The Strength to Step Back: What My Wooden Book Holder (Shtender) Taught Me About Humility and Leadership©

Parashat Shelach Lecha 2025/5785

Rabbi David Baum, Congregation Shaarei Kodesh

In 2002, while I was studying in Jerusalem after my undergraduate studies, I applied to and was admitted to JTS’s rabbinical school. The day after I was admitted, I created a ‘bucket list’ of experiences I wanted to have before I left for New York, and a book and ‘supply list. The first thing on the list was to buy a new Shtender, a glorified desk book holder, used for studying holy books in Judaism. 

The cool thing was to have a wooden shtender from a store in Mea Shearim called Olive, the most religious part of Jerusalem outside of the Old City. In that store, you can have someone customize your very own shtender with your Hebrew name on it, along with a quote of your choice from the Torah (both written and oral). I thought long and hard about the line from the Torah that I wanted to add. I entered the store, stepping down into a dark basement turned into a shtender store, and waited in line for my turn. It felt like going into the wand store for those reading who are Harry Potter fans, but the owner was much less exciting than the wand salesman. She said, “What’s your name, and verse?” I told her my name, and she quickly wrote it in perfect Hebrew calligraphy. “Verse?” she tersely asked, and I quoted her Numbers 12:3:

וְהָאִישׁ מֹשֶׁה עָנָו מְאֹד מִכֹּל הָאָדָם אֲשֶׁר עַל־פְּנֵי הָאֲדָמָה׃ {ס}        

Now Moses himself was very humble, more so than any other human being on earth.

With a puzzled look, she said, “No one’s ever asked me to write that verse before,” but that didn’t stop her from writing the verse with perfect penmanship and detail in seconds. “150 Shekels. Next!” 

I chose that line because I thought to myself, although I have no idea what it means to be a rabbinical student and even less about being a rabbi, I do know one thing: it will require humility, Anavut. It seems counterintuitive, doesn't it? People look up to a leader to tell them where to go and say that everything will be ok if they follow the plan. Humility, as we understand it, according to the Oxford Dictionary, is defined by having a low self-regard and sense of unworthiness. Why would anyone want their leaders to be humble?

Today, I want to explain why humility, Anavut, is important, not just for leaders but also as a middah, a sacred value, and how having too much humility is just as dangerous as having none. 

We were introduced to this word last week, in parashat Behalotecha. Immediately before Moses is called the humblest man on earth, there is a story of Moses giving up power to 72 elders in the community. Two elders, Eldad and Medad, start ‘prophesying’ in the camp. Joshua, who will become the new Moses, says to Moses, “A youth ran out and told Moses, saying, “Eldad and Medad are acting the prophet in the camp!” And Joshua, son of Nun, Moses’ attendant from his youth, spoke up and said, “My lord Moses, restrain them!” But Moses said to him (Joshua), “Are you wrought up on my account? Would that all the LORD’s people were prophets, that the LORD put His spirit upon them!”’ (Numbers 11: 27-29). 

Immediately afterwards, Moses’s leadership is challenged by his sister and brother, Miriam and Aaron. It is at this point that the Torah describes Moses in the following way, the same quote on my shtender: 

וְהָאִישׁ מֹשֶׁה עָנָו מְאֹד מִכֹּל הָאָדָם אֲשֶׁר עַל־פְּנֵי הָאֲדָמָה׃ {ס}        

Now Moses himself was very humble, more so than any other human being on earth.

Humility, Anavut, means that one must engage in Tzimtzum, withdrawal. In other words, don’t be scared to let others take up space. Rabbi Max Weiss writes, “Moses’s humility is based on his recognition that he lives his life among and with his people, not at the center and not above them. His humility flows from his knowledge of his proper place in the world. This awareness allows him both to lead and to follow, to be in front and to be behind, to know his power and to know his limits. Moses is humble. He possesses anavah; he is not self-abasing, nor does his power lead to arrogance.”

Consequently, when the leader actually has something to say, they can now take up space with even more authority and authenticity than before. This is also leadership; it is a dance between the leader and their followers.

In this week’s parashah, we read about another struggle of leadership. Last week, we read about Moses vs Eldad and Medad, then Moses vs Miriam and Aaron; but this week, we see Moses versus the ten spies. 

Moses sends out twelve spies to tour the land of Canaan and give a report. Ten of the spies come back with a frightening report. 

"The whole community broke into loud cries, and the people wept that night. All the Israelites railed against Moses and Aaron. “If only we had died in the land of Egypt,” the whole community shouted at them, “or if only we might die in this wilderness! Why is the LORD taking us to that land to fall by the sword? Our wives and children will be carried off! It would be better for us to go back to Egypt!” And they said to one another, “Let us head back for-a Egypt.” Then Moses and Aaron fell on their faces before all the assembled congregation of the Israelites.”

Moses and Aaron’s reaction is puzzling; rather than attack the congregation, they bow before them in silence. Why do they not say a word in the face of this rebellion? 

There is a teaching in the Talmud that speaks to this question in a roundabout way.

The two famous rabbis, Hillel and Shammai, argued with each other over everything.  Hillel won most of the arguments; but the question is, why? The Talmud gives a hint as to the reason in two places, in the Yershalmi-Jerusalem Talmud Sukkah 2:4 and the Babylonian Talmud 13b.

The Talmud (Yerushalmi Sukkah 2:4 and Bavli Eruvin 13b)) asks: Why is Jewish law generally decided according to the House of Hillel rather than the House of Shammai, even though both were brilliant and deeply committed? The answer lies not in intellect, but in humility and integrity. According to Rabbi Yehudah bar Pazi, Beit Hillel consistently practiced two remarkable things:

1. They taught the views of Beit Shammai before their own.

   
   

   This showed deep respect and intellectual honesty—they didn’t dismiss opposing views but honored them by presenting them first.

2. If they were persuaded by Beit Shammai’s reasoning, they changed their minds. Rather than cling to ego or partisanship, they were willing to admit when the other side was right.

Hillel teaches us that true leadership is not about being right, but about being righteous—making space for others’ voices, and remaining open to growth. As Rabbi Tarfon taught in Pirkei Avot: “Who is honored? The one who honors others.”

Teaching your opponents' words takes time away from your own words. By doing this, the leader shows a quiet confidence in their own thoughts: Let them the other side be heard because I believe in my ideas so much that I’m not scared to let them be heard and challenge them if they need to be refuted. 

Moses and Aaron let the opposing voices be heard when they bowed in silence, and perhaps it took that vacuum for the wrong message to be put out there, for new leaders to step in: Joshua and Caleb. 

Standing apart from the other ten leaders, the two leaders say: “The land that we traversed and scouted is an exceedingly good land. If the LORD is pleased with us, He will bring us into that land, a land that flows with milk and honey, and give it to us; only you must not rebel against the LORD. Have no fear then of the people of the country, for they are our prey: their protection has departed from them, but the LORD is with us. Have no fear of them!”

They do not lie. The land is exceedingly good, as the other spies reported, and they do not lie about the opposition they will face. Rather than say, "We are not the prey here," they say, "We can win if we believe we can, because God believes we can." God has faith in us; how much more so should we have faith in ourselves. 

Despite the social and physical threats, they spoke the truth. 

True anavah, humility, is not about erasing yourself. It’s about knowing when to speak and when to hold silence, when to give space and when to step forward.

There’s a reason Moses doesn't give a speech when the people cry out to return to Egypt. That moment of silence is not passivity—it’s spiritual restraint. It creates space for something else to emerge. And indeed, it does: Caleb and Joshua rise. Sometimes humility means stepping back—not forever, but so others might step forward. Sometimes, that’s leadership.

Sometimes, humility means speaking up—even when it's uncomfortable, even when it means risking rejection, as Caleb and Joshua do. In this case, Joshua and Caleb show a different kind of humility: their very lives matter less than the lives of their people. 

That shtender, which I learn from, and use to speak from the bimah from, still holds up my books and my words. But what it really holds up is the foundation of how I try to lead—not by having all the answers, but by staying grounded. Not by taking up all the space, but by creating space for others to wrestle, speak, lead, and shine.

Sometimes, I fail. I speak too soon. Or not at all. I doubt myself when I need to act. Or act when I should listen. But that little verse written on the wood brings me back to the question that Hillel and Moses and Caleb all asked themselves, in their own way: “What does God need from me in this moment? Courage or restraint? Voice or silence? Strength or softness?” 

We are all scouts, in a sense. We look at the future—of our people, our world, even our own personal lives—and we feel overwhelmed. The giants are real. The fortified cities exist. And it’s easy to say, “Let’s go back to Egypt.” It’s easy to let fear dress itself up as wisdom.

But the real question isn’t what we see. It’s how we respond.

Do we shrink ourselves and give in to panic?Do we shout the loudest and claim certainty?Or do we lead with humility—listening deeply, discerning clearly, speaking bravely?

As we reflect on Shelach Lecha, may we remember:

The most courageous act is not marching forward with arrogance—but standing up with humility.

Like Moses and Aaron. Like Caleb and Joshua. Like Hillel and Shammai. 

Like that quiet little wooden shtender on my desk and on this bimah, holding up the weight of Torah for anyone ready to lean in and learn.