Counting our People or Making Every Person Count?

As a psychology major at Yeshiva University I took several courses in statistics. The intro course was particularly memorable. We learned the basics of statistical analysis and SPSS software, and the only data set we analyzed was the 1990 National Jewish Population Survey. The study, produced by the Council of Jewish Federations, was the first such survey in 20 years. It sought to explore issues of ritual practice, subjective Jewish identity, and assimilation. It’s fascinating now to think about how my young Modern Orthodox colleagues and I attempted to wrap our heads around the range of idiosyncratic, often seemingly contradictory, ways that American Jews in the late 20th century were enacting their Jewish identities.

Of all the numbers in the survey, one of them stood out- 52%. The NJPS estimated that, for individuals born as Jews, the rate of intermarriage between 1985 and 1990 was 52 percent, a sharp increase from estimated 44 percent for marriages between 1975 and 1984, 25 percent for 1965-1974, and 9 percent for those that took place before 1965^[1]. That number and the methodology behind it were controversial and critiqued. The sociologist Steven M. Cohen, for example, estimated the rate at 41 percent.^[2] Whatever the validity of the reported intermarriage rate, that single number, 52 percent, set the American Jewish world into a frenzy.  

In truth, we know that there are so many ways to perpetuate strong Jewish identity, that were not reflected in the survey, so many unique stories of people engaging in Jewish life. Thankfully, in the past quarter century, the Jewish community has developed nuanced and constructive ways of exploring how Jews form families and enact their Jewish identities, and we have worked to create communities that are welcoming homes for all Jews and Jewish families, including those with members who are not Jewish. But in the early 1990’s, half a century since a brutal attempt to eliminate the Jewish population, the dominant reaction was fear, a visceral fear of debilitating attrition of the Jewish population, or that the Jews might soon simply blend into the surrounding culture and disappear. Not long after the study came out, I remember the rabbi and dean of my yeshiva high school lecturing my class about how many children we each needed to have to counter the effects of assimilation and the holocaust.

We tend to think of the health of our community in terms of numbers: How many people affiliate with our institutions, with our movements, with national and worldwide Jewry? How many are we gaining? How many are we losing? And this focus on numbers is nothing new. The book of the Torah that we began this morning is known as in Greek and English as The Book of Numbers for the census conducted in its opening chapters- one of three counts of the Israelites in the wilderness. And yet, the counting of people has come to be seen in our tradition as a grave sin, as we see in the case of King David. Late in his reign, David decides to count the people^[3]: “The king said to Yoav, his army commander, ‘Make the rounds of all the tribes of Israel, from Dan to Beer-sheba, and take a census of the people, so that I may know the size of the population.’” Yoav tried to dissuade him from doing so, saying, “May the LORD your God increase the number of the people a hundredfold, while your own eyes see it! But why should my lord king want this?” David, however, was not swayed, and Yoav and his officers proceeded to count the people, finding that there were “800,000 soldiers ready to draw the sword.” God is greatly displeased.^[4] Though David regrets his actions and repents, God sends a plague upon the people. To this day Jews tend to avoid headcounts. In many communities, when one wants to see if a minyan is present, they might do so in way that isn’t technically counting people- such as saying, “not one,” “not two,” etc., or using a verse that has ten words: “Hoshi’a et amechah, u’varech et nachaletechah, ur-eim, ve-nase’eim ad ha-olam,”^[5] (or even “Baruch atah Hashem Eloheinu, Melech Ha-Olam, Hamotzi lechem min ha-aretz.”)

If Judaism is so averse to counting, why does God desire for the Israelites to be counted multiple times in the desert? Is there a difference between those countings and King David’s census in the 2nd Book of Samuel? Yes, there is. The difference is the motivation behind the count. As Rabbi Yaakov Nagen, the Rosh Kollel of Yeshivat Otniel, writes, David’s census was motivated by self-interest- he wanted to know how many people were under his reign, how mighty the military force was under his command. The citizen of Israel herself was insignificant; David’s count reduced the individual to a number, to a statistical data point^[6]. On the other hand, the census here in the Book of Numbers was motivated by an appreciation of the value of each individual. In Rashi’s commentary on the opening verse of the book, he writes that God counted the people over and over in the wilderness out of a deep affection for them.

In Hebrew, the command to take a census reads, “Se’u et rosh kol adat B’nai Yisrael,”^[7] which literally means, “lift up the heads of the whole Israelite community.” The process here in Numbers was one that raised up each unique individual in the community. In the middle of chapter one, the Torah reiterates that Moshe counted the Israelites in the wilderness of Sinai just as God had commanded- “Ka-asher tzivah Adonai at Moshe, va-yifkedeim be-Midbar Sinai.”^[8] The Chasidic master Rav Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev has a beautiful read of this verse.^[9] He says that Moshe’s count was equivalent to listening to God’s commandments. There is a kabbalistic idea that the souls of the 600,000 Israelites in the generation of the wilderness correspond to the 600,000 letters of the Torah.^[10] Rav Levi Yitzchak says that when Moshe counted each Israelite he was learning another letter of the Torah- the unique Torah, represented by each individual. In counting the people and witnessing each soul, Moshe was essentially learning the entire Torah.

Too often we in the Jewish community fall into the same trap as David Hamelekh. We can get distracted by the numbers of people who come to our programs, or the email addresses we’ve amassed, who’s joining, who’s leaving. Our concern with our numbers can obscure our focus on the value of every individual in our midst. Too often we focus on counting the people, rather than making each person count.  

If you look inside a sefer Torah, you’ll see that some of the letters are distinguished by crowns. The Talmud describes the scene of God, sitting on high, fastening crowns atop letters. Witnessing this, Moshe asks God why God would do such a thing, to which God responds that there is wisdom in each letter of the Torah, even in each jot and tittle.^[11] 

Each of us is a distinct letter in the Torah. We are a diverse community. Within our congregation are persons who are young and old, gay and straight. We are Jews of Color, Sephardi and Ashkenazi, of various genders. Some of us are blind or deaf, or otherwise differently abled. Some of us have to live with chronic physical illness or mental illness. Some of us were born right here in Philadelphia, others of us immigrated to the United States. We come from a wide range of Jewish backgrounds- some of us were raised Jewish and others not. Some of us are part of interfaith families. Each of us brings a unique combination of personality, talents, passions, challenges, concerns and experiences to our BZBI community. We are each a unique manifestation of the divine. Like the letters of the Torah and their crowns, each person in our community is living expression of an aspect Torah. Taken together, with all of our differences, we become something greater than the sum of us- we become a sefer Torah.

Earlier I mentioned the idea that the souls of the 600,000 Israelites correspond to the 600,000 letters of the Torah. It’s a beautiful teaching. There’s just one problem- there aren’t 600,000 letters in the Torah; far from it. In fact, there are only 304,805 letters in the Torah- around half! The twentieth century Israeli Talmud scholar and Israel Prize recipient Reuven Margoliot offered a fascinating solution to the problem. In fact, as he sees it, there is no problem at all. You get to the number 600,000 if you count the white fire interspersed between the letters of black fire inscribed in the Torah. I know, it’s probably not the first solution you might of offered, but his approach is based in the strong literary tradition in the Talmud and midrash that speak of the Torah being written in black fire on white fire.^[12] The black fire is the written letters themselves, etched in flame, and the white fire is the spaces between. The black fire also refers to the p’shat, or surface meaning of the Torah, while the white fire is the drash, the deeper interpretations and applications of the text. It’s the wisdom that we read between the lines. Taken together, the white fire and the black complete the Torah.

We find ourselves today on the eve of Z’man Matan Torateinu– the Holiday of Shavuot, on which we receive the Torah in the wilderness of Sinai. This year, I invite you take it upon yourself to receive the Torah of our sacred BZBI community. This Shavuot, take it upon yourself to learn the Torah of our BZBI community, both the surface black fire Torah and the deeper white fire, the more hidden, deeper Torah that requires us to read between the lines.

Earlies this spring we launched a new initiative at BZBI- the Ambassador Initiative. We are taking a new approach to how we engage with people who express interest in our community- an approach based in active listening. We have trained twenty-five members of our community, representing the demographic range of BZBI. When a person or a family expresses interest in learning more about us, we offer to set them up with one of our ambassadors for coffee. In those face-to-face meetings, ambassadors are trained to listen and learn about the person’s interests and passions, and what they hope to gain from and bring to community. We are setting as the foundation of our outreach and engagement strategy deep listening, learning the unique Torah of each individual that comes through our doors.

Our ambassadors have been doing a great job, and soon we will begin the second phase of the ambassadors initiative- reaching out to our existing members to connect them further to community. We will be amping up our ushers program, and we’ll be holding a training for ushers in the late summer, as we prepare for the High Holy Days. Every member of the community is invited and encouraged to join our ambassadors or our ushers. You can get in touch with our community engager, Terri Soifer, or me to find out more. And, you do not need to join one of those groups to do your part. All you have to do is to be curious and listen. Get to know someone who you do know yet know well. For lots of us there are many people in this very room who we see week after week, yet we may not know beyond their names. Take it upon yourself to sit with someone new at kiddush, invite them to coffee, or a Shabbat meal. Go to a shiva minyan for a community member whom you do not know. Maybe there is someone at BZBI who you haven’t seen recently and are wondering about. Give them a call and see how they’re doing.

We have an amazing community of beautiful souls here at BZBI. We are truly blessed.We are a building sacred community, where each of us is a letter of the Torah that burns bright. It’s up to all of us, together, to make sure that every one of us counts.  

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Tags: Counting, Engagement, Shavuot