Moses Breaking the Tables of the Law (1659), by Rembrandt. Photo: Wikimedia Commons.

The fourth book of the Torah, Bamidbar, literally means “desert.” It covers the main events of the 40-year period of wandering through Sinai and the Arava, into what is Jordan today, before reaching the East Bank of the Jordan River.

It is another example of a word with multiple meanings. It has the same root daber — to speak, also can be davar — to object.

On the face of it, a desert is empty. It is a silent zone of physical emptiness. But an expert, whether a scientist or a Bedouin, will be able to see amazing stories and worlds in the rocks and sands. Biologists discover the creatures and organisms that eke out a secret life in what appears to be barren lifelessness. Even silent objects can “speak” to someone. The desert is a place of such silence that one can almost hear it. There is none of the constant noises and hums and rumbles and sirens that assail our ears and consciousness all the time in cities.

Perhaps this is why the greatest of spiritual minds (of all religions) are inspired in the desert. You need silence to be able to open your mind to God (just as you need people to be sensitive to humanity). The Israelites were taken out of metropolitan Egypt and into the empty silent desert to be more receptive to a Divine message.

This week, the Torah describes the census that Moses was commanded by God to take of male Israelites of fighting age. You will notice that the census was not 100% accurate, because each tribe number ended with a zero. I am not a mathematician, but I would say that’s highly unlikely. Clearly the numbers were rounded up.

One other oddity. The names of the tribal leaders were either names linked to El (God), family, or animals — a symbolic cross section of attitudes and values, and you will find similar variations later on in the Book of Numbers with the names of the spies.

What do these issues tell us? Names reflect our different values, priorities, and identities. The tribes are like different political parties today. That division impeded our progress and threatened our survival. It took years to recover, but we did.

Today we are divided and fractious in every area of our people. Different names reflect different identities and values. Our strength almost failed us. We relied on bean counters and politicians who have all let us down. And yet we will come back. Not without cost, but we have done it, and we will. I only hope it will not take 40 years to repair the damage of morale, security, and confidence that we are currently suffering.

Look at us. We have always been few in number. As the saying goes, “God does not count His followers, he weighs them.” Quality over quantity.

The thousands who turned up to march for Israel last week in New York and London show that we still have a voice.

The author is a rabbi and writer, currently based in New York.