Parashat Shelach and the Fight for a Just and Authentic World

Belonging to the most significant passages of our ancient law is the distinction between the usual war against a “very faraway” people, which was waged according to the universal rules of martial law for which war is a usual expression of like form of the State, and the war of faith against the “seven peoples” of Canaan, by which the people of God captured the necessary living space for it. In this distinction lies the new vision of war as a necessary act for God’s sake. The peoples of the Christian era can no longer uphold the distinction. In conformity with the spirit of Christianity that tolerates no borders, there are no “very faraway” peoples for them. That which Jewish law could separate as concerns its public law, war of faith and political war, is blended into one for them. Precisely because they are not real peoples of God, but only on the way to becoming so, they cannot draw those distinct borders; they cannot at all know how far

God’s will is realized in the warlike destinies of their States. Somehow—the how remains puzzling; the people must become accustomed to the idea of a possible destruction; whether as a people it will be used as a stone in the edifice of the Kingdom— the consciousness of the individual decides nothing concerning this; the war alone decides, which rages on above the consciousness of the individual.

[...] For many of us, as we considered coming out and living our lives as gay, lesbian, bisexual, or transgender, it was as if we too were facing an ordeal of epic proportions, a territorial battle for autonomy and self-definition. Likewise, we too were faced with the imposing, if not threatening, dominant culture, the gigantic power and privilege of mainstream thinking.

There are many problems when we judge ourselves through the eyes of others, especially those with an agenda for suppression. “V’chen hayinu b’eneichem”—“and we must have looked like grasshoppers in their eyes, too.” In the Hasidic commentary Itturai Torah, the rabbis say that it was a sin for the spies to use those words.

Why? The rabbis continued, if you look at imposing people and say that you feel like a grasshopper, that is a reasonable thing to say because it is based on your feelings. But when you say, “We must have looked like grasshoppers in their eyes,” the Itturai Torah chides, “What difference should it make how we appeared to them?” What possible good is there in being concerned about how you appear in others’ eyes?

But among the twelve, there were two people, Joshua and Caleb, who filed a minority report. Caleb said, “Let us by all means go up, and we shall gain possession of it, for we shall surely overcome it.” “We’re not paying attention to how we think we might be perceived in others’ eyes. Yeah, they’re big and we’re about to embark on a task that is huge, but” “yachol, nuchal la,” “we know that we are able to do it.” Seeing ourselves through others’ eyes will not chart the direction that we need to take.

Perhaps the “sin”—“avon,” of the ten spies was to acquiesce to fear and lose sight of their authentic power. Internalizing a sense of inferiority, the Israelites lost confidence and became vulnerable to the inner voice of self-doubt and denigration. They felt paralyzed to move forward. After all, these people had been slaves descended from slaves. Their slave mentality, an overwhelmingly arresting sense of insecurity, grossly distorted their sense of being created in the image of the Divine; they felt incapable of creating new identities. This feeling is evidenced by their reaction to the spies’ message; they are initially inclined to return to Egypt upon hearing this news. Paradoxically, it is this sense of insecurity that does indeed reflect our being made in the image of God, and once they recognize this fact, they are able to transcend their insecurity and move forward.

In contrast, Joshua and Caleb demonstrated hopeful resistance. Together they challenged the dispiriting impressions of their peers. They recognized that they could not advance their cause, their conquest of the Anakites, if the people had a diminished sense of hope, pride, and faith in themselves. Recognizing that their whole selves were made in the image of the Divine, insecurities and all, Joshua and Caleb were able to reveal this realization to the Israelites and rally them to conquer their fears and, in turn, the Anakites.

Like the Israelites, who were damaged by the effects of the negative reports, so we LGBT people have absorbed and internalized the historical, pervasive, and deeply embedded negative messages of homophobia, transphobia, and heterosexism. It is no wonder that many of us worry about being abnormal or would choose invisibility and try to pass as heterosexual—and that many Jews consider “fixing” their noses, taking on anglicized names, and making efforts to pass as gentiles. We have received a strong message, that it is dangerous to be like our own people and therefore different from the norm.

This is the greatness of Caleb—which merits him a comparison with Abraham. In chapter 14, verse 24, God says that God will single out Caleb and bring him into the Land—“ve ‘avdi Caleb ‘ekev hayita ruach acheret ‘imo . . .”—“And my servant Caleb, BECAUSE [‘ekev] there was a different spirit within him . . .” This word—‘ekev—is the word with which God uplifts Abraham at the Akeidah, granting him an eternal covenant “BECAUSE [‘ekev] you listened to my voice.”

Ibn Ezra understands Caleb as an individual who had the ability and “spirit” to take on new tasks, even in the face of adversity and opposition. “My servant Caleb, because he was imbued with a different spirit and remained loyal to Me, shall see the land that I promised on oath to their fathers; none of those who spurn Me shall see it” (Num. 14:24). His “ruach acheret,” literally “a different spirit,” empowered Caleb to enable nation building. I sense this tremendous spirit within our community as we express our different spirit, our spirit informed by the empathy of knowing what it is to be treated as Other, while never losing sight of our Divine imprint. This identification with the Other and this Divine fuel is what enables us as Jews and queers to move forward with our justice and equality agenda.

Caleb and Joshua were the two optimistic spies who God determined each had a ruach acheret, a “different spirit.” As long as queers are not grasshoppers in our own eyes, we can use this passage to cultivate within ourselves “a different spirit,” the spirit that brings with it the intrinsic qualities of compassion, courage, and perseverance.