There is no doubt that the incident of the spies in this week’s parasha  _Shlach Lecha_ is one of our most tragic episodes. When you consider our history, this is quite the feat! 

After being enslaved in Egypt for hundreds of years, going through the plagues, the splitting of the Red Sea, receiving the Torah – Bnei Yisrael were on the doorstep of endgame – the Promised Land. We already know they weren’t of right mind – they wanted to go back to Egypt for the  cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions, and garlic.

The spies weren’t just random people picked by an algorithm. They were upstanding men – heads of their tribe. 
The people looked up to them but the spies didn’t look up to Hashem. When they said   _We are not able to go up against the people; for they are stronger than we _ as well as  _we were in our own sight as grasshoppers_  they removed Hashem from the equation and their mindset. 

Being a grasshopper didn’t stop the New York Knicks in Game 1 and it shouldn’t have stopped Bnei Yisrael in conquering the land. 

This is what Joshua and Calev tried to tell them   _If G-d wants to bring us into the land…G-d is with us, do not fear!_

It was not confidence in themselves that distinguished them. It was confidence in something beyond themselves. The people’s response was not merely to reject the land. They rejected the vision.

They turned against Moshe, the leader who had carried them from bondage toward freedom. Fear has a way of searching for someone to blame. It’s one of the recurring patterns of history: when a community loses confidence in its mission, it usually starts by losing confidence in its leaders.   

The punishment is severe. Forty years of wandering. An entire generation forfeits its future. The night of the spies becomes Tisha B’Av, a date that accumulates layers of national grief over centuries, as though one act of faithlessness created a gravitational field that history keeps returning to.

But Judaism is never only about failure. The story is always moving toward the possibility of repair.Maybe that’s why it’s interesting that five years ago, during the week of Shlach, President Herzog was elected.

The margin was 87–26. In gematria, 87 is פז, fine gold. The word suggests refinement, purity, something that has survived a process of being tested.

Psalm 87 is a song of Zion, declaring that Hashem loves the gates of Zion more than all the dwellings of Jacob.

What made President Herzog’s VOP initiative noteworthy wasn’t merely institutional. It was philosophical. He understood that there are voices people don’t hear because they don’t know those voices exist.

Leadership, at its best, isn’t about speaking louder. It’s about expanding the conversation.

Which brings us back to Calev.Before this parasha, he occupies little space in the narrative. There is no grand introduction, no catalogue of accomplishments. We know almost nothing about him.But history is not always shaped by those with the most impressive credentials.

Sometimes it is shaped by the person willing to stand apart when standing apart carries a cost.He was outnumbered. He was unpopular. He looked wrong.

And thousands of years later, he’s still the one we’re talking about.

May we all have a Shabbat Shalom