Parshat Bamidbar: Counting Away Our Blessings

Parshat Bamidbar begins with Hashem’s command to Moshe, “Take a census of the whole Israelite community by the tribes of its ancestral houses, listing the names, every male, head by head.”1 Moshe and Aaron are commanded to count all the males in Israel of age 20 years and up – those ready to fight in battle. The Torah then lists the census, tribe by tribe.

Judaism has a complicated relationship with counting. Our sages teach that counting brings upon the evil eye, the negative energy brought upon someone who inspires jealousy in their beholder’s eye. David Hamelech is punished for ordering a census to be taken of the Jews, “And David said to Joab and to the princes of the people, ‘Go count Israel from Beersheba until Dan, and bring me [word], so that I may know their number.’”2 For this, Hashem punishes David, allowing him to choose: either three years of famine, three months of defeat by their enemies, or three days of plague.3 David chooses to trust Hashem’s mercy rather than the mercy of man. A plague is sent and 70,000 people die. Beyond simply counting people, we are advised to not count things in general. The Gemara relates, “...blessing is found neither in a matter that is weighed, nor in a matter that is measured, nor in a matter that is counted. Rather, it is found in a matter concealed from the eye, as it is stated: ‘The Lord will command blessing with you in your storehouses.’”4

Why aren’t we supposed to count? Perhaps it is because that counting promotes a scarcity mindset, a perspective where one views the world through constant “not-enough” lenses. That is the evil eye. When one wears these glasses, one is always counting to see whether they received their fair share, whether their bank accounts are full enough, and whether they need to worry or not. We know this feeling inside of us when we race to the front of a line, when we eat more than we need because the food is just too good, when we count the minutes because there’s not enough time to do all that we need to, or when we count the minutes away because the now is not as good as the then. Often the first thought through our minds when we wake up, is: “not enough sleep.” When we look at the world like this, nothing is ever enough. It is a simple fact. You see what you look for. If you walk into a kitchen and look for every speck of dirt, eventually the kitchen will look dirty. When you look at reality, constantly evaluating it as to whether it meets your criteria of being “enough,” you are always disappointed. Even when it meets your criteria, you pay the price of having lived through each moment with such a judgemental eye. This also begs the question of what is enough? Enough is only ever in relative to something else. Comparison is the enemy of happiness.

When we count, we don’t leave room for Hashem’s blessings. This can be understood practically and figuratively. Practically, we don’t live in an age of miracles. Miracles today are hidden. There is no room for Hashem to boost one’s income if one is constantly counting every cent and obsessively checking their stock portfolio. But he or she who trusts that they will always have enough and lives with holiness and wisdom feels no need to constantly check, and thus, gives room for Hashem’s hand. A tale of the holy tzaddik, the Baba Sali ztz”l, describes how he would wrap a napkin around a bottle of arak and pour endlessly without the bottle running out. Figuratively, when we live with a scarcity mindset, we limit Hashem with our own minds. We build a cage of definitions around ourselves – what we are capable of, what we deserve, what we want. Perhaps, we are supposed to make far more money than we do now if only we would let go of the job that pays just enough. Perhaps we are capable of living with less sleep than we need, if only we let go of our expectation of how much we need to sleep. We build these expectations because we think things need to be a certain way. The true spiritual path is realizing that we don’t need anything to be a certain way, we need only to work on our reactions to that which is beyond our control.

David counted because he wanted to know the strength of his army. His general, Joab, begs him otherwise, telling him he has more than enough troops.5 David persists and punishment ensues. Perhaps Hashem wanted to remind David that it is within His hand that the swing of the battle rests and not in the number of soldiers in the field. Did not David trust in the same Gd who led Avraham and 318 soldiers (and the Sages say it was only Avraham and his servant Eliezer alone who fought)6 to victory against four armies?7 Our work is not in counting; counting helps nothing but raises our pride or our blood pressure. Rather, our energy must be put into doing our part to building vessels for Hashem’s blessings – by living presently, by acting according to our most authentic self. If we keep our eyes focused on this, we will have all that we need.

Specifically, we aren’t supposed to count people because it singles them out. It reduces them to a number. It fractures the nation of one we are supposed to be. Our value and our protection are dependent upon us living in relation to others, where we depend on others and they depend on us. A Jewish parable I once heard goes, “what is the best way of ensuring oneself a long life? Make sure that others are dependent upon your life.”

Yet, despite all this, there are examples where Israel is indeed instructed to count people. In this week’s parsha, Moshe and Aaron count the Jews. Later, during the time of kings, Melech Saul takes a census of the people. “And Saul called the people together, and he counted them in Telaim, two hundred thousand footmen, and ten thousand, the men of Judah.”8 What is different between these situations? Unlike when David counts them, here the people aren’t counted directly. Moshe and Aaron count the people by having them donate a half-shekel. The money is then counted up. Additionally, when Melech Saul takes his census, Rashi tells us that he commands everyone to give a sheep, which are then subsequently counted. This separation between the people and the actual census seems to provide protection against the evil eye.

Deeper than that, we can understand that people are more than just a number. They are counted and defined by their contributions. Ultimately, it is all of our contributions that make up a nation. It is the unique individual contributions of every member of Israel that makes them Gd’s people. It is fitting that the description of the census in this parsha is followed by the scene of them, millions of souls, walking according to their tribe, banners raised high and waving, a free people walking with Gd. We are supposed to be one but we march according to tribes. Oneness is not sameness. Oneness is each unique part working together to contribute to a whole, each from their one place of strength. Ultimately, this combats a scarcity mindset, for we come to understand that our portion is exactly what we need. It is uniquely ours and reflects our merit, the tikkunim (inner changes) we are meant to make, and the work we are meant to accomplish. When we realize that all is of Hashem, we realize that reality reflects His will exactly. Our work then is not spent counting, but rather in marching under our own unique banner, trusting that the colors flying above are exactly as they’re meant to be.

The Torah constantly reminds us that Hashem’s reality is a dynamic entity with which we live in relationship. This means that it impacts us and we impact it. When we look at reality and constantly see lack, then we live a life of lack. Hashem’s blessings have nowhere to rest. But when we look at reality and trust, appreciating and not counting, then we merit to live a life of blessing. May we all merit to wear such glasses. May we all merit to find blessings in those places we most need them.

This Dvar Torah is dedicated to the Israeli soldiers who don gear and clean their rifles in expectation of conflict and to the civilians who hide in bomb shelters while their sons and daughters, brothers and sisters defend them outside.

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