The text explodes with frustration and defensiveness. After all his hard work, "a foolish, silly, and wicked person" – a "son of a worthless one," no less! – criticized his work. The critic, he says, is an "empty-headed fool, all sinners and transgressors, his mouth spews forth." Strong words, right? But what exactly was this criticism about?
Apparently, this "holy and wonderful book," described as "a book of great usage and a valuable tool to fight against the enemies of God," had a flaw. A flaw that the author admits he "did not handle well." He immediately assures us that he has a solution, a divine remedy even! "Let Israel know," he declares, "that there is no rock like our God, a great artist who provided me with precise signs, profound symbols to remove the assuredly harmful effects." He promises to reveal it at the right time, to "open the mouths of the mute." But, he cautions, understanding requires study, a "Chochmat Cheshbon" (wise conversation, skillful calculation), which "a fool will not understand."
It seems like this isn't just about a simple mistake. It's about the very nature of understanding, about who is qualified to judge. "Are we dealing with the judges here?" he asks, rhetorically dismissing the critic's opinion as "worthless." He scoffs, "A wise person judges a foolish person with contempt and derision, and there is no delight between them." He directs us to "the Book of Usage," reminding us of the sages' wisdom: "Anyone who engages in Torah for its own sake merits many things, and the secrets of Torah are revealed to him." This isn't just about intellectual ability; it's about intention, about approaching the Torah with a pure heart and a "soul yearning for it."
He reveals that the flaw involves "the image of the impure shadow image, a venomous serpent with three heads." A powerful, and clearly dangerous, image. He warns us to "distance themselves from it and be cautious of its bite." He accuses his critic of being drawn to something impure, claiming "The fool believes that the form of the daughter of the Cut-off One (a derogatory term) is beautiful and perfect. It is firmly ingrained in him like a dog and follows him until the day of his death." Ouch.
He repeats the "dog" metaphor several times, comparing the critic to a dog and accusing him of leading others astray: "And one fool leads many fools astray." There's a sense of betrayal here, a feeling that his efforts are being undermined by someone who doesn't understand the true importance of the work.
Despite the harsh words, there's also a plea for understanding and a declaration of his own integrity. "The faithful Lord knows my faithful heart, and He tests my thoughts." He even acknowledges the possibility of error: "If a flaw clings to my palm, and my dogs agree, it is true without blemish, serving those who fear the Lord."
Interestingly, he mentions serving "the Christian and his covenant and testimonies." This might seem surprising, but it highlights the complex and often intertwined relationships between different religious communities in this period. He concludes by affirming his commitment to righteousness, stating, "With the righteous, I will be kind; with the stubborn, I will wrestle and put his leg to the side." He insists that he will always speak truth to power, even if it means confronting the wicked. "Far be it from God, the Rock of my salvation, to be ashamed. In Your loving kindness, I have trusted forever, and I will not be put to shame."
In the end, this passage is more than just a defense of one's work. It's a passionate cry for understanding, a plea for recognition, and a reaffirmation of faith in the face of criticism. It reminds us that even in the most sacred endeavors, human emotions – frustration, anger, and the need for validation – are always present. And perhaps, in acknowledging those emotions, we can find a deeper appreciation for the work itself.