Shelach Lecha: Desiring What Is Forbidden

“Kids, we’re going to visit Grandma and Grandpa, let’s get ready!” You shout up the stairs.

“I’m not coming!” Your ten-year-old fights back.

“Don’t be silly, we’re all getting in the car now!” 

“But I hate Grandma and Grandpa’s house. It’s so boring and there’s nothing to do, and they’re so old…!”

“Right,” you say, “Well, you’ll stay at home then…”

Sixty seconds later, your ten-year-old bounds down the stairs and runs towards your car. 

“Go back inside,” you say, “After your disrespectful behaviour, you’ll have to stay home this time…”

“But I want to come…” your kid says….

This may sound like a childish story on the surface, but in truth, this story is a mirror of ourselves and our human psyche. As Shlomo Hamelech writes in Mishlei¹ “Stolen waters are sweet.” The moment something is forbidden to us, off-limits, we desperately pursue it. For children, this may mean taking the cookies that are saved for Shabbat. But for adults, the phenomenon is the same, only the externals have changed. 

Hashem’s Torah, with all its wisdom, is incredibly real with the strengths and weaknesses of human beings and the stories which sound almost childish, are the most mature truths. In this week’s parsha, we have a fascinating episode. In the aftermath of the slanderous report of the spies, a group of Jewish people decide that they will attempt to ascend to Eretz Yisrael and conquer it themselves. What a crazy phenomenon! Ten spies terrified the nation, telling them that the land is occupied by invincible giants, and they are too puny to engage in battle with them. The nation spends the night crying bitterly over what they think is a hopeless situation. Finally, Hashem tells them that they cried for nothing and displayed a lack of faith by listening to false reports of the land which He told them was beautiful and plentiful; flowing with milk and honey. As a consequence, the nation has to wander in the desert for 40 years before arriving in Eretz Yisrael. 

Suddenly now they decide that they want to go up to the land? They just spent the whole night crying how terrible the land is even though Hashem said it was good, and now that they aren’t allowed to, this is when they want to go? This is an incredible insight into human nature. Desiring that which is forbidden. But more than that, our pressing question is: what encouraged them to go up to the land? Moshe told them not to go, he would not be with them. Hashem made it clear that they would not have success. The pillar of cloud and fire which accompanied them everywhere, smoothing out the bumps on their journey, were not with them. What were they doing, going on a crazy mission to conquer a land with no assistance, no guidance? 

Hashem’s Torah, with all its wisdom, is incredibly real with the strengths and weaknesses of human beings and the stories which sound almost childish, are the most mature truths. In this week’s parsha, we have a fascinating episode. In the aftermath of the slanderous report of the spies, a group of Jewish people decide that they will attempt to ascend to Eretz Yisrael and conquer it themselves. What a crazy phenomenon!

Of course, Rabbi Kallus explains, it was wrong that they went up. They were punished, and they were obviously not successful in their mission. But we learn from their behaviour something so powerful. When something is incredibly difficult to attain and we have a desire to achieve it, we have to just go for it. The mindset was correct, but the timing was wrong. Yes, there was no Moshe and no pillars of cloud and fire to guide us. But when a Jew has a dream, a desire, that seems so out of reach, we have to push for it. They were wrong to go when Hashem explicitly told them not to, but they were so right that when all seems hopeless, a Jew has to go for it anyway! The pesukim (verses) that describe what they did can stand as an eternal inspiration and encouragement for us, in achieving our deepest desires and dreams in life. 

This is the key to understanding a seeming contradiction in an earlier verse. ‘We were like grasshoppers in their eyes,’² the spies informed the people. We are so vulnerable and small before them. We are so weak and defenseless. But, Rashi tells us that the spies heard the inhabitants of the land saying that we are like ants. Why did we switch to grasshoppers? If they said we are like ants, why didn’t we say we were like ants in their eyes? Where did grasshoppers come from?

We were acknowledging something so profound, the very concept that has kept us going through our long exile. We may be smaller than our enemies and we may get trodden on, but we are no ants. Ants are tiny and seem so insignificant. Even though we knew that is how we were perceived, we knew that we were greater than that. We were in touch with ourselves. We were at least grasshoppers! We may have been relatively small, comparable to an insect. But we would never call ourselves ants. If we were ants, all would be over. We would be crushed. But, no! We are grasshoppers, we get pushed down, and we jump right back up! This is how we have survived all these years in exile. We may be small, but we know how to jump back!

There is a Mishna in Pirkei Avot³ which seems to completely contradict itself. The beginning of the Mishna says, ‘Be bold like a leopard,’ suggesting that we push boundaries in our service of Hashem. But then the Mishna continues ‘The bold-faced one goes to Gehinnom (hell),’ clearly telling us that this trait of brazenness is to be avoided at all costs. So, which one is it? It is both. It is all about our focus. We should be bold and courageous, we should push past limits to achieve our dreams, but only in a way that is fitting for a child of Hashem. We have to have a certain Jewish chutzpa, outspokenness, in order to survive our exile. That special trait called ‘azut d’kedusha,’ holy impudence. But only in a framework that is in line with our service of Hashem. 

When that group of Jews went up to Eretz Yisrael, the timing was wrong, but the demonstration of azut d’kedusha, their brazenness to do that which seems impossible, is something every Jew should emulate in exile. When we were called ants and we named ourselves grasshoppers, we were making a statement about our very identity as Jews. We bounce back. We rise above. We jump and fly and soar when we are challenged. Being a grasshopper is perhaps a bit impudent or cheeky- you’ll know they are hard to grab if you’ve ever tried – but being a grasshopper is great. When that chutzpa is used in the service of Hashem, when we use our grasshopper status to jump back into action every time we are pushed down in exile or experience struggle in achieving our dreams, we are certain to soar in life. Ants get crushed. That would never be us. We are grasshoppers. 

Inspired by Rav Shraga Kallus

1. 9:17 ↩︎
2.  Bamidbar 13:33 ↩︎
3. Ethics of the Fathers, 5:23 ↩︎