Parshat Shlach, Iran, and Moral Clarity in Times of War

As Israel engages in crucial defensive actions against Iran and bears the burden of safeguarding its citizens and future, the timeless lessons of this week’s parsha feel especially relevant.

Parshat Shlach and its Haftarah in Sefer Yehoshua both recount missions of “spies” sent into the Land of Israel. But a closer reading reveals striking contrasts – in purpose, execution, and outcome – that offer enduring lessons on leadership, truth, and the moral demands of power – especially during times of war.

In Parshat Shlach, Moshe sends twelve men, kulam anashim roshei b’nei Yisrael heima – “all distinguished leaders of the Children of Israel” (Bamidbar 13:3). These were not undercover agents, but public figures, tasked not with espionage but with spiritual ambassadorship. Their mission, as framed by Moshe, was not military, but inspirational: to affirm the land’s bounty and excite the people for their divine inheritance. In fact, the Torah doesn’t call them meraglim – spies – but rather tayarim, those who “explore” or “scout” (latur et ha’aretz). Their goal was to inspire, to elevate national faith, not to assess military risk.

Yet despite reporting the truth about what they saw – the land’s fertility and the presence of formidable inhabitants – their mission failed. Why? Because they misunderstood their purpose. Though factually accurate, their words injected fear instead of faith, and in doing so, they sowed doubt in the hearts of the nation. Their truth lacked vision; their facts lacked trust in God’s promise.

Contrast this with the Haftarah from Sefer Yehoshua. Here, Yehoshua sends two anonymous spies – much like the recently revealed clandestine missions Israel was compelled to undertake against Iran – explicitly to leragel – to gather intelligence (Yehoshua 2:1). This is classic espionage: secretive, strategic, and purposeful. They are not known. Their goal is to prepare for battle, not to inspire the people.

And yet, Yehoshua’s spies’ clandestine mission produces an extraordinary moral moment. In the heart of enemy territory, they encounter Rachav, a Canaanite woman of ill repute, who not only protects them but declares her faith in the God of Israel. She is spared – and later, according to the Rabbis (Bavli Megillah 14b), becomes a righteous convert, counted among the ancestors of prophets.

Why does the Tanach preserve this story of Rachav for us? Because it teaches us that even in war – especially in war – the Jewish people are held to a higher moral standard. The Rambam (Hilchot Melachim 6:1) famously rules that even when waging a milchemet mitzva, an obligatory war, the Jewish people must first seek peace. War, even when justified, must be guided by ethical clarity. The saving of Rachav is not a tactical footnote; it is a moral headline.

This message could not be more relevant today. For years, Israel has warned the world that Iran’s pursuit of nuclear weapons threatens not only Israel, but the entire free world. The Torah demands that we uphold justice and compassion, but when we are left with no choice, we bear responsibility to protect our people and the values of a free society. Unlike Iran, whose attacks deliberately target our civilians, Israel focuses solely on military objectives – even at great risk to our pilots and soldiers.

Like Yehoshua’s spies, who recognized and honored Rachav’s humanity, we too must continue, despite the extreme difficulty, to uphold our moral compass, even when our enemies exploit that very morality. This is not a weakness; it is our greatest strength! It is the embodiment of Tzelem Elokim, the divine image in every person.

May we be blessed with leaders – military, political and spiritual – who possess both the strategic clarity of Yehoshua’s spies and the humility and moral vision that Moshe’s emissaries lacked. And may we always remember that the land we strive to protect is not merely territory – but a living testimony to the principles and values we uphold.