Numerical Value

A TELLING STORY:
The Slap
The Rebbe dispensed the blessings, but his secretary set the conditions
Playing G-d
What would you do if you were in the driver’s seat?

Because they [Israel] are dear to Him, He counts them at all times. When they departed from Egypt He counted them, and when they fell at the [sin of the Golden] Calf He counted them… and [here] when He came to rest His Divine Presence upon them, He counted them

Some of us find it in our families. Some find it in our jobs. Still others find it in religion. Although the results may differ, the search is the same: to find meaning and purpose in our lives. A common thread that binds mankind is the need to feel that our existence serves some purpose; that we are not just the result of an accident of birth, but necessary components in the fulfillment of a mission of cosmic proportions. This feeling is perhaps the most essential ingredient of a healthy psyche, fueling the desire to set goals and achieve them.

In the course of human development, it is parents who should first play the crucial role of infusing their children with feelings of worth and value. Tragically, we now live in an era when more and more children grow up without this feeling. Instead, they experience a sense of inadequacy and are engulfed by the confusion that an emotion of worthlessness yields. Torah, in its timeless wisdom, recognizes this essential need and addresses it in a manner that is at once comforting and empowering, at times through the simple act of counting.

Throughout the Chumash, G-d instructs Moses to count the Jewish people on four separate occasions.[1] These are instructions of such great importance that, based on the directive given at the beginning of our parsha, the entire fourth book of the Torah [Bamidbar] is referred to as the “Book of Countings.”[2] But what was the purpose of these countings? Obviously, it was not merely to take a census, for G-d, with his all-encompassing knowledge, certainly knew how many we numbered. We must therefore conclude that there was another, more profound, intention behind this commandment.

Torah, as with everything that exists, is comprised of both “body” and “soul.”[3] The “body” of Torah includes the narrative and those areas that deal with the more mundane aspects of our lives: Halacha, the laws that one must adhere to on a daily basis. However, Torah’s “soul” comprises the more sublime, esoteric teachings and the philosophies that they contain.

Just as man’s body and soul are fused together as a singular, cohesive and seamless unit, the same is true of the “body” and “soul” of Torah: even within the “body” of Torah there are embedded the most profound lessons, ones that may be thought to be the province of its “soul.” One must first, however, strip away the external layers of a particular law or directive to reveal its fundamental principles and underlying truths, for only then do these lessons emerge.

Now, regarding the deeper dimension of counting, there is a Talmudic law that states that in specific circumstances a food item whose consumption is prohibited may be considered as nullified when a minute quantity of it is accidentally mixed with permitted ones.[4] One of the exceptions to this rule is when the forbidden item is one that is usually sold by number and not by weight. Then, regardless of how minute the percentage of prohibited food found in the mixture may be, the forbidden item is never nullified and the entire mixture is deemed unfit for consumption.[5]

The reasoning behind this ruling is that things that are counted are deemed to have an intrinsic value and importance, one that is not diminished or nullified by it being mixed with anything else.

This now explains why G-d caused the Jewish people to be counted when He already knew their number. By commanding Moses to count the people, G-d was declaring the worth of every single Jew, emphasizing that they are valuable enough to be counted.

What is the special importance and value of each Jew? Each of us has a mission to fulfill; a mission that is specific to him and cannot be realized by anyone else, yet one which affects the entire cosmic vision. Thus, every Jew has an infinite, irreplaceable value.

So G-d was not merely relaying a directive to Moses. He was telling each one of us to utilize our specific talents, thereby fulfilling our unique potential, to enable us to accomplish our particular mission. By relating this in the Torah, G-d ensured that this message would be accessible to everyone, for all time.

Now we can understand Rashi’s statement that due to G-d’s love of His people, “He counts them at all times.” The Jewish people were counted four times over the course of the Five Books. How does this warrant the description “at all times”?[6]

However, Rashi is not referring to the census per se, but rather to the effect of the countings. For the feelings of self-worth and importance that were revealed through the counting process remained perpetually with the people and imbued them “at all times.”

The same can be said for us in our day and age. Although we are not actively being counted by Divine directive, when we read about these episodes in the Torah, we are given the strength to realize how precious we are to G-d, and how vital it is that we conduct our lives in accordance with His values. G-d Himself is declaring our worth every single moment—one just needs to listen and behave accordingly.

Based on addresses of the Rebbe given Shabbat Parshat Bamidbar 5722 (1962) and 5724 (1964)[7]

The anteroom adjoining the study of Rabbi Yitzchak Meir, founder of the chassidic dynasty of Gur, was filled with people waiting to be received by the Rebbe and to be helped by his counsel and blessing. Near the Rebbe’s door stood his personal secretary, Reb Bunim, who presided over the waiting list; as soon as the door opened and a chassid would emerge from the Rebbe’s room, all eyes would turn toward Reb Bunim, who would signal to the next in line to enter.

In the entranceway appeared a man, dressed in the manner of the wealthy Jewish merchants of the time: high boots of glossy leather, a heavy gold watch-chain draped across the vest, a fur-lined jacket enveloping a generous girth in defense against the Polish winter. But an anxious and care-worn face belied the luxurious attire; here was a man who had his troubles despite (or because?) of his wealth.

The man scanned the crowded room and a frown clouded his already despondent features. Impatiently, he made his way to the secretary. “I must see the Rebbe on an urgent matter,” he whispered. “How much longer is the man inside going to be?”

“Have a seat,” said Reb Bunim evenly, “and I’ll put you on the list. What is your name, Reb Yid?”

“You don’t understand,” said the man, certain that the secretary indeed did not understand. “I must see the Rebbe now. I have an important meeting tomorrow in Warsaw, and I must be on my way shortly.”

“But surely, Reb Yid, you don’t expect me to let you in before all these people,” said Reb Bunim. “Some of them have been waiting for hours...”

“That’s exactly my point,” said the visitor, who was beginning to lose his patience with the insolent servant. “I cannot wait for a hour, or even half an hour. I wish to speak with the Rebbe immediately. You can save your lists for people with more time on their hands.”

“I’m sorry,” said Reb Bunim somewhat heatedly, rising to the challenge on his authority. “You must wait like everyone else...”

The crack of the merchant’s palm against the face of the secretary resounded through the room, which fell into a shocked silence. It took Reb Bunim several seconds to realize he had been slapped, and when he did, he just stood there, unable to utter a word. Nothing like this had ever happened in the Rebbe’s waiting room, where no one dared even raise his voice at the Rebbe’s secretary. In fact, the only one in the room not paralyzed by incredulity was the assailant himself, who, satisfied that he had at last made himself understood, proceeded toward the Rebbe’s door.

At that very moment the door opened, and Rabbi Yitzchak Meir stood in the doorway. “How dare you raise a hand to a fellow Jew,” he thundered. “I shall not receive you,” he added, “until you have secured the forgiveness of the man you so unjustly attacked.” With that, he turned and closed the door behind him.

For a long second the merchant stood staring at the Rebbe’s closed door. Abruptly, he turned on his heels and fled from the room.

Something in the man’s face caught Reb Bunim’s eye and caused him to hurry outside after his assailant. There he found him leaning against his coach, his large body racked with sobs.

“You?” said the man, when he saw who had followed him outside. “What do you want of me now? You have destroyed our last hope.”

“For fifteen years we’ve been childless, my wife and I,” wept the man. “We’ve tried everything... We’ve been to all the doctors... I had hoped that the Rebbe would pray for us...”

“Come with me,” said Reb Bunim, grabbing hold of the merchant’s hand. Before the visitor knew what was happening, both were standing in the Rebbe’s room.

“Rebbe!” said Reb Bunim, “I swear that I will never forgive this man, not in this world and not in the world to come, unless the Rebbe promises that he and his wife will be blessed with a child!”

Rabbi Yitzchak Meir looked from the anguished face of the merchant to the determined face of his secretary. Slowly, a smile broke out on his face. “May it so be the will of G-d,” he finally said, “as Reb Bunim says...”

Upon the passing of Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov in 1760, the center of Chassidic teaching shifted to the town of Mezheritch, home of the Baal Shem Tov’s successor, the famed “Maggid,” Rabbi DovBer.

Late one night, a group of the Maggid’s disciples were discussing the state of the universe. “If G-d would entrust me with the running of His world,” said one, “I would gather all the gold in the world and give it to the Jewish people, so that they should be able to serve the Almighty free of all material cares.”

“If I were running the world,” said another, “I would heal all the sick and banish all pain and suffering from the face of the earth.”

“And I would eradicate the inclination for evil from the heart of man,” said a third. “Then we would have a world that befits the goodness and perfection of its Creator.”

The youngest of the Maggid’s disciples, Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, then spoke. “If I were in G-d’s place,” said he, “I would run the world exactly as He does.”

[1] After they left Egypt (Exodus 12:37); after the sin of the Golden Calf, before the construction of the Tabernacle (ibid 30:12); after the Tabernacle was erected (Numbers 1:2); and before they entered the land of Israel (ibid 26:2).

[4] In most cases the mixture is deemed permissible if the prohibited item is one-sixtieth or less of the total quantity. It is important to note that this law only applies when the ingredients mix accidentally. If one, however, purposely attempts to nullify a forbidden item—either by concocting a mixture, or by adding permitted items to an already existing mixture (to minimize the percentage of prohibition)—the mixture remains forever prohibited.

[5] Tractate Orlah 3:7; Talmud Beitza 3b; Shulchan Aruch Yoreh De’ah, 110:1.

[6] Even including the censuses that were performed later on in history, the Jewish people have been counted only nine times, with the tenth to coincide with the messianic age—Midrash Tanchuma Parshat Sissa 9; Bamidbar Rabba 2:11.

[7] Likkutei Sichot, vol. IV, pp.1019-1024; vol. VII, pp.1-7.