It’s a week of numbers. Today is the 49th day of the Omer and we conclude our counting by beginning Sefer Bamidbar, the Book of Numbers. Of course, it begins with a census.
At its basic level, the census served to simply measure the strength of the military. A nation must know how many soldiers it has before initiating battle. But the Ramban points out that this reason does not sufficiently explain the beginning of our parsha. The military should not care to count subgroups, so why does the census count each tribe? Secondly, why does it matter how many soldiers the Jewish Nation had, they are on a divine mission and will enter the land even if their enemies outnumber them?
Rashi suggests that a census is G-d’s way of showing us he loves us. We count things we love, things we care about, to celebrate the abundance of something precious to us.
But I would like to share with you another perspective.
In English, what does it mean to count?
I can count people in a room. I will reach some total, and I counted.
But the words “I count” can have a different meaning. I matter. I feel important. I count for something.
I am no expert in linguistics to suggest that this carries over to other languages, but I believe the Ramban’s comments at the beginning of our parsha hint to this second meaning of to count.
The Ramban explains that the census required Moshe to personally count the people. He couldn’t just send a mailing; G-d required Moshe to count each person. That means that at the beginning of our parsha, each person had an interaction with Moshe. Each member of this huge nation had the opportunity to see Moshe, to be blessed by Moshe, to experience a moment more life defining than meeting a celebrity or president. Not only was each person counted to reach 603,500, but each person had this moment to feel that they counted.
When I count my spare change, it makes no difference whether I have five nickels or one quarter, and I don’t care about the quality of the coins, if they are dirty, rusty. I count my money to see how much I have total.
But imagine how a coin collector counts his coins. I see a quarter, a nickel, and a dime as forty cents, but he sees a standing liberty quarter, a buffalo nickel, and a mercury dime. The coin collector cares about the quality of each coin, its year, it’s story.
Moshe counted the Jewish people like a coin collector counts his coins, appreciating each individual and realizing that each person counted.
Shavuot is a holiday of unity. The Jewish people arrived at har sinai k’ish echad b’lev echad, like one person with one heart. We often think of “community” as an important value. But what does it mean to form a community?
A community requires a number of people, but the community’s definition expands far beyond just a number. We can count 150 people who get together for davening or for a luncheon, but perhaps this Shavuot we should ensure that we show each of the 150 that he or she count. Doing so means emulating Moshe Rabenu, who met individually with 603,550 people at the beginning of our parsha instead of counting them like loose change.
It may be difficult to have a personal relationship with each person in our community, but perhaps we can follow his lead on a smaller scale. We can decide to introduce ourselves to a new person each Shabbos. We can speak to someone we don’t already know at the Kiddush.
These small steps outside my comfort zone to form a connection with another person may seem unnecessary or insignificant, but when we all take these steps, we create a community that counts.
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