Over the past month, I have been asked the same question countless times:
"Are you ready to become senior rabbi?"
My answer is usually the same: Most days, I'm excited. Occasionally, I'm terrified.
The truth is that both feelings are honest. Both have their place.
In this week's Torah portion, Sh'lach L'cha, Moses sends twelve scouts to survey the Promised Land. When they return, ten of them focus on the challenges ahead: the fortified cities, the powerful inhabitants, the uncertainty of what awaits. Caleb and Joshua look at the very same landscape and reach a different conclusion. They acknowledge the obstacles, but they remain hopeful about what is possible.
We often read this story as though it is about choosing between two groups of people: the pessimists and the optimists. But I think the Torah is teaching something deeper. The scouts are not only characters in our story; they are the voices within us.
Each of us carries all twelve scouts.
We have the voice that notices what could go wrong, anticipates obstacles, and urges caution. We have the voice that sees possibility, trusts in our capacity to grow, and encourages us to move forward. Neither voice is wrong. Neither is inherently better than the other. Both serve an important purpose in our lives.
The challenge is that these voices do not arrive fully formed. They are inclinations and habits that we develop through practice and intention. The more we practice fear, the more readily fear speaks. The more we practice hope, the more naturally hope emerges. We train ourselves, over time, which voices become the loudest.
The ten scouts often have a natural advantage. Fear gets our attention. Anxiety demands to be heard. The voice that warns us of danger can be persuasive and immediate.
But while pessimism may be what we hear most loudly, optimism is often what sustains us most deeply.
Throughout Jewish history, it has been the voice of Caleb and Joshua that has carried our people forward. Not because it ignored reality, but because it refused to let reality be defined solely by its challenges. Caleb and Joshua saw the same obstacles as everyone else. They simply chose to focus on possibility alongside difficulty.
As I prepare to become senior rabbi, I hear all of those scouts within myself. Becoming the senior rabbi of Temple Jeremiah is a tremendous privilege, an extraordinary honor, and a profound responsibility. I want to do it well. I want to serve this congregation with integrity and authenticity, lead thoughtfully, and help ensure that our community continues to flourish for generations to come.
And so yes, most days I am excited. Occasionally, I am terrified.
Both reactions come from taking this moment seriously.
What helps me listen more carefully to Caleb and Joshua is knowing that I do not undertake this responsibility alone. I am blessed to have the support of an extraordinary congregation, dedicated lay leaders, talented staff, trusted colleagues, and mentors who care deeply about our shared future. Their partnership reminds me that leadership is never a solitary endeavor.
Perhaps that is the enduring lesson of this week's Torah portion. We all have all twelve scouts within us. The question is not which voices exist, but which voices we choose to strengthen. The habits we cultivate become the voices we hear most readily.
Maybe that is the question Sh'lach L'cha asks each of us to carry into Shabbat:
Which scout am I strengthening right now?
Or, put another way: When I look at the opportunities and challenges before me, which voice am I practicing listening to—the voice of fear or the voice of possibility?
The answer will not always be the same. Nor should it be. There are moments when caution serves us well. But if we hope to grow, to lead, to love, to build, and to move forward, we must learn to give Caleb and Joshua a little more room to speak.
May we cultivate the habits of courage, hope, and possibility. May we train ourselves to hear the voices that help us move toward the future rather than retreat from it. And may we find the faith to take the next step, trusting that we do not walk alone.
Shabbat Shalom.