Beth Hillel Synagogue E-Shul .. Shabbat Bemidbar.. sent on May 13, 2010 / 29 Iyar 5770

Weekly Torah Commentary...

by Rabbi Michael Gold of Tamarac, Florida

       I am a graduate student at Florida Atlantic University, working my way towards a PhD. I love wandering around the campus; I suppose it brings me back to my youth. Only one thing drives me crazy. Whenever I go into any campus office to conduct any business, I first must tell them my Z (student I.D.) number. I tell them I do not know the number, but I do have a name. The usual answer - "come back when you know your number."
       I suppose I could carry my number in my wallet. But a certain perverse stubbornness prevents me from keeping the number. I want to be known as a person, not a number. I know that when I wait in line in the bakery, I need to take a number and wait my turn. Using numbers keeps things under control when the bakery is busy. But it is nice being seen as a person, not simply "number 36." It is nice when the woman behind the trays of cookies says, "Rabbi Gold, nice to see you. How is your family? Do you want some of the corn muffins I know you like?"
       We have become a society of numbers. I have a social security number and a driver's license number. I have a passport number and numerous credit card numbers. I have frequent flier numbers, a gym membership number, and countless other numbers that allow me to function in society. We need numbers in this computer age. But we are not numbers. We are human beings, not simply names on somebody's list or in somebody's hard drive.
       I think about this as we begin to read the fourth book of the Torah, known in English as the book of Numbers. It begins with a census of the number of Israelite men of military age crossing through the wilderness. It also includes the number of Levites from the age of thirty days and upwards, who were responsible for the religious leadership. This particular counting of the people is a one time exception. Later in the book of Samuel, King David was punished for taking a similar census.
       In Judaism it is considered forbidden to count people. The usual reason is that we should be known for our quality, not our quantity. In a world with over a billion Christians, over a billion Muslims, and about 15 million Jews, we better be known for something besides our numbers. So according to tradition, even if we want to know whether or not we have the requisite ten for a minyan, we never count directly.
       Why does Jewish tradition frown on counting? Another reason occurred to me this week as I greeted holocaust survivors in my synagogue. These people who went through the Nazi death camps had numbers tattooed on their arms. In the eyes of the Nazis they were no longer human beings. They were numbers, kept on a master list. And by numbers the commanders decided who shall live and who shall die.
       The holocaust began with a series of actions meant to remove the humanity of Jews. One of the most perverse was to take away people's names and give them numbers, forever written in ink on their bodies. When people are mere numbers, there is no need to recognize them as mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, husbands and wives, or sons and daughters. There is no longer a need to see them as doctors or lawyers, merchants or teachers, musicians or artists. In the eyes of the Nazis, Jews were no longer human beings, and therefore they could be killed without guilt. Taking away humanity begins with seeing people as numbers.
       In our contemporary society, I do not believe there is a threat of a holocaust. But I do believe that our technological age has the potential of taking away people's humanity. The Bible teaches not to see people as mere numbers. After all, numbers are not created in the image of God, people are.