Lens of Emotion

At Har Sinai, it was easier. Not only were we sectioned off in neat little camps, we had concentric divisions in clear hierarchy around the mountain. We were fixed in our organization, had the focus of a thundering light show to shut out distraction, and received religious instruction as directly as possible.
After the double reversed "noons" (a scribal tradition in which modified letters mark a break in the narrative) of last week's parashat Beha'alotkha, the Torah takes a sharp turn. Before this marking, the people were engrossed in the pageantry of dedicating the mishkan, the intensity of receiving the Torah, and mobilizing newly strengthened forces for their impending historic mission. After it, the entire camp moves out, and soon the people are overcome by an inexplicable lusting for meat. Things go downhill from there. Spies are sent out to assess the nations occupying Eretz Yisrael, its fortifications and terrain, and its fruit. The pessimistic report they deliver causes the people to weep and whine, thus forfeiting their chance to enter the land in their lifetime.
Commentators characterize the post-Mount Sinai episode as a lusting after the senses and sensuality. Beha'alotkha ends with this theme and the carnage that the yetzer hara (selfish, materialist impulse) wreaks. Bnei Yisrael complain "we have nothing before our eyes but this manna" to eat, lamenting the lack of meat and attractive delicacies indulged in Egypt, and suffer a death due to surfeit when their wish is granted. This emphasis on senses, especially sight, returns in our parasha, as intimated by its main subject, latur, "to spy out."
As Rabbi Nachman describes in Likutei Moharan, that which relates to the eyes is a critical part of actualizing our spiritual potential in this world, which is a function of "clear vision." Clarity releases us from the dependence on others and compromised ideals that are symptoms of "blurred vision." Clarity leads us to self-confidence. It also brings faith, the realization that everything is really in G-d's hands, which allows us to rely on Him more and more for our needs. The principle cause of blurred vision, according to Rabbi Nachman, is anger. Paradoxically, it is also the cure, as that anger can remind us to breathe naturally, bringing on a state from which we can enter prayer. We can then begin to see things more clearly. We use the anger as an incentive to talk to Hashem and advance our self-discovery. This dual nature of anger as both sickness and cure is expressed in the word af which means "nose" as well as "anger". The nose is open to ruach, which wind and breath, as well as spirit, the beginning of the resolution of anger.
We look at things through the lens of our emotions. A "good eye" is obtained through peace and joy. We are accepting and don't ascribe negative motives to people. A bad eye is the result of anger and other negative emotions. Many people think their life path is largely a reaction to outside forces and influences. In fact, the circumstances and lot of your life is largely a function of the way you look at things, the way you see yourself and others. For example, comparing yourself to others is a well-trodden dead-end. Did the Maccabees compare themselves to the numerous, well-armed and well-trained Greek soldiers? Better to compare yourself to the vision of yourself obtained in joyful moments of attachment with Hashem.
"The Land" is the life-situation you are supposed to aim towards. Negative emotions, such fear of sacrificing sensual indulgences, often prompt you to look at this lofty goal as not fitting for you now, seeing it as beyond reach; that there must be more appropriate, more satisfying options (such as an adaptation of your previous situation). These emotions can lead you to disparage or ignore the inner conviction and outward signs that this is somehow the right place for you to go, or the right situation for you to adapt to. Courage and assistance will come to you if you look for guidance, work on what you can, according to the true vision, and accept wholeheartedly all you've been given, exercising your own strengths and accepting your limitations.
Similarly, the statement of the spies, "we cannot ascend to that people [occupying the land] for it is stronger than we!" mirrors our too-frequent conviction that I cannot achieve my dreams because those who have achieved are smarter than I. "It is a land that devours its inhabitants."-I won't be able to handle the demands of such a high-quality life. "The sons of a giant from among the Nephilim [race of giants]."-Those who achieved are not like me; they were raised by better parents, in families of stature and importance. "We were like grasshoppers in our eyes, and so we were in their eyes!"-We saw ourselves as primitive creatures well suited, with big hind legs, for scurrying away. We then projected this limited vision of ourselves as their vision of us, a false conclusion.
One might see oneself as inferior and weak. Depending solely on oneself, one can always look weak to oneself. This is an easy ploy of the yetzer hara. Similarly, one can always look at "the Land" as dangerous or inappropriate. One can always find apparently negative characteristics in a goal that requires commitment and endurance to obtain. But how many worthwhile things don't?
Bnei Yisrael looked and, still traumatized by the experience of Egypt, saw only the dark side of a good thing. They forgot the "signs and wonders" wrought by Hashem in their own lives. Perhaps this is why the parasha ends with the commandment of tsitsit, "that which is seen." They remind us of our special status among the nations. Tsitsit, being visually conspicuous, serve as a "string on the finger." They are reminders on our soul "garments"-our thoughts, speech, and deeds. We are to affix these important reminding thoughts, words, and actions "on the corners" of these garments. Corners are main points that define things, points by we can "grab onto" something and really master it. Tzitzit are characterized by "a thread of blue," reminding us that "all your deeds should be for the sake of Heaven." (Mishna Pirkei Avot)
In the often painful and confusing experience of stepping out into the wilderness of our lives, we should be blessed with tears that clarify our vision-our vision of ourselves, of our relationships, of our people. Instead of being led by our eyes, let us be guided by our heart. Only then can we realistically look at the world, seeing what we can offer and the extraordinary opportunities we have if only we boldly go forward and do not fear. As Rabbi Nachman says, "The world is a narrow bridge," but Hashem has always been with us, and is with us even now.