There are many things in our lives that we take for granted. One of them is that a book must have a title. And we usually expect even more than that; we expect that the title will reveal the essence of the book. But our expectations notwithstanding, this is not the case in the Five Books of Moses. Instead of carrying titles, they are referred to only by their first significant words (i.e., Bereshit, Shemot, etc.).
On the one hand, one could simply attribute these books’ lack of formal titles to the historical development of literature, and that may in fact be the most straightforward explanation. On the other hand, there might be more to it than that. After all, the essence of each of the Torah’s five books extends beyond what can be summarized in titles. Given their tremendous depth and nuance, titles would necessarily be reductionist.
The truth is that to the extent that we are uncomfortable with our holiest books not having titles, it may reveal more about us than it does about the Torah. As Westerners, we have become used to categorizing most of what we encounter in order to digest it more readily. Names are an aid to this, and in the case of a book, the title immediately identifies it as belonging to a particular category. Yet, if there is anything that the Bible defies, it is identification and categorization.
Nor is it only in recent generations that Jews can be described as Westerners in this sense. It has been a very long time since Jews have thought in purely Hebrew or biblical fashion. Even in the rabbinic period (i.e., from before the destruction of the Second Temple until after the redaction of the Talmud), it is impossible to say that the sages were immune to the influence of Greek thought that is at the roots of Western thinking. The move from the Torah to the Mishnah is a telling landmark of the Greco-Roman organizational style’s impact on Jewish thought and culture: whereas the Torah flows in a stream of consciousness, the Mishnah is very tightly structured by topic. No doubt, such a move was needed to survive in the new civilization that was being created all around the Jews, but along with it came a flattening out that is inevitably created by order.
It is likely that the same historical currents are what prompted the rabbis to give names to the title-less books of the Torah.8See Netziv’s commentary on the Torah, Ha’amek Davar, which in several of the introductions to the books of the Torah discusses their rabbinic names and more generally comments on some of the various historical names given to each of the five books. Nonetheless, there is no question that the titles they gave are also representative of the rabbis’ ability to come to a profound and deep reading of the text. As such, the new titles are highly deserving of our attention as we attempt to understand each book.
In general, the rabbinic names of the Torah’s books served as the basis for their names in most foreign languages. Sefer HaPikudim, the rabbinic name for Bemidbar, however, suffers from somewhat of a mistranslation. For instance, the English rendition, Numbers, is neither literally nor figuratively a correct translation of the original Hebrew. Pikudim means “countings,” and though counting obviously implies numbers, such a translation emphasizes the wrong part of the biblical exercise of counting that occurs repeatedly in the book. The main point of the censuses is not really to tally up the population of the tribes but rather to better identify them. In other words, the counting in the book of Bemidbar is a process through which to understand who these tribes intrinsically are. The inadequacy of the English translation of Bemidbar notwithstanding, we still need to discover why the rabbis chose the countings as this book’s central component and what they were trying to tell us by it.
The Book of the Tribes
The Torah’s interest in “numbers” constitutes only one component of a larger interest in tribal attributes. Another detail that epitomizes the book of Bemidbar is the list of tribal leaders’ offerings at the Tabernacle’s inauguration. For many readers, this discussion at the end of parashat Naso (Bemidbar 7) ranks at the top of cumbersome Torah readings, difficult to sit through even on a good day. Most of us simply don’t understand the need for the Torah to list twelve times the exact same sacrifice given by the princes of each tribe. Yet, with a more careful reading of the book, this repetition can be viewed as part of a very important pattern.
Clearly, it is not just random items that are enumerated and counted in this book. Upon careful consideration, we see that not only do the countings center on tribal censuses (as opposed to one that stresses the nation or the clan), but the repeated lists of leaders are also all about the tribes and the corresponding Levite divisions. (Levi will have somehow turned into a microcosm of the Jewish people, treated separately but in parallel to the rest of the tribes.) Alongside numbers and leadership, the book of Bemidbar also tells us each tribe’s marching position, as well as its position in the camp and with which other two tribes it was aligned.
All in all, the Torah takes up a new focus in Bemidbar, paying more attention to the confederate nature of the children of Israel, mentioning the tribes and their princes over and over again. The abrupt nature of this shift in focus is highlighted by the fact that after the book of Bereshit, the names of the tribes, descended from and named for Ya’akov’s sons, don’t reappear in their tribal variant until we get to the book of Bemidbar. That means that the Torah narrates the story of the twelve tribes for almost two entire books without really mentioning them.9The only exception is the identification of the Tabernacle’s chief artisans as coming from the tribes of Yehudah and Dan, in Shemot 32:2, 8, 36:30, 34 and 38:22–23, respectively, and the mother of the “blasphemer” (mekallel) likewise coming from Dan in Vayikra 24:11. Yet, once it starts mentioning them in Bemidbar, it repeats them at many points and from many angles, only to deemphasize them once again in the book of Devarim.10In fact, the division of Yosef into two tribes – so prominent in our book – is completely overlooked in one discussion in Devarim (27:11–13), and highly secondary in the blessings that Moshe gives to the descendants of Yosef in another (33:13–17).
Now that we have noted the tribal focus of Bemidbar, we can see how fitting it is for the book to begin with the command of the newly named tribal leaders to count the Jews, and to end with a new list of tribal leaders who will help conquer the land. The latter narrative is almost immediately followed by the last details of the tribal equation: a discussion of how to insure their geographic integrity in view of possible tribal intermarriage. By the end of this book, the lens through which the rest of the Bible will view the nation of Israel will be changed forever. From that point on, the nation would be viewed primarily through its component parts, i.e., its tribes.
But this is not just a literary tour de force. With the settlement of the land, tribal identity actually takes on a more powerful role. From that perspective, the book of Bemidbar not only guides the future, it also helps explain it. The tribal identity that will play such a major role in the unfolding biblical saga of the Jews in their land needs grounding, and Bemidbar comes to do just that. To understand how these tribes came to have such differing traits, the early similarities and distinctions become a key part of the desert narrative.
Yet, one should not only look forward; one should also look back. There is a progression from one book to the next that should make the focus of Bemidbar almost expected: if Bereshit is dealing with individuals and Shemot (and to some extent Vayikra) with the nation, Bemidbar is the book which gives the structure in which the individuals relate to the nation. We go from the smallest unit to the largest unit, and then return to examine its parts. Thus, if a better literal translation of Bemidbar might be the Book of Countings, the book’s essence might be best conveyed by calling it the Book of the Tribes.
Tribal Hierarchy
Now that we have established our book’s focus on tribal identity, we can begin to observe what the Torah wants us to know about the various tribes. Several of the chapters11Chapters in this book are referred to with the number spelled out (e.g., Chapter One); chapters in the Bible use numbers (e.g., Chapter 1). in our present study will focus on specific tribes, but before we finish the current discussion we need to establish the general contours of the tribal enterprise that we find in this, the fourth book of the Torah.
It is true that much ink is spent on establishing the basic equality of the tribes, something to which we will return later, but it is just as clear that the hierarchical family structure one sees in Bereshit remains here as well. As in Bereshit, birth order and merit interact to determine position. Thus, one item that should immediately catch our eye is the order in which the tribes are mentioned. While there are some tribes always at or near the top (Reuven, Yehudah, and Shimon), others consistently at the bottom (Dan, Asher, and Naftali), and those that we can expect to be near the middle (Ephraim, Menashe, and Binyamin), there is a measure of indeterminacy which makes these lists worthy of our attention.12Netziv (Bemidbar 34:19) suggests that the order of at least one of the lists is not based on any tribal arrangement, but simply according to the merit of the specific individuals. Yet, even that list does not appear to be completely divorced from the tribal hierarchy, as Yehudah appears first, the descendants of Rachel next, and the descendants of the maidservants at the end.
Of particular interest is the interchange for first position that occurs between Reuven and Yehudah. The general trend is delineated by the first tribal list in Bemidbar (Bemidbar 1:5-16) starting with Reuven and the last (Bemidbar 34:17-29) starting with Yehudah. Mirroring the process in Bereshit, the default position of leadership starts with Reuven, who is, after all, the firstborn. Yet, in the same way as Reuven’s leadership in Bereshit is ineffective and becomes eclipsed by Yehudah’s,13See Francis Nataf, Redeeming Relevance in the Book of Genesis (Jerusalem: Urim Publications, 2006), Chap. 5. Reuven’s descendants give way to the descendants of Yehudah as well. This is made amply clear by the end of Bemidbar, when Reuven teams up with Gad14The inclusion of part of the tribe of Menashe with these tribes remains shrouded in mystery. We will take this up later in Chap. Five and especially in the final section of Chap. Six. and settles in Transjordan (Bemidbar 32), essentially deserting the rest of the tribes.15 See Chap. Five of this book for a more comprehensive description of these events and their meaning. Reuven’s abdication is formalized by his absence in the final list of princes, now led by Yehudah’s Calev ben Yefuneh.
Hence, the Torah’s bottom line is that the leadership of the Israelites will be assumed by the tribe of Yehudah, just as the brothers had been led by its namesake several generations earlier.16The Torah’s stance may be due to what it sees as an almost inevitable outgrowth of traits these tribes inherit/learn from their forefathers. In fact, since the Torah regularly assumes a very close correspondence between any group and its founding ancestor, we may ask why the Torah would not automatically put Yehudah at the helm from the beginning of Bemidbar. It is true that such a move is anticipated in the immediate ordering of the procession protocol with Yehudah’s placement at the front. Still, it appears that putting Reuven at the beginning of the list of princes and as the first to be counted is the Torah’s way of allowing the tribe of Reuven to have a second chance; the fate of Reuven’s descendants should not be viewed as sealed based on the performance of their ancestor. In other words, the Torah is not prepared to dismiss Reuven’s firstborn privilege without giving his descendants a chance to outgrow his legacy – a basic nod to the element of free choice and against the fatalism characteristic of the surrounding cultures. Yet, even if the Torah allows the tribes the opportunity to prove themselves different from their ancestors, there are few surprises. Perhaps what is being demonstrated here is the critical importance of free choice, while at the same time having us realize the difficulty that exists in making a clean break from our given background. As in the earlier events in the book of Bereshit, there is a need for someone to show the way and to make the difficult decisions. Accordingly, Yehudah’s Calev would be the one to stand up to the spies’ insurrection (Bemidbar 13:30).
As Bemidbar asserts the dominance of Yehudah as the national leader, so does it further clarify the ritual leadership of Levi and the priestly lineage of Aharon. The separation and further sub-division of Levi into three clans at the beginning of the book, for example, is followed up by the clear and ominous warning that this tribe will serve in the tent of meeting so that “there will not be a plague among the children of Israel should [they] approach the holy things" Bemidbar 9:19).
We will see later how Korach’s insurrection and its aftermath seal the indisputability of the division between Levi and the rest of the Jews on the one hand, and the Kohanim and the rest of the Levites on the other. Particular flourish is used concerning the former. God does this by commanding each tribe to take out its staff to see which one will miraculously flower. The Hebrew word used for staff here is mateh, which is also the word used throughout the book of Bemidbar to refer to a tribe. This Divine choice of one mateh over the others was an unmistakable sign for the ancient Israelites. The linguistic connection was obvious to them, as the mateh was a more direct representation of a tribe than a flag is a representation of a state today. More than a mere symbol, the mateh represented a tribe on an intrinsic level, since the staff would be held by the tribal leader to designate his power.
If two tribes are placed at the top of the hierarchy, the establishment of one was clearly different from the establishment of the other. As opposed to the clear roots of Yehudah’s leadership in the family history, the replacement of all firstborns with the tribe of Levi was a more radical move. Unsurprisingly, it met with more resistance and seems to be one of the main causes for Korach’s rebellion.
We will discuss Korach’s rebellion more fully in Chapter Three. However, it is worth noting here that the actual distribution of power and the concept of hierarchy against which Korach effected his rebellion is an important theme found in Bemidbar. And the Torah’s complete rejection of his attempt to undermine these institutions is part and parcel of this book’s overriding message.
The Four Blocks
We see the notion of hierarchy in other units in addition to the basic tribal one. The Torah creates a new institution, the degel or formation, each one made up of three tribes and seemingly led by its most esteemed component. Via these formations, each tribe’s position in the hierarchy is further clarified. We will see that the tribes are ranked according to which other tribes and which Levite clan they are grouped with, as well as according to their geographical position and marching order.
The composition of these groups is quite striking. Were one to divide the tribal populations equally, he would not be able to assemble the groups as the Torah does.17The division is highly uneven, with the Yehudah formation being by far the largest and the Ephraim formation dwarfed by the all the others. One could give a simple military explanation, i.e., that the strongest unit has to be the forward division (east), followed by the flanks (north and south), leaving one’s rear guard (west) as the lightest. Indeed, the Torah’s ordering of the formations makes little sense without knowledge of the tribes’ pedigree in Bereshit. If we do follow their ancestry, however, things generally fall into place. We see that the full brothers are generally grouped together, so that all of Rachel’s descendants are united in one group and Leah’s descendants make up five of the six members of two other groups. Due to the uneven remnant, one of Zilpah’s sons is put in with his peers (Bilhah’s sons), while her firstborn is “moved up” and grouped with the less illustrious of the two Leah groupings. On some level, this pedigree also determines the order in which the formations are mentioned: Leah’s descendants first, followed by Rachel’s, and those of the maidservants at the rear.
Now that we have a general sense of the hierarchy, further analysis will refine it even more.
One way to probe further is to note the exact division of Leah’s and Zilpah’s children. That the children of Zilpah, Leah’s maidservant, should be divided – and not those of Bilhah – so that one of them would take the extra spot left among Leah’s two formations, is completely understandable, but why was that spot taken specifically by Gad and how do we explain the precise division of the other five Leah tribes into their respective groups?18There is actually a clear rationale here: Levi would have been the third tribe in the Reuven formation according to birth order, but since he is not to be counted, he must be replaced by the first “available” tribe in the greater Leah family, which is Gad. But had we designed the family structure, we might have just as easily moved up the tribe in the fourth position (Yehudah) to position number three (in place of Levi), and put Gad at the end of a formation consisting of him and the fifth and sixth children of Leah (Zevulun and Yissachar). We can deduce that Gad and Reuven had some sort of connection, since we know that later in the Jews’ desert sojourn they both requested to live in Transjordan. Although the case could be made that this is in fact a result of being placed next to each other in the formation, what remains clear is that this is not an alliance of valor.19See Chap. Five.
Finding the third member of the formation to be Shimon, we gain even more understanding regarding its weak status. Shimon has already been negatively portrayed in Bereshit,20Most notably, in the curse received from his father after his violent vengeance on the town of Shechem, Bereshit 49:7. is the only tribe that does not receive a blessing from Moshe (Devarim 33:6-24), and basically disintegrates once the Jews settle their land.21This will be discussed in greater detail in Chap. Seven. From this information alone we see that Shimon is one of the least successful tribes. In sum, we get the sense that Reuven, Gad and Shimon were the lesser tribes among Leah’s and Zilpah’s sons. So while we might still consider Gad’s placement an honor for him, it is certainly clear that this is not the case for Reuven and Shimon.22Another anomaly is the placement of Zilpah’s son Asher between the two sons of Bilhah, which would defy explanation if the order were based only on pedigree.
At this point, we might propose a hierarchy of the most important formation being mentioned first and the seemingly least important going last. The middle two groups could be seen in one of two ways: either they are ranked according to importance, even the less illustrious tribes of Leah going before the tribes of Rachel, or the Torah is aiming at symmetry by putting the most important groups opposite one another (encamped east and west) and the less important across from one another (south and north). The first proposal suggested is buttressed by the actual marching order, which places Reuven’s marching position before Ephraim’s. In other words, it is one thing for the Torah to mention Reuven before Ephraim when giving a description of what the encampment looked like. It is quite another to actually allow it to march in front of Ephraim.
Yet, after reflecting on Degel Reuven’s composition, we would likely decide in favor of the second suggestion, i.e., that the Torah is actually seeking symmetry. This is reinforced by the greater distinction of the east-west axis in the Bible and subsequent Jewish writings: east to west is the path of Jewish migration, especially in its most significant incarnation from Egypt to Israel. It is also the primary direction of both the Tabernacle and the Temple, as well as the direction of the sun’s path in the sky. As such, north and south can readily be viewed as ancillary, and it is likely that the tribes identified with these directions are ultimately ancillary as well. But even without these examples, as we will see in greater detail in Chapters Five and Seven, all three tribes of the Reuven formation distinguish themselves by their relatively mediocre moral character, which gives us pause that the formation may be inferior not only to the Rachel formation but perhaps even to that of the remaining one made up of the maidservants’ descendants.
Tribal Equality and Proportional Representation
The Torah’s repetition of each tribe’s offering at the inauguration of the Tabernacle (see above), as well as its emphasis on each offering’s being exactly the same, softens the Torah’s treatment of tribal hierarchy discussed so far. For one, this seemingly superfluous narrative expresses the Torah’s insistence on the basic equality of the tribes. Had the Torah simply grouped the tribal inaugural offerings together and skipped mentioning specific names, there may have been some room for doubt about the complete equality of representation. Since the tribes were unequal in population and merit, their equality not only cannot be taken for granted, it is really counterintuitive. Even if we were to assume the need to recognize the important role played by the tribes as distinct and autonomous cultural units, it is a jump to conclude that they should have any sort of equal representation.
Truly, the offerings are not the only instance of equal tribal representation. The geographic formation which divides the tribes into four groups of three makes a similar statement (even as the composition and order of these groups speaks of hierarchy, as mentioned above). Likewise, we find equal apportionment of soldiers in the battle against Midian (Bemidbar 31:5), and there are other instances throughout the book of Bemidbar.23Perhaps most famous among them is the sending out of twelve scouts, one from each of the tribes, 13:2.
The equal status the Torah gives to the tribes in the abovementioned examples is reminiscent of state representation in the United States Senate (a system shared by many governments, highlighting the Bible’s impact on future governmental structures). Apportioning two senators for each state results in much greater representation per capita for smaller states than for more populous ones. To translate this into real terms, in the year 2000 California had a population almost seventy times the size of Wyoming, yet both states had only two delegates in the Senate. The message is that there needs to be equality of all the states (or in our case, tribes) regardless of their numbers, leadership abilities, or any other criteria for the preference of one over the other.
Of course, the existence of the House of Representatives makes it clear that this is not the whole story. Tribes are equal only on a basic level, alongside which exists a hierarchical differentiation, sometimes based on merit or ability and other times on pedigree.
By setting up the Senate the way they did, the framers of the United States Constitution were acknowledging the existence of the state as a corporate body. This is another way of saying that people don’t count only as individuals but also as part of a greater whole; in this case, a state. Otherwise, there would be little justification for the disproportionate representation of citizens from one state over another.24This is not merely an outgrowth of the jurisdiction and autonomy the states wanted to keep for themselves and which is defended in the Federalist Papers (see, for example, Federalist 39) and elsewhere. Since many issues legislated on a national level have nothing to do with states per se, the only way such issues can be seen as decided in a democratic fashion is if we see individuals as subsumed under the corporate bodies we call states. Elaborating on this discussion is beyond our purview, but see Frances E. Lee, “Representation and Public Policy: The Consequences of Senate Apportionment for the Geographic Distribution of Federal Funds,” The Journal of Politics 60:1 (1998), 34–62, for an example of why representation in the Senate cannot be taken for granted. In this article, Lee comes to the fairly intuitive conclusion that Senate apportionment leads to unequal distribution of federal funds. It is interesting to note that in spite of this and other obvious inequalities that result from the equal representation of states as opposed to individuals, changing this system has rarely been much of a political agenda item (although this could be partly due to the virtual impossibility of mustering the necessary state support required to change the constitution).
Returning to our discussion of why the Torah sets up a certain level of equality among ultimately unequal tribes, it would appear that this motif in the book of Bemidbar is pushing us toward a more complete understanding of human identity than we have gotten up until this point. While humans are counted as individuals, we are also (and perhaps even more so) counted as part of something larger than ourselves. Accordingly, we need to be aware that our own identities are largely determined by the group to which we belong.25In the past, the comparison has been made that in the same way as our limbs are parts of one body, our bodies themselves belong to the larger, corporate body. Though he did not originate the idea, it is often associated with John of Salisbury, who writes about it in his Policraticus.
One can argue that this could have been accomplished without the emphasis on the tribes, as a nation is also a corporate body and the Torah could have simply focused on the nation without any need to establish tribal identities. Yet, any message about corporate identity that we could learn from nationhood would be diluted, because a nation is a necessary body with larger, universal implications, while a tribe or a state is not. Thus, using the nation as the point of identification would lead to our ignoring it as anything more than a cultural and political entity. Looking at the tribal level of identity, however, pushes us to focus on the nature of the group.
But this isn’t meant to obliterate individual identity either. Lest we forget the place of the individual in the tribal scheme, the Torah also proclaims that territory will be divided according to the number of individual families in each tribe. Moreover, the emphasis placed on tribal identity is a way to inform our personal identities and better understand ourselves.
Earlier, throughout the book of Bereshit and at the very beginning of Shemot, we encounter rugged individualists that may have led us to ignore the importance of the group,26See Francis Nataf, Redeeming Relevance in the Book of Exodus (Jerusalem: Urim Publications, 2010), Chap. Three. as their uniqueness might have mitigated any meaningful connection to it. On some level, this is what God commands Avraham to do when He asks him to leave his birthplace and his father’s house (Bereshit 12:1). Yet, with the exception of only the most outstanding giants, this is an unnatural model. More fitting the human condition is to form one’s identity primarily through one’s groupings.
Collective identity was taken for granted for much of history. During that time, the Torah was simply reinforcing a commonly accepted idea. Yet, for us moderns who have lost much of our sense of identification with any type of group, the Torah’s focus on the tribes is an important reminder of our corporate essence. Whether taking on the identity of a group is a question of nature or nurture is irrelevant. What is important is that according to the Torah, who we are is not merely a personal issue.
Composite Selves and Complementary Groups
Once we accept the importance of group identity, we should note that in the Torah, the Jews have multiple identities, i.e., each is part of a tribe and of several sub-tribal units, all of which shape his character. However delineated, these divisions ensure that an individual is identified by his immediate family, his clan, his tribe, and then finally – and perhaps most important – by his nation-religion.
Other divisions correspond to a division of labor, such that one group is in charge of a clearly defined task while another group has a different role to fulfill. The most explicit of such categorizations is that of the tribe of Levi, each of whose subdivisions is given the charge of specific objects they were to carry in the desert. Similarly, Jewish tradition tells us that the tribes themselves specialized in their primary occupations, so that the regional division of these groups led to a symbiotic division of labor. Based on this as well as on the blessings given to the various tribes, Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch states what is unfortunately not always obvious in our day and age: the Bible teaches us of the need to welcome different roles and aptitudes within the Jewish people. In his words, “The establishment of [God’s] Kingdom requires Jewish farmers and artisans no less than Jewish scholars and sages, Jewish merchants and soldiers no less than Jewish priests and teachers.”27“Lessons from Jacob and Esau,” in Collected Writings of Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, vol. 7 (Jerusalem: Feldheim Publishers, 1992), 325.
Is division here a good thing? In a word, yes, and it appears that this is what is illustrated by the perfect symmetry and order in the structure of the Israelite encampment. When each tribe has its own space, it inevitably feels stronger internally, but without losing sight of the fact that it is part of a larger whole which needs all of its component parts. The problem begins only when the tribes are competing for the same space. The Torah explores this very topic at the end of the book of Bemidbar, when describing what happens when tribal land is inherited by daughters who may marry men from another tribe. We will discuss this in detail in Chapter Six.
Yet the general message here is not difficult to understand. When different groups march in unison, each at the same pace and each knowing its place, we have something more powerful than a single unit doing the same. For the latter can be broken at any place and subsequently shattered beyond repair. In contrast, when a series of groups with many points of contact is broken, the groups can more easily reconnect at different points. This is what allowed Yehudah and Binyamin to eventually go it alone, in the monarchy that remained to Shlomo’s son Rachavam after the other ten tribes split off (I Melachim 12:20-21). Likewise, Binyamin had earlier been separated from and ostracized by the other tribes because of its abhorrent behavior concerning the concubine at Giv’ah (Shoftim 19-21).
There are other examples, but the result is the same. When need be, the tribes could survive in different alignments and did not need to be aligned with all the others in order to survive Thus, the federalism of the Jewish people was more than a practical arrangement, it was a strategy for enhancing its dynamism and resilience.
Bemidbar or Pekudim?
Now that we better understand the fourth book of the Torah in light of its rabbinic name, Sefer HaPikudim, or “the Book of Countings,” we should note that by the Jewish people largely ignoring this name, we can conclude that they had ultimately chosen a different approach. Rather they refer to it as the book of Bemidbar (“In the Wilderness”), which shows a greater focus on all of the troubles the Jews encountered and created on their trek toward the Promised Land. When we look at the big picture, we can easily think that the latter is the central subject of the book; it is certainly the most memorable. And yet, the rabbis knew to distinguish between the essential and the (ostensibly) accidental – and memorable – stories of the Jewish people’s trials and tribulations which were not central to the Divine plan. They happened, and thereby became obstacles along the way.
By contrast, once the children of Israel had been forged into a nation and come before God at Mount Sinai, only the countings and the tribal divisions would be a required part of their sojourn through the wilderness; and really the only things that needed to happen along the way. Yet, as the rabbis themselves have suggested (Shabbat 116a), Bemidbar is actually two books:28 There the suggestion is made that vv. 35 and 36 of Chap. 10 form a separate book. More important from our perspective is the implication that this mini-book separates between the first ten chapters of the book which we could see as the “ideal Bemidbar” and the rest of the book which is primarily the “real Bemidbar.” the “ideal Bemidbar” that the rabbis renamed Sefer HaPekudim, and the “real Bemidbar” of tests and failures that defies the notion of order and pekudim.
On some level, however, it is the real that eclipses the ideal. Although the Jews didn’t have to err, their journey was truly through a wilderness in all of its definitions; a place of “scorpions and snakes.” It was a staging ground for entering their land, and consequently not meant to be easy. In fact, it was to be a fundamental and existential challenge. Sometimes the Jews failed, other times they succeeded. But pass or fail, the preparation for entry into the land could be accomplished only via a series of trials by ordeal. Hence, this struggle was just as fundamental as the creation of tribal identity.
In the end, only a name as amorphous as “In the Wilderness” could really represent the differing aspects of this book. And in spite of Greek and Western influences that can limit us by defining things more precisely, the Jewish collective consciousness continues to refer to this book as just that, Bemidbar. What that means is that while drawing great insight from the book’s rabbinic name, the Jewish people has intuited that it is not the last word. Indeed, the Torah’s open-ended nature teaches us that there is no last word.