by this sort of pain. With this, we may encourage ourselves, at least a little.
The liturgy reads: “Hosanna, save those who learn Your fear, Hosanna. Hosanna, save those who are slapped upon the cheek, Hosanna. Hosanna, save those who are given to beatings, Hosanna. Hosanna, save those who bear Your burden, Hosanna.” By “those who learn Your fear” we mean those who learn the whole Torah, of which it is written (Exodus 20:16): “. . . and so that God’s fear be upon your faces.” How is it possible to learn when we are being “slapped upon the face” and “given over to beatings”? Because Israel knows that she “bears Your burden,” and from this she is able to take some little encouragement.
How can we tell whether our suffering is due only to our sins, or whether it is in order to sanctify God’s name? By observing whether our enemies simply torture us, or whether we only are being tortured as a consequence of their hatred for the Torah. Regarding the decree of Haman, the Talmud (Megillah 12a) asks: “What did the Jews in that generation do, to deserve extermination? It happened because they partook of the feast of that wicked one [King Ahasuerus].” Yet, regarding the decrees against the Jews by the Hellenes in the story of the miracle of Chanukah, the question “What did they do to deserve it?” is not asked by the Talmud, even though many thousands of Jews were murdered, almost the whole Land of Israel was conquered, and the Hellenes penetrated the holy Temple. This was because Haman’s decree was only against Jews, and so people were sure it must be due to their sin that it had come about. The Talmud, therefore, asks, “Which particular sin warranted this decree?” This was not the case with the Hellenes. We say (Chanukah liturgy), “In the days of Matithyahu the High Priest. . . when the evil Hellenic kingdom rose up against Your people Israel to make them forget Your Torah and compel them to stray from the statutes of Your will.” There is no need to ask what sin brought it about, because it was suffering for the sanctification of God’s name, even though they may simultaneously have been cleansed of any sins they may have had.
“Return O God, until when?” (Psalms 90:13) Jews are giving their lives for the sanctification of God’s name. “Please, O God!” He will have mercy on His people and on His children who are killed and tortured for His blessed sake.
“When the Ark went forth, Moses said, ‘Arise, O God, and Your enemies will scatter and Your foes flee before You!’ ” (Numbers 10:35) The enemies of the Jewish people are the enemies of God, as Rashi (ibid.) explains. This is what our teacher Moses meant when speaking of the Ark and the stone tablets it contained. As we have said above, the proof that the pain being endured is for the sanctification of God’s name, and that the enemies of the Jews are the enemies of God, is when they conspire against the Torah. And so Moses says, “Arise, O God, and Your enemies will scatter and Your foes flee before You!” Arise, O God!
We learn the following in the Midrash (Exodus Rabbah 23:1) concerning the verse (Exodus 15:1) “Then (Oz) Moses and the Israelites sang this song.” “The verse (Psalms 93:2) says, ‘Your throne has been fixed since oz—then; You, God, are eternal.’ What it means is this: Your throne was not consolidated nor was it known in the world, until the Jewish people sang the ‘Song of the Sea,’ beginning with the word oz. A parable: What is the difference between a King and an Emperor? The first is depicted standing, while the other is always depicted seated.” When God sits, lowering Himself, so to speak, in this world, there is a greater revelation than when He stands. Thus, “Your throne has been fixed since oz,” because when the Jewish people were rescued and they sang the song, there was a revelation of God. Hence “Your throne has been fixed since oz.” But when, God forbid, the Jewish people are in pain, then we say, as it were, “Arise, O God,” for it is a desecration of God’s name when He is not depicted sitting. Therefore, “Your enemies will scatter and Your foes flee before You!”
Let us return to what was said above. Every chapter that was “cherished by David,” was cherished because it began with “an awakening from below,” when he drew down upon himself the Divine Presence. So, when the Torah wants to hint to us that our teacher Moses was greater than other prophets, in that his prophecy began, “This is the word,” it does not first say, “God spoke to Moses,” even though God actually did speak to Moses. The inference is that it was not with an “awakening from above” that God spoke, but solely with an “awakening from below.” Moses brought the prophecy about with his own effort, and this is what makes the greatness of his prophecy—” This is the word”—so complete. This was not the case in Egypt, when Moses said, “So says God.” Rashi (Exodus 11:4) explains: “While Moses was still standing before Pharaoh, this prophecy was spoken to him.” In those circumstances, it must have been an “arousal from above.” That is why, in that instance, the Torah does not mention the extra quality of his prophecy, “This is the word.” It is mentioned only here, in our opening quote, where there was the “arousal from below”—from Moses himself.