In Parashat Chukat, the Torah recounts two remarkably similar diplomatic initiatives. Yet their outcomes—and the lessons they teach—could not be more different.

As the Israelites continue their journey toward the Promised Land, they send messengers to the king of Edom requesting permission to pass through his territory. Their appeal is respectful and restrained. They promise not to enter fields or vineyards, not to drink from local wells, and not to stray from the king’s highway. They seek neither land nor resources—only safe passage.

Edom refuses.

Nor is the refusal merely diplomatic. The Edomites mobilize a substantial military force and position themselves against Israel. Faced with this rejection, the Israelites withdraw and embark upon a far longer and more difficult route around Edom. The detour proves physically exhausting and emotionally draining, contributing to the frustration and discouragement that soon spread throughout the camp.

Shortly thereafter, the Torah describes a strikingly similar encounter. This time, Israel sends messengers to Sihon, king of the Amorites, requesting passage through his land. Once again, Israel pledges to remain on the main road and refrain from using local resources. Once again, the request is denied.

But this time the story unfolds very differently.

Sihon gathers his army and marches out to attack Israel. Israel responds with force, defeats the Amorites, conquers their territory, and secures a strategic foothold east of the Jordan River.

The parallels between these two episodes are unmistakable. In both cases, diplomacy is Israel’s first resort. Before any military action is contemplated, Israel seeks dialogue. Before any sword is drawn, Israel extends its hand in peace.

Yet when diplomacy fails, the responses diverge dramatically. In the first instance, Israel retreats. In the second, Israel fights and prevails.

How are we to explain this difference?

Some commentators point to a distinction that appears in the Book of Deuteronomy. There Moses explains that God had granted Mount Seir to the descendants of Esau and expressly forbade Israel from provoking them (Deuteronomy 2:2–8). By contrast, regarding Sihon and the Amorites, God commands Israel: “Begin to possess his land and engage him in battle” (Deuteronomy 2:24). According to this approach, the differing responses stem from differing divine mandates.

Yet none of this appears in the narrative of Numbers. There, the reader encounters two failed diplomatic initiatives but is given no explicit reason why one results in withdrawal and the other in war.

Perhaps the Torah is teaching a broader lesson about the limits of diplomacy.

The pursuit of peace must always be our starting point. Even when confronted with hostility, we should be prepared to extend our hand, seek common ground, and pay a price for peaceful coexistence.

At the same time, diplomacy has limits.

The crucial distinction between Edom and Sihon lies not in their refusal, but in their intentions. Edom wished to keep Israel out of its territory. Sihon sought to destroy Israel altogether.

A nation can live alongside neighbors who desire separation. It cannot safely coexist with neighbors committed to its destruction.

When an adversary’s objective is not accommodation but aggression, not coexistence but annihilation, diplomacy alone cannot resolve the conflict. At such moments, the refusal to recognize reality can be more dangerous than the conflict itself.

This lesson feels particularly relevant today.

For many months, the United States has pursued negotiations with Iran in the hope of reducing tensions and preventing a broader conflict. Supporters of these efforts view diplomacy as the most effective path toward stability and security. Critics worry that negotiations may create an illusion of progress while leaving intact the capabilities and ambitions that gave rise to the crisis in the first place.

Reasonable people may disagree about the wisdom of any particular agreement. Yet Parashat Chukat offers a timeless principle that transcends contemporary politics: the success of diplomacy depends not only on the sincerity of those pursuing peace, but also on the intentions of those with whom peace is sought.

History is filled with leaders who believed that agreements could transform adversaries into partners. Sometimes they were right. At other times they discovered, too late, that they had mistaken a tactical concession for a strategic change of heart.

The Torah therefore asks us to hold two truths simultaneously.

We must never abandon the pursuit of peace. We must never cease extending our hand to those willing to live alongside us. But neither may we assume that every adversary shares our aspirations.

Peace requires diplomacy. But lasting peace also requires the clarity, realism, and strength to confront those who remain committed to conflict.

Shabbat Shalom.

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