A Taste of Shabbos – Parashat Bamidbar

This week we start the fourth book of the Torah called Bamidbar, which means ‘in the desert.’ The rabbis call this ‘the book of numbers.’ One reason is that it contains multiple records of the census of the Jewish people during their 40 year trek from Egypt to the land of Canaan. But isn’t it prohibited to count people directly? Furthermore, there’s a saying, ‘a blessing does rest except on something hidden from the eye’? So how can there be so much counting in this entire Torah book? In addition, especially after the Holocaust, don’t numbers reflect treating people as mere objects, as in Buber’s contrast between an I-Thou and I-it outlook on humanity?

To better understand the sense of the census in the Torah, let’s look at a few seemingly unrelated verses from Psalm 147: ‘He heals the broken hearted and binds their wounds…He gives a number to the stars, and to all of them he calls by name.’ With a little forethought, we can find a deep connection between these two verses. Many broken hearted people feel ‘left out,’ of their place and purpose in one way or another. How does G-d bind their wounds? By reminding them that though there seems to be an infinite number of stars in the universe, not only does each have a name, but they are all called by name. The implication is that a number in the Torah is also a distinct name. The Jewish custom to call someone by their Hebrew name and their parents name expresses their uniqueness.

From a Torah perspective, we know from way back in the book of Genesis, the wisdom of Adam was tested when he was able to call living creatures by their name. The mystics explain that those names were not just arbitrary, but rather, based on the principle that the Hebrew alphabet is the code language of creation, Adam had some kind of spiritual ‘x-ray vision’ that allowed him to see into and name each creature. He could identify its soul and therefore its role and purpose in the world. So too, King David is telling us in this Psalm that if G-d can give a distinctive name to each star, He can do so for us, and therefore we each have a unique purpose in the particular time and space of any given lifetime. That thought should, at least conceptually, help us overcome the paralysis of our broken hearts.

Therefore, in the parasha which is usually read before the holiday of Shavuot when the Ten Commandments were revealed to the entire people of Israel, we can all access both the individuality and the community that brings us together. This also explains the repeated image of being part of an army, an organization where each has a special role to play while being a part of a larger whole. In that context when one person fulfills their duty, they are advancing the cause of the whole – and of course vice versa. It is the map of the totality that allows us to recognize the detail of a particular location. Just think about why the tiny country of Israel occupies the mind and focus of so much of the world. The Haftarah too begins with this integer paradox: ‘The number of Israelites will be as the sand of the sea which neither can be measured nor counted.’ Back to the beginning of Bamidbar: There is a classic comment from the Ohr Ha’Chaim; ‘the verse begins: G-d spoke to Moshe in the Sinai desert, in the Tent of Meeting, on the first day of the second month…’ This commentary questions that the flow does not seem parallel: first a big space, then a smaller one (from desert to the Tabernacle) but the time flow goes from small to the large- from a day to a month? He answers that the space too is going from the small to the large, because the Tabernacle which is a Godly home is actually bigger in importance and impact than the desert. Thus one of the names for G-d is ‘HaMakom’ meaning ‘the Place.’ The reason is that, more than G-d is in the world, the world is contained in G-d.

In a similar vein, Rabbi Yosef Zevin addressed the question of why there is a custom to place greens and plants in shuls and homes: On Shavuot there was a custom to bring bikkurim, first fruits, to the holy temple in Jerusalem. How, he asks, is this related to the day of the revelation of Torah? He gives a succinct but profound answer: With Torah, a desert can become a garden, but without Torah, a garden can become a desert. This teaching affected me deeply when I first read it about fifty years ago! The underlying concept here seems to be that when in connection with Essence, the static, ephemeral details can take on a dynamic aspect of eternity- which is what the revelation at Sinai actually accomplished. When this happens, numbers can indeed become names.

Shabbos accomplishes in a weekly format, what happens once a year on Shavuot. But what enhances the awareness of its impact is the preparation. Just as we spent 49 days not just counting but trying to figure out how we count in the world, so too our preparations for Shabbat during the six days of the week can make all the difference. Our weekday activity can be like a set of disconnected, and even chaotic numbers. But we are taught that the first three days of the week are energized and eternalized by the preceding Shabbos, while the last three days are elevated by the following Shabbos. The coming day of Shavuot and every Shabbat thereafter, can guide us to find answers to the question, ‘What can we do to upgrade the count of our days, to make each day count? In other words how do we turn lifeless numbers into eternal names?

I wrote the following poem with many of these thoughts in mind:

NUMBERS GAME

A FIFTH GRADE TEACHER SCOLDED ME

WHEN SHE THOUGHT I WAS DAYDREAMING

WHILE I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE WORKING ON HER MATH PROBLEM.

‘SHOW ME YOUR PROCESS,’ SHE PERSISTED.

MEANWHILE, I WAS ABSORBED IN THE CONCEPT OF

‘TWO NEGATIVES MAKE A POSITIVE.’

HOW COULD SHE KNOW WHY MY EYES GLAZED OVER

WHEN I SAW A STRING OF NUMBERS.

MY TEACHER DIDN’T REALIZE I WAS BORN

THE DAY AFTER THE ‘ESCAPE FROM SOBIBOR.’

AND MY FATHER COULDN’T TALK

AND MY MOTHER COULDN’T WALK,

WHILE I KEPT MUMBLING,

‘EINS TSVEI DRY FIER’…