The Israel Koschitzky Virtual Beit Midrash

Surf A Little Torah
Yeshivat Har Etzion

by Rav David Silverberg

Parashat Shelach brings us the tragic story of the "meraglim," the scouts who led the nation to doubt God's ability to lead His nation to victory against the Canaanite armies. The Midrash comments that these twelve spies were actually of the highest religious caliber. They were God-fearing men in every sense of the term. In light of this, commentators throughout the generations have searched for clues as to what flaw brought the scouts to such a severe crime.

The Kotzker Rebbe makes an insightful observation regarding the scouts' report of their findings in Canaan. In describing the enormous size of the Canaanite giants, the scouts claim, "… we were in our eyes like grasshoppers, and so we were in their eyes." Herein, suggests the Kotzker, lies a fundamental mistake of the scouts. They concerned themselves too much with how others viewed them. Their trepidation of military confrontation against the Canaanite people emerged - if only in part - from their assessment of how the enemy viewed them. They self-consciously noted the impression they left on the natives of Canaan, and from here arose their insecurity about conquering the land.

It is interesting to note that immediately following this verse - "and so we were in their eyes" - the Torah records that the nation began wailing from fear, arousing God's anger. It may very well be that the scouts' report simply ended there, and when they finished speaking the people broke out in hysteria. Alternatively, however, we may suggest that specifically this information - that the natives viewed Benei Yisrael as helpless insects - triggered the nation's nervous outburst of terror. Like their leaders, they were overly concerned with their perception in the eyes of the foe; this, it would seem, played a critical role in their sensationalist reaction to the scouts' report.

Among the major questions surrounding the incident of the "meraglim" is whether or not they spoke falsely about the land. Based on this analysis, it may be that their sense of truth was clouded by their unreasonably worries over how the Canaanites viewed them. They did not lie maliciously, but their perception of reality was molded by their exaggerated interest in how they were viewed. Indeed, one who constantly worries about their assessment in the eyes of others will find it difficult to remain steadfastly devoted to truth. He will have to accommodate his beliefs or activities to meet the needs or demands of his peers' protocol. Perhaps this is one of the less obvious - but profoundly critical - messages of the sin of the spies.

The Gemara in Bava Metzia (59a) teaches, "Even when the gates of prayer have been locked, the gates of tears have not been locked." There are times when the Almighty refuses our prayers. Our tears, however, will always reach His ears. Heartfelt remorse and yearning can never be rejected by our Father in heaven, even when, for whatever reason, He turns His back, as it were, to our prayers.

Rav Simcha Bunim of Pashischa raises an interesting question regarding the Gemara's imagery of "gates." If, indeed, the proverbial "gates of tears" are never shut before us, then why are there "gates" at all? Translating his question into more basic terms, what does the Gemara intend through the use of this image?

His answer comes from this week's parasha: "The whole community broke into loud cries, and the people wept that night." For certain forms of weeping, indeed the "gates of tears" do close. Not all tears are guaranteed entry into the heavenly chambers; only those that emanate from sincere feelings of humble remorse and longing for closeness with the Almighty. Senseless weeping, such as that which followed the report of the scouts, are not accepted in the heavens.

What does this mean?

Literally or figuratively, we all "weep" to some degree. We hope, pray, or even demand that our wishes be fulfilled. Moreover, we get frustrated and disappointed when they are not. It is worthwhile, however, to think carefully about the motivation behind our longings. When we feel disappointed over not having achieved something, perhaps we should ask themselves, how important, in the grand scheme of things, was that unrealized achievement? We will discover that we often "weep" senselessly. The things that leave us feeling down or dejected very often do not deserve so much attention or emotion. Benei Yisrael cried despite God's oft-repeated guarantee of assistance. There was no need for fear, concern, or tears. They wept anyway, fearing the challenges that combat would undoubtedly present. Perhaps one lesson for us is the need to maintain perspective, and to carefully discern when our "tears" are in order and when they are simply for naught.

Parashat Shelach concludes with the mitzvah of tzitzit. The Torah says about the tzitzit, "you shall look at it and recall all of God's commandments and observe them, so that you do not follow your heart and eyes…" Chazal interpret the feared "following" of the eyes and heart as referring to inappropriate thoughts and sights in which people might naturally tend to indulge. Tzitzit reminds a person of God's mitzvot, thus helping him avoid thoughts or sights that threaten to undermine his quest for spiritual excellence.

At least regarding "following" of the heart, another interpretation may be suggested. The Kotzker Rebbe commented that following one's heart in this verse refers to routine, natural conduct, activity performed by rote without any investment of effort. The Torah warns that one may not perform mitzvot haphazardly. God's commandments demand the respect of effort and concentration, that one apply himself intently to each mitzva so that he execute his responsibilities at the highest level.

Interestingly enough, it is specifically within the context of tzitzit that the Torah issues such a warning. One would be hard-pressed to find a mitzva that can more easily become rote and thoughtless routine than tzitzit. At best, the individual contemplates the mitzvah when he puts on the garment. Throughout the day (or tefilah, in the case of a "tallit gadol"), however, one rarely thinks even for a fleeting moment about the fact that he wears tzitzit (except maybe during the summer heat, when the extra layer of clothing becomes somewhat noticeable)!

To be sure, the demands articulated by the Kotzker are not easy. Perhaps the first step is to take a moment before every mitzvah - berakhot, tefilah, helping others, Torah study, speaking to parents, etc. - and think about the importance of what we are about to do. This may help us generate the excitement or at least concentration required of such a lofty pursuit as avodat Hashem.

The Shulkhan Arukh rules (O.C. 339:4) that a Bet-Din (rabbinical court) may not convene to conduct proceedings on Shabbat. The Rema adds that Jewish law-enforcers may not arrest a criminal on Shabbat. Presumably, a criminal who endangers the general welfare of society may be incarcerated on Shabbat, and indeed this is the ruling of Rav Eliezer Waldenberg (Tzitz Eliezer, vol. 11, 33), based on the Mishna Berura's comments allowing the capture on Shabbat of a recalcitrant husband who refuses to administer a religious divorce to his wife. The instance of which the Rema spoke was when the Jewish community had the power of punishing Torah violators, and would arrest those found transgressing the mitzvot. When the violators in question pose no apparent threat to society, they may not be seized on Shabbat.

This ruling of the Rema sparked an interesting controversy among the Acharonim, which actually relates to verses in our parasha. The "Shevut Yaakov" attempts to disprove the Rema's position based on the incident of the "mekoshesh," the Shabbat violator who was found doing forbidden work in the field on Shabbat. The verses indicate that he was brought to Moshe already onShabbat. Does this not convincingly refute the Rema's view?

Of course, the simplest answer is that the Rema's prohibition applies only on the level of rabbinic enactment, which seemingly did not apply during Benei Yisrael's sojourn in the wilderness. A more creative approach, however, is cited in the name of the "Kerem Shelomo." He claims that in truth the "mekoshesh" was not brought to Moshe. Rather, he was placed under house arrest, or some equivalent thereof, until after Shabbat. Although this may seem like a far-fetched interpretation of the verses, some later commentators have actually found some support for this reading from the text itself. Generally, the verb used by Chumash for detaining one in prison is the Hebrew verb "netina." (See, for example, the verse's description of Pharaoh's imprisonment of the baker and wine-bearer - Bereishit 40:3). Here, however, the verse states, "vayanichu" (15:34), which evolves from the Hebrew verb "hanacha." It may be, therefore, that this usage connotes figurative imprisonment, whereby the individual is merely guarded so that he cannot escape, rather than actual incarceration.

Before sending the scouts, Moshe prepares them with a long list of questions. In so doing, he employs a special grammatical form of questioning, by which the letter "hei" is placed at the beginning of the word to mean, "Is it?" For example, when inquiring about the strength of the inhabitants of the land, Moshe asks, "HEchazak hu" - is it strong? - "HArafeh" - is it weak? Similarly, when addressing the quality of the land, Moshe inquires, "HAshemeina hi" - is it plentifu - and so on.

As you've probably noticed, however, while this form generally features the opening letter "hei" with a "patach" (or "chataf-patach") vowel - "HA," in the first example we cited - "HEchazak" - the "hei" appears with a "segol" vowel - "HEchazak." Why?

The difference relates to the letter following the "hei" in each instance. Generally, this construction is used with a "patach" (or a "chataf-patach") - "HA." However, the "segol" vowel is used when two conditions are met. First, the following letter must be one of the four special "throat letters": "alef," "chet," "ayin" or "hei." Secondly, this letter following the "hei" must have a "kamatz" vowel. In our case, "hechazak," the letter following the "hei" is a "chet," and it has a "kamatz" vowel sound ("CHA"). Therefore, the "hei" is pronounced with a "segol" vowel sound, rather than a "patach" (or "chataf-patach").

It is important to note that this discussion pertains only to the special question-form of the opening letter "hei." If words begin with a "hei" for some other reason, then these rules do not apply. We consider this important to note because of a common error in the Shabbat morning kedusha service. Towards the end of kedusha we say, "kadavar HA'AMUR al yad nevi'ekha" ("Like that which was stated by Your prophet"). Many people, however, erroneously pronounce the word, "HE'AMUR." Indeed, the letter following the "hei" is an "alef," one of the four "throat letters," and this "alef" appears with a "kamatz." However, this "hei" is not a "hei" of a question-form. (It's a "hei hayedi'a.") Therefore, it is not subject to the rules discussed, and the word should therefore be pronounced, "ha'amur."

(Based on Dr. Eliyahu Netanel's column, "Ma'aneh Lashon" in Shabbat B'Shabbato, 19 Sivan, 5755)

Towards the beginning of Parashat Shelach, the Torah lists the names of the twelve scouts Moshe sends to Canaan. The list includes, of course, the scout from the tribe of Menashe as well as that from Efrayim, the two tribes that emerged from Yosef. Curiously, however, the Torah mentions Yosef only in the context of the tribe of Menashe: "From the tribe of Yosef, from the tribe of Menashe, Gadi son of Susi." For some reason, when the Torah mentions Efrayim's scout several verses earlier, no mention is made of Yosef.

Rav Yaakov Kaminetzky suggests an interesting answer related to a historical phenomenon regarding Yosef's offspring. Recall that in Parashat Vayechi, Yaakov senses the onset of his final days and administers a special blessing to Yosef. It was then that Yaakov declared that Yosef is to be divided into two, distinct tribes, founded by his two sons, Efrayim and Menashe. Yaakov then added, "But progeny born to you after them shall be yours; they shall be recorded under the name of their brothers in their inheritance." In other words, any subsequent children born to Yosef were to be included under their brothers' tribes, rather than constituting their own, independent tribes. (Seforno, however, understands the verse differently.) How was this to be determined? Under which tribe would they be included - Efrayim or Menashe? Rav Kaminetzky suggests that Yosef was given the authority to determine under whose banner these subsequent children would be included. Presumably, they joined the tribe of Menashe, whereas he was the older of the two sons. Therefore, it turned out that the dominant representation of Yosef's descendants was, in fact, within the tribe of Menashe. Therefore, the Torah here mentions "the tribe of Yosef" specifically in reference to the tribe of Menashe.

(In truth, we have no explicit source indicating that Yosef in fact had more children. However, the Ibn Ezra there in Vayechi writes that he very well may have, but since they did not receive a portion in the land independently, the Torah never deemed it necessary to mention them by name.)

Among the questions Moshe poses to the scouts is, "… are there trees in it [the land], or not?" Rashi cites the Midrash's homiletic interpretation of the verse, that Moshe here refers to righteous people. Moshe asked the scouts to examine not only the agricultural and military qualities of the land, but also the spiritual quality of the people. The scouts were to see if there were any righteous people in whose merit the Canaanite population would be spared Benei Yisrael's conquest.

This interpretation, of course, understands the word "trees" are referring to tzadikim. Many approaches have been taken to explain this analogy; we present here the explanation of Rav Moshe Sternbuch. The quality of a tree is assessed primarily by the fruits it produces. Similarly, the Canaanite tzadikim whom Moshe feared were not isolated people who buried themselves in lonely pockets of morality. Rather, he was concerned that Canaan might be blessed with influential spiritual leaders who profoundly raised the general ethical and spiritual standards in the population. Should these tzadikim succeed in leading large segments of the population to a greater awareness of God and His will, then this merit might protect them from Benei Yisrael's planned conquest.

This Midrash brings to mind Avraham's plea to God to spare the city of Sedom. Recall that the Almighty had decreed annihilation for the iniquitous city, and Avraham begged Him to rescind the decree. God agreed to spare the city should ten righteous people be found in the city. Here, too, the issue of communal impact comes to the fore. A small handful of ethical people within an ocean of corruption will not bring about an annulment of the divine decree. Ten such individuals, however, constitute a mini-community of sorts, as we know from the halakhot regarding a "minyan." A communal body representing the values of ethics and morality has the capacity to influence and change. Therefore, ten righteous people could have potentially spared Sedom from destruction.

Bringing us back to the spies, ten of the twelve scouts successfully led the entire nation into mass hysteria that ended in calamity. Indeed, from God's use of the word "eda" in reference to the ten spies (14:27), Chazal learn that ten people constitute a "tzibur," a community. Just as ten righteous people in Sedom would have had the capacity to bring about some measure of change, so were ten sinners capable of leading the nation to rebellion.

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