In democracies as well as in Jewish Law, majority rules. A beit din (court of Torah law) must always consist of an odd number of judges, so that there should always be a majority opinion.

But the fact is, sometimes the majority gets it wrong.

The story in this week’s Torah reading, of the twelve spies sent by Moses to the Promised Land, is a case in point.

Only two of the dozen, Joshua and Caleb, remained faithful to their leader, to the purpose of their mission and to G‑d’s assurance that it was a good land. The other ten spies went awry.

The spies were sent on a reconnaissance mission to determine how best to approach the coming conquest of the land of Canaan. Instead of doing what they were sent to do—to suggest the best way forward—ten of the twelve spies brought back a negative report that was designed to intimidate the people and discourage them from entering a ferocious “land that devours its inhabitants,” and which signed off with the categorical conclusion that “we cannot ascend.”

The people responded accordingly. They cried out to Moses, lamenting their very departure from Egypt. So G‑d decreed that this generation was not worthy of His precious Promised Land. Furthermore, this day of weeping, on which they cried for no good reason, would become a day of tears for generations. Indeed, our sages explain, this occurred on the Ninth of Av, the day that would become a day of mourning for the destruction of our Holy Temples and many other national calamities throughout history.

Now, the question I’d like to pose here is: why did the people not follow the two good spies, Joshua and Caleb, instead of the others? The obvious answer: they were outvoted and outnumbered. Ten vs. two—no contest. Majority rules.

Tragically, though, they backed the losers. And the result was an extended vacation in the wilderness for them, and a tragedy for all of us to this day.

So, although we may be staunch democrats and believers in the democratic process, clearly, there will be times when the minority is right.

The saintly Rabbi Yisroel Meir HaKohen Kagan, better known as the “Chafetz Chaim,” was once challenged by a fellow Jew who was a somewhat educated cynic. “Rabbi,” he argued, “doesn’t the Torah itself say that we must follow the majority? Well, the overwhelming majority of Jews today are not religious. So you religious Jews must come over to our way of thinking!”

The Chafetz Chaim replied with a story.

“Recently, I had occasion to be traveling by coach back home from an important trip. En route, the coachman distributed generous helpings of vodka to his passengers to keep them warm and content. The coachman, too, helped himself to much more vodka than he should have.

“When we came to a crossroads, there was confusion as to which way to turn. Most people argued that the left road was the correct path. I was one of the only sober passengers on board, and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that we needed to take the road to the right. So I ask you, my friend, should I too have followed the majority? They were hopelessly drunk and their was judgment impaired. Thank G‑d, I prevailed.”

All too often, the values and judgment calls of “the world” are simply wrong. No matter how outnumbered moral people may be, we will continue to follow the path of decency and sanity.

We Jews have never played the numbers game. Always, we have been the smallest of nations. We are known not for our majority, but for our morals.

Not so long ago—I think it was at the time of the fictitious Jenin “massacre”—Kofi Anan questioned, “Can it be that the whole world is wrong and Israel is right?” Guess what. He was spot-on. The whole world was wrong and Israel was right. There simply was no massacre.

My wife has taught high school for many years. Once, a former student of hers asked if she could speak to her privately. She needed some guidance. She was now a young woman, and everyone was telling her she was crazy for insisting that she have no intimate relations before her wedding. She sought my wife’s affirmation that she hadn’t lost her sanity.

All too often it is the world that is stark raving meshuga, veering drunkenly out of control. It takes substantial strength of character to resist the pull of the drunken majority.

May G‑d aid us to be men and women of stature, of spirit. May we be inspired with the courage to stand up and be counted, even if it means being that lone voice in the wilderness. Otherwise, we may never get to our destination.