The Paradox of Counting

The book of counting teaches us that we hold unique significance as individuals, even as we accept the Torah "like one person with one heart"

In Mesechet Megillah 31b, Tosefot explains the significance of beginning the book of Bamidbar before Shavuot. By examining the name of this book, we can gain further insight into its importance.

The word 'Bamidbar' is commonly translated as 'in the desert.' However, our Sages also refer to this book by another name: Sefer HaPekudim, meaning the Book of Counting. This is because the book of Bamidbar starts and concludes with a census of the Jewish people. From a secular biblical perspective, Bamidbar is often known as the Book of Numbers, which stems from a misinterpretation of Sefer HaPekudim. This misinterpretation arises because the simple notion of numbers fails to encompass the deeper and more nuanced concept of counting.

As we have previously discussed, the Hebrew word "pakad" carries the same three-fold meaning as its English translation, "count." The first definition of "pakad" is numerical, referring to a census, which is why this book is titled Sefer HaPekudim.

The second meaning is that someone is significant or beloved, as the Torah teaches us:

…וַֽיהוָ֛ה פָּקַ֥ד אֶת־שָׂרָ֖ה כַּאֲשֶׁ֣ר אָמָ֑ר

God remembered Sarah with love, [when He fulfilled his promise that she would become pregnant] [Genesis 21:1]

And the third use of pakad is to denote a title of status or prominence, as in:

וְיַפְקֵ֨ד הַמֶּ֣לֶךְ פְּקִידִים֮ בְּכָל־מְדִינ֣וֹת מַלְכוּתוֹ֒

Let Your Majesty appoint officers in every province of your realm [Esther 2:3]

In this week's parsha, we encounter paradoxical uses of the word "pakad" with its various definitions. First, it states that the Leviim should not be counted. However, in the very next verse, it uses "hafked," derived from the same root, which means to appoint them, indicating that the Leviim should be given a position of prominence.

אַ֣ךְ אֶת־מַטֵּ֤ה לֵוִי֙ לֹ֣א תִפְקֹ֔ד וְאֶת־רֹאשָׁ֖ם לֹ֣א תִשָּׂ֑א בְּת֖וֹךְ בְּנֵ֥י יִשְׂרָאֵֽל׃ וְאַתָּ֡ה הַפְקֵ֣ד אֶת־הַלְוִיִּם֩ עַל־מִשְׁכַּ֨ן הָעֵדֻ֜ת

Do not on any account enroll the tribe of Levi or take a census of them with the Israelites. You shall appoint the Levites in charge of the Tabernacle… [Numbers 1, 49-50]

This paradoxical use of hafked, reflects the negative and positive aspects of counting. On the one hand, God disapproves of numerical counting in many places in the Torah, because counting reduces people to faceless numbers. That’s why the secular translation of the book's title, “Numbers”, misses the point. On the other hand, when we count for the purpose of appointing someone to a position of prominence, we’re doing the opposite of reducing them to a number; we’re recognizing the special contribution of each individual.

Understanding the dual nature of counting can also provide insights into why the Torah was given bamidbar, in the desert. Why did this significant event occur on the journey to Israel rather than upon our arrival? One possible reason, as taught by our Sages, is that in order to receive the Torah, we needed to be "barren" like the desert. This means that we require a sense of humility, a positive character trait that allows us to develop our individuality. Only through humility can one truly grow and become a genuine individual.

On the other hand, the notion of becoming "barren" like the desert suggests that the Torah diminished us as individuals. This presents us with the precise paradox we confront on Shavuot. While humility is crucial for personal growth and acceptance of the Torah, it may also raise concerns about losing our individuality. It is within this paradox that we find the tension and the opportunity for introspection and growth on the occasion of Shavuot.

When the Jewish people at Mount Sinai proclaimed "na’asseh v’nishma," meaning "we will do and we will listen," the ministering angels, known as the malachei hasharet, informed God that we had reached their level. In addition, the Sages teach us that the Jewish people reversed the curse of Adam when they received the Torah at Mount Sinai.

However, our reactions at Mount Sinai were not solely spiritually uplifting. For instance, it is notable that we have a tradition to stay awake all night studying Torah on Shavuot. This practice serves as compensation for the fact that the Jewish people fell asleep the night before receiving the Torah, rather than being filled with excitement as one might anticipate before a major concert.

Moreover, after receiving the first two commandments, the Jewish people implored Moshe to intervene, because they felt overwhelmed. Then, as the midrash says as we referenced last week in The Sixth Day, ran away from Mt. Sinai as a child runs away from school, and 40 days later, they succumbed to worshipping the Golden Calf.

כדאמר במדרש (ילמדנו) ויסעו שנסעו מהר סיני דרך שלשת ימים כתינוק היוצא מבית הספר

They set forward from Mount Sinai… just like a child who runs away from school [Tosafot Shabbat, 116]

This highlights the internal conflict within the Jewish people. They were torn between their initial enthusiastic embrace of a relationship with God through His Torah and their deep anxiety about the potential loss of their independence and individuality. This ambivalence is evident throughout the entire book of Bamidbar, especially in the narrative depicting the arrangement of the desert camps, which reflects the delicate balance between individuality and unity within a budding nation.

We even find this internal conflict represented in the Mishkan, the tabernacle, which served as the heart of the Jewish people, where the broken tablets were always carried alongside the intact ones. This act symbolized the preservation of their shortcomings and mistakes for future generations, serving as a reminder of their imperfections and the ongoing struggle to achieve spiritual growth and independence.

I think what the Jewish people yearned for was a feasible way to connect with the Divine – a way that they could be in a relationship with God despite their humanity. Although God created us to develop our individuality, it was an enormous struggle to see ourselves as individuals when we were overwhelmed by His presence at Mount Sinai. That’s why the Jewish people ran off from Mt. Sinai like a child from school: they were overwhelmed by God’s presence, and they needed space.

We encounter a similar challenge when conducting a census: how do we ensure that individuals are not lost within the collective when they are reduced to anonymous, nameless numbers? How can we preserve the unique status of each individual within the context of a nation (or any other group)? This paradox has arguably persisted throughout world history since time immemorial. That is precisely why the book of Bamidbar remains so relevant to our daily lives.

The theme of maintaining individuality within a group or in the presence of God permeates the entire book of Bamidbar. This is why it is given the additional name, Sefer Hapikudim, the Book of Counting, which encapsulates this paradox, and one possible reason we must read it before Shavuot, because the experience of accepting the Torah shared this very same paradox.

This framework also allows us to understand that Shavuot itself is a holiday that embodies duality. From one perspective, Shavuot celebrates the momentous event of receiving the Torah on Mount Sinai in the desert, as depicted in the book of Bamidbar. This narrative emphasizes the theoretical aspect of Torah, because the desert setting does not mirror the challenges of everyday life. In the desert, our survival was primarily dependent on God's miracles, rather than our own resourcefulness as it would be in the land of Israel.

From another perspective, Shavuot is also an agricultural-focused holiday that celebrates life in Israel, emphasizing the connection to the land, and the ability to sustain ourselves through innovation and various forms of self-expression. This aspect highlights our active role in earning our livelihood and flourishing within the land.

The dual nature of Shavuot, encompassing both the spiritual and agricultural aspects, could be the reason why the Gemara teaches that Shavuot is the only holiday that cannot be entirely spiritual. It acknowledges the importance of both the spiritual realm, symbolized by the receiving of the Torah, and the practical, earthly realm, represented by the agricultural significance of the holiday. Shavuot serves as a reminder of the intertwined nature of our spiritual and physical existence.

אָמַר רַבִּי אֶלְעָזָר: הַכֹּל מוֹדִים בַּעֲצֶרֶת דְּבָעֵינַן נָמֵי לָכֶם

Rabbi Elazar said: All agree with regard to Atzeret, the holiday of Shavuot, that we require that it be also “for you,” meaning that it is a mitzva to eat, drink, and rejoice on that day. [Pesachim 68b]

We must observe Shavuot with a balance of dedicating it "חֶצְיוֹ לַה׳ וְחֶצְיוֹ לָכֶם" — half for God and half for ourselves. It is the holiday that prohibits us from omitting the festive meal. This is because on Shavuot, we celebrate not only the spiritual aspect of God giving us the Torah (zman matan torateinu), but also the acceptance of the Torah by each of us as unique individuals (kabbalat haTorah). Both aspects call for joyous celebration.

This is the profound message conveyed by Bamidbar in preparation for Shavuot. The book of counting emphasizes that we, as individuals, hold significance. We are called to forge a spiritual connection with God and the Torah, while simultaneously maintaining our unique identities in the physical world we inhabit, within the larger collective of the Jewish people. It is vital that we embrace the physical world we have been given and elevate it within the framework of the Torah that we accept on Shavuot.

When we celebrate Shavuot, the holiday when we become “k’ish echad bilev echad,” “like one person with one heart,” we transcend being mere numbers. We are not only part of a collective, but also individuals who hold value and make a meaningful contribution. We are reminded that we count and that our individuality matters.

Shabbat shalom.