Parshas Shelach 5783
A number of years ago, I led a trip to Israel with my old congregation in Ohio. It was a group of about twenty people, many of whom had never been to Israel before. The expectations were high for the trip of a lifetime, and many months had gone into crafting the itinerary together and scheduling nearly every moment of the trip in advance. As we made our way to Yerushalayim directly from the airport, we stopped at the Haas Promenade, a beautiful lookout overseeing the Old City and the surrounding areas. While there, I handed out a special gift to every member of our party, bracelets emblazoned with the letters “WWJD” (thank you, Oriental Trading). I explained that for our purposes, the letters didn’t stand for what the rest of the world might surmise. As far as we were concerned, they stood for, “What Would Joshua Do?”
The juxtaposition of two seemingly unrelated parshios often piques the curiosity of the Chachamim. In the case of Parshas Shelach, Chazal wonder why it is that the story of the spies being sent into Israel comes immediately on the heels of the finale of last week’s parsha, detailing the punishment Miriam receives for speaking lashon hara about her brother, Moshe. They explain that that episode should have served as a cautionary tale for the spies, but they sadly missed the point.
Sadly, I think I may be missing the point as well. Miriam speaks lashon hara about Moshe, perhaps the greatest human being to ever live. Moshe is the conduit of the Divine Will from G-d to the People, and serves as the leader of the chosen nation. Even if we were to draw the lesson from being punished for criticizing such a person of such incredible renown to the average individual, how can we be expected to extend the lesson further to even include real estate? The sin of the spies was in giving an unduly harsh and pessimistic view of the Land to the nation awaiting their report. If they were indeed at fault, in what way is their misstep linked to Miriam and to the sin of lashon hara?
A closer look at Miriam’s infraction is in order. Though the precise critique of Moshe is not especially clear from a reading of the pesukim themselves, what is clear is a comparison she makes between herself and Aharon on the one hand, and Moshe on the other.
וַיֹּאמְרוּ הֲרַק אַךְ־בְּמֹשֶׁה דִּבֶּר ה׳ הֲלֹא גַּם־בָּנוּ דִבֵּר וַיִּשְׁמַע ה׳:
(במדבר יב:ב)
And they said, “Did Hashem speak with Moshe alone? Did He not speak with us as well?” And Hashem heard.
(Bamidbar 12:2)
The Torah is informing us of what lies at the crux of Miriam’s lashon hara, and, in serving as the Torah’s paradigm for lashon hara in general, what oftentimes lies at the crux of this sin in all its various iterations. Specifically, the error lies in the assumption of a parallel between my own life and experience, and that of the other. If Moshe is not the only navi—“Did Hashem not speak with us as well?—then he should not abide by behavior different from that of other nevi’im. It is this comparison and sin that begins to blaze an errant trail for Miriam, and for us as well.
Where does our own lashon hara emerge from? A similar mistake. The assumption that if another person’s behavior or attitudes don’t jive with my own, they may be roundly criticized for it. But isn’t that very comparison so often off base? Who is to say that the person I’m now slandering shares a similar background, worldview, mindset, or personality to my own? Isn’t it possible that the differences between us—items beyond one’s control—have helped to create the unfortunate behavior I’m now speaking about?
To be sure, actions themselves may well be objectively improper. But in passing judgement on the person exhibiting them, have we fully taken stock of challenges or shortcomings they innately possess that I may not? And is their behavior even objectively wrong, or only seen as such when viewed through the lens of my own experience, that may simply be different from theirs?
It was this lesson the spies should have learned. In transitioning to life in Eretz Yisrael, they may well have assumed—correctly to no small degree—that life would be shifting from the supernatural to the natural. No more food falling from the sky and no more Clouds of Glory. The Jewish People were to enter a land that they’d need to cultivate and protect themselves, without Divine Intervention. They made an assumption and projected it upon the Land.
But they were wrong. Miracles would still exist, if perhaps more subtle. Yes, the land is inhabited by giants, whose fortifications are overwhelming and whose grapes are the size of bowling balls. They compared the facts on the ground to their own expectations, and saw the Land as a death trap.
But those very expectations were made in error. Yes, the Land would need to be conquered through miraculous means, but it most certainly would have. Yes, the enormous fruit didn’t align with their assumptions about their new life, but those assumptions should have been questioned. The parallel between Miriam and the spies is in the error of parallels. If my own expectations do not align with the reality I see before me, perhaps those expectations should be questioned. Perhaps I should reconsider before I ridicule.
Yehoshua saw things differently. He may well have had his own assumptions about what life in Israel would be like, no different from the other spies. But he was unfazed when those assumptions didn’t match what he saw before him. This was my message to my congregants when I handed out those bracelets. “What would Joshua do?” Our trip was sure to have its share of disappointments and not everything would go according to plan. How we would react was a choice that was up to us. We could grow bitter and annoyed and leach negativity into the rest of the group, or we could adjust our expectations and roll with the punches. We kept the bracelets on, and opted to see the Land as Yehoshua did. It wasn’t perfect, but it was phenomenal trip.
Why am I disappointed or frustrated with my child? Is it because of genuine wrongdoing or misbehavior on their part, or does their behavior simply not align with my preconceived notions of how children ought to behave? If their interests don’t align perfectly with my own, does it become a source of tension, or do I bring myself to adjust the expectation that their lives and personalities simply won’t parallel my own to a T?
Am I in a fight with a spouse or a friend or a sibling because they’re really being impossible and unreasonable? Or am I just witnessing a different way of dealing with or reacting to some situation or issue? Is the problem really with the other person, or is the problem with my inability to budge from my own expectations?
Have I truly been shortchanged by Hashem? Or are my expectations for how much I ought to be blessed with simply too grand?
In Parshas Ki Seitzei (Dev. 24:9), we are commanded to remember how Hashem punished Miriam for her actions. We are falling short of that obligation if we remember only the symptom but not the underlying cause. Miriam was a holy woman, a prophetess, whose lashon hara was a far cry from the biting gossip or slander that can at times cross our lips. It is the root of the problem that links us. Before we speak, before we judge, before our demeanor turns dark and cynical, we need to ask ourselves how much of the fault lies in the other person’s behavior, and how much lies in my assumptions about how they ought to act.