Rashi notes the juxtaposition of the meraglim debacle upon the story with Miriam in which she spoke against Moshe Rabbeinu. She spoke negatively of her brother, underscoring his departure from his wife’s tent. He did not know when Hashem would summon him; thus, he must always be prepared. Miriam looked askance at this behavior, feeling it was not fair to Tziporah, Moshe’s wife. Her words were considered slanderous and, as a result, Hashem punished her with tzaraas, spiritual leprosy, which confined her to seclusion for seven days. Due to her extraordinary distinction, Hashem had the entire nation remain encamped until she could resume the journey with them.
Miriam’s infraction was considered lashon hora. These men had just seen the effects and punishment for lashon hora. Yet, it did not prevent them from expressing their negative views of the Holy Land. Their slander was the precursor of the nation’s unwarranted weeping and overreaction which led to the punishment of a decree that none would enter the Holy Land. If you do not have faith and trust in Hashem, you do not belong in the Holy Land. This tragedy occurred on the Ninth of Av, which would go down in history as our national day of mourning, following the destruction of both Batei Mikdash on that day.
Ra’u v’lo lakchu mussar; “They saw what happened to Miriam and did not derive from the powerful lesson and message that emerged.” Veritably, Miriam spoke lashon hora against a person, while they spoke against the Land. An obvious distinction must exist between the subjects of their individual slander. Furthermore, Moshe sent them to Eretz Yisrael on a mission to observe and report back what they had seen. This is exactly what they did. It did not go over well, and one thing led to another until a full-scale slander and rebellion reigned. Why were they held in contempt for not deriving a lesson from Miriam? These were two different forms of slander.
Horav Shneuer Kotler, zl, explains that what they were supposed to derive from the Miriam incident was how to view something that takes place before your eyes; how to look at anything; what perspective one should maintain and its impact. We have negative perspective and positive perspective. Some people always have a positive take on what they see, while others only see negativity, their view always jaundiced.
Miriam saw Moshe Rabbeinu separate from his wife. She knew quite well the exalted spiritual level that Moshe had achieved. As a result, she should have had a positive take on this move, trusted that her brother knew what he was doing, and not judged him negatively. Likewise, the meraglim were clearly aware of what Hashem had up until now achieved for them. Instead, they allowed their insecurities to control their minds, which produced a negative view of Eretz Yisrael. They should have taken a lesson from Miriam to always look for the positive perspective.
Chazal teach us the imperative of Hevei dan es kol ha’adam l’kaf z’chus, “Judge every man favorably.” At first glance, this appears to require a form of mental adjustment: to reinterpret the negative, to explain what seems clearly wrong, to seek justification where it is not immediately apparent. Indeed, when we judge favorably, we are often confronted with a reality that does not easily lend itself to innocence. Something improper may have been done; the facts appear clear. Yet, we are enjoined to look deeper to discover a perspective that restores dignity to the individual before us.
Judging favorably is synonymous with maintaining a positive outlook. We are adjured to study and judge the situation or person before us in a more favorable light. This does not mean distorting reality – but broadening it – allowing room for context, struggle, and intention. The glass is either half full or half empty; it remains, however, the same glass. Likewise, the person before us has not changed; it is our perception of him that has changed.
Furthermore, people possess positive aspirations. At times, these aspirations are out of line with reality, mere “pipe dreams” in the eyes of others. Yet, to the individual they are genuine and deeply personal. They reflect not who he is presently, but who he wants one day to become. When we judge favorably, we acknowledge and give credence to this inner striving. We recognize that a person is more than his present circumstance. He is defined by his potential and desire to grow. When one trains himself to see the good in others, he, in fact refines his own character. One who looks for virtue will find it; one who seeks fault will not be disappointed. Nobody is perfect. The world we perceive is a reflection of the lens through which we view it.
Many of us have dreams, visions, aspirations for the future. While everyone has a mission and purpose in life, he often does not discover that purpose until he gravitates towards it and achieves distinction in it. He then realizes that this is what he has been pre-destined to do. What if he had a dream; he had hope; he made plans; and someone – due to his immaturity, obtuseness, pure envy – belittled him, maligned his plans, shattered his hopes? Such a person – knowingly or unknowingly – is guilty of an unpardonable sin. This is the Torah’s message. Perhaps the following vignette, which I might have previously cited, illustrates this idea.
Horav Meir Shapiro, zl, the Lubliner Rav, was a unique gadol, Torah leader, who encompassed the very apex of Torah scholarship. An accomplished Rosh Yeshivah, he was founder of Yeshivas Chachmei Lublin, which was one of the premier yeshivos in pre-World War II Europe. A Rav of a distinguished Torah community, a strong political advocate who championed Torah causes in the Polish Parliament, he carried much influence in both the secular and Torah worlds. Rav Shapiro radiated pride in Torah and served as an exemplar for yeshivah students to emulate. Nevertheless, none of these achievements established his preeminence within the Torah world; rather, it was his innovative plan to have the entire Torah-camp study one blatt of Gemorah daily. His Daf Yomi garnered for him the position of Torah mentor for generations to come. As long as Jews study Daf Yomi, his celebrated name lives on.
It almost did not happen. Yes, he might have lost this great treasure; the dream of a lifetime was almost shattered by the innocent taunting of children. Now for the story, which is related by Rabbi Yisrael Besser in Warmed by the Fire.
Rav Meir Shapiro was once traveling by train. As the train pulled into a town for a brief rest stop, the Lubliner Rav alighted. Word spread that the distinguished sage was in town, and, within no time, throngs of people came to the station to greet and pay homage to this great man. Among the people was an upcoming young Rav, son-in-law of the Shotzer Rav, who waited to shake hands with the Lubliner Rav. He introduced himself as the Shotzer Rav’s son-in-law, a name which carried much weight with Rav Meir Shapiro, as he had grown up in Shotz. Rav Meir asked the young rav if his rebbetzin was also in attendance. When he replied in the affirmative, Rav Meir asked if he could meet her. The young rebbetzin came over and, after greeting her, Rav Meir asked, “Do you remember, as a young child, I would learn with your father in your home?” The woman replied that, indeed, she remembered. “Do you recall how I would play with your siblings and with yourself?” Once again, the woman replied that she remembered.
Then suddenly, Rav Meir’s voice changed. It became deeper and slightly louder. “Do you remember how I would share my dream of one day having a limud, program of study, to which all the world would be able to adhere – together, as one? I was going to connect the entire Torah world through Torah study. Do you also remember how all of the children made fun of me?”
The rebbetzin did not reply.
“Do you know how close I came to losing confidence in my plan – dropping it altogether – because of all the taunting? This is why I asked to meet you. I just wanted to share a lesson with you: Never laugh at the dreams of a child!”
We never know!
