What happens to the Givonim after our story? They do not appear in תנ״ך at all. to understand their fate, we need to learn a halacha:
עמוני ומואבי אסורים, ואיסורן איסור עולם; אבל נקבותיהם מותרות מיד…ממזרין ונתינין אסורין, ואיסורן איסור עולם; אחד זכרים, ואחד נקבות.
Who are the נתינין?
א ואלה בני המדינה העלים משבי הגולה אשר הגלה נבוכדנצור (נבוכדנצר) מלך בבל לבבל; וישובו לירושלם ויהודה איש לעירו׃…מג הנתינים; בני ציחא בני חשופא בני טבעות׃…
ומן הנתינים שנתן דויד והשרים לעבדת הלוים נתינים מאתים ועשרים; כלם נקבו בשמות׃
הנתינים: הם ראשי גבעון ובנותיה ויהושע נתנם לבית אלקיו, ועל כן נקראו נתינים אע״פ שנאמר אחרי כן ”ומן הנתינים שנתן דוד והשרים לעבודת הלוים“, כי הטעם קיים הנתינה, או נקראו מן היום ההוא נתינים כי מקודם היו נקראים גבעונים.
The implication of the text in Ezra is that David righted the wrong that Saul had done: Yehoshua had designated the Givonim for עבודה, and Saul dispossessed them. David restored them to their role in the משכן; that was demanded by the injustice that בני ישראל had done. But why should they be forbidden to marry into כלל ישראל if they convert?
כב מי שנתגיר משבעה עממין אינן אסורין מן התורה לבוא בקהל…
כג והם הנקראים נתינים לפי שנתנם לעבודת המקדש. בא דוד וגזר עליהם שלא יכנסו בקהל לעולם ואפלו בזמן שאין מקדש…
כד ולמה גזר עליהם הוא ובית דינו לפי שראה עזות ואכזריות שהיתה בהם בעת שבקשו שבעת בני שאול בחיר ה׳ לתלותם והרגום ולא רחמו עליהם.
אמר רב חנא בר אדא: נתינים—דוד גזר עליהם, שנאמר: וַיִּקְרָא הַמֶּלֶךְ לַגִּבְעוֹנִים וַיֹּאמֶר אֲלֵיהֶם וְהַגִּבְעוֹנִים לֹא מִבְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל הֵמָּה וגו׳.
אמר, שלשה סימנים יש באומה זו: הרחמנים, והביישנין וגומלי חסדים. רחמנים—דכתיב (דברים יג:יח): וְנָתַן לְךָ רַחֲמִים וְרִחַמְךָ וְהִרְבֶּךָ. ביישנין—דכתיב (שמות כ:יז): [לְבַעֲבוּר נַסּוֹת אֶתְכֶם בָּא הָאֱלֹקִים] וּבַעֲבוּר תִּהְיֶה יִרְאָתוֹ עַל פְּנֵיכֶם. גומלי חסדים—דכתיב (בראשית יח:יט): [כִּי יְדַעְתִּיו] לְמַעַן אֲשֶׁר יְצַוֶּה אֶת בָּנָיו וְאֶת בֵּיתוֹ [אַחֲרָיו וְשָׁמְרוּ דֶּרֶךְ ה׳ לַעֲשׂוֹת צְדָקָה וּמִשְׁפָּט]. כל שיש בו שלשה סימנים הללו—ראוי להדבק באומה זו.
What are those three moral characteristics that make a person ראוי להדבק באומה זו? The prooftexts demonstrate that רחמנים, ביישנין וגומלי חסדים don’t have their literal meanings. They are gifts that ה׳ has given עם ישראל, and in a manner of speaking we only accept converts who bear the imprimatur of G-d’s approval: the potential convert must have those gifts. ביישנות doesn’t mean “easily embarrassed”; it means having יראת אלקים, awe of G-d, a sense of a higher moral authority. גומלות חסדים means doing both צדקה and משפט, doing what is right for others. But what then is רחמים? How is it different from גומלות חסדים? Levinas translates it as “pity”:
And yet the Gemara teaches more. A verse of the text (1 Samuel 21:2) indicates to us, seemingly as a simple piece of historical information: “The Gibeonites were not part of the children of Israel but of the rest of the Amoreans”. To this preliminary verse, the Gemara attaches the meaning of a verdict. It is David who would have excluded the Gibeonites from the community of Israel and relegated them to the Arameans. To belong to Israel, one must be humble (place something or someone higher than oneself ), one must know pity and be capable of disinterested acts. The Gibeonites excluded themselves from Israel.
רחמים refers specifically to how we approach משפט when we are involved. גומלות חסדים is disinterested acts (in the English teachers' definition of “disinterested”, “having no personal involvement”, not “uninterested, apathetic”). רחמים is how I care about the other, even when they oppose me, when משפט demands I care about myself.
What difference is there between pity and generous action [רחמנים and גומלי חסדים]?….[S]trict justice, even if flanked by disinterested goodness and humility, is not sufficient to make a Jew. Justice itself must already be mixed with goodness. It is this mixture that is indicated by the word Rachamim, which we hav badly translated as “pity”. It is that special form of pity which goes out to the one who is experiencing the harshness of the Law.
There is a line of justice. If I have a dispute with another and it goes to court, there will be a decision. The judge will decide that my rights extend so far, and the other’s rights extend up that point. That is “שורת הדין”, the line of the law. רחמנות means I give up something of mine even if it is mine by right. I willingly move the line closer to my side; לפנים משורת הדין. The idiom is the opposite of the English “beyond the letter of the law”. That means doing more than required. This means accepting less than pure justice, giving something up even it is rightfully mine.
And going לפנים משורת הדין is required by the Torah:
והזהרתה אתהם את החקים ואת התורת; והודעת להם את הדרך ילכו בה ואת המעשה אשר יעשון׃
אשר יעשון: זו לפנים משורת הדין.
ועשית הישר והטוב בעיני ה׳; למען ייטב לך ובאת וירשת את הארץ הטבה אשר נשבע ה׳ לאבתיך׃
הישר והטוב: זו פשרה [ו]לפנים משורת הדין.
רבה בר בר חנן, תברו ליה הנהו שקולאי חביתא דחמרא. שקל לגלימייהו. אתו, אמרו לרב. אמר ליה: הב להו גלימייהו! אמר ליה: דינא הכי? אמר ליה: אין; (משלי ב:כ) לְמַעַן תֵּלֵךְ בְּדֶרֶךְ טוֹבִים. יהיב להו גלימייהו. אמרו ליה: עניי אנן, וטרחינן כולה יומא, וכפינן, ולית לן מידי! אמר ליה: זיל הב אגרייהו. א״ל: דינא הכי? אמר ליה אין; (משלי ב:כ) וְאׇרְחוֹת צַדִּיקִים תִּשְׁמֹר.
It is no doubt this pity which the Gibeonites lacked! I have the impression that I have come back to the theme evoked by Mr. Jankélévitch when he opened this colloquium, even though no one in this hall has asked that the descendants of our torturers be nailed to the rocks. The Talmud teaches that one cannot force men who demand retaliatory justice to grant forgiveness. It teaches us that Israel does not deny this imprescriptible right to others. But it teaches us above all that if Israel recognizes this right, it does not ask it for itself and that to be Israel is to not claim it [emphasis mine].
And when Israel fails to embrace רחמים in this sense, then Israel ceases to exist.
”אשר יעשון“ זו לפנים משורת הדין, דאמר ר׳ יוחנן: לא חרבה ירושלים אלא על שדנו בה דין תורה. אלא דיני דמגיזתא לדיינו? אלא אימא שהעמידו דיניהם על דין תורה, ולא עבדו לפנים משורת הדין.
(The following is based on my shiur on reparations: פרשת בא תשע״ז)
So, there is a right to justice, to revenge historic wrongs. But actually claiming that right is wrong. Are we to give up on justice altogether?
Let’s look at a situation when בני ישראל were in the opposite position. They were historically oppressed, looking for justice against the oppressor.
It was the fulfillment of a 400-year-old prophecy:
יג ויאמר לאברם ידע תדע כי גר יהיה זרעך בארץ לא להם ועבדום וענו אתם ארבע מאות שנה׃
יד וגם את הגוי אשר יעבדו דן אנכי; ואחרי כן יצאו ברכש גדול׃
But it’s striking how the “יצאו ברכש גדול” is fulfilled:
ה ובני ישראל עשו כדבר משה; וישאלו ממצרים כלי כסף וכלי זהב ושמלת׃
לו וה׳ נתן את חן העם בעיני מצרים וישאלום; וינצלו את מצרים׃
I won’t deal with the implications of “וישאלו ממצרים”; I will simply translate as “asked from” rather than “borrowed from”. But what does וינצלו mean?
Rashi, based on the targum, translates it as “emptied”: “they emptied Egypt out”.
וינצלו: ורוקינו.
The Baal HaTurim cites the Gemara (and connects it to a gematria, as is his wont):
וינצלו את מצרים: בגימטריא עשאוה כמצודה שאין בה דגן (ברכות ט,ב).
But the problem with that is that the word נצל never means “empty”. It generally means “save”. The Rashbam points out that there are other uses of the root to mean “remove, take something from a place it does not belong”, which could go with the “empty” meaning:
ויתנצלו בני ישראל את עדים מהר חורב׃
וינצלו את מצרים: עדיי טוב מלבושיהן שאלו ונתנו על בניהם ועל בנותיהם. וכדכתיב ”ויתנצלו בני ישראל את עדיים מהר חורב“.
But there’s a problem with this. Look at all the other uses of the root נצל to mean “take off, plunder”:
ויצל אלקים את מקנה אביכם ויתן לי׃
ויען כל איש רע ובליעל מהאנשים אשר הלכו עם דוד ויאמרו יען אשר לא הלכו עמי לא נתן להם מהשלל אשר הצלנו; כי אם איש את אשתו ואת בניו וינהגו וילכו׃
ויבא יהושפט ועמו לבז את שללם וימצאו בהם לרב ורכוש ופגרים וכלי חמדות וינצלו להם לאין משא; ויהיו ימים שלושה בזזים את השלל כי רב הוא׃
In each case (except the last which does not have an object), the object of the verb נצל is the thing taken or “saved”, not the place it was taken from. In English that’s not a problem; one can “empty a pot” or “empty the water from a pot”, and “plunder a bank” or “plunder the gold”, but to have a use of a verb in תנ״ך that doesn’t correspond to anything else is problematic. Ibn Ezra notices the problem, but isn’t bothered:
[וינצלו] פועל יוצא לשני פעולים.
The Mechilta translates it as “saved”: בני ישראל “saved” the Egyptians by taking their gold and silver עבודה זרה:
וינצלו את מצרים: מלמד שעבודה זרה שלהם נתכת ובטלה וחזרה לתחלה.
The most insightful translation in my opinion (based on Rabbi Sacks) is from Benno Jacob. Jacob was an interesting character; he was a staunch Reform rabbi (1862-1945) (he never met a mitzvah he didn’t despise) but wrote a very traditionalist, anti-Documentary Hypothesis, commentary on Chumash. Jacob translates וינצלו as “saved” but with a twist:
Kn. and Di. interpretation “they pulled the Egyptians out, i.e., they looted the objects which they demanded”, represents a Germanization (entzogen), for only in that language is it possible to equate “pull out” with “plunder”: this has no relationship to our Hebrew text. Even if we assumed they “rescued” objects which were legitimately theirs, they should have been the object, not mitz-ra-yim.
We can only translate this phrase as “and they saved Egypt”. This does not refer to the Egyptian fear of death (our statement follows the last plague), nor was it concerned with the earlier plagues, which they deserved as they had not helped the Israelites. Rather they were saved from the future destructive hate of G-d and any final vengeance. [emphasis mine]
The key to understanding וישאלו ממצרים כלי כסף וכלי זהב ושמלת is that these “gifts” are reparations. They allow בני ישראל to leave Egypt without hating the Egyptians, without always looking for revenge. Rabbi Sacks connects this to a mitzvah in כי תצא:
לא תתעב אדמי כי אחיך הוא; לא תתעב מצרי כי גר היית בארצו׃
Now, forty years later, Moses speaks as if none of this had happened, as if the Israelites owed the Egyptians a debt of gratitude for their hospitality. Yet he and the people were where they were only because they were escaping from Egyptian persecution. Nor did he want the people to forget it. To the contrary, he told them to recite the story of the exodus every year, as we still do on Passover, re-enacting it with bitter herbs and unleavened bread so that the memory would be passed on to all future generations. If you want to preserve freedom, he implies, never forget what it feels like to lose it. Yet here, on the banks of the Jordan, addressing the next generation, he tells the people, “Do not hate an Egyptian”. What is going on in this verse?
To be free, you have to let go of hate. That is what Moses is saying. If they continued to hate their erstwhile enemies, Moses would have taken the Israelites out of Egypt, but he would not have taken Egypt out of the Israelites. Mentally, they would still be there, slaves to the past. They would still be in chains, not of metal but of the mind—and chains of the mind are the most constricting of all.
Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that.
The victim of injustice needs closure to go on with their life. There are three ways to achieve closure: reconciliation, revenge and reparation. Reconciliation, forgiving the perpetrator and just letting go of the past, is impossible for most people in egregious cases. Revenge works, but not long term:
Arguably, revenge could also serve the
function of closure for the individual; a possibility wholly excluded and deemed outside the
acceptable range of discourse of the South African TRC [Truth and Reconciliation Commission]. Equally, revenge could also serve as a way of perpetuating violence and in so doing trap the individual in the liminal space.
The word liminal comes from the Latin word limen, meaning threshold—any point or place of entering or beginning. A liminal space is the time between the ‘what was’ and the ‘next.’ It is a place of transition, waiting, and not knowing.
Reparation literally means “repair”, but it is not undoing the injustice but allowing the victim to feel that justice has been served.
Reparations are one of the main means by which truth commissions and similar processes
seek to achieve national and individual reconciliation, and they result in common
psychological consequences in each case. Psychologically speaking, the so-called symbolic
acts of reparation such as reburials, and material acts of reparation such as payments,
serve the same end. Both these forms of reparation can, although not necessarily, play an
important role in processes of opening space for bereavement, addressing trauma and
ritualising symbolic closure. They acknowledge and recognise the individual’s suffering and
place it within a new officially sanctioned history of trauma.
[I]f the desire for vengeance grips the survivor, then accepting paltry reparations
can also be experienced by the survivor as a disrespectful act that betrays the loss they have
endured or the memory of those killed. In essence, rituals of respect (such as retribution
through the courts) and remembering can be broken by reparations, just as they can in some
cases serve as a symbol of mending.
In order for reparations to work, both the perpetrator and the victim have to feel that the reparations are just and proportionate. In Egypt, the perpetrators were subject to ה׳’s open miracle: וה׳ נתן את חן העם בעיני מצרים. For the Jews, for us, it is our responsibility to let go of hate: לא תתעב מצרי.
And this concept becomes part of the ongoing halacha:
יב כי ימכר לך אחיך העברי או העבריה ועבדך שש שנים; ובשנה השביעת תשלחנו חפשי מעמך׃ יג וכי תשלחנו חפשי מעמך לא תשלחנו ריקם׃ יד העניק תעניק לו מצאנך ומגרנך ומיקבך; אשר ברכך ה׳ אלקיך תתן לו׃ טו וזכרת כי עבד היית בארץ מצרים ויפדך ה׳ אלקיך; על כן אנכי מצוך את הדבר הזה היום׃
And it continues to matter in Jewish history:
Is it possible to be bought off by such trinkets, to take mere money in exchange for the memory of those tortured or killed? Such was the argument of Menachem Begin with David Ben-Gurion at the beginning of relations between the new Germany and the start-up nation of Israel after World War II. Begin felt that to accept monetary reparations for Holocaust suffering was unacceptable: Don’t let them use a “gift” to purify their tainted souls.
Ben-Gurion felt differently. The money from Germany was not just compensation for stolen property and lost lives, but a necessary step in financing growth of the new land. Also, if Israel was to join the community of nations, it would need to have interaction with the Germans. To do so, Germans would need a way to apologize for the unforgivable, and Israel would need to accept such an apology, even if offered as a gift wrapped in cash.
The Givonim said, אין לנו כסף וזהב עם שאול ועם ביתו. They only wanted the descendants of Shaul dead. That demonstrated their lack of רחמים, and so והגבענים לא מבני ישראל, forevermore.