Still Waters Run Deep

The Gemara states that we don’t find anywhere that Shaul actually killed any Givonim. Rather, his culpability stems from a different event: Under his instruction, the city of Nov was annihilated for what he perceived to be a rebellion against his authority. The penalty for someone who rebels against a king is death. Ultimately, however, King Shaul was held accountable for this grievous error, since, in fact, the inhabitants of Nov were not rebelling against him. King Shaul was already forgiven and/or punished for this aveirah. However, the sin had an unforeseen effect, for which King Shaul was held accountable.

Rashi explains that the Givonim would supply wood and water to the city of Nov for use on the altar. The Gemara states that, in return, the inhabitants of Nov would supply them with bread and water. When the city of Nov was annihilated, the Givonim no longer had a source of sustenance. Seven Givonim subsequently perished. King Shaul was held responsible for their deaths since he (wrongly) eliminated the source of their provisions.

The actual text of the Gemara, though, is a bit peculiar. If the Givonim provided water to Nov, why did the residents of Nov provide water in return? (Rashi, in fact, appears to have had a different text in the Gemara, for he simply states that the residents of Nov provided the Givonim with food. They suffered from a lack of food, but they had their own water.)

There is a fascinating Maharsha that explains the Gemara differently than Rashi. When the Gemara states that “they provided them with food and water,” it doesn’t mean that Nov provided the Givonim with food and water. Rather, it means that the Givonim provided the city of Nov with food and water. So why did the Givonim perish if, in fact, they had their own food and water? The Divine merit that ensured that the Givonim had food and water stemmed from the fact that they were the suppliers of food and water to people who served Hashem. This was their mitzvah. When there were no longer any ovdei Hashem to supply, they no longer had a Divine merit to support their own well-being. Lacking this merit, the Givonim suffered economically. They were so impoverished that seven of their members apparently starved to death. King Shaul was held liable for their deaths since he deprived them of their source of merit.

We see from here the great merit in supporting people engaged in mitzvos. Some of the Givonim only lived on account of this merit. On the flip side, we see that the depth of Divine judgement is awesome. A person can be held accountable for the suffering of an individual that was only indirectly caused by his taking a z’chus away from that individual.

However, the Aruch L’Ner understands our Gemara according to the simple reading; the residents of Nov did, in fact, provide food and water to the Givonim in return for their wood and water. Why did the Givonim need water in return? Their water was not fit for human consumption. The Givonim needed Nov to provide them with bottled potable water to survive.

Not all the water that is sold on the market comes from a natural spring. PepsiCo Inc.’s Aquafina bottled water is made with tap water. Likewise, Coca-Cola Co.’s Dasani is produced from purified water sourced from public reservoirs. Although this isn’t news to some consumers, many people are blindsided by this revelation. They indignantly complain, “Why should we have to buy our own water?” Interestingly, this statement sounds similar to the statement in Eichah (5:4) of “Meimeinu b’kesef shasinu – Our water we drank for money.” The literal understanding of the verse is that the B’nei Yisrael were bemoaning the fact that they had to pay for water that was rightfully theirs anyway.

The Gemara in Yevamos (108b) has a different application of that verse. It is well known that water is a metaphor for Torah. Rav Yehuda said in the name of Rav that the verse can be applied to the following incident.

The Romans imprisoned Rebbe Akiva. A halachic question arose that no one could answer. They had to pay a man four hundred zuz to somehow get into the prison and ask Rebbe Akiva the question. To get their “water” – namely the Torah – they had to pay a fee. Rav felt that the scholars felt indignant in having to pay for their own Torah. However, the plain meaning of the verse doesn’t seem to be a parable with this homiletic interpretation.

The Midrash says that the pasuk in Eichah was referring to water from a well owned by Jews. Presumably, it was dug with much exertion and expense. A person can certainly feel indignant at having to spend money to acquire something that he already worked so hard for and already owned. However, why should a person feel indignant at having to pay money to acquire Torah knowledge from the greatest sage of the generation? Rebbe Akiva acquired his Torah knowledge through his very own toil and selfless devotion. The Torah seeker shouldn’t feel indignant in paying for something that he never worked for and never attained.

A professional would have no issue in paying a consulting fee to discuss a matter with a professional with more experience than himself. Yet, the Gemara describes Rebbe Akiva’s Torah as meimeinu, our water.

HaGaon Rav Henoch Leibowitz, zt”l, pointed out that we see from this Gemara that the Torah is everyone’s birthright. Clearly, Rebbe Akiva attained a level of Torah scholarship that surpassed others in his generation. Yet his loftiest levels of Torah are still called “ours.” We have an inborn right to the loftiest stratospheres of Torah knowledge as much as we have a right to water that we drilled deep into the earth through clay and rock to get to.