How many are under quarantine? How many have sheltered in place? How many new cases of COVID-19 are there today that we know about, not to mention countless others that we don’t? Most importantly, how many lives have been lost with tens of thousands more hanging in the breach? These counting questions have overwhelmed us in ways unimagined. More striking than these staggering numbers is that behind each one is a person, with a unique story, intimately connected to a web of other people and their stories. Though our tendency is to reduce things to numbers, we must never forget that counting is about seeing the Divinity, the humanity in each and every one of these creations.
The opening of the fourth book of the Five Books of Moses, the Book of Numbers, is appropriately, all about counting. Why does Moses spend so much time taking a census of the people? God teaches Moses, and by extension all of us, that we must never forget that each and every individual matters. Counting is a sacred act. An intentional act. You can’t begin the march toward freedom, without making sure that everyone is present, that everyone is accounted for. Counting supersedes the journey.
One of the great Jewish, medieval French commentators, Rashi, suggests that counting served a very specific and intentional function. God counted the Israelites because they (the children of Israel) are dear to God. To go on a journey side by side with others means having an awareness that the group is actually made up of unique and special individuals, each of whom is worthy of their own recognition and honor.
If you look closely at the Biblical Hebrew of the opening verses in the Book of Numbers, you’ll see quite profound language. The Torah teaches: se’u et rosh, literally, “lift the head.” Where the Torah could use any number of verbs to describe the act of counting, God instead chooses a unique expression: ‘lift the heads’ of the people.” Counting is not a mundane act. Counting is an act of love. Of seeing. Of lifting the heads of each and every person who might otherwise go unseen. Counting every single person reminds us that there is something sacred in the singularity of all human beings, in every Divine creation.
My teacher and friend, Rabbi Shai Held, describes singularity this way: “Never before in the history of the cosmos has there ever been another human being just like you, and never again in the history of the cosmos will there ever be another human being just like you. And this stunning fact redounds to the glory of God.” There is the uniqueness of what an individual can give the world of that which can never be replaced when a person is taken from the world. We count people to lift up and recognize that we all have contributions that we can make to society, to God, to each other. We restore healing to the brokenness of the world when we emulate God’s loving act of counting. Jewish tradition like so many of our faith traditions, teaches us that there has never been and will never be another person just like us. Counting, therefore, is the sacred act of affirming our humanity, of celebrating and seeing each and every person’s uniqueness and irreplaceability.
Now more than ever, in the age of COVID-19 and at the dawn of this new decade, we must make sure that no one goes unseen, that no story goes untold. We must partner together to complete the census. We do so not simply because it is a constitutional right. Rather, because it is a human right. It is our way of affirming the dignity of every human being, literally lifting their heads up, and celebrating the irreplaceability of each person created in God’s image. The Torah, reminds us that if God could count each of God’s creations as an act of love, how much more so should we count each other, lift up the heads of one another, see each other. For in doing so, we epitomize what it means to live sacred and healthy relationships. And that’s what counts most of all.
Rabbi Corey Helfand is the senior rabbi at Peninsula Sinai Congregation in Foster City. He is also a global justice fellow with American Jewish World Service and clergy fellow with the Institute for Jewish Spirituality. Rabbi Helfand lives on the Peninsula with his wife and three children.
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