The Passuk in Mishlei (27-6) says, ‘Faithful are the wounds of a friend, but the kisses of an enemy are burdensome.’ The Gemara (Taanis 20., Sanhedrin 105:) explains that the curses of Achiya Hashiloni was better for the Jews than the blessings of Bilaam.
Achiya Hashiloni when he cursed the Jews (Melachim 1 14-15) he said that Hashem should strike the Jews like a reed sways in water. The Gemara explains that a reed grows in the water, its trunk gets replaced if cut, it has many roots and even the strongest winds can’t displace the reed. It just sways together with the wind and when the wind stops the reed stands straight again.
However, Bilaam blessed the Jews to be like a cedar tree. The cedar doesn’t grow next to water, its trunk never gets replaced if cut, and although the winds cant uproot it but when there is a very powerful southern wind it uproots the cedar tree.
(Rashi adds that although the Passuk says that Bilaam blessed Klal Yisrael to be like a cedar next to the water, these weren’t the words of Bilaam. Bilaam said that the Jews should be like a cedar and a Heavenly Malaach added next to the water.)
Achiya the prophet crowned King Yeravam ben Nevat to be King as Hashem wanted. He warned Yeravam to follow the commandments of Hashem. But Yeravam served Avoda Zara and caused others to serve too. So Achiya cursed Klal Yisrael to be like a reed.
But even so within the curse there are three good points to the reed. It grows next to water, even if you cut it grows again and no matter how strong the wind it still stays put.
Bilaam blessed Klal Yisrael to be like the cedar tree tall big and proud but sadly with three big disadvantages. No water, if cut it won’t regrow and a very powerful wind will uproot it.
Let us try and understand this Gemara a little more clearly based on the explanation of Rabbi Yankel Galinsky zt”l. Chazal tell us that from the blessings of Bilaam we can see how he wanted to curse the Jews.
Let us see the three differences between the cedar and the reed.
Firstly, the cedar grows away from the water. We all know the famous parable Rabbi Akiva told Papus about the fox that offered the fish to join him and be safe from the fishing nets. The fish laughed at the fox and replied that without water they will die instantly. So too Klal Yisrael need to be connected to the Torah that is compared to water. Without Torah we are spiritually lifeless!
Secondly, the cedar’s trunk doesn’t get replaced, the reed does. The Passuk in Mishlei (24-16) tells us that the Tzaddik falls seven times and gets up again. A person can fail again and again but has to continue trying again like the reed that even after its cut it grows again.
The Midrash tells us that there is a certain bean called a Turmus (a lupine) that needs to be cooked seven times to become soft and sweet. Now let us imagine, someone discovered this bean. He tried eating it, it was hard and bitter, completely inedible. Most people would have moved on but he decided to try his luck and cook the Turmus for a couple of hours until it became soft. He tried eating it again but it was far too bitter. Ok, he tried his luck but sadly it’s not edible like many more plants. But no, he tried again, and again and again but still no luck. Enough is enough. But no, the person kept on trying until the seventh time and then the bitterness disappeared and a delicious food was ready to eat.
And if this is beyond our imagination maybe we can try and look at those who try to make Esrog Jelly (jam). How many times do we cook the Esrog in water and sugar until we get an edible and enjoyable food?
Similarly, we try to concentrate during our prayers but we failed. We tried not to speak Lashon Hara but we failed. Once twice three times but should we give up? Is our spiritual future less important than the Turmus or the Esrog jelly?
That’s the lesson from the reed. It may be cut and cut but it regrows, it tries again and again. And that’s what Bilaam wanted to take away from us.
Then there is the third thing. The cedar stands against most winds but when a very powerful wind comes it falls down. The reed sways and sways but never gets uprooted.
We have many great spiritual challenges in life. Sometimes we even face extra powerful winds. Are we like the cedar that finally crashes over or are we like the reed that may sway to the side but still remains intact.
Stories of Resilience and Return
Rabbi Mottel Slonimer zt”l told over the following story. The was a villager who had a chicken coop. Amongst the chicken he had one prized chicken with brown feathers that laid extra-large eggs, double the size of the other eggs. The villager was proud of his chicken, he treasured it and looked after it carefully.
His neighbor was jealous and begged him to sell him the chicken. But the villager refused, in his eyes his precious chicken was nearly priceless.
One morning the villager came to his coop and the prize chicken was gone! He immediately suspected his righteous neighbor. He knocked on his neighbor’s door, “open up”, he shouted.
“Who is there,” asked the neighbor? Recognizing his neighbor’s voice he knew he was in for trouble. “It’s me. Open up before I break down your door.” “Ok ok I’m coming, give me five minutes, I am in pajamas and the house is a mess. Five minutes and I’ll open.”
The neighbor started thinking fast what to do. Ah, he had a brainwave. He quickly took the chicken put his hand over its beak so it shouldn’t shriek and he quickly plucked off all the brown feathers. He quickly threw the feathers into the burning oven. He stuffed the chicken under his bed and went to open the door. “What gives me the honor of a visit so early in the morning?” “Where’s my chicken,” asked the villager sternly? “Oh, did something happen,” asked the neighbor? “Did it disappear or get stolen?” “Yes it’s disappeared,” replied the neighbor with fire in his eyes. “Oi vei oi vei, if you would have sold it to me you would have at least had the money.” “I don’t need no money. Give me my chicken!” “Me? your chicken? how dare you suspect me. Come in and look for yourself.”
The villager entered his neighbor’s house and started looking around. He searched all over until he finally lifted up the bed covers and saw a pair of eyes underneath the bed. “Oi my dear chicken,” he cried pulling it out from the bed. “What happened to all your feathers?” and turning to his neighbor he cried, “what did you do to my dear chicken?” “Stop,” shouted the neighbor, “that’s not your chicken, “it’s my chicken and I use the feathers as quills to write.” The arguing continued so they went to the local judge.
The judge asked the claimant, “what proof do you have that its yours?” “The chicken has brown feathers.” But sadly now the chicken was featherless! “The rule is,” said the judge, “that someone that is holding something means it’s his unless proven otherwise.” “I have a proof,” said the villager. “Please come with me.” So the villager went followed by the judge and his neighbor until they arrived at the villager’s house. He continued and stopped between his and his neighbors houses. He turned to the judge and said, “look, I claim its mine and my neighbor claims it’s his. Let’s put the chicken down and see where it runs to.” The chicken changed hands and the villager carefully put the chicken on the ground. It immediately started hopping into the villager’s yard and straight into its coop.
Rabbi Mottel Slonimer finished off and added that we may stray from the right path but at the end of the day every Jew belongs to Hashem and some day will hop back home as the Passuk says in Yeshaye (60-8).
Never Disconnected
Reb Mottel Slonimer told over another story. His father, Rabbi Yehuda Leib was a Chassid of the Yesod Ha’avoda, Rabbi Avraham Weinberg of Slonim. One night before he went to sleep he did some soul-searching and tried recollecting how he behaved that day. After a few minutes he was very upset. He felt that his prayers weren’t the way they should be, his Torah study was far from perfect, his Mitzvos were very poor, he wasn’t keeping control over his thoughts or his speech.
Rabbi Yehuda Leib was in a dilemma what to do after such a terrible day. He decided to go to see his Rebbi, maybe he will be able to have an audience with him and share his troubles. As he neared his Rebbi’s home he saw the light was still on. He quietly opened the door to his Rebbi’s house without knocking so not to wake up any family members. The Rebbi was sitting there with his head in his hands busy soul-searching what happened during the day.
Reb Yehuda Leib heard a familiar conversation. “My prayers aren’t prayers, my Torah study isn’t the way it should be, my Mitzvos are far from perfect. Oi vei, what will be? Where is the ‘fear’ (Yirah) and the ‘love’ (Ahavah) required (from every Jew to Hashem) during my Torah study, prayers and Mitzvos?” And the tears were pouring down the Rebbi’s face. Suddenly the Rebbe shouted out, “Ribbono Shel Olam I may have strayed far away but I haven’t become cut off, I am still connected.” Rabbi Yehuda Leib got his answer, quietly slipped out and went back home. And that is the message to all of us. We may have strayed very far but we have never become disconnected!
