Dvar Torah

Shabbat shalom everybody and thank you all for coming. As you probably know, this week’s Parsha is Ki Tisa, where there is a lot of drama. One of the most exciting parts of the parsha is the story behind the luchot habrit, the tablets that Moshe receives from G-d that he destroys on the way down from Har Sinai after seeing the Israelites blatantly ignore one of G-d’s most important commandments and start dancing around a golden calf. The story also includes Moshe going up to get the tablets a second time. Additionally, G-d, once again decides that he wants to kill the Israelites, but in the end determines not to.

While these are among the most talked about parts of the parsha, what I want to focus on today is its opening, where G-d tells Moshe to take a census of the Israelites: “:כִּ֣י תִשָּׂ֞א אֶת־רֹ֥אשׁ בְּנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵל֘ לִפְקֻֽדֵיהֶם֒” “Take the sum of the children of Israel according to their numbers”. Rashi, the medieval commentator, explains that the Israelites should be counted in a special way--namely, each person eligible to be counted should give a half shekel, instead of taking a head count. Why count this way? Rashi offers a kind of superstitious explanation: this way the Israelites won't be stricken by a plague. Rashi writes that “the evil eye has power over numbered things, and pestilence comes upon them” and then points to the very end of the second Book of Samuel when Daveed Ha-Melech takes a census of Israel and Judah without taking care about how he tabulated his results. As punishment, a plague came and killed 70,000 of his people. 

So instead of doing a head-count of the Israelites, the ki tisa passuk reads:
 זֶ֣ה |יִתְּנ֗וּ כָּל־הָֽעֹבֵר֙ עַל־הַפְּקֻדִ֔ים מַֽחֲצִ֥ית הַשֶּׁ֖קֶל
Which means that “Everyone who goes through the counting shall give half a shekel.” Then, by counting the shekels, the number of the census is revealed. Everyone must give the same amount. The Bechor Shor, a 12th Century French commentator, examines this requirement and writes: “The rich one can’t pay more for if he were to pay more, or if the poor person were to pay less, we wouldn’t know based on the count of the shekalim the right calculation of the census...Plus,” he continues, “it is fitting that all should be equal in the matter of kappara.” Basically, we see a few important features of census-taking in the opening passukim of ki tisa: first, even though taking a population census means actually counting people, the instructions on how to actually do the counting is in a weird way depersonalized. In the census, bodies and selves are not counted. Instead, everyone gives the same amount. That makes everyone equal. The person counting will not know who gave which coin. They all look exactly the same. This system of counting is also an act that is anonymous; the counter cannot tell who gave what. Everyone, whether rich or poor, learned or uneducated, upstanding or criminal, they all count. So taking the census is an act of inclusion.  In the parsha, counting the Israelites, counting the members of the community, actually helps define it. They count those who belong to it in part because they count on those who belong to it. And that is the final really important feature of the census--that the whole is more than the sum of its parts. Meaning, that the community is greater in strength as a community than that same number of individuals randomly spread around.

I wish this were all there was to census-counting in the Torah, but it isn’t that simple. Because even though there is a sense of equality in the whole--everyone- gives -a -half -shekel - and - is- counted description--that just isn’t the case. And that’s because there were some obvious and some less obvious restrictions on who was even eligible to give that half-shekel.
כֹּל, הָעֹבֵר עַל-הַפְּקֻדִים, מִבֶּן עֶשְׂרִים שָׁנָה, וָמָעְלָה--יִתֵּן, תְּרוּמַת יְהוָה.

Every one that passes among them that are numbered, from twenty years old and upward, shall give the offering to God. 

Rashi explains that this means “no one under 20 years old goes out to serve in the army or is counted among men.” So even though the census is taken in a way that equalizes people, there is a system of exclusion in the ki tisa census that eliminates women and girls, slaves, and others under the age of 20. 

I take this pretty personally on my bat mitzvah!

Others, too, recognized that these exclusions were a problem. Many years later, in the Mishnah, rabbis recognized that excluding people from “counting” was an issue. There is some discussion and commentary about the topic that distinguishes between being, on the one hand, exempted and, on the other hand, being excluded. And some rabbinic interpretations modify who is included and who is not. The changes made by the rabbis in the mishnah suggest that we always have to keep trying and thinking about inclusion and the meaning behind being counted.

And that is another reason I wanted to focus on this particular part of the Parsha-- because it’s relevant to us today. In less than a month, the American census will be sent out to all known households.  As we see in Ki Tisa, participating in the census means belonging. It gathers individuals together and defines community. And yet some people in the United States feel that being counted may endanger them or their families and so decide to remain uncounted. Doing this not only makes them as individuals practically invisible, but it makes the community as a whole lesser and poorer. 

Here’s the thing about census taking, both in Ki Tisa and, soon, in the United States: it isn’t only the counting itself that matters. It’s the being counted. Being counted means that both your status as a human being and as a member of a larger community matter. Being counted means that you belong. It means that you are part of a certain space, community, or Kehilah. We all want and need to be counted, and that is the larger lesson of the census in Ki Tisa. 

Thank you to everyone here. I love Darkhei Noam and it’s community, where I feel that I count. Many people were planning to come today but couldn't because of the coronavirus. Oma ended up not making the trip from Germany, though she really wanted to be here with us. We are thinking of her and others who couldn’t join us hoping they stay safe.  Thank you to Seth, my layning tutor, for teaching me everything I needed to know and preparing me for this day. You are so patient and generous. Thank you to Bruce Goldberger, my amazing bat mitzvah coordinator. Thank you, Neal Smolar, for listening to me practice on Darkhei Noam’s Torah --that was great. Thank you to Phil, my teacher, for helping me find sources and ideas for this D’var Torah. Thank you to all of my teachers at Beit Rabban for teaching me and helping me grow as a person. Thank you to all of my friends, you guys are so much fun to be with. And most of all, thank you to my family. You always support me when I need you. Thank you Grandad and Barbara for always being ready with love and a good pun (if there is such a thing). Thank you to Ari for introducing me today and being so awesome. Same for you, Alex. Thank you to all my cousins. Nina, we are thinking of you home in quarantine. Thank you to David. While it may sometimes seem that you are annoying me to pieces, I really do love playing soccer with you and playing with OREO. You are my favorite--and only-- brother.  Thank you, Hannah, for always being there with a funny comment. You are my favorite--and only-- sister. Last, thank you to Mommy and Papa. You always care for me and I don’t know where I’d be without you. I love being with you both and could never have asked for anyone better to raise me or love me.

Shabbat Shalom.Update this content.