In this week’s Parasha, Parashat Shelach, we encounter one of the most tragic turning points in the Torah: the episode of the Meraglim, the spies sent to scout Eretz Yisrael. Upon their return, ten of the spies deliver a frightening report that causes Bnei Yisrael to panic, rebel against Hashem, and ultimately be sentenced to wander in the desert for forty years. At first glance, the spies appear to be giving a straightforward factual report. They describe a land of extraordinary abundance: “We came to the land you sent us to; it indeed flows with milk and honey, and this is its fruit.” They acknowledge the beauty, richness, and promise of the land. Yet only moments later, the entire nation breaks down in fear and despair. What changed? The facts did not change. The land was still beautiful. The fruit was still abundant. Hashem’s promise was still true. What changed was the lens through which those facts were interpreted.
Modern psychology offers a helpful framework for understanding this phenomenon. Psychologists refer to negativity bias as the human tendency to give greater emotional weight to negative information than positive information. One criticism can outweigh ten compliments. One worry can overshadow ten blessings. One uncomfortable moment can dominate an otherwise good day. Imagine receiving a performance review at work. You are told that you are hardworking, reliable, respected by colleagues, and a valuable team member, but there are a few areas for improvement. Be honest: which part do you remember? Usually, you remember the but. Suddenly, all the praise fades into the background while the criticism becomes the entire story.
This dynamic lies at the heart of the spies’ report. The Ramban explains that the roots of this story actually begin earlier, in Parashat Beha’alotcha, on the verse “וַיְהִי הָעָם כְּמִתְאֹנְנִים.” When Bnei Yisrael left Har Sinai and entered the uncertainty of the wilderness, anxiety naturally emerged. They began asking deeply human questions: What will we eat? What will we drink? How will we survive? The problem, says the Ramban, was not that they felt uncertainty. Uncertainty is part of being human. The problem was that uncertainty became their lens. Instead of viewing reality through the memory of redemption, Yetziat Mitzrayim, Kriyat Yam Suf, and Matan Torah, they began interpreting everything through worry. And once worry becomes your lens, everything starts to look dangerous.
This insight helps us understand a striking detail in the spies’ report. After praising the land, they introduce one small word: “אֶפֶס” — But. The Ramban notes that this word is far more significant than it first appears. Efes is not merely a transition word like “however.” In Hebrew, efes also means zero, nothing, or to nullify. The spies were not simply adding nuance to their report; they were nullifying everything that came before it. Yes, the land is good. Yes, the fruit is beautiful. Yes, Hashem’s promise is true. But none of that matters. With one word, they erased the positive and amplified the threat.
We do this all the time in communication. “I appreciate your perspective, but I disagree.” “Thank you for helping, but you missed something.” “I love you, but we need to talk.” In each of these examples, the listener often experiences the second half as the true message while the first half fades away. Communication experts often recommend replacing “but” with “and.” Consider the difference: “I appreciate your perspective, and I see it differently.” “Thank you for helping, and there’s something we can improve.” “I love you, and we need to talk.” By using and, both truths are allowed to coexist. The positive is not erased by the difficult.
The spies, however, could not tolerate both truths at once. The land was good and there were challenges. Instead, challenge erased promise. The Torah then reveals something even deeper. The spies later say, “וַנְּהִי בְּעֵינֵינוּ כַּחֲגָבִים”—“We were like grasshoppers in our own eyes.” The Netivot Shalom points out something profound. The problem was not merely how the giants saw them. The problem began with how they saw themselves. Before they felt small in the eyes of others, they were already small in their own eyes.
Modern psychology calls this self-efficacy, our belief in our ability to face challenges and navigate difficulty. When self-efficacy is strong, obstacles feel manageable. When it weakens, even opportunities feel threatening. The spies saw the same land, the same giants, and the same fortified cities as Yehoshua and Kalev. The difference was not what they saw. The difference was what they believed about themselves in relation to what they saw. The Chovot HaLevavot deepens this insight through his teaching on bitachon. Bitachon does not mean pretending life is easy or denying reality. Rather, it means understanding what is within our control and what lies beyond it. We are responsible for effort; we trust Hashem with outcome. The spies became consumed by everything outside their control, the giants, the cities, the future. Yehoshua and Kalev focused on what remained within their control: their faith, their courage, and their next step forward.
This reveals a powerful progression in the Parasha. According to the Ramban, uncertainty becomes worry. According to the Netivot Shalom, worry becomes self-doubt. According to the spies’ language, self-doubt becomes distorted framing. According to the Chovot HaLevavot, the antidote is bitachon.
Three Practical Lessons from the Meraglim
- Be Aware of the Lens You Are Using
Our minds naturally focus on threat, deficiency, and worst-case scenarios. When fear becomes our lens, even blessings begin to look like dangers. Ask yourself: am I seeing reality clearly, or am I seeing it through anxiety?
- Watch the Story You Tell Yourself
Before the spies became small in the eyes of others, they became small in their own eyes. The narratives we create internally shape how we show up externally. Pay attention to your inner dialogue. Are you speaking to yourself like Yehoshua and Kalev, or like the spies?
- Focus on Responsibility, Not Control
We cannot control every outcome, every person, or every future possibility. We can control our effort, values, courage, and choices. Healthy faith means doing our part while trusting Hashem with the rest.
Amazing how an entire generation’s destiny was shaped not merely by external circumstances, but by perception, language, and belief. In the end, the land truly was good. The challenges were also real. The difference was never the facts. It was the framing. May we learn from Yehoshua and Kalev to see reality clearly, not through the lens of fear, but through the lens of faith, courage, and bitachon.
Elan Javanfard, M.A., L.M.F.T. is a Consulting Psychotherapist focused on behavioral health redesign, a Professor of Psychology at Pepperdine University, Touro University, & a lecturer related to Mindfulness, Evidence Based Practices, and Suicide Prevention. He is the Senior Director at Didi Hirsch Mental Health and a Board member of the Crisis Residential Association and Nefesh International. Elan is the author of Psycho-Spiritual Insights: Exploring Parasha & Psychology, a weekly blog. He lives in Los Angeles Pico Robertson community with his wife and three children and can be reached at Elan.Javanfard@gmail.com.