The sin of the spies – the het hameraglim – is the most severe sin in the Torah and it has the most serious and severe consequences – the journey to Eretz Yisrael grinds to a halt for 38 years.
Not only is the crime more severe and the punishment terribly harsh, the aftermath of the Het Hameraglim is one of the Torah’s most dramatic accounts of attempted teshuvah, a depiction of a desire to repent and to make it right.
When the spies return and slander the Land of Israel, the population bursts into tears bewailing their fate. The next day they are told of God’s anger and the fate that awaits them – all of the adult Jews will die in the desert. “And Moshe said these things to all of the Children of Israel, and the people were overcome by grief.”
It at this moment, that a segment of the community, finally, at last, understands that they cannot stay in the desert forever. It is at this moment that a segment of the community understands that God’s support is more important than fortifications or military might.
The Torah tells that the very next morning, a group arose and ascended the hills into Eretz Yisrael saying, “We are prepared to go up to the place that the Lord has spoken of, for we were wrong.”
There is no more dramatic and instant act of teshuvah recorded anywhere in the Torah. And yet this brave journey fails.
“And Moshe said, “Why do you transgress the Lords’s command? This will not succeed. Do not go up lest you be routed by your enemies for the Lord is not in your midst.”…Yet defiantly they marched toward the crest of the hill country, though neither the Lord’s Ark of the Covenant nor Moshe stirred from the camp. And the Amalekites and the Canaanites who dwelt in that hill country come down and dealt them a shattering blow at Hormah.”
Why does this attempt fail? These pioneers seem so earnest and so noble? Why was their repentance not accepted? Was it truly necessary to wait 38 years before the march to Eretz Yisrael could continue?
The Torah says very little about this episode but does offer hints towards an answer. When these pioneers describe their plan to undo the decree and to march to Eretz Yisrael, their language echoes a much older episode of the Torah.
.וַיַּשְׁכִּמוּ בַבֹּקֶר וַיַּעֲלוּ אֶל רֹאשׁ הָהָר לֵאמֹר הִנֶּנּוּ וְעָלִינוּ אֶל הַמָּקוֹם אֲשֶׁר אָמַר ה׳ כִּי חָטָאנוּ
They awake early in the morning. They ascended the mountain. They declare themselves ready to accept responsibility for what will come – “hineinu – here we are,” they say. Who spoke that way? Who awake early in the morning and set forth to climb a mountain?
Avraham on his way to the akeidah – on his way to bind and sacrifice his son Yitzchak. There are parallels in the plot lines of the two episodes too. The akeidah is an example of God commanding an act of sacrifice, a faithful Jew being willing to make that sacrifice, and then God calling him back because the sacrifice wasn’t necessary and the sacrifice wasn’t wanted.
The ma’apilim, these defiant pioneers, sacrificed themselves for the sake of a noble vision. But here, they were explicitly told from the outset that their sacrifice was not needed and was not wanted. They want ahead despite God’s call for restraint. Unlike the earlier akeidah, this time, there are many sacrifices and many victims.
What is the Torah telling us by connecting these episodes through hinting, without explicitly linking these episodes? There are many possible ways to understand this inter-textuality. Here’s one lesson:
The Torah is not a book of absolutes and the Torah is not a book about fundamentals. Only God is fundamental. Everything else is contextual. No value: not obedience, not courage, not Eretz Yisrael, is absolute. Avraham had to struggle to understand God’s Will. It had seemed so clear – God’s voice clearly told Avraham to bind his son Isaac and make him into an offering. And yet Avraham has to listen carefully to hear the angels telling him to cease and desist at the very last moment, the knife in his hand. The willingness to listen carefully is praiseworthy and so is the ability to stop at the last minute and to pay attention to what the angels say.
One day earlier, the conquest of Eretz Yisrael would have been a great mitzvah. But at the wrong time, it’s uncalled for. Everything has to be evaluated in its time and context. Every value, every mitzvah, every communication we hear from God has to be evaluated. Nothing stands Alone except God in God’s unique solitude.
The same is true in our own lives. All of us have strengths and we have weaknesses. And it’s easy and common to reinforce our strengths, the character traits that serve us well, the activities that make us most proud, and to apply the tried and true lessons that worked so well for us to every new situation.
The Greeks, more than others, understood, that our most tragic weaknesses are the very same traits that animate our greatest strengths and are responsible for our proudest achievements. Our most tragic failures occur when we double down and recommit ourselves to our core beliefs, when we pledge allegiance to our most familiar slogans, and when we march behind old and tested banners.
But that doesn’t work. Something as basic as the courage to enter Eretz Yisrael can be praiseworthy on one day, and misguided on the next day. Only cultivating the sensitivity to listen, to truly listen, to the ever present voice of God, can lead us right path. Sometimes that voice is booming. Sometimes it comes in the quiet voice of an angel. Sometimes it comes in the voice of a fellow human being. May we learn to listen well.
Rabbi David Wolkenfeld 