Numbers 13:1-15:41
Being an Ish
Commentators have long noticed a contradiction in the Torah’s account of the tribal leaders who were sent to spy out the land of Canaan. In this week’s reading, the idea of sending them clearly came from God:
And the Lord said to Moses, “Send out for yourself men to spy out the land of Canaan, which I am giving to the people of Israel; send one from each tribe” (Num 13:1-2).
But later, in the book of Deuteronomy, it would appear that the idea actually came from the people themselves:
[Moses said:] Then all of you [Israelites] approached me and said, “Let us send men ahead of us so that they may explore the land for us and report back to us about the way for us to take, and the cities that we are to enter.” This seemed good to me, so I chose from among you twelve men, one from each tribe. (Deut 1:22-23)
Whose idea was it, God’s or the Israelites’ (and, in the latter case, an idea subsequently approved by Moses)? The Talmud (Sotah 34b) notes that the passage in this week’s reading contains a bit of room to maneuver in. It reports in the name of Resh Laqish the observation that God had said, “Send out for yourself…” This phrase might indeed be implying that God’s words came in response to an earlier, unreported request submitted by Moses on the people’s behalf. Building on this, Rashi’s commentary asserts that “for yourself” means that God had actually told the Israelites, “I myself am not commanding you. If you wish to, then send [them], since the Israelites came [to you] and said, ‘Let us send men…’”
Thus, it was not originally God’s idea, nor even that of Moses, but a proposal that originated with the people.
Sometimes left out of this discussion is the word anashim. This is of course the common term for “men,” the plural of ish, “man.” But to think only of this meaning is incomplete. Often, ish in the Torah was in itself a term of respect. When Moses tried to mediate between two fighting men, one of them objected: “Who appointed you to be an ish, a leader and ruler over us?” (Exod 2:14). Later, when Moses had stayed a seemingly impossible length of time on Mount Sinai, the people say, “This ish Moses, who brought us up from the land of Egypt—we have no idea what may have happened to him” (Exod 32:1). They apparently meant that without Moses, they lacked an ish and would need someone (or some thing) to lead them now that Moses was gone. In short, an ish was a proper leader. Somewhat similarly, people in Mishnaic times would address the High Priest honorifically as ishi kohen gadol, “My lord, the High Priest.” And indeed, in the continuation of this week’s reading the spies are described as “every one of them a chief…all of them anashim; the heads of the Israelites they were” (Num 13:2-3).
Why is this meaning of ish significant? From ancient times to the present, leadership has often been the subject of debate. On the one hand, we need leaders; anarchia—the Greek word for leaderlessness—is a recipe for chaos. But on the other hand, giving a leader or leaders the power to decide things is also potentially dangerous. Those people have a way of wanting to stay in power, and even a strong set of laws or ironclad institutions may not be enough to prevent or a single leader or leaders from staying on top. No need to elaborate on this nowadays.
So what is anashim in this week’s reading, or in the commentators’ reading of this reading, really telling us? Truthfully, it was not the idea of sending out the spies that was at fault. That was a perfectly normal thing to suggest. The problem was with the anashim who were sent to do it. Apart from Joshua and Caleb, they were not up to the job, quivering and quailing when courage was what was required. Choosing the right leaders, then and now, was all-important, and it was here that Israel went wrong.
Back when the young Moses, fresh from Pharaoh’s court, saw an Egyptian beating an Israelite man, he hesitated for a minute. “He turned this way and that and saw no ish there, so he killed the Egyptian and buried him in the sand” (Exod 2:12). The rabbis doubted that the capital’s bustling streets were inexplicably empty at that moment; “there was no ish” couldn’t have meant that. Rather, there were plenty of people, but no one else was prepared to take action. So the rabbis said, “In a place where there is no ish, try to be an ish” (and, it bears adding today, this may go for female anashim as well as males).