The Source of the Spies' Lashon Ha-Ra

How Eshkol Provides the Key to Unlocking the Motives of the Spies

Parashat Shelach opens with Hashem commanding Moshe to send out spies to explore the land (Bemidbar 13:2-3): שְׁלַח־לְךָ אֲנָשִׁים וְיָתֻרוּ אֶת־אֶרֶץ כְּנַעַן אֲשֶׁר־אֲנִי נֹתֵן לִבְנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל אִישׁ אֶחָד אִישׁ אֶחָד לְמַטֵּה אֲבֹתָיו תִּשְׁלָחוּ כֹּל נָשִׂיא בָהֶם׃ וַיִּשְׁלַח אֹתָם מֹשֶׁה מִמִּדְבַּר פָּארָן עַל־פִּי יְהֹוָה כֻּלָּם אֲנָשִׁים רָאשֵׁי בְנֵי־יִשְׂרָאֵל הֵמָּה (Send for yourself men, and they shall explore Eretz Kena'an which I am giving to B'nei Yisrael. You shall send one man from each tribe of his fathers, everyone a ruler among them. And Moshe sent them from the Desert of Paran according to the mouth of Hashem. All of those men were rulers of B'nei Yisrael).

Why does the Torah tell us that they were men [אֲנָשִׁים, anashim]? Isn't that obvious? Yes, it is, but there's a deeper point. The Midrash states (Bemidbar Rabbah 16:5): וּבְכָל מָקוֹם שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר אֲנָשִׁים בְּנֵי אָדָם צַדִּיקִים הֵם (In every place where it is said anashim, the people [being referred to] are tzaddikim). And not only does the Torah call the tribal leaders anashim, it calls them anashim twice (see above in Bemidbar 13:2-3). The Torah seems to be telling us, "After you read this story, you might think that ten of these leaders were wicked people. But you would be mistaken. They were not wicked. They were true tzaddikim." This is also what Rashi comes to emphasize: כָּל אֲנָשִׁים שֶׁבַּמִּקְרָא לְשׁוֹן חֲשִׁיבוּת, וְאוֹתָהּ שָׁעָה כְּשֵׁרִים הָיוּ (All [uses of the word] anashim that are in Scripture denotes a term of importance—and at that time, they were upright people).

And yet, when comparing the two spies that Yehoshua later sent with ten of the spies that Moshe sent, the Midrash seems to say just the opposite (Bemidbar Rabbah 16:1): אֲבָל שְׁלוּחִים שֶׁשָּׁלַח משֶׁה הָיוּ רְשָׁעִים. מִנַּיִן? מִמַּה שֶּׁקָּרִינוּ בָּעִנְיָן: שְׁלַח לְךָ אֲנָשִׁים (However, the agents that Moshe sent were wicked [resha'im]. From where [do we know this]? From that which we read [Bemidbar 13:2]: Send for yourself anashim).

Didn't the Midrash just say that every use of the word anashim refers to tzaddikim; yet here, the Midrash seems to say that the use of the word anashim, in the exact same pasuk nonetheless, proves they were resha'im? How do we explain this seeming contradiction?

If we consider the exact wording of the pasuk—שְׁלַח־לְךָ אֲנָשִׁים (Send for yourself anashim)—an obvious question comes to mind. Why didn't the pasuk simply say שְׁלַח אֲנָשִׁים (Send anashim)? What is the Torah coming to teach by adding the word לְךָ [lecha]—'for yourself'? The Ohr ha-Chaim gives many answers to this question, but we'll focus on only one: פירוש כל עוד שהם לפניך אצלך הם צדיקים אבל כשיחזרו פניהם ללכת בשליחות פקע מהם כלילא (The explanation is: As long as they are before you [Moshe], by you [אצלך, etz'lecha] they are tzaddikim, but when they turn their faces to go on the mission, the crown departed from them). Here, lecha does not have its normal meaning of 'for yourself.' Rather, it is being used to mean something deeper, i.e. 'under your influence.' The men really were tzaddikim—incredibly righteous leaders of their respective tribes—but only when they were in Moshe's presence. The moment they left his presence, their crown of righteousness slipped off their heads, so to speak, and crashed to the ground. Therefore, there is no contradiction. On the one hand, the word אֲנָשִׁים indicates that they were tzaddikim, but the phrase שְׁלַח־לְךָ אֲנָשִׁים indicates they were tzaddikim only in Moshe's presence. The moment they left his presence and began their mission to spy out the land—at that very moment—they became resha'im.

This fits well with what we read later when the spies returned after forty days (Bemidbar 13:26): וַיֵּלְכוּ וַיָּבֹאוּ אֶל־מֹשֶׁה וְאֶל־אַהֲרֹן וְאֶל־כׇּל־עֲדַת בְּנֵי־יִשְׂרָאֵל אֶל־מִדְבַּר פָּארָן קָדֵשָׁה וַיָּשִׁיבוּ אֹתָם דָּבָר וְאֶת־כׇּל־הָעֵדָה וַיַּרְאוּם אֶת־פְּרִי הָאָרֶץ (And they went, and they came to Moshe, and to Aharon, and to all the congregation of B'nei Yisrael, to the Desert of Paran, to Kadesh, and they brought word back to them and to the whole congregation, and they showed them the fruit of the land). Since we already know that they went on their mission, and the previous pasuk told us that they returned, why do we need this pasuk to say that 'they went and they came'? R' Shimon bar Yochai answers (Sotah 35a): מַקֵּישׁ הֲלִיכָה לְבִיאָה מָה בִּיאָה בְּעֵצָה רָעָה אַף הֲלִיכָה בְּעֵצָה רָעָה (Compare 'going' to 'coming'—just as 'going' was with an evil scheme, so 'coming' was with an evil scheme). The Torah is not repeating itself needlessly, but rather teaching us a lesson that we would not have known otherwise. They had concocted an evil scheme from the very beginning. They intended from the outset to denigrate the land. And when they actually spoke lashon ha-ra, it was the culmination of their original plan, the final touch, so to speak, of that plan.

Now we can explain another unusual feature of this story. It is written (Bemidbar 14:34): בְּמִסְפַּר הַיָּמִים אֲשֶׁר־תַּרְתֶּם אֶת־הָאָרֶץ אַרְבָּעִים יוֹם יוֹם לַשָּׁנָה יוֹם לַשָּׁנָה תִּשְׂאוּ אֶת־עֲוֺנֹתֵיכֶם אַרְבָּעִים שָׁנָה וִידַעְתֶּם אֶת־תְּנוּאָתִי (According to the number of days in which you explored the land, forty days, a day for a year, a day for a year, you shall bear your iniquity, forty years, and you will come to know My displeasure). If they had only decided to speak lashon ha-ra after the fact then there would be no reason to link the length of their punishment to the length of their mission. What would the one have to do with the other? Clearly then, they must have been sinning from the outset, and every day they spent on their mission with their evil scheme in mind, they were compounding their iniquity.

In support of this idea, the Midrash says that it was naturally impossible to have traversed the land's length and width and return to their starting point within forty days. The land is just too large. Bemidbar Rabbah 16:15 lays out what was going on: אֶלָּא שֶׁגָּלוּי הָיָה לִפְנֵי הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא שֶׁהֵן בָּאִין וְאוֹמְרִים לָשׁוֹן הָרָע עַל הָאָרֶץ, וְנִגְזַר עַל אוֹתוֹ הַדּוֹר שָׁנִים שֶׁל צָרָה, יוֹם לַשָּׁנָה יוֹם לַשָּׁנָה, וְקִפֵּץ הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא לִפְנֵיהֶם אֶת הַדָּרֶךְ (Rather, as it was revealed before Ha-Kadosh, baruch Hu, that they would come and speak lashon ha-ra against the land, and that it would be decreed against that generation years of tribulation, 'a day for a year, a day for a year,' therefore, Ha-Kadosh, baruch Hu contracted the journey for them). What an incredible act of mercy! Even though Hashem knew full well what they were scheming, He nevertheless wanted to minimize their punishment. And that's why He miraculously shortened their mission.

We have come a long way, but haven't yet touched upon the most important question. Why did these ten leaders scheme to malign the land?

The Torah tells us about an important event that took place while they were exploring the land (Bemidbar 13:23): וַיָּבֹאוּ עַד־נַחַל אֶשְׁכֹּל וַיִּכְרְתוּ מִשָּׁם זְמוֹרָה וְאֶשְׁכּוֹל עֲנָבִים אֶחָד (And they came to Nachal Eshkol, and they cut a vine branch from there and one cluster [eshkol] of grapes). This implies that the place was already called Nachal Eshkol before they got there. Yet, the very next pasuk says: לַמָּקוֹם הַהוּא קָרָא נַחַל אֶשְׁכּוֹל עַל אֹדוֹת הָאֶשְׁכּוֹל אֲשֶׁר־כָּרְתוּ מִשָּׁם בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל (They called that place Nachal Eshkol because of the cluster [eshkol] which B'nei Yisrael [i.e. the spies] cut from there). This suggests the opposite, i.e. that it was called Nachal Eshkol only after they picked the cluster of grapes there. So, when did the place get its name?

The Midrash picks up on this apparent contradiction and explains that this is an example of Hashem foretelling the end from the beginning (Yeshayahu 46:10). Somewhat cryptically, it is taught in Bemidbar Rabbah 16:16: אֶשְׁכּוֹל אוֹהֲבוֹ שֶׁל אַבְרָהָם הָיָה וְנִקְרָא אֶשְׁכּוֹל עַל אֹדוֹת הָאֶשְׁכּוֹל שֶׁעֲתִידִין יִשְׂרָאֵל לִכְרוֹת מִמְּקוֹמוֹ ([It was named after] Eshkol, Avraham's intimate friend, and [Hashem made sure that] he was called Eshkol because of the eshkol that Yisrael would cut from his place in the future). This is an amazing idea—pause and think about it. The place really was called Nachal Eshkol hundreds of years earlier—and the apparent reason that it was called that back then was because it was named after Avraham's friend, Eshkol—but the real reason that that Hashem made sure it was called Nachal Eshkol was because He had decided in advance that this would be the place where the spies would pick the eshkol on their return journey. Hashem arranged for that place to be called Nachal Eshkol way ahead of time by making sure that there would be a man who would own that property hundreds of years earlier. Isn't that incredible?

Although it's an amazing idea, why does this matter? What does Avraham's friend Eshkol have to do with anything, and what is this Midrash coming to teach us about the spies?

When Hashem had given Avraham Avinu the mitzvah of brit milah, he conferred with his three friends (Bereshit Rabbah 42:8). Aner was worried about Avraham's advanced years. Knowing that Avraham would experience tremendous pain and suffering if he went ahead with it, he said that Hashem must have had in mind only the younger members of his family. Eshkol was concerned that Avraham would be so incapacitated by the brit milah that he wouldn't be able to defend himself against his enemies, and they would take advantage of the situation and kill him, chas v'shalom. Mamre, on the other hand, said that this was the same G-d who stood by him in the fiery furnace. Therefore, he told Avraham that if Hashem had commanded him to do it, then he should certainly do it.

Now back to Eshkol. On the one hand, his concern was completely valid. From a derech ha'teva point of view, it was completely valid. But although it might have been valid, it was totally unfounded. Even though he cared very deeply about Avraham, his concern was misplaced; and therefore, his advice was improper. It was improper because—good intentions notwithstanding—he was advising Avraham to disregard a direct command of Hashem.

And this was the error of the spies. Think about it. They were just like Eshkol. They were leaders and rulers of B'nei Yisrael, and as such they were people who earned the respect of the nation because they spent their whole lives caring for and sacrificing themselves for B'nei Yisrael, especially when they were all slaves in Egypt. As we've seen, they were even greater than that—they were true tzaddikim. More likely than not, they meant well just as Eshkol meant well. They didn't want their people, the members of their respective tribes, to be killed by enemies whom they saw as more powerful and numerous than they were. Therefore, they schemed from the outset to convince the people not to enter the land. Therefore, the place was called Nachal Eshkol because Hashem wants us to understand that the mistake of the spies paralleled the mistake of Eshkol—well-intentioned though it may have been. In fact, it was such an egregious mistake that they were killed not only for having spoken lashon ha-ra against the land but for influencing the entire nation into believing their lashon ha-ra.

But let's dig a little deeper. Why did they feel that it would have been impossible to conquer the land? After all, they didn't even see how powerful or numerous the inhabitants were until they explored the land, and yet they had already planned their scheme before setting out. The answer lies in just how demoralized they felt after hearing the prophecy of Eldad and Meidad (Sanhedrin 17a): משה מת יהושע מכניס את ישראל לארץ (Moshe will die and Yehoshua will bring Yisrael into the land). "What? Moshe is going to die? The Tzaddik is going to die? And only Yehoshua is going to lead us in? Granted, Yehoshua is also a talmid chacham, but he's not at the level of Moshe Rabbeinu. He's just his gabbai. Gomarnu! We don't stand a chance!"

We have come to the essence of their mistake—failing to believe that the Tzaddik never dies, a truth immortalized by R' Yochanan's statement in Ta'anit 5b: יַעֲקֹב אָבִינוּ לֹא מֵת (Ya'akov Avinu never died).

Their failure wasn’t really about the land at all. It was about their relationship to Moshe Rabbeinu and what it means to believe in the eternity of the Tzaddik. And what about us? If even the greatest tzaddikim didn't pass this test, do we even have a chance? The truth is that it's really just about emunah—and the less sophisticated we become, the easier it is to develop emunah. If we don't want to lose our crown, we need to stick close to the Tzaddik—to the soul of Moshe Rabbeinu—and believe with complete emunah that the Tzaddik never dies.