Small tidbits and Sparks of wisdom

Tehillim opens with a hard truth that has never been more relevant than it is today: a person’s spiritual direction is determined not by his intentions but by the company he keeps. Even the strongest, most disciplined person can collapse gradually if he surrounds himself with people whose values run against Torah.

David begins with אַשְׁרֵי הָאִישׁ — not a single praise, but praises in the plural. Rashi, Metzudos, Radak, and Meiri all explain that a one-time good act doesn’t define greatness. A person is praised only when his actions are consistent and his path is steady. Rav Hirsch adds that the root ashar means “to stride forward.” The world calls the wicked “progressive” and Torah “primitive,” but Tehillim declares the opposite: the righteous are the only ones truly moving forward.

The definite ha-ish, “the man,” marks someone complete, strong, full of youthful energy, yet self-controlled (Otzar Nechmad). But even such a man is vulnerable if he takes the wrong path. So David lays out the mechanism of decline: walk → stand → sit. Each stage is deeper, slower, and more dangerous than the last.

Walk — the first exposure

“Who walked not in the counsel of the wicked.”
This is the beginning — casual association, innocent conversation. A person asks advice from someone morally compromised. He thinks he’s in control. But as the Michtav MeEliyahu warns, even the wicked man’s words carry poison. You absorb more than you realize.

Radak notes that people from youth are drawn to desires; therefore David first warns against their influence, even before addressing actual sin.

Stand — from curiosity to comfort

“Nor stood in the path of sinners.”
Once you walk with them, you end up standing with them. Lingering. Becoming comfortable.

Malbim distinguishes categories:
– רְשָׁעִים: intentional sinners
– חַטָּאִים: frivolous, careless people
– לֵצִים: mockers who belittle seriousness

Ibn Ezra and Metzudos explain that leitzim distort words, mock others, and expose private matters to shame them. Once you stand near such people, their worldview seeps into you. The Satmar Rav explains: what begins as inadvertent sin becomes justified, then accepted.

Sit — identification and collapse

“Nor sat in the session of scorners.”
Sitting means belonging.

The Chofetz Chaim warns that even if you don’t join their mockery, simply sitting with scoffers contaminates the soul (Shemiras HaLashon). Avos d’Rabbi Nosson teaches that the atmosphere alone harms a person. Akeidas Yitzchak and Kli Yakar add that the moshav of leitzim awakens impurity within, and the Kelm school writes that the spiritual air itself becomes toxic.

This is how it works:
You walk — exposure.
You stand — comfort.
You sit — identity.

And all along, you think you’re the one who’s doing the influencing.

The antidote: filling the inner world with Torah

“But his desire is in the Torah of Hashem.”
Radak says this is the alternative to worldly cravings. Metzudos teaches that pursuing Torah reshapes a person’s inner will until sin loses its appeal. Daas Soferim writes that Torah study transforms the heart, making negative influence lose its grip.

“And in His Torah he meditates day and night.”
Rashi notes this refers to meditation; Metzudos adds it includes both thought and speech. Orach Chaim 47:4 and the commentaries explain that even thinking Torah counts as a mitzvah. Radak emphasizes that “day and night” means a constant heart-direction toward Torah in all actions, including mitzvos, life decisions, and the atmosphere one places himself in.

A person anchored deeply in Torah can withstand what others cannot. But without that anchor, even great people slide.

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Application to Today’s Reality

This message hits directly at a major challenge of our generation. Many Jews raised in strong Orthodox homes drifted leftward. They call themselves “in the middle,” but the lifestyle, values, and culture they embrace are far to the left. And this creates a dangerous nisayon for those who remain fully observant.

People involve themselves with such individuals — sometimes for kiruv, sometimes “to bring brothers closer,” sometimes for fundraising or communal purposes — believing their intentions protect them.

But influence doesn’t ask your intentions.
Influence follows simple rules: environment shapes the person.

A frum Jew who spends time with people whose homes, habits, entertainment, and attitudes are shaped by secular values will absorb those values slowly.
He becomes “understanding,” then “flexible,” then “open.”
He becomes comfortable where he once felt out of place.

Exactly like Tehillim said: walk → stand → sit.

And the world sees it clearly. People watch who you associate with. They know what that means. More importantly, your own neshama knows it.

You cannot remain unchanged while breathing the atmosphere of a lifestyle built on laxity, leitzanus, permissiveness, and the pursuit of comfort. Even if you tell yourself it’s for a good cause. Even if you think you’re stronger. Even if you imagine you’re saving others.

You can’t drag someone out of the fire if you’re already standing in the smoke.

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Conclusion

David HaMelech opens all of Tehillim with a warning that applies with full force today:
Great people fall not through dramatic rebellion, but through slow exposure, soft compromises, and the mistaken belief that they can stand in the middle without being moved.

If a person hopes to lift others upward, he must be anchored firmly in Torah — not casually, not socially, but with genuine desire and daily immersion. Otherwise the pull of the surrounding culture will drag him downward long before he realizes it.

The cure for others never justifies spiritual self-damage.
A person must remain rooted, clear, and protected — or he will become exactly like the people he hoped to change.

That is the sober, timeless truth of Tehillim 1.