A New Pair of Glasses
There is a non-kosher bird mentioned in the Torah called the Ra’ah. Scholars are not certain exactly which bird it is; many think it’s a buzzard or vulture. It is called Ra’ah (literally to see) because it can see very far and can spot a carcass from an incredible distance. Rav Meir Shapiro (1887-1933) suggested a homiletical insight. The Ra’ah represents a certain type of person—not just a bird. There are those who live in Europe or America and look toward Israel but what do they see? They don’t see the holiness, the promise, the fulfillment of centuries of yearning. Instead, they see only the problems. They see and create negative headlines and politics; they focus on flaws. Like the buzzard, they zero in on the carcass.
This phenomenon, Rav Meir Shapiro explains, is not new. It began with the spies who returned from their reconnaissance mission to survey the Land of Israel and returned with an evil report (Numbers 13-14). Despite witnessing a land of abundance and promise, they focused on the giants, the fortresses, and their fears. They saw, but they didn’t see. Their vision was distorted by their insecurity, their lack of trust, and their inability to see the good, but the correct Jewish perspective is what King David (Psalms 128:6) said, …see the good of Jerusalem. This is not a blessing, it’s a directive, a mindset, and way of seeing.
What we choose to see says everything about who we are. The negatively associated with the Ra’ah is not because it sees death, it’s an ‘unclean’ bird because of what it chooses to see. Its power of vision is trained on death, not life. It flies over valleys and fields but only zooms in on decay. This powerful metaphor relates to people who can misuse the gift of vision by scrolling through news feeds and social media and, almost instinctively, are conditioned to notice the bad. They see dysfunction, outrage, and corruption, but as Jews, something deeper is being demanded of us.
There are always two ways to see the Land of Israel. One person stands at the Kotel (Western Wall) and sees the tension of differing religious outlooks. Another stands in the same place and sees the miracle of a people returning to their homeland, the heartbeat of a nation still alive after 2,000 years. One sees a society with divisions and growing pains. Another sees a society where Torah is being learned in unprecedented numbers, where Jews from Yemen, Ethiopia, Russia, and America pray together in the same shul. The Land has not changed—but the eyes have.
To see the good does not mean ignoring reality, nor does it mean that one denies challenges; it means choosing to look deeper by learning to interpret what we see through the lens of gratitude, hope, and loyalty. It means appreciating the courage of those living on the frontlines, the resilience of families building communities, and the quiet holiness of daily life in the Land. It means noticing the small miracles; an Ethiopian child saying Shema in Hebrew on a playground. A rebuilt yeshiva in a city once desolate. A Shabbat meal in Jerusalem shared by four generations. It means understanding that criticism without love is blindness, but vision fueled by love sees what others miss.
In every generation, the test of the Spies returns. Will we see a land that “devours its inhabitants” or will we see a land flowing with milk and honey? Will we become spiritual buzzards or sacred seers? Rav Meir Shapiro’s insight gives us our marching orders: we are not passive observers—we are active perceivers and allow it to be our spiritual glasses. Let us train our hearts and our minds to notice, to name, and to nurture the good in our People and in our Land because when we see the good, we bring it closer and when we speak it out loud, we help the world see it too.
Rebbe Nachman of Breslov taught, you are where your thoughts are—make sure your thoughts are where you want to be. This teaching is not only about inner work; it’s about the power of vision. When we look at Eretz Yisrael (Israel)—or at any Jew or at ourselves—with a cynical or dismissive eye, we spiritually exile that person or place. But when we look with hope and a searching eye for goodness, we elevate what we see. Rebbe Nachman urged his students to constantly seek the nekudah tovah, the tiny spark of good—even if it seems hidden or faint. This too is the avodah—sacred work—of seeing the good of Jerusalem—to see the good, even when it’s hard to find. Not because we are naïve, but because we are builders. Builders of faith in humanity, building of faith in ourselves, and, most of all, builders of faith and trust in the Almighty.
May we merit to become those who look with sacred vision, speak with love, and help reveal the deep goodness in Yerushalayim, in our people, and in ourselves.
Good Shabbos