Different Flags, One Mission (Bemidbar 5786)

This piece by Rabbi Kenigsberg was first posted in the Hanassi Highlights on Thursday 14 May. You can also read it in Hebrew here and in Yiddish here.

As we approach Chag HaShavuot and the memory of standing together at Har Sinai, Parshat Bamidbar offers a striking image of the Jewish people in the wilderness. The Torah describes in meticulous detail the arrangement of the camps: each tribe with its own banner, its own position and its own identity, encamped around the Mishkan at the centre.

At first glance, it seems almost contradictory. Chazal describe the Jewish people at Sinai as standing “ke’ish echad belev echad”—“like one person with one heart.” If unity was the prerequisite for receiving the Torah, why does the Torah now emphasize distinction and separation? Why the need for different flags, different camps and different identities?

Rav Yaakov Kamenetsky explains that the tribal arrangement only took place after the completion of the Mishkan. Before the nation could express its individuality, there first had to be a shared centre. The Mishkan represented a common mission, a spiritual anchor that transcended the differences between the shevatim. Only once that centre existed could diversity become a source of strength rather than fragmentation.

Perhaps this also sheds light on a cryptic story told by Chazal. The Gemara (Zevachim 116a) recounts that at the time of Matan Torah, the nations of the world were terrified by the sounds and upheaval surrounding Har Sinai. They ran to Bilam and asked whether Hashem was bringing another flood upon the world. Bilam answered: “Hashem oz le’amo yiten”—this was not destruction, but revelation. The Jewish people were receiving the Torah.

 Why would Matan Torah resemble a flood?

Rav Meir Shapiro of Lublin offers a profound insight. During the flood, predators and prey coexisted peacefully inside the teivah. But that was not true harmony; it was unity born of necessity. The lion did not devour the lamb, simply because there was nowhere else to go. In the future, however, when “the wolf will dwell with the lamb,” the peace will be different. It will not emerge from fear or survival, but from shared purpose.

 That, Rav Meir Shapiro explains, was the nations’ misunderstanding at Sinai. They saw an entire people standing together in extraordinary unity and assumed it must have been driven by crisis. What else could produce such cohesion? But the truth is that this was not the unity of desperation. It was the unity of mission.

That challenge remains deeply relevant for us today. Over the past difficult years, Am Yisrael has shown extraordinary solidarity in moments of pain and crisis. The question is always whether we can transform that into something deeper and more enduring.

Parshat Bamidbar reminds us that Jewish unity does not require uniformity. We do not all think alike or act alike. Each tribe had its own flag and its own role. But all faced the same Mishkan.

As we prepare for Shavuot, let us strive for a unity rooted not in crisis, but in shared purpose—a unity that embraces difference while binding us together in a common mission.

Shabbat Shalom!

More Than a Book of Numbers

This week's Torah reading begins with counting: counting tribes, soldiers, families and organizing the nation. But the truth is, this counting in itself is not new. We already counted Klal Yisrael in Sefer Shemot. What is new in Bamidbar is something far deeper: for the first time, the Torah describes how Klal Yisrael was structured around the Mishkan. Our member Rabbi Paul Bloom looks beyond the numbers and finds form and structure throughout the parashah.

Bemidbar: The Structure of a Holy Nation

Each tribe had a place, a direction, a flag, an identity and a relationship to the center. This was not merely military organization. It was spiritual architecture. The Torah was teaching us what a holy nation looks like.

Four Levels of Meaning

Like many sections of Torah, the encampment in the Midbar can be understood on multiple levels.

In many ways, the parashah unfolds like Peshat, Remez, Derush and Sod. Each level reveals another dimension of who Klal Yisrael truly is.

Peshat — A Nation Preparing for Destiny

On the most basic level, the encampment was practical. The Jewish people were preparing to enter Eretz Yisrael. They would need order, discipline, military structure, leadership, and coordination. The tribes were divided into four major camps, each consisting of three shevatim. This was a nation preparing not merely to survive — but to build a homeland.

The Torah is teaching us something important: Holiness does not reject structure. קדושה requires organization. Even spiritual greatness needs order. The Mishkan stood at the center, but around it stood a disciplined nation ready to fulfill its mission in history.

Remez — Connected to the Avot

But Chazal reveal a deeper layer. Rashi explains that the arrangement of the tribes around the Mishkan mirrored another sacred moment in Jewish history: the funeral procession of Yaakov Avinu. When Yaakov was carried from Egypt to Me’arat HaMachpelah, the sons surrounded his aron in a precise formation: three on one side, three on the other, three in front, and three behind. The same structure reappears in the Midbar. Why? Because Klal Yisrael is never disconnected from its roots. Even as they prepare for the future, they carry the legacy of the Avot. The Mishkan was not simply surrounded by tribes. It was surrounded by the continuation of Yaakov Avinu. Every Jewish generation moves forward only when it carries its past with dignity.

Derush — The Flags and the Choshen Mishpat

Then Chazal take us deeper still. The Torah says: “איש על דגלו” (“Each man under his flag”). What were these flags? Rashi explains that each tribe’s flag matched the color of the corresponding stone on the Choshen Mishpat — the breastplate of the Kohen Gadol. One tribe was represented by sapphire. Another by ruby. Another by emerald.

Every shevet had its own unique color. its own identity. its own spiritual mission. But all the colors were worn together on the heart of the Kohen Gadol. That is the secret of Klal Yisrael. Unity does not mean uniformity. A healthy nation does not erase differences. Each tribe had different strengths, different personalities, different missions, different symbols—and yet they all surrounded one Mishkan.

Today as well, Klal Yisrael contains many types of Jews: different communities, different customs, different personalities and different approaches. The challenge is not to become identical. The challenge is to remain united around the center: around Torah, around the Shechinah and around the Mishkan.

Sod — Klal Yisrael and the Heavenly Chariot

But then comes the most astonishing insight. Ibn Ezra connects the encampment in the Midbar to one of the most mysterious visions in all of Tanach: the vision of Yechezkel’s Merkavah. The Navi describes four heavenly beings surrounding the Kisei HaKavod: the lion, the eagle, the ox, and the human face. Ibn Ezra explains that these same symbols appeared on the banners of the tribes. Thus Yehudah carried the lion, Reuven corresponded to man, Ephraim carried the ox and Dan carried the eagle.

What does this mean? Klal Yisrael in the Midbar was not merely organized like an army. They were being shaped into a reflection of the heavenly order itself. Just as the malachim surround the Heavenly Throne, Klal Yisrael surrounded the Mishkan. The Mishkan below reflected the Kisei HaKavod above. Suddenly Bamidbar becomes something extraordinary. The Torah is teaching us that the Jewish people are meant to create a bridge between heaven and earth.

The Connection to Shavuot

This is why Bamidbar is always read before Shavuot. Before receiving the Torah, Klal Yisrael needed structure. Not merely physical structure but also spiritual structure.

Matan Torah was not given to isolated individuals. It was given to a nation encamped סביב להר — surrounding holiness together. And perhaps this is the deeper meaning of preparing for Shavuot. We do not come merely as individuals seeking inspiration. We come as part of Am Yisrael. We may be different tribes with different personalities. different colors and different strengths. But we are all standing around one center: the Torah.

The Danger of Losing the Center

One of the great dangers in modern life is fragmentation. People define themselves by their politics, ideology, culture, profession and by their social tribe. But the Midbar teaches us this: a nation survives only when the center holds. The tribes could only remain united because the Mishkan stood in the middle. When the center disappears, the camps drift apart. The Mishkan created unity not by eliminating individuality, but by giving everyone a shared destination. That remains true today.

In closing

Perhaps that is why the Torah begins Sefer Bamidbar not with speeches, but with formation. Before revelation comes alignment, before Torah comes unity, before entering Eretz Yisrael comes identity. On this basis every Jew had a place, every tribe had a mission, every banner mattered. And the Mishkan stood at the center of them all.

May we merit this Shavuot to rediscover our place within Klal Yisrael:

●      to value our uniqueness,

●      to honor the uniqueness of others,

●      and to center ourselves once again around Torah and the Shechinah.

And may we become worthy of the vision described by Yechezkel — a people who bring the Divine Presence into this world.

What counts is the way you count: Bemidbar 5785

The count of the Jewish people that appears in this week’s parsha is difficult to understand. What are we to learn from all these detailed descriptions and seemingly exact numbers? The general lesson that every Jew counts, and is to be counted, is plain—but that lesson can be learned from a far more concise précis of the population of the Jews than the long account that appears in the parsha. Perhaps it the messenger that itself is the message: the Torah wishes to express its relationship to the Jewish people by dwelling at “unnecessary” length on the counting exercise. For those with whom we have a loving relationship, there are no unnecessary or superfluous acts or gestures. 

The rabbis wryly compare this type of relationship to the way one counts one’s money: thus one can compare the speed and intensity with which we recite our prayers with the speed at which we would count valuable coins. Care in counting is also an expression of the underlying attachment to what is being counted. I note that people leaving the ATM cash dispenser invariably check the bills that they have received. This is not only an act of prudence; it is an act of affection. Similarly the count of the Jews in the parsha, even in its detail and length, make perfect sense. Another explanation can be found in the identity of the counters themselves. Moshe, Aharon, Elazar and Itamar are the leaders of the Jewish people, totally responsible for its physical and spiritual welfare. Part of their task is to seek to know their millions of constituents—to make some sort of connection with each as an individual.

 The leaders of Israel used to view their responsibility as being like those of parents. Some Jews crave affection while others need tough love. The enormous diversity of the Jewish people—twelve different tribes that are counted separately as well as in their aggregate—is emphasized by the fact of their being counted as individuals. Responsibility for the fate of the Jewish people is a heavy burden, but it is one that automatically comes with leadership positions. Those who count he Jewish people are its leaders, constantly aware that they are relied upon for their leadership and wisdom. And they must also be aware that the needs of every person must be accounted for. 

So, the counting of the Jewish people is not an empty exercise; it reflects the scale of challenges they and their leaders face. May both the counters and the counted of Israel in our day be great in numbers, spirit and accomplishments. 

Shabbat shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein 

Rabbi Wein's devar Torah on parshat Bemidbar last year, "In the desert", can be read here.

Encamping with Purpose: Identity, Destiny, and the Call of the Land

Each year, as we begin reading Sefer Bemidbar, we are greeted by what appears to be a census—a counting of men aged twenty and above, fit for battle. This enumeration yields the familiar number: 603,550. The book’s name in English—Numbers—reflects this opening theme. But as with everything in Torah, the surface conceals a profound inner depth. This is not simply a military registration; it is a moment of spiritual crystallization.The Torah uses the phrase שְׂאוּ אֶת-רֹאש—“Lift up the head”—to describe this counting. Each individual is elevated, seen, and given significance. This isn’t about quantity: it’s about identity. And not just one identity, but a multi-layered formation of the self and of the nation. Rabbi Paul Bloom explains.

Four Dimensions of Jewish Identity

Sefer Bemidbar reveals four dimensions of identity—personal, familial, communal, and cosmic—each represented in the way the people encamp around the Mishkan and prepare to receive the Torah anew.

1. Peshat: Readiness and Responsibility

At the literal level (peshat), the nation is arranged in military formation. “Kol hayotzei l’tzava”—those who go out to war—are counted and grouped by tribe. This reflects a nation on the brink of entering Eretz Yisrael, preparing to fulfill its divine mandate not just through faith, but through action and readiness. They were being prepared for immediate entry into the Land, each person in their place, ready to march with purpose.

Yet, as the Sforno insightfully notes, this arrangement also carried a divine potential: had the people entered the Land with eagerness and faith, God would have made the conquest unnecessary. The nations would have fled. As Chazal teach, the Girgashites left voluntarily. The encampment was meant to signal a people worthy of divine miracles. Tragically, the sin of the Spies would forfeit that opportunity, forcing Israel into forty years of wandering and eventual warfare.

The lesson is sobering and urgent: when we hesitate in our mission, our enemies grow bolder. This truth echoes into our own time. Following the miraculous victory of the Six-Day War, the Jewish people stood poised to reclaim and resettle their full inheritance. But reluctance to act decisively gave our enemies renewed claims. We must not repeat this error again.

2. Remez: Echoes of the Patriarchs

On the level of remez (hint), Chazal and Rashi point out that the tribal formation around the Mishkan mirrored the funeral procession of Yaakov Avinu. When the sons of Yaakov carried his body to Me’arat HaMachpelah, they stood in the very same tribal configuration.

This powerful parallel teaches that the structure of the Jewish camp is not arbitrary—it is ancestral. The honor once given to the father of the nation becomes the structural paradigm for the nation itself. Our future encampment is modeled on our past devotion. We are a people formed not only by divine instruction, but by the enduring legacy of our forebears.

3. Derush: Flags, Stones, and Sanctified Distinctions

On the homiletic level (derush), each tribe had its own flag (degel), uniquely colored to match its corresponding stone on the Choshen Mishpat—the breastplate of the Kohen Gadol. These were not mere decorations. They symbolized the holiness embedded in each tribe’s unique identity.

Rashi emphasizes that these colors and banners represent the tribe’s distinct spiritual role. Just as the High Priest wore twelve different stones, each tribe shone with its own hue, yet all were unified in the service of God. Unity in Judaism is never uniformity. It is the harmony of diverse roles, gifts, and callings sanctified within a single national soul.

This is the message echoed every Friday night in Kabbalat Shabbat. We sing “Bo’i VeShalom” three times—once as individuals, once as families, and once as a community. Each level of identity is necessary for true wholeness.

4. Sod: A Reflection of the Heavenly Chariot

And then there is sod, the secret, mystical level. Ibn Ezra, drawing from the vision of Yechezkel, reveals a breathtaking parallel: the tribal encampment mirrors the celestial Ma’aseh Merkavah, the Divine Chariot. The four lead tribes—Yehuda, Reuven, Ephraim, and Dan—correspond to the four celestial beings:

●      Yehuda: Lion (aryeh), symbol of royalty and courage.

●      Reuven: Human face (adam), symbol of introspection and wisdom.

●      Ephraim: Ox (shor), representing strength and service.

●      Dan: Eagle (nesher), sign of vision and divine swiftness.

The Jewish people encamp not just as a nation, but as a reflection of heaven itself. Their structure is a cosmic alignment, their movement a celestial choreography. Through their formation around the Mishkan, they became a living sanctuary, a human Merkavah for the Divine Presence.

Spiritual Archetypes: Four Pillars of Holiness

The Kli Yakar adds yet another layer. Each of the four camps corresponds to a spiritual archetype, values essential for building a holy society:

●      Chochmah (Wisdom): Yehudah’s camp, center of Torah and leadership.

●      Middot (Ethical Character): Reuven’s camp, source of integrity and humility.

●      Gevurah (Moral Strength): Ephraim’s camp, courage and discipline.

●      Ashirut (Wealth for Good): Dan’s camp, material prosperity directed toward sanctity.

These archetypes call on each of us to discover our unique spiritual path and contribute our talents to the collective mission.

Sinai, Shavuot, and the Mission of Unity

It is no coincidence that Parashat Bemidbar is read just before Shavuot, the anniversary of Matan Torah. At Sinai, we were “k’ish echad b’lev echad”—like one person with one heart. That unity was not sociological; it was sacred. To receive Torah, we had to become a vessel—a unified entity ready to carry the Divine word.

The desert encampment is not just a memory—it is a model. To receive Torah today, we must reclaim those layers of identity: personal uniqueness, familial roots, communal responsibility, and cosmic purpose. We must align ourselves—individually and nationally—with the Divine order.

A Timeless Call

The Sforno’s message rings clear: had the Israelites embraced the Land with love, God would have conquered it for them. The same truth faces us now. The Land of Israel awaits not only our return, but our readiness. When we despise the Land, even passively, we empower those who oppose us. But when we act with conviction and holiness, miracles follow.

The census in Bamidbar is not ancient history. It is a mirror. It asks us: Who are you? Where do you stand? What is your mission?

As we approach Shavuot, let us remember that we stood at Sinai not as a crowd, but as a formation. Let us stand again, each in our place—elevated, counted, and ready to carry the Torah into the Land and into the world.

In the desert: Bemidbar 5784

I have always been fascinated why this book of the Bible and this week’s Torah reading is called Bemidbar—"in the desert”. The rabbis of Midrash have stated that the lesson we learn from this is that the Torah only remains in a person who empties all other causes from one’s midst, being as open and unoccupied as is the desert. Nevertheless, other insights may be gleaned from the use of the desert as the backdrop for the events and laws contained in this, the fourth book of the Torah. One of these different insights has to do with the ability of water to transform a barren desert into a productive place of lush fields and orchards. 

Here in Israel, the Negev desert that began to bloom fifty years ago just south of Chevron has now expanded many kilometers to the south of Beersheba thanks to the national water carrier system and other means of irrigating that area of our country. Literally, the desert has bloomed in fulfillment of the ancient prophecies of Isaiah. 

Water can overcome the aridity of the desert. In California, desert valleys have been transformed into America’s vegetable basket by water diverted from the Colorado River. Again, in that case water was the key to transforming a desert into a garden and orchard. There are plans afloat all over the world to transform deserts into arable land. However, fresh water is a valuable and oftentimes scarce commodity and the struggle to discover and harness more of it for agricultural and human use is a continuous effort.  

Throughout the books of the prophets of Israel and as well as within the Talmud, the Torah itself is metaphorically compared to and even called water. Just as water has the ability to convert desolate and nonproductive desert land into a veritable Garden of Eden, so too can Torah fill the void in our hearts and souls and make us productive holy people. Torah, like the water that represents it, has this enormous regenerative power. The book of Bamidbar will, in its narrative of the many sad and tragic events that befall Israel in its sojourn in the desert, constantly reminds us of the powers of water/Torah to restore the Jewish people to a purposeful existence with greatly productive achievements in spite of all of its failures and backsliding. 

No matter how bleak and barren the desert landscape in which we currently find ourselves, we should always be cognizant of the ability of Torah to refresh and renew us. The Jewish people are an old nation and yet our powers of rejuvenation have never waned. We were and are constantly nourished by the waters of Torah irrespective of whatever desert we found or find ourselves in. The choice of Jewish tradition to call this book of the Torah by the name of Bemidbar—in  the desert—is meant to convey to us this message of hope, constant redemption, and rebirth. 

Shabbat shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein