Our bodies are hard-wired with biological adaptations to respond to things that look nice; that’s how nature works. The beauty of a flower is a by-product of what it takes for the plant to attract and reward the bees and birds that will pollinate the flower.
That’s what eyes do; that’s how they work.
Animals live from moment to moment, always looking for food and threats and not much else. As humans, though, our higher faculties must process and respond to what our eyes see. Unlike animals, we are self-conscious and can evaluate what course of action to take. Although we intuitively understand that there is more than meets the eye, humans have always struggled with it for good reason.
It’s at the heart of the Creation story; Eve sees that the forbidden fruit looks attractive and nice and desires it, and ultimately cannot overcome what she sees – וַתֵּרֶא הָאִשָּׁה כִּי טוֹב הָעֵץ לְמַאֲכָל וְכִי תַאֲוָה־הוּא לָעֵינַיִם וְנֶחְמָד הָעֵץ לְהַשְׂכִּיל וַתִּקַּח מִפִּרְיוֹ.
It’s the mistake the spies make when scouting the Land of Israel. They see a land that has so much to offer. Still, instead of thinking how the land might be good for them and trusting in the culmination of the Exodus and the redemption of ancient promises to their ancestors, they just give up in despair about their inadequacy and how they’ll never be able to conquer the strong and mighty natives, leading to a lost generation.
Quite unusually, the Torah characterizes the Creator as vocally expressing disappointment and frustration to Moshe, that their error is unbelievably stupid after all they’ve experienced:
וַיֹּאמֶר ה’ אֶל־מֹשֶׁה עַד־אָנָה יְנַאֲצֻנִי הָעָם הַזֶּה וְעַד־אָנָה לֹא־יַאֲמִינוּ בִי בְּכֹל הָאֹתוֹת אֲשֶׁר עָשִׂיתִי בְּקִרְבּוֹ – And the Creator said to Moshe, “How long will this people spurn Me, and how long will they have no faith in Me despite all the signs that I have performed in their midst?” (14:11)
There is an ancient fable told of a group of blind men who hear that a strange animal called an elephant has been brought to the town, but none of them are aware of its shape and form, and they step forward to know it by touch. The first person’s hand landed on the trunk and said an elephant is like a thick snake. Another one touched its ear and said it seemed like a kind of fan. Another person’s hand was on its leg and said an elephant is a pillar like a tree trunk. The blind man who placed his hand upon its side said an elephant is like a wall. Another felt its tail and described an elephant like a rope. The last felt its tusk, stating that an elephant is hard, smooth, and pointy like a spear.
None of them is wrong, and all are correct, but their limited perceptions lead them to incomplete and fragmented understandings. None have fully apprehended the elephant, and even we who know all these aspects of an elephant do not see the front, back, and sides simultaneously, let alone the inside.
But similarly, our experiences and perceptions often provide only partial glimpses of a broader reality. Assuming we know the whole truth can be misleading, as we are frequently unaware of the deeper dimensions our senses do not capture. We do not experience objective reality; we cannot know the truth, only our experience and perception of it. Our perception is not an infallible representation of reality; our experiences, biases, and limitations shape it.
Indeed, as the Steipler notes, our attitudes shape our experiences. The spies entered the land with a bad attitude; although they experienced miracles, with the inhabitants distracted and preoccupied with tragedy, they perceived everything as negative even though it was all a blessing.
This should create a large space for humility and other perspectives; our sages teach that there are seventy faces of Torah and tell of a story of R’ Meir, who, despite recognizing the inherent impurity of a type of unclean creature, could articulate an argument where it might be considered pure, highlighting the nuanced and layered nature of truth.
R’ Jonathan Sacks notes that the mitzva of tzitzis follows the story of the spies, and the juxtaposition suggests some association by sequence. In fact, the stated purpose of the mitzva mirrors the action of the spies, following the eyes, and even uses the exact same verb – וְיָתֻרוּ אֶת־אֶרֶץ כְּנַעַן / וְלֹא-תָתוּרוּ אַחֲרֵי לְבַבְכֶם, וְאַחֲרֵי עֵינֵיכֶם.
A key part of the mitzvah of tzitzis is to have a blue-violet string – תְּכֵלֶת. R’ Shamshon Raphael Hirsch notes that the visible portion of the electromagnetic spectrum ends with blue-violet. There are infrared, ultraviolet, and lots more additional magnitudes of light that radiate unseen beyond what our eyes can discern on either end of the spectrum. It’s also blue like the sky, the limit of Earth’s visible atmosphere, yet we know space sprawls far beyond our most powerful and sensitive imaging tools. Perhaps then, part of the mitzvah of tzitzis is to remind us of the essential human boundaries of our perception, that there is an invisible, imperceptible, but very real unseen sphere of existence beyond what we see and feel.
The Sfas Emes teaches that engaging our higher faculties to look beyond the surface and see within both ourselves and beyond touches the greatest endeavors we are capable of.
Don’t be taken in by appearance; seek the inner truth. In judgment, be aware of your perceptual limitations. When making important decisions, think of your long-term goals and values. Be suspicious of all that is perfectly curated and editorialized in media consumption. In relationships, look beyond the superficial; seek authentic and meaningful interactions with people with good character and values.
What you see is not all there is.
There is more than meets the eye.