The Battle Belongs to the Lord

Jerusalem bomb shelter, June 15, 2025

Parashat Shelach L’cha, Numbers 8:1–12:16

Rabbi Paul L. Saal, Congregation Shuvah Yisrael, West Hartford, CT 

These are unsettling days. The headlines speak of endless violence in the Middle East, growing instability, and a troubling resurgence of antisemitism, not just on the fringes, but in the mainstream of public discourse and politics. It can feel like we are standing on the edge of something ominous. The words of the prophets echo in our minds: “In the end of days there will be wars and rumors of wars.”

But then again—when has that not been true? When has the world not been trembling somewhere? Perhaps what Scripture is really telling us is that our so-called “last days” may stretch on for generations. The question is not when the end will come, but how we are meant to live in such a time.

Today’s Torah portion, Shelach L’cha, along with its paired haftarah from Joshua, tells the story of two generations on the edge of the Promised Land. Each sends spies to assess the enemy and the terrain. Each is on the brink of a great battle. Each must decide whether to believe in their fears or in the faithfulness of God.

In Numbers 13, Moses sends twelve tribal leaders to scout the land. They all see the same geography, the same cities, the same adversaries. But ten of them return filled with dread: “We looked like grasshoppers in our own eyes, and so we appeared to them” (13:33). Their vision of themselves was so small that even the promise of God could not lift them up.

Forty years later, in the haftarah, Joshua sends two spies into Jericho. They find themselves in a precarious situation, hiding on a rooftop, pursued by the king’s men. But something surprising happens—they hear from Rahab, the Canaanite innkeeper, that the hearts of the people are already melting in fear: “We know the Lord has given you this land” (Josh 2:9). The difference is striking. The first group saw defeat, the second saw victory. Not because the situation had changed—but because they were looking through the eyes of faith, not fear.

Proverbs 21:30–31 says it clearly:

There is no wisdom, no insight, no plan that can succeed against the Lord.
The horse is made ready for the day of battle, but victory rests with the Lord.

Yes, we prepare. We advocate, we defend, we mourn, and we organize. We show up with truth and courage. But we do not place our trust in horses or headlines. We place our trust in the God who sees the whole battlefield and whose purposes cannot be overturned. The battle belongs to Hashem.

That knowledge should give us confidence—but it also raises a question: If God is the author of the outcome, what role do our choices play? The answer lies not in knowing every twist of the story, but in trusting the One who writes it with us.

Proverbs 20:24 reminds us, “A man’s steps are directed by the Lord. How then can anyone understand his own way?”

Life, as we experience it, often feels confusing or random. We can’t always trace the path, let alone control it. That can lead to discouragement, especially when we look back and see missteps, lost time, or wrong turns.

John Quincy Adams once confessed:

My life has been spent in vain and idle aspirations, and in ceaseless rejected prayers that something beneficial to my own species should be the result of my existence.

That aching desire to have made a difference—to have mattered—is something we all feel. But how we deal with that sense of regret or failure is crucial. And literature gives us two vivid examples: Oedipus and Raskolnikov.

Oedipus, the tragic king of Thebes, tries to outrun a prophecy that he will kill his father and marry his mother. Despite his efforts, he fulfills it unknowingly. When the truth emerges, he is devastated. Though he had no malicious intent, he takes full responsibility and blinds himself. His story is one of over-responsibility—bearing guilt for what he could not have prevented. It is a despairing view that leaves no room for mercy or divine grace.

On the other hand, Raskolnikov, in Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment, murders an old woman under the delusion that he is acting for the greater good. He then spends the entire novel trying to rationalize and deny his guilt. His is a story of under-responsibility—blaming fate, philosophy, anything to avoid owning the truth. Only when he finally confesses and repents does he begin to heal.

Oedipus is crushed by guilt for what was not truly his fault. Raskolnikov avoids guilt for what clearly was. And most of us, in our own way, oscillate between these two extremes—either taking on too much shame or trying to escape it entirely.

But Torah offers another way. A better way. It teaches us that we are not helpless victims of fate, nor are we autonomous authors of the world. Instead, we are co-authors with Hashem, responsible for our part, but never alone in shaping the story.

As Proverbs 16:33 teaches: “The lot is cast into the lap, but its every decision is from the Lord.”

Yes, we cast the lots—we make the choices, big and small—but God determines the outcome. That means we are never without agency, and never beyond redemption. God doesn’t erase our past, but he transforms it. He can turn even the broken chapters into a part of his greater redemptive arc.

Each of us is given the opportunity to write a story worth telling. That’s why we were born. And while we write it, we must remember that history itself is really His-story. When we acknowledge his authorship—when we trust that the battle is his, and yet take responsibility for our role—then we live with both humility and hope. We no longer fear our mistakes, nor deny them. We bring them before Hashem, and he sets us free to write something better with the time we have.

So yes, the world is frightening. The forces arrayed against the Jewish people and against truth and righteousness, can feel immense. But we are not grasshoppers in our own eyes—we are the beloved children of the God of Israel. We do not walk into this battle alone. We prepare the horse, but the victory belongs to the Lord.

Let us write the next chapter not in fear, but in faith. Let us believe that even now, Hashem is at work behind the scenes. And let us live with the confident knowledge that our stories—yours and mine—are still being written. And the best pages may yet lie ahead.

Ken yehi ratzon—may this be God’s will.