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Bamidbar – Are We Just a Number or Do We Count?
The fourth book of the Torah is most popularly known as the Book of Numbers. As I became observant, I started referring to it by its Hebrew name, Bamidbar. However, the Rabbis of the Talmud refer to the 4th book as Sefer HaPekudim, or The Book of Census. So the Talmudic naming is actually quite close to the popularized title.
And why is this the Book of Numbers? There’s a lot of census taking! There’s the counting of the men between 20 and 60. There’s the counting of the members of each tribe. The counting of the Levites. The counting of the number of first born males, and the families of Levites. Beyond Parshas Bamidbar, there is another census in Parshas Pinchas. So the name is quite appropriate.
Why all this counting? The answer usually given is Rashi’s, that when someone values something, they love to check and review it. A rich person loves counting their money. An art collector loves looking over their paintings and sculptures. Content creators love checking their stats. So too Hashem loves the Jewish people and takes every opportunity He can to count us. That’s a nice idea, but does that not imply that all we are is just a number? One of 603,000. And if we’re from the tribe of Judah then we’re one of 76,400?
Historically if institutions want to dehumanize people, they identify them as numbers. Prisons, Soviet Gulags, and of course Nazi concentration camps. Even when systems aren’t trying to actively dehumanize, it’s simply more efficient to use a number, hence the social security number has become the most sensitive piece of personal information. Impersonal? Sure. But it sure beats being stuck in a bureaucratic nightmare because someone spelled your name with an “I” instead of a “Y.” Advertisement
But Parsha Bamidbar doesn’t just detail the census counts. It names the heads of tribes and the families. Each camp is commanded to have its own flag or banner, bearing the symbol of their tribe. Within the tribe, each person is given their place to set up camp and how to travel. The first borns are counted because they were originally meant to do the service of the Temple. Family, birth order, and the banner you wave are all powerful expressions of identity. They are your place.
Does Sefer HaPekudim have more to say about our identity than simply that we are numbers with a place to be put? I translated Sefer HaPekudim as the Book of the Census, but that’s not right. The Hebrew root of Pekudim is פ־ק־ד, which means to invest with purpose or responsibility. This root is also part of the word Tafkid which means function, role, or better yet, your purpose.
What better measure of your identity than your purpose in life?
But how do we find our purpose? Is it our talents? What if we aren’t able to practice our talents due to injury or simply where life takes us? Is it our unique outlook on life? What if we never find how to express that outlook?
This leads us to ask, why is this parsha, and this book of the Torah, called as Bamidbar? In the wilderness? The Midrash Tanchuma, Bamidbar 7 asks this very question, “Why does the verse say, ‘in the wilderness’”? Its answer? “For anyone who does not make himself hefker (without owner) like the wilderness cannot acquire Torah.” What does that mean?
Parsha Bamidbar is always read before the holiday of Shavuos. It is inherently connected to our identity and our purpose. Hashem gave us the Torah so we could be the Jewish people and become a light unto the nations. To fulfill that mission each individual must impart their unique and gifted expression of the Torah. But that can only come about if that expression isn’t in service of any other master. If I am writing this blog to get likes or a sponsorship or to inflate my own ego, it will eventually and necessarily distort, if not outright pervert, the expression of my unique message.
We see this perversion of Torah throughout the book of Numbers. The mergalim (spies) pervert their exploration of the land of Israel and it becomes a disaster. Korach leads a rebellion disguised as a halachic dispute, but it’s really a pursuit of power. Bilaam had prophecy, but used it for financial and political gain. There are more examples, but you get the point. If you really want to express your true self, even if it is through Torah, you can’t be beholden to anyone else. To be hefker implies not only freedom from ownership, but also being like the barren and uncultivated wilderness. For us that means unbiased and free of preconceived notions. Our outlook can’t have established prejudices which will stop Torah ideas from taking root.
Hashem loves you. Not because of your grades, or your income, or your victories. He is enamored with you for the unique individual you are and the singular way you relate to Him. But relationships are based on something mutual. For Hashem, that’s the Torah. He wants nothing more than for you to share it in the purest, most distinctive way that only you can. Without agenda, without condition, without approval. I can’t tell you how many classes I spent trying to think of the most clever question to ask so I could sound like the smartest one in the room instead of listening to the questions of my classmates. How much wisdom was lost in my desire to inflate my ego? If only I had done as the Midrash recommends: “Detach yourself from those things that tether you and tame you. Give yourself over to the wilderness, for you just might then find yourself back at Sinai.” I don’t think it’s a maybe. I think it is something you can count on.
This was originally posted on my Torah blog.
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