When Numbers Aren’t
Only Numbers
Sermon/D’var Torah
for Parashat Bemidbar (Numbers 1:1—4:20)
By Rabbi Boaz D.
Heilman
Memorial Day Weekend
2014
Genesis, the first book of the Torah, the first of the Five
Books of Moses, tells of mythical origins.
The origins of the universe, of our own Earth, of humanity, and in
particular, the origins of the Jewish people are explained. Spectacular images—such as the appearance of
light in a dark universe, or a flood that undoes the very fabric of
Creation—are interspersed with personal stories. Mostly, Genesis is the story of one
particular family and its journeys. The
book ends as the family journeys on—or rather down—to Egypt.
Exodus, the second book, speaks of the conditions in which
the Israelites—now a people, not only a family any more—find themselves some 400
years later. In this span, they have been
enslaved. Yet despite harsh and even
brutal conditions, they have become numerous.
It seems there’s simply no way of stopping our fruitfulness, no matter
what harsh decrees Pharaoh imposed on us.
Redeemed by God and Moses, the People of Israel exits Egypt
and slavery, forever to become servants not of another man, but of an unseen
God, a source of energy so enormous that it can part seas and shake mountains. It is the energy of holiness that we sense, that
now fills us, an elation, an exalted state of sensing and understanding the
universe around us.
The universe speaks, and we receive—and accept—the Ten
Commandments.
And then we proceed to build an ark for these tablets of
stone, inscribed with God’s law. We
surround that Ark with a Tent of Meeting, a Tabernacle, a Temple. It is a glorious sight to behold. It is the abode of God within us. The epicenter of our existence, it is where
Moses hears the word of God and transmits it to us.
In Leviticus, the third book of the series, we learn how to
work this amazing core of energy that resides within us. Leviticus is about sacrifices, yes, but it is
also about the many and various ways we can thank God; pray to God; complain to
God; and beg God for forgiveness, for a second chance.
Holiness, we learn in Leviticus, doesn’t exist only within
the walls of our temples. It can also be
found in our homes, in our schools, and anywhere else that we might take it. We learn that holiness isn’t only about our ability
to think, imagine, calculate, reason, invent, challenge and create; it’s also about
fulfilling those expectations, about making the world a better, indeed a
holier, place.
As slaves to Pharaoh, we learned to build monuments to
death—the end goal of every Egyptian man, woman and child. As servants of the Almighty God, the Israelites
became builders of schools, courts of justice, hospitals; we became builders of
cultures and civilizations.
It was a useful trade to carry with us on all our journeys
from the time of Moses—estimated to be around 1250 BCE—to our own day; more
than 3000 years later.
This week in our annual, cyclical reading of the Torah, we
begin the fourth book of the Torah, the Book of Numbers.
It is called “Numbers” because it begins with a counting—a
census taken of the Israelites (actually several censuses!). Yet this book really isn’t about numbers at
all. In fact, we soon realize that Numbers
teaches us more than counting. It
teaches us to account, to amount to something, to count for something and be
counted upon when needed.
In Hebrew, the book of Numbers is called Bemidbar—“In The Wilderness.” It is in this book that the People of Israel
begin their journey to the Promised Land.
We head east, toward the dawning of hope, of light, and of
redemption. But though headed there, at
least for now we find ourselves in a wilderness. It isn’t completely unchartered territory,
however. Crisscrossing it are trade
routes, check posts, places where various tribes had found a bit of fresh water
and established a resting area, an oasis.
Not all people in the wilderness are friendly. Many will view this new and strange people as
dangerous, wild and all-too-powerful.
It is in light of a danger-filled world that Moses begins to
systematize and give shape to his people. Interestingly, he doesn’t start by
organizing the Levites, the tribe that will be responsible for the maintenance
of the temple and the teaching of our new-found religion. No, Moses begins by taking a census of all
able-bodied young men, 20 years and older, fit to bear arms.
Moses sets up an army, a formidable battalion that takes
positions on the four sides of the Israelite camp.
Why does the army get established first, before the Temple
hierarchy is established?
There’s a lesson there.
This teaches us that without physical strength, without protection, our
inner core, our very existence, is always in danger. The elements, the enemies, even history
itself will conspire against us. Yes,
our faith in God will be our inner fire, giving us inner strength, reason and hope
to survive and carry on. But our physical
survival, our endurance through the centuries and eons, despite some terrifying
enemies, will ultimately depend on our own self-defense.
That was the big lesson Moses taught us when we left
Egyptian bondage. That has been the big
lesson we have had to relearn in our own day, having left behind the massive
destruction that today we call the Shoah, the Holocaust.
The modern State of Israel, which just last month celebrated
its 66th birthday, is more than about physical strength. It is also about education and justice; about
science, literature, the arts and high tech.
It’s about agriculture and the environment. Israel alone among all other countries in the
world planted more trees than it cut down in the past five years. Israel alone produces more water than it
actually uses, both through desalination but also through a process that treats
and recycles more than 80% of household wastewater.[1] And Israel is always first to offer help to
other countries, whether by teaching them about sustainable agriculture or
assisting after calamitous earthquakes, hurricanes or mine explosions.
But Israel could not do any of the above, let alone provide
shelter for the millions of survivors of European and Arab persecution who have
found safety and security in their ancient homeland, if it weren’t for the
powerful force that is the IDF, the Israel Defense Force.
Of course this lesson is not only valid for Israel and the
Jewish People. It holds equally true for
any country and nation in the world today.
For all the political hubbub that is the United States
today, divided along political, ideological, cultural and religious lines, it
is, above all, one country. No longer a
Federation, nor a House Divided, a strong and unified United States is at the
hub of just about all human enterprise today.
Our democracy, though not unflawed, provides more freedoms for more people
than in most other places in the world.
It may not be the idealized Promised Land longed for by millions of
refugees, but America is still viewed with envy by billions who live in
substandard conditions and countries and who would do just about anything to
move here.
But all this would not survive for an instant if it weren’t
for our Armed Forces, probably the most intimidating source of military power
that has ever existed on this planet.
Our freedoms that we so often take for granted are not
unshakable. We are forever on the watch both within our camp—for rights
that might be trampled; for freedoms that may not be available to all; as well
as for those who lurk among us and wish to see our destruction—as we must also always
be for the dangers that lurk in the wilderness surrounding us.
The price we pay for the freedoms that are ours, for a
beautiful day of baseball in the park, for picnics held freely, for the right
to assemble, protest and argue among ourselves is that we have a strong and
sturdy defense force.
On this Memorial Day weekend, the lesson of Moses raising an
army carries an invaluable message. It
reminds us that freedom is not free for the taking. It has a price, and sometimes it demands a
toll that bears heavily upon our hearts.
Existence in this world is an ever-iffy circumstance. We are, after all, no more than tiny dust particles
in the larger picture of reality. What
makes us count for more than specks is when we accomplish those qualities that we
call the Divine Image within us, when we reach moral and intellectual
expectations that make us so much more than just animal-kind, that makes us humankind.
This Memorial Day Weekend, we remember not only the numbers
of soldiers who have paid for our freedoms with their lives. We remember also the values that they taught
us, that they insisted we live by and uphold.
And we pledge—both for them, but mostly for ourselves, our children and
our grandchildren—that we keep these values safe, secure and sacred.
Adonai oz l’amo yitein, Adonai y’varech et amo bashalom—May
God grant God’s people strength; may God bless us all with peace, with shalom.
Kein y’hi ratzon; may this be God’s will.
© 2014 by Boaz D. Heilman
[1] ”ADAPTATION:
Israel is creating a water surplus using desalination;”
Environment and Energy Daily, by Julia Pyper, E&E reporter,
February 7, 2014. http://www.eenews.net/stories/1059994202
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