Parashat Shelach Lecha is one of the most pivotal and haunting portions in the Torah. It contains not only the tragic episode of the spies—the meraglim—but also four mitzvot that Chazal compare to the entire Torah: Shabbat, Tzitzit, Challah, and Yishuv Eretz Yisrael—the mitzvah to live in the Land of Israel. While each of these is powerful, one stands at the heart of our national destiny: the command to love, cherish, and settle the Land of Israel. Our member and eloquent exponent of Aliyah, Rabbi Paul Bloom, explains.
The Sin That Defined an
Exile
That moment—a night of baseless despair
and rejection of the Promised Land—became the root of Tisha B’Av, a day that
would echo with destruction through Jewish history. The sin was not only lashon hara about the land, but
something deeper: a rejection of the land itself, a bizayon ha’aretz, despising the very gift Hashem had prepared for
them.
Lashon Hara, Again—and
Again
The Torah places the story of the spies
immediately after the episode of Miriam speaking against Moshe. Rav Yisrael
Ordman explains this is no coincidence. The spies should have learned from
Miriam’s punishment the danger of slander. She failed to see Moshe’s unique
spiritual level; the spies failed to see Eretz Yisrael’s unique spiritual
status. They were not sent just to report military strategies—they were told by
Moshe to look for the segulah of the
land, its Divine uniqueness. But they got caught up in the mundane: the giants,
the cities, the fears. They were blind to holiness.
Rav Soloveitchik offers another
dimension: the spies were elite leaders who could not bear the idea of losing
their status. Entering the land meant new leadership, new roles, new
structures. The spies’ vision was clouded not just by fear—but by ego. They
failed as sheluchim—messengers—not
because they lacked information, but because they lacked bitul, the humility to carry a message that wasn’t about them.
Contrast this with the second mission,
decades later. Yehoshua sends two anonymous spies to Jericho. The Torah doesn’t
name them. They are “cheresh,”
silent, like klei cheres—simple,
humble vessels. Their report is filled with faith: “Hashem has given the land
into our hands.” No fear. No ego. Just clarity.
The Eternal Sin of
Despising the Land
Rav Yaakov Filber points out that the sin
of the spies didn’t end in the desert. It repeated itself during the Babylonian
exile. Despite Hashem's miraculous opening of the gates for return through Ezra
and Nechemiah, most Jews stayed behind in the comfort of exile. They preferred
their homes, their jobs, and their familiarity over the challenge—and
holiness—of rebuilding life in Eretz Yisrael.
Tragically, we see the same today. The Vilna
Gaon recognized this centuries ago. He urged his students to return and
rebuild. One of his disciples, Rav Hillel of Shklov, wrote in Kol HaTor that many Jews in his
time—especially observant ones—were still committing the sin of the spies. They
rationalized their comfort in exile and denied the mitzvah of Yishuv Eretz
Yisrael, despite clear Talmudic sources stating that dwelling in the Land is
equal to all the mitzvot of the Torah.
Rav Yaakov Emden, in his introduction to
his siddur, pleads with future generations not to settle permanently in chutz la'aretz, warning that the sin of
despising the "desirable land" is the root of our eternal weeping.
A Test That Returns in
Every Generation
Today, we are seeing open
miracles—whether in the resilience of Israel in times of war, the unity among
Jews under fire, or the blossoming of Torah and technology in a once-barren
land. Yet many still view Eretz Yisrael through the lens of cynicism: bureaucracy,
climate, personalities. As in the time of the meraglim, they ignore the Divine
Presence, the spiritual vitality, the promise unfolding before our eyes.
We must ask: Are we repeating the sin of
the spies?
Do we speak of the Land with reverence—or
with lashon hara? Do we view Aliyah
as a central mitzvah—or an optional inconvenience? Do we focus on the
difficulties—or the destiny?
Redemption Awaits the
Shift
The Mesilat Yesharim warns that kavod, the pursuit of honor, distorts
perception. The spies feared loss of position. But Yehoshua’s messengers
embraced their role as simple vessels. That’s the model we need today. The
mitzvah of living in Eretz Yisrael is not merely a footnote—it is, as Chazal
say, equal to all the mitzvot. When we embrace it with humility, with emunah, and with joy, we begin to undo
the tears of Tisha B’Av. We open the door to redemption. As we approach the
final stages of exile, the question is no longer whether we can return, but
whether we are willing to.
Moshiach is not waiting on history. He is
waiting on us.
