The Torah appears to contradict itself. In one verse it says, "You are the smallest of all the nations"(Deut. 7:7). In another it declares, "This great nation is certainly a wise and understanding people" (Deut. 4:6). Small or great; which is it?

The answer lies in understanding what "gadol", greatness, actually means. It has nothing to do with numbers or size. Israel's greatness is not demographic; it is the greatness of a people chosen to be wise and understanding. In some generations, that potential is realized more fully, in others less so, but the potential itself never diminishes.

This is the backdrop to the disagreement between Moses and Joshua. When Joshua urges Moses to restrain Eldad and Medad from prophesying, he is essentially accepting the status quo: that prophecy belongs to a designated few, that a certain percentage of the people will always remain spiritually small, and that this is simply how things are. Moses refuses this entirely. He will not make peace with smallness. He will not leave the small people small forever.

Moses knows this smallness exists. He suffers from it personally, their complaints, their failures, their distance from God, pains him deeply. But suffering from a reality and accepting it are two very different things. Moses looks at the same people Joshua sees and refuses to write them off. Instead, he declares: "Would that all of God's people were prophets, that God would put His spirit upon them" (Num. 11:29).

Since we are all disciples of Moses, Moshe Rabbeinu, Moses our master, his declaration carries direct weight for each of us. The teaching of this parasha extends far beyond practical halacha. It asks a fundamental question about how we see the Jewish people: Do we accept their smallness as a fixed reality, or do we refuse to abandon them to it?

Moses' answer is unequivocal. Every single person carries the potential for greatness. Our responsibility, as his disciples, is never to stop believing that.

Questions to Contemplate:

What does it mean to be a disciple of Moses?
We call him Moshe Rabbeinu, Moses our master, not merely as a title but as a statement of identity. His deepest conviction was that every Jewish person carries the capacity for prophecy, for direct and intimate knowledge of God. If you truly took that inheritance seriously, what would change in the way you learn, the way you pray, and the way you look at the person sitting next to you in shul? What would it mean to live not just nominally, but actually, as a student of someone who refused to give up on anyone?