From Burning Synagogue to Rising Lion

This week’s Torah reading, found in Numbers 13:1–14:45, recounts the episode of the spies. Twelve men, one from each tribe of Israel, were sent by Moses to reconnoiter the Promised Land of Canaan (Numbers 13:1–2). God had promised Israel this land as part of the covenant with Abraham (Genesis 15:18–21). The spies had witnessed the manifestation of God’s presence at Sinai (Exodus 19:16–20), and even a Canaanite woman, Rahab, later acknowledged God’s plan for Israel’s inevitable victory, assisting their cause (Joshua 2:9–11). Yet, despite these assurances, most of the spies returned in a state of utter defeatism.

Ten of the twelve spies reported that the Canaanites were formidable, describing them as giants, akin to the Nefilim, the offspring of angels and humans mentioned in Genesis 6:4 (Numbers 13:32–33). They claimed these giants made them feel like grasshoppers (Numbers 13:33). Only two spies, Caleb and Joshua, spoke glowingly of the land’s fertility and urged the people to trust in God’s promise (Numbers 13:30; 14:6–9).

Israel, as a whole, fell into despair, swayed by the majority report (Numbers 14:1–4). God declared that this generation, lacking faith, was not ready for freedom. They would perish in the desert, and only their children, bolstered by self-confidence and trust in God, would cross the Jordan and thrive (Numbers 14:29–33). Caleb and Joshua, the faithful spies, were spared to enter the land (Numbers 14:38).

There are different ways to infer the “takeaway” from this episode. A potential lesson is that if Israel is faithful to God and the covenant, it will succeed in the face of any and all obstacles.

We cannot, at this point in Jewish history, interpret the spies’ episode as meaning we should underestimate our threats or trust that the most audacious choice is the wisest and most righteous one. At times, pious Jews have made courageous choices – and were devastated. The Maccabees triumphed against the Seleucids (1 Maccabees 4:8–25), but their descendants were repeatedly crushed by the Romans. In the second century CE, Bar Kochba’s rebellion, supported by Rabbi Akiva, led to catastrophic losses. Over half a million Jews died, Bar Kochba was killed, and the Jewish people faced two millennia of dispossession (Cassius Dio, Roman History 69.12–14).

During the Shoah, Jews of all persuasions—including the most devout Jewish communities of Europe—perished. Some may have been overly confident in their ability to survive hatred or too trusting that God would deliver them in their generation.

Shimon Peres once said, “You can be an optimistic Jew or a pessimistic Jew, but either way, you have to have hope.” The Torah has seventy faces, and the concept of hope has many dimensions. Let me reflect on just three of them.

1. Belief in Possibility

Hope does not require underestimating obstacles or overestimating capabilities. It means believing there is, at least in time, the possibility of triumph. If you accept even a possibility, you might endure the present and, through endurance, dedication, suffering, ingenuity, and courage, succeed. The ten negative spies simply said, “We cannot attack” (Numbers 13:31). Their tale of the odds was unrealistically grim; their adversaries were giants, the children of demigods. But suppose there was an element of truth in their report. Suppose the adversaries really were big and strong. Remember the giant man Goliath and the merely human David? (1 Samuel 17:4–51). I look at what Israel has accomplished against Hezbollah and Iran in recent months; if you go back in time, you might have thought such feats were outright impossible. They were instead highly improbable.

2. Davka

Davka is a modern Hebrew expression that is hard to translate precisely; it essentially means defiant resilience. This contrarian spirit finds opportunity in adversity. In Egypt, despite captivity, the Israelites grew in number, their women so robust they gave birth before midwives arrived (Exodus 1:19). We read in the Bible that God chooses the Israelites because they are the smallest of peoples (Deuteronomy 7:7). In another D’var Torah at The Times of Israel (Does God Love Spunk?), I speculated that perhaps God chose the Israelites because they were a stiff-necked people, not inclined to accept any yokes, be they human or celestial. Modern Israel, lacking natural resources like oil or gold, thrives through innovation—patents, software, and global trade. Boycotted by neighbors, Israelis became resourceful, and mandatory military service fosters teamwork and resilience, strengthening society.

3. Hope Can Begin with a Symbol

Judaism is about finding concrete means—a specific tale, a ritual, an architectural feature—to express the most intense emotions and ideas. Jews use enduring symbols to affirm faith. Abraham purchased a burial plot in Canaan despite God’s prophecy of a long captivity in Egypt (Genesis 23:16–20; 15:13). Jeremiah warned of Babylonian conquest, urging submission to preserve future independence (Jeremiah 27:12–17). When the Israelites fought and were crushed by the Babylonians (2 Kings 25:8–11), Jeremiah bought a plot of farmland, a symbolic act of hope recorded in Jeremiah 32:6–15. This gesture, preserved in the Jewish Bible, sustained the tradition through captivity.

Half a century ago, my grandfather, my mother’s father, was dying. Among his last words was the cry, “My synagogue is burning.” All of his family who remained in Europe had been murdered in the Shoah. He saw the assimilative pressures of the New World, the minimal observance of his grandchildren and our whole generation, and doubted.

Yet, there were possibilities that his synagogue would live on. All of his grandchildren are proudly Jewish, and our own grandchildren will be Jewish as well. One of his grandchildren, me, is today, June 21, 2025, 22 Sivan 5785, I stand to be ordained as a rabbi. Four generations later, two of his great-grandchildren have made aliyah. The fifth generation after him is already growing up, and they are proudly Jewish.

My grandfather had been forced out of Europe by the threat of the Shoah. His grandson, me, lives in a time and place where antisemitism is at a height not seen in Canada and around the world since the Shoah. That is one of the reasons why, davka, I decided to create academic programs centered around increased understanding of the Jewish people and their homeland. It is one of the reasons why, over the past year, I chose to take this program and obtain a smicha. In these times, becoming a rabbi is the most davka thing I could do.

Hope can begin with a symbol. After prophesying devastation for Israel, as one of his last acts before exile, Jeremiah bought a piece of land in Israel from his cousin (Jeremiah 32:6–15). This smicha is my piece of land.

And so, however hard these times, however many the causes for despair, however tempting it is to lie down in front of the wave, today, June 20, 2025, 21 Sivan 5785, I stand to be ordained as a rabbi. Here I am. Hineni. הִנֵּנִי. Here we stay. Kan Nish’arim. כאן נשארים. Here we will remain. כאן נישאר.