Parshas Shelach 5780
Average leaders learn from their successes; great leaders learn from their mistakes. The more colossal the blunder, the greater the opportunity to analyze just what went wrong, and set a course in the opposite direction, ensuring that neither the leader nor the organization fall prey to a similar error in judgement again.
If ever such a blunder was made, it is the one recorded in this week’s parsha. From the opening words, “שלח לך—Send for yourself,” Chazal see the decision to send spies into Eretz Yisrael as one that lays with Moshe, as opposed to being mandated by Hashem. Its ultimate success or failure, then, ought to write the playbook that the future leader will take as well.
But it doesn’t. The mission of the spies blows up in the face of both Moshe and the nation, and the resulting debacle seems to make clear that such a mission should be viewed forever more as a fool’s errand, never to be repeated. Yehoshua, having been one of the spies himself and also the right-hand-man of Moshe Rabbeinu enjoyed a front row seat for the whole affair and its aftermath.
So what is the first act that Yehoshua himself performs upon assuming the mantle of leadership from Moshe? He sends a delegation of spies to scout out the Land.
וַיִּשְׁלַ֣ח יְהוֹשֻׁ֣עַ־בִּן־נ֠וּן מִֽן־הַשִּׁטִּ֞ים שְׁנַֽיִם־אֲנָשִׁ֤ים מְרַגְּלִים֙ חֶ֣רֶשׁ לֵאמֹ֔ר לְכ֛וּ רְא֥וּ אֶת־הָאָ֖רֶץ וְאֶת־יְרִיח֑וֹ
(יהושע ב:א)
And Joshua son of Nun secretly sent from the Shittim two men—spies—saying, “Go see the Land and Jericho.”
(Joshua 2:1)
Considering all that Yehoshua experienced—that he had lived through the blunder of the first time spies were sent into the Land—how could he possibly repeat the same error? How could he not learn from such an overt mistake?
The Malbim, in his commentary on Sefer Yehoshua, presents a number of distinctions that separate the spies sent by Yehoshua from the spies sent by Moshe, one of which is the difference in the number of spies that were sent. Whereas Moshe sent twelve spies, Yehoshua sent only two.
This is a difference, explains the Malbim, not only in number, but in kind. The twelve spies sent in the generation of Moshe served as representatives of the entire nation, with each tribe therein being represented by its Head of Tribe. This was a public mission, undertaken by the people themselves. Indeed, as Moshe reminisces in Parshas Devarim (see 1:22) over the manner in which this mission ultimately came to pass, he notes how the initial request actually came from the people, rather than a suggestion that he himself put forth.
That Yehoshua sends only two spies is an indication that this is not a nationwide agenda, but rather, something that Yehoshua undertakes himself as leader. There is information that he wishes to gather, but doesn’t believe that said information needs to be subject to the interpretation of the nation as a whole.
Yehoshua, then, did indeed learn from the folly of the first mission. His response, however, was not to abandon, but curtail. To transform a reconnaissance mission from a public affair to a private one. Ensure that only he would be privy to the information gleaned by the spies, without the need to pass public interpretation and approval. In Yehoshua’s estimation, it was not the mission per se that was problematic, but the public nature of the affair. Not everyone is going to “get it”, so why invite them in? The second reconnaissance mission is kept out of the public eye, and the disaster that was the result of the first mission was this time averted.
As a society, we have a hard time keeping things private. Social media has facilitated a culture of sharing personal moments, decisions, and opinions that a generation ago would not and could not have been made available for public consumption. Even when what is shared is of relatively little importance, we must be mindful of the pattern we are developing just the same, as we train ourselves to seek the approval of others in ways that may ultimately prove damaging.
Why do we post and share the things we do? Is there some part of us that feels a bit more at ease when others validate the experiences we enjoy or the opinions we hold? I don’t mean to suggest a comprehensive detachment from social media, just for a bit of mindfulness. What begins innocuously can develop into an inability to autonomously make decisions, even ones that truly shape the contours of our lives. Do we want those decisions—on any level—in the hands of others? An internal check in before posting and sharing, asking ourselves what we seek to accomplish by doing so, can help curb the trend and remind ourselves to avoid a default setting that demands external validation for internal satisfaction.
Michah HaNavi enjoins us to, “Walk modestly with your G-d—הצנע לכת עם אלקך”. Rules governing the clothes we wear seem to fall short of what sounds like the more comprehensive approach to religious life spoken of in this pasuk. Modesty means keeping things under wraps. It means recognizing that not everyone will understand or approve of your next step up in your davening or learning. Others will naysay your ability to tackle that Chessed project or have the impact on the Jewish world you envision achieving. You may know in your heart of heart what’s best for your children’s chinuch, but friends and neighbors may say otherwise. הצנע לכת declares that there is neither the need to convince them nor give them the opportunity to convince you. It means standing in Yehoshua’s shoes and appreciating that not all matters need be shared.