Dear Friends, 
There is a certain way a person behaves when they feel small.
The shoulders bend a little. The voice becomes quieter. The eyes look down. Even before anyone says anything, the person has already started imagining what everyone else must be thinking.
We have all experienced this in some way. A person walks into a room and assumes they do not belong. A student looks at a challenge and decides they are not capable. A Jew sees the world around them and wonders, “Wouldn’t it be safer to stand a little smaller, speak a little softer, hide a little more?”
But this week’s Torah portion reminds us that how we see ourselves matters.
The Torah tells us about the spies who were sent to scout the Land of Israel. These were not ordinary people. They were leaders and people of stature. Each chosen to represent their tribes and bring back a report. And yet, when they returned, they said something very revealing.
“We were like grasshoppers in our own eyes, and so we were in their eyes.”
That part we can understand. They were frightened. They felt small. They looked at the fortified cities and the powerful people and they lost confidence.
But then they added, “and so we were in their eyes.” How did they know what the people of the land thought of them?
The answer is that they didn’t really know. They were speaking from their own fear. Because when a person sees themselves as small, they begin to believe that everyone else sees them that way too. Since they saw themselves as grasshoppers, they assumed the world saw them as grasshoppers as well.
That was the mistake of the spies. Not that they saw giants. Rather, that they forgot who sent them. They forgot that they were not going on their own strength alone. They were sent by God. They were part of a Divine mission. And when you know Who sent you, you do not have to see yourself as a grasshopper.
This is about quiet strength and faith. It is about feeling fear and still remembering that each of us was placed in this world with purpose.
Every person has a mission. Every soul has something only it can bring into the world. A kindness only you can give. A mitzvah only you can do. A corner of the world that needs the strength, warmth, and light that God gave specifically to you.
We all know the first words we say when we wake up: Modeh Ani. We thank Hashem for returning our soul to us.
But our Sages also teach us something else about the way we begin the day. We are told to rise with strength, like a lion, to serve our Creator. Not like a grasshopper. Like a lion.
Waking up is not only about our faith in God. It is also a reminder that God has faith in us. If He gave me another morning, another breath, another day, then there is something He wants from me today.
When we remember that, we carry ourselves differently. We speak with more courage. We live with more purpose.
This is also why a birthday is so meaningful. A birthday is not only a day to receive good wishes. It is a day to ask: why was I born? What is the mission God placed in my hands? What more can I give? What more can I become?
My Hebrew birthday was this week, and it gave me the opportunity to go to the Rebbe’s Ohel for a few hours and reflect on this very question.
The Rebbe taught us again and again that every person is here with purpose. Every Jew has a mission. We are not meant to see ourselves as small. We are meant to stand tall, with humility, with faith, and with the knowledge that God placed us here for a reason.
From there, I went to Washington, DC, to spend a day at the Living Legacy conference, honoring the Rebbe’s legacy ahead of his anniversary of passing this coming Thursday. It was powerful to see leaders, senators, congresspeople, and public officials from across the aisle speak about the Rebbe, about his vision, and about the impact he continues to have on the world.
But one moment stood out deeply.
Yechiel Leiter, Israel’s ambassador to the United States, addressed the gathering. He is a man who has known tremendous personal pain. His son, Moshe, was killed in Gaza. And yet, as he stood there, what came through was not weakness. It was strength. Conviction. Faith. Responsibility. A sense that even after loss, there is still a mission. He spoke with the poise of someone who knows what he stands for.
That image stayed with me. Because now more than ever, we need that kind of posture. As Jews, parents, friends, and members of a community. As human beings.
We cannot walk through life hunched over, doubting whether we matter, wondering if we have permission to make a difference.
Our families, our communities, and our mission need us to stand with humility and strength.
God asks us to be humble, yes. But humility does not mean thinking we are nothing. True humility means knowing that whatever strength we have was given to us by God, and therefore must be used.
So much of our fear comes from imagined eyes. What will they think? What will they say? How will they see me? That was the mistake of the spies. Since they saw themselves as grasshoppers, they believed the world saw them that way too.
But the Torah teaches us to begin somewhere else. Begin with how God sees us.
God sees souls with purpose. People capable of courage, growth, kindness, and holiness. People who can enter the world as partners in making it better.
So this week, let us ask ourselves: Where have I been seeing myself as too small? Where is God asking me to stand taller, speak with more courage, and live with more purpose?
We are the children of God. We are sent with a mission. We are given another morning, another breath, another opportunity to bring goodness into the world.
May we see ourselves the way God sees us. May we stand tall in our purpose, strong in our values, and proud in our Judaism. And may we use the mission we have been given to bring more light, strength, and goodness to ourselves, our families, our community, Israel, and the entire world.
With faith, resilience, and all the blessings,
Rabbi Fishel and Ettie Zaklos