In an alternative exposition, Rashi defines afeihem as, “I will make them Pe’ah.” This refers to the corner of the field which the owner may not harvest; he must set it aside for the poor. The pasuk is, thus, implying that, as pe’ah is hefker, ownerless, property available for others (who fit the criteria of ani, poor man) so, too, will the Jewish people become vulnerable, exposed to the nations, as though they are ownerless. In his Shabbos Shuva derasha (5733), Horav Yitzchak Yaakov Weiss,zl, Minchas Yitchak, Raavad of Yerushalayim, wondered why Hashem chose pe’ah as the symbol of hefker, when the produce of Shemittah is likewise ownerless.
Dayan Weiss explains that hidden within this frightening decree is a remarkable message of consolation. Shemittah produce is truly hefker to all. During the seventh year, anyone may enter a Jew’s field and partake of its produce, even a non-Jew. Pe’ah, however, is different. Although the owner has relinquished it, he has designated it specifically for the Jewish poor. It is not an unrestricted abandonment, but a controlled act of giving, retaining a unique connection to its owner and to Klal Yisrael.
This idea sheds light on the symbolism of pe’ah. Hashem was intimating that, while Klal Yisrael will be treated as hefker, they will, indeed, be vulnerable to the designs of the nations, but they would never truly become ownerless. The Jewish People will be exposed and defenseless, but never abandoned. We may appear to be hefker, but we continue to remain within the domain of Hashem.
A man had worked for the same company for twenty years, until one day he was given a pink slip; he was being replaced. There was no disguising the reality – this was a “curse,” a serious challenge. His income disappeared, his family’s security was shaken, and months of searching for reasonable employment produced nothing. Friends comforted him that, ultimately, it would all work out, but, for the present, that seemed to be a dream.
Unable to find a comparable position, he reluctantly began a small consulting business from his home. The first year was difficult and financially draining. Yet, over time, the business grew beyond anything he could have achieved in his former position. More importantly, the flexibility allowed him to spend time with a son who was struggling and desperately needed his father’s presence. Years later, he would say that, had he remained employed, he might have earned a steady salary, but he would have lost his relationship with his child. The dismissal itself remained a curse. Losing a livelihood was not transformed into something pleasant. Yet, sewn into the lining of that curse was a blessing that could not have emerged without it.
A curse is an adverse challenge. The fact that something positive emerged as a result does not change the current challenge. Not every curse is a blessing in disguise. Sometimes, it is a curse in reality, but hidden within its fold is a blessing that only time will reveal. Exile is without question a serious punishment. Yet, blessings are concealed within that punishment. The Jewish People dispersed among the nations could never be destroyed with one blow. The curse of galus carried within it the blessing of survival. That would itself become the medium of preservation.
