Parashat Bemidbar, Numbers 1:1-4:20

What's in a number?

Bills, bills, bills! Ever try to sort out a problem with a bill? You call an automated system, and the first thing they do is have you punch in your account number. Some of them identify you by your phone number, or your postal code. Then they ask for your account number again. Let's not forget the password, which often must be alphanumeric, with the odd symbol tossed in for good measure. If you're lucky, you will eventually speak to a living, breathing human, who will ask you once again for your account number! Even when dealing face to face with an individual who asks for identification, they will often write down your driver's license number. Gone are the days when A good name is better than fine oil. (Ecclesiastes 7:1) Nowadays, it’s your number that’s important, whether it’s your ID, credit rating, or a desirable postal or zip code.

Thus it is somewhat disconcerting to open up the fourth book of the Torah, Bemidbar (in the wilderness), and find out that it begins with the counting of people, clans and tribes. No wonder it is called Numbers in English! Think back to the book of Shemot, Exodus. That book began with the names of the people who went down to Egypt; here we have the number of people in the wilderness.

This is not the first time that God counts the people of Israel. We were counted after the incident of the Golden Calf. God also counted us when we were instructed to make a tabernacle so that God would dwell in our midst.

So what’s the difference between being called and being counted, between a name and a number? It is the difference between the personal and the impersonal, between the infinite and the finite.

There was until quite recently an ambivalence toward counting people and toward knowing their ages. For there was a feeling that knowing someone’s “number” was equivalent to knowing that person’s essence, and such knowledge was ultimately a divine prerogative (e.g., knowing when “someone’s number was up”). However important a census might be, it had to have divine sanction; and if it did not—as in David’s time—the consequences could be catastrophic (II Sam. 24). Latter-day reflections of this ambivalence have been the hesitation of Jews to keep an exact record of their own years, and the habit of counting people in one’s presence by saying, “Not one, not two, not three. . .“—as if to tell God that they were not really presuming on divine privileges.

The Torah: A Modern Commentary, revised edition, W. Gunther Plaut, ed., p. 914

In Bemidbar, as elsewhere in the Torah, it is God who commands that the census be taken. It is done for a Divine purpose. Rashi comments on this census taking, pointing out that God has taken count before. He sees this as a sign of God’s love; God counts that which is dear to the Divine. This is similar to a collector opening a box and lovingly looking at the treasured possessions within. It is a reminder that each one of us is treasured by God. Recall that we are still counting the Omer. As was previously mentioned, counting is also a measure of enthusiasm, and a reaffirmation of our devotion to God.

But somewhere between Shemot and Bemidbar the focus shifts from names to numbers. We went down to Egypt as individuals, but we were redeemed as a group that had bonded through a series of shared experiences. We think of names as providing us with an identity. This is true on a personal level; in a communal setting, a number can represent a common bond or shared experience. A few examples:

· the Group of Seven (Influential Canadian landscape artists from the 1920's.)

· the Mercury Seven (The first seven individuals chosen as astronauts by NASA to fly in the Mercury program.)

· the Chicago Seven (Seven individuals charged with conspiracy at the 1968 Democratic convention.)

· the Gang of Four (A group of leaders in China arrested after the death of Mao and held responsible for failings of the Cultural Revolution. The group included Mao's widow Jiang Qing. Not to be confused with the band of the same name.)

· the Jackson Five (Rock and roll hall-of-famers, this Motown band introduced 11-year-old Michael as the lead singer.)

· the Three Stooges (A vaudeville team specializing in slapstick humour; they made a successful transition to the screen, producing many short films. For true aficionados no one could replace Curly, nyuk, nyuk.)

To paraphrase Shakespeare, what's in a number?

In our contemporary society, we advocate for the individual, sometimes at the expense of the community. Every decade, the government sends people out to take down details of individual lives. These details are tiles in the mosaic that forms a picture of our nation. The census in Bemidbar is also an illustration of a community at a point in time. It serves to remind us that we are part of a group that shares a transformative experience.

How odd! Being identified by an account number lessens my humanity; being counted in a census reaffirms it. Moreover, being counted in a community strengthens my commitment and sense of responsibility to that community. I say this as a woman who has experienced being both included and excluded from a minyan. You relate in a different way to a community that includes you. Inclusion brings with it a desire to contribute to the group. You can see a visible transformation on the face of a Bar or Bat-Mitzvah the first time he or she is asked to be part of a minyan. Indeed, the individual is most important in a community. Bemidbar's message for all of us is: count me in.

Shabbat shalom,
MS