Caleb in Hebron
In this morning’s Torah portion we encountered the description of the experience of the spies who were sent to assess the conditions of Canaan. As their adventure began, we read, “They went up and scouted the land, from the wilderness of Zin to Rehob, at Lebohamat.” And then, a mere one sentence into the description of their mission, we read, “va’yaalu banegev va’yavo ad hevron.” Our humash translates this as, “They went up into the Negev and came to Hevron,” but this is not an accurate translation. Va’yaalu—they went up to the Negev region, va’yavo—he came down to the town of Hebron.
Now we have a problem. They went up. He came down. What do we do with this information?
My inclination in matters such as this is to jump right to attributing such an inconsistency to scribal error. Back in the day before typeset and photocopies, text was copied by hand. It is reasonable to assume that, from time to time, small errors would occur and then become codified as they were repeated. But such an answer would not have satisfied the ancient rabbis. In fact, some of them would have considered such a thought heretical. Every word, every letter, every dot in the Torah is infused with meaning. So, when they encountered a sentence that began in the plural but concluded in the singular, they set about to understand the verse’s hidden meaning.
Luckily for the rabbis, this was not the only problem they found in studying this week’s parsha. Our first inconsistency was a simple confusion of grammar. But there is another, much larger, problem with this morning’s text.
You’ve heard the expression, “two wrongs don’t make a right?” Well, when it comes to Torah study, we can turn that idea on its head. When we encounter two problems in the Torah, we can put them together to find a solution.
The other “problem” that I’ve alluded to was Caleb. According to our narrative, ten of the twelve spies reported that, despite the richness of the land, they felt inadequate among its inhabitants and thus could not advise the community that moving forward into the land was in their best interest. In the midst of this report, Caleb stood up and said, “Let us by all means go up, and we shall gain possession of it, for we shall surely overcome it.” Later in the text we hear from Caleb together with Joshua, as the say the Israelites, “The land that we traversed…is an exceedingly good land…God will bring us into that land.”
Our rabbis needed to explain why Caleb and Joshua would go against the vast majority of the scouts and encourage the Israelites to feel secure in moving forward in their journey. It was easy for them to explain Joshua in this role. Joshua is the chosen successor of Moses. Prior to the scouts setting off on their journey, Moses changed Joshua’s name. It had been “Hoshea.” In adding a “yod” to his name, Moses symbolically imbued Joshua with the spirit. Joshua will exhibit leadership skills and devotion to God and the Israelites throughout the rest of Torah, and beyond, as it is he that will ultimately lead them into the Promised Land. Caleb, on the other hand, fades into the background after this week’s narrative.
Why was Caleb able to go against the report of his fellow scouts? It was, after all, Caleb who spoke up first, even before Joshua, in an attempt to diffuse the situation. Caleb is an otherwise unremarkable player in our story. Why, at this moment, does he rise?
Our ancient rabbis used the mystery of Caleb’s strength in this situation as a way to explain the mystery of the verse “va’yaalu banegev va’yavo ad hevron—they went up, he came down.” According to the rabbis, it was Caleb alone who went down to Hebron. Caleb viewed the opportunity to scout the Land not only as a mission to secure the future, but as a chance to connect with his past. Caleb went to Hebron to visit the patriarchs, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, all of whom were buried there in the cave of machpelah. When Sarah, Abraham’s wife, died, Abraham purchased the cave of mahpelah as an achuzat kever, an inheritable tomb that would be used, effectively, as the family’s cemetery for generations.
Our rabbis imagined that Caleb requested the patriarchs intervene on his behalf, saying, “Send up prayers now, my fathers, for me, that Merciful God may keep me far from the counsel of the spies.” Thus, according to the rabbis, when he went down to Hebron, he offered a prayer to the patriarchs, who, in turn, intervened to assure that Caleb remained free from the persuasion of his fellow spies. The rabbis give the power in this situation to God, insisting that the otherwise unremarkable Caleb was only able to stand his ground against his peers because of Divine intervention.
I like to think about the midrash a little differently. I love the fact that the rabbis solved the mystery of the singular va’yavo with a story that explains Caleb’s actions in our text. But I think that our rabbis missed an opportunity to acknowledge an individual’s potential to be inspired for action without Divine intervention.
I’d like to think that Caleb was strengthened by his visit to machpelah, and what made him remarkable was his decision to make the trip during his time in the Land.
Think about visiting the grave of an important historical figure. Perhaps you’ve been to Arlington National Cemetery and seen the eternal flame that marks the resting place of John F. Kennedy. Or to Har Herzl, where Israel’s soldiers and dignitaries are buried. Several of our high school students made it a point to visit the grave of Benjamin Franklin during our recent service trip to Philadelphia. What drives us to make these visits? Judaism clearly values kavod hamet, respecting the dead, but it is not this precept alone that inspires us to visit gravesites, particularly those that are not of those with whom we are personally associated.
To visit a grave is to transform oneself to another time and place—to recognize our place in the continuum of societal advancement. Individuals who are known to us across the centuries take on a meaning beyond their own. They expand to represent an entire generation, a time and place that has, but whose memory is crucial to understanding our own, present moment. Through this lens, we can see that Caleb’s brief time at machpelah put his role as a scout into perspective. His story was no longer defined by the generation of the exodus, but rather expanded to include the foundational elements of our people’s history and the potential for the future.
In thinking about the experience of the exodus, we often consider the powerful moments that effected the whole of the Israelite community—most significantly the parting of the sea and revelation at Sinai.
The story of Caleb comes to remind us that, despite their shared experiences, the Israelites of the generation of the exodus were individuals. It highlights Caleb as a man of integrity and faith, particularly juxtaposed to the scouts whose insecurities overcame them. Caleb’s legacy empowers us to find strength even in moments of self-doubt. His voice is heard in only an instance in our Torah, but his words eternally echo in our memory.
Shabbat Shalom