Sefer BamidbarParshat Bamidbar:
On Intermediate Spaces

This week we open the Book of Numbers, Sefer Bamidbar, with Parshat Bamidbar, which means “in the wilderness.” It begins: 

On the first day of the second month, in the second year following the exodus from the land of Egypt, God spoke to Moses in the wilderness of Sinai… 1

The medieval commentator Abraham ibn Ezra pointed out that this wilderness is not a place of distance from God, but a shift in the setting of revelation. About the words “in the wilderness,” he wrote: 

This informs us that Moses did not go up to Mount Sinai since God’s glory was now present in the tent of meeting. 2

God’s presence, rather than being a cataclysmic or distanced event, is now something that can travel with us. We have made a historical shift from the God on high at Sinai to the more accessible God in the camp, in the traveling tent. 

The Midrash Bamidbar Rabbah also interprets the movement of revelation from the smoke and clouds and fire of Mount Sinai to the wilderness of the Sinai desert. It relates: 

From here the sages taught that the Torah was given through three things: fire, water, and wilderness… And why was the Torah given through these three things? Just as [fire, water, and wilderness] are free to all the inhabitants of the world, so too are the words of Torah free to them, as it says in Isaiah 55:1, “Oh, all who are thirsty, come for water … even if you have no money.” 3

But beyond this, what makes the revelation in the wilderness particularly significant? The midrash adds: 

Anyone who does not make themselves ownerless like the wilderness cannot acquire the wisdom and the Torah. Therefore, it says, “the Sinai wilderness.” 4

Already from the first verse of the book, we can see that the wilderness or desert here represents a kind of in-between place, both physically and mentally, for the Israelites. We’re just over a year removed from being freed from bondage in Egypt, yet we’re still nowhere near the Promised Land. In the wilderness, we were on our own journey of discovery of how to be a free people, how to govern ourselves and our lives via the words of the Torah.  


Bamidbar, then, both the reference point in verse 1 and the book itself, can be a reminder of our need to be willing to journey, to be willing to reside in “the wilderness,” as the Israelites did for 40 years. This is the holding space between slavery and sovereignty, and in this holding space we are taught about what it is to live a life that is journey-oriented—what it means to not only be destination-focused but process-focused. 

That means that, in our work to improve the world, we should not be obsessed only with bringing about a utopia, but also with the quality of life that can emerge in a broken world and with the ability to hold the darkness alongside the light.

That is what the desert is: it means living in the space of neither the darkness of Egypt nor the light of the Promised Land. And for most of us, the majority of life is spent in that space. That is where we spend our career, that is where we spend our family life. That is where we grow, that is where we learn. That, indeed, is the very nature of existence. 

And the desert of discovery is a lonely place if you are in solitude. The Israelites, though, traveled together. And so there are two journeys for us: the personal, spiritual, existential journey that each of us must go on, and also the collective journey that we go on as a family, as a people, and as humanity. 

This is reflected in the rest of our parshah, in which the numbers within the groups of people, the tribes partaking in the wilderness journey, are accounted for. In fact, immediately following the opening verse, the command is given to Moses to take a census of each family members by tribe. 5 No individual is alone. 

And yes, we should be destination-oriented. But the story of the Israelites in the wilderness tells us to, in the moment, be more process-oriented, to focus on each part of the journey rather than to become wrapped up in the stress of the overall goal. We can’t live our lives only waiting for retirement, waiting for the messiah, waiting for the perfection of the World-to-Come. We need to be present in the here and now of everyday life, knowing that God, too, is just as present in the Sinai desert as on Mount Sinai. 

It is tempting to think, Why do the justice work if we can’t fix the entire system? But Bamidbar teaches us that, in the intermediate space between hopelessness and perfect justice, helping even one person is worth the effort. Furthermore, the census reminds us that we each have strengths and talents to bring to the table; I can perhaps provide a certain service, knowing that someone else can provide what I cannot. For If we don’t attempt to keep moving forward, then we are resigning to stay in the same place.

We should look to the example of Paul Farmer, of blessed memory, who co-founded Partners in Health. While Farmer wasn’t creating national health-care systems, he managed to save countless lives by helping one person at a time in Haiti and beyond.

And as we fight for a better world, we have to pursue justice justly. We must care about the process in our own ethics alongside the work for progress. We must care about our own character development, because the world only changes as much as we change, as humanity changes, and it often starts with just one person.

And when we do get an activist win, the work continues; it’s not over. We must keep going. We must always stay in the process and continue traveling through the vast wilderness, as the work might never be fully complete in our lifetimes. 

Avot D’Rabbi Natan, a great aggadic midrash, 6 tells us:

Rabbi Yohanan Ben Zakai used to say: “If you have a sapling in your hand and they tell you ‘The Messiah is coming!’ first plant the sapling and then go to greet the Messiah.” 7

Similarly, the Talmud recalls the following story:

One day Honi [the circle drawer] was journeying on the road and he saw a man planting a carob tree. He asked, “How long does it take [for this tree] to bear fruit?” The man replied: “Seventy years.” Honi then further asked him: “Are you certain that you will live another seventy years?” The man replied: “I found [already grown] carob trees in the world; as my forefathers planted those for me, so I too plant these for my children.” 8

If you get your degree, you don’t stop learning. If you get married, you don’t stop your growth together. Every journey has its own narrow place and its own Promised Land, but it also has its own wilderness, its own intermediate place. This is largely where the work of bettering the world takes place. 

Sources

  1.  Numbers 1:1
  2.  Ibn Ezra on Numbers 1:1:1
  3.  Bamidbar Rabbah 1:7
  4.  ibid. 
  5.  The text itself deals specifically with those that are fit to go out to battle, and as such only the males ages 20-60 are accounted for in this passage. The message—that we are not alone and we need each other—however, remains the same.
  6.  While the dating of Avot D’Rabbi Natan is uncertain, it is assumed to have been compiled in the geonic era (700-900 CE).
  7.  Avot D’Rabbi Natan 31; translation by Hazon, from AJWS source sheet.
  8. Babylonian Talmud, Ta’anit 23a; translation from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Honi_HaMe’agel