Tourist or Spy? The Eyes Through Which We See the World
By: Rabbi Efrem Goldberg
What if the same eyes that keep us safe at the airport can quietly make us dangerous everywhere else? The same attitude and technology that make us feel safe can subtly shape the way we see the world. We stand in line, place our bags on conveyor belts, and walk through machines designed to detect what might be hidden and dangerous. Security personnel are trained to look carefully and critically, noticing any inconsistencies, and assuming that something may be wrong until proven otherwise.
At an airport, the mindset and approach of security personnel are vitally important. This discernment protects people and prevents danger. But if we leave the airport and continue to look at people the same way, it won’t protect us as much as destroy us. When we approach people as if they’re passing through TSA, scanning their words for problems, looking for inconsistencies, and collecting evidence against them, we aren’t safer. Instead, we put our relationships in danger.
The Torah teaches us that the way we see determines the way we live. The Arizal taught that every Hebrew month corresponds to a different part of the human body. The Bnei Yissaschar explains that the months of Tammuz and Av correspond to the right and left eyes, but what does that mean?
As Moshe begins his final message to the Jewish people in Sefer Devarim, he reviews their history and reminds them of the episode of the spies. He says: “You all approached me and said, ‘Let us send men ahead of us to investigate the land.’” Yet this seems to contradict the way the Torah describes the story in Parashas Shelach in which Hashem tells Moshe to “Send men.” So, who initiated the mission? Was it the people or was it Hashem?
The Ramban explains that there is no contradiction. The people first requested that spies be sent. Moshe agreed with the idea, and Hashem gave His approval and established the proper guidelines. Sefer Devarimdescribes the beginning of the process, while Parashas Shelach describes Hashem’s authorization.
The Malbim, however, notices something even deeper. He points out that the Torah itself uses different words to describe the mission. In Sefer Devarim, the people ask that the spies should “scout out the land for us.” Later, they are described as “spying on it.” But when Hashem commands Moshe in Parashas Shelach, the Torah repeatedly uses a different expression “to tour the land.”
The Malbim explains that these were not simply different ways of describing the same assignment. They represented two fundamentally different approaches. Hashem wanted tourists, but the people became spies. Hashem had already promised that Eretz Yisrael was a good land. He did not need an intelligence report. He did not need them to uncover weaknesses in His plan. He wanted them to tour the land, to experience its beauty, appreciate its blessings, and return inspired.
But the people changed the mission. Instead of touring, they dug. Instead of searching for beauty, they searched for problems. Instead of asking, “How can we appreciate this gift?” They asked, “Why will this fail?” They were sent to see the good, but instead they chose to find the bad.
This distinction is one of the most important lessons of Tammuz and Av because every one of us chooses every day which eyes we will use. Will we view the world like tourists or like spies? A tourist enters a new place and looks around with wonder and amazement. They notice beauty, appreciate the details, and are curious. They want to listen, learn, and remember the moments that inspired them.
A spy enters the same place looking for vulnerabilities. They search for what is wrong, what is dangerous, and what confirms the suspicions they already have. The difference is not what they see, it is what they are looking for. And this applies most of all to the way we view other people.
Too often, we become spies in our relationships, looking for and noticing flaws, failures, and mistakes. We become experts at collecting evidence about what someone else is doing wrong.
But what if we approached people instead like tourists? What if we looked for what is beautiful in others? What if we looked for what they did right, the best part of who they are, the good in them, and what we have in common? What if we became curious about the other person’s story before we became critical of their behavior?
Last year, I read a wonderful book, “The Next Conversation: Argue Less, Talk More” by Jefferson Fisher. He describes that many people enter conversations with the goal of winning. It could be an argument between a husband and wife, a business negotiation, or a debate with a friend, but the common theme is that we want to win. Instead of trying to win, he writes, we should instead seek to connect. The book is filled with strategies and language that empower connection.
One of them that really spoke to me is curiosity. He suggests that we approach every conversation with the idea that we have something to learn, not something to prove. Turn your mind from outward to inward and keep your analytical side engaged. Ask yourself questions like: Where is this coming from? What is driving them to say this? What experiences shaped their perspective? What information am I missing? Get in the habit of becoming curious about the source of the request or statement. Curiosity is the antidote to defensiveness. When you’re genuinely curious about someone’s perspective, they feel safe to share it. This creates the foundation for real dialogue, and connection becomes possible.
Chazal teach that the second Beis HaMikdash was destroyed because of sinas chinam, baseless hatred. Hatred does not usually begin with hatred; it begins with the way we see other people. It begins when we assume motives instead of asking questions and when we interpret instead of understand. It begins when we look at another Jew through the eyes of a spy.
On Tishah B’Av itself, we are not permitted to exchange greetings. She’eilas shalom, saying hello to others, is prohibited. For twenty-five hours, we experience a world where connection and warmth are not only diminished, we feel what it means to live without the simple human greetings like “hello.”
But before Tishah B’Av arrives, perhaps our responsibility is the opposite. This is the week to greet, to connect, to see people, and to see the best in people. Choose one person you don’t usually speak to. Ask them a genuine question and listen to their answer. Become curious about their life.
Don’t approach others as a spy; be a tourist of their lives and of who they are. Look for the beauty and goodness and for what you have in common. Every authentic conversation, every moment of sincere curiosity, every time we choose connection over suspicion is another brick in rebuilding what was destroyed.
This Shabbos is called Shabbos Chazon, the Shabbos of Vision. If we want to see the future redemption, we need to change the way we see each other today.
Rabbi Efrem Goldberg is the Senior Rabbi of the Boca Raton Synagogue (BRS), a rapidly-growing congregation of over 850 families and over 1,000 children in Boca Raton, Florida.


