The passage opens with the idea of kingship and privilege. The text tells us, "Craft for you – you use them, as you are king, but no one else may use them other than King David." This refers to instruments, likely trumpets, initially reserved for the Temple. However, the narrative quickly focuses on King David and his extraordinary devotion.

Rav says these trumpets were only for the Temple, but David used a lute. Why? Because, as it says in Psalms 57:9, "Awaken my honor. Awaken the harp and lute, I will awaken dawn." But this wasn't just David strumming a tune before sunrise. Rabbi Pinḥas HaKohen bar Ḥama paints a vivid picture: a lute hung above David's bed, and at midnight, a north wind would cause it to play on its own! This wasn't magic, but rather a symbol, a divine nudge. Immediately, David and his disciples would rise, dedicating themselves to Torah study until the morning star appeared.

David's words, "Awaken my honor," become a powerful mantra. What does it mean to "awaken my honor"? The text explains that it means prioritizing the service of God above all else. David's yetzer hara, his "evil inclination" or inner critic, would whisper, "David, you're a king! Sleep in!" But David would respond, "Awaken my honor. My honor is nothing before the honor of my Creator."

This is such a striking image, isn't it? The king, the most powerful person in the land, choosing to deny himself earthly comforts for spiritual devotion. This passage challenges us to consider what truly motivates us. What are we willing to sacrifice for what we believe in?

David's commitment extended even further. "At midnight, I rise to give thanks to You," he proclaims in Psalms 119:62. He felt obligated to rise at midnight to praise God for the wonders performed for his grandmother, Ruth, as described in the Book of Ruth (3:8-9). Remember the story? Ruth approaches Boaz at night. "It was midnight, and the man was startled and recoiled…she said: I am Ruth, your maidservant."

The story takes an unexpected turn. Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi ben Rabbi Shalom explains that when Boaz tells Ruth to "sleep tonight" (Ruth 3:13), she interprets it as a dismissal. Boaz then swears an oath, "As the Lord lives" (Ruth 3:13), to reassure her. This oath, the text emphasizes, wasn't just for Ruth's benefit. It was a way for Boaz to control his own yetzer hara. The text makes the bold claim that "all the righteous people administer oaths against their evil inclination."

This idea of the oath resurfaces with David and Saul. When Saul falls into David's hands, David proclaims, "As the Lord lives; rather, the Lord will strike him, or his day will come…[Far be it from me, before the Lord, to extend my hand against the anointed one of the Lord]" (I Samuel 26:10–11). Rabbi Shmuel bar Naḥmani explains that David took two oaths because his yetzer hara tempted him with the justification of self-preservation.

The passage then broadens its scope, addressing the universal struggle against the yetzer hara. Israel pleads before God, acknowledging the overwhelming power of this inner voice. God responds with a promise: "Clear it away a little in this world, and I will remove it from you in the future," as it is stated in Isaiah (62:10 and 57:14). This idea culminates with the promise of ultimate redemption: "I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh, and I will give [you a heart of flesh]" (Ezekiel 36:26).

So, what are we left with? The story of David and Ruth, of oaths and midnight awakenings, ultimately points to the ongoing battle within ourselves. It’s a reminder that even the most righteous figures faced temptation and had to actively fight against their baser instincts. And it offers a glimmer of hope: that one day, we will be freed from this internal struggle, and our hearts will be truly open to the divine. Perhaps the real question isn't if we have a yetzer hara, but how we choose to confront it.