Measuring Up

This week the Torah takes a tragic turn, as the Israelites, on the verge of entering the Promised Land, suffer a crisis of self-confidence and end up exiling themselves to wander in the desert until an entire generation dies. 

The scouts had brought back disheartening reports: ““The country that we traversed and scouted is one that devours its settlers. All the people that we saw in it are of great size (anshei middot); we saw the Nephilim there—the Anakites are part of the Nephilim—and we looked like grasshoppers to ourselves, and so we must have looked to them” (Bamidbar 13:32-33).

The humiliating exaggerations - that these people of “great size” are a mythical race of giants, and that the people were like grasshoppers to them - create a gap between God’s goal and the people’s belief that they can reach it. In that gap, the people falter, and fail to act. 

We, too, live in what educator and activist Parker Palmer calls the “tragic gap” between the world as it is and the possibility of a more just and peaceful world. When that gap feels insurmountable, we are at risk of falling into inaction like the Israelites did at first. But Palmer insists that the gap will never be fully bridged. A foolish idealism is as likely to break our spirit as cynicism is to corrode everything we’ve ever cared for. Nor can we rely on a purely pragmatic approach to buoy our sacred work of building the world we believe in. 

If we are to stand and act with hope in the tragic gap and do it for the long haul, we cannot settle for mere “effectiveness” as the ultimate measure of our failure or success. Yes, we want to be effective in pursuit of important goals. But when measurable, short-term outcomes become the only or primary standard for assessing our efforts, the upshot is as pathetic as it is predictable: we take on smaller and smaller tasks—the only kind that yield instantly visible results—and abandon the large, impossible but vital jobs we are here to do.

We must judge ourselves by a higher standard than effectiveness, the standard called faithfulness. Are we faithful to the community on which we depend, to doing what we can in response to its pressing needs? Are we faithful to the better angels of our nature and to what they call forth from us? Are we faithful to the eternal conversation of the human race, to speaking and listening in a way that takes us closer to truth? Are we faithful to the call of courage that summons us to witness to the common good, even against great odds? When faithfulness is our standard, we are more likely to sustain our engagement with tasks that will never end: doing justice, loving mercy, and calling the beloved community into being. (excerpt from Healing the Heart of Democracy)

When the scouts describe the inhabitants of the land as “people of great size,”the Hebrew is literally anshei middot, people of measurements. Of course, everyone has a measurement! But just like when we say “they are quality people,” we mean they are of exceptionally good quality, the phrase is understood to imply an exceptionally large measurement. 

Rashi (11th century) notes that anshei middot means “tall and high men, in speaking of whom one feels compelled to give their size, as is stated, for instance, with reference to Goliath (I Samuel 17:4): “his height was six cubits and a span.” 

But I’d like to appropriate this phrase as an aspiration for all of us to grow into: becoming spiritual and ethical giants. You could also read the phraseanshei middot as “people of [excellent] character traits.” A middah is the word used in Mussar, a practice of Jewish ethical character development, to describe the inner traits that we are always working to improve, such as patience, generosity, diligence, and so on. Taking our cue from Parker Palmer, perhaps we could name faithfulness (emunah or ne’emanut) as a middah to develop.

There is precedent for adapting the phrase anshei middot in a new context. Ramban (13th century) used the term to describe geographers, “people who measure [the land]” (Sha’ar HaGemul). 

Combining all of these connotations, to be one of the Anshei Middot today would mean aspiring to be a spiritual giant, who charts the inner territory and works on cultivating a character of faithfulness to justice and mercy. Of course, that is a bit chutzpadik, but to paraphrase another spiritual giant (Hillel), if now is not the time for moral courage, then when would be?

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Jay LeVine