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Today, to the joy of some and the chagrin of others, many businesses in St. Louis are opening as city and county officials lift many of the measures put in place to halt the spread of the virus. I can’t help but notice the synchronicity of the fact that at the same time on our Jewish calendar, we begin reading the book of Numbers, because of course, reopening is all about the numbers.

It’s about the number of people out of work and the number of people who never expected to be job hunting.

It’s about the number of people who have tested positive, the number who have died, and the number who have recovered.

It’s about the number of days we’ve comfortably stayed home making the best of it and the number of days we’ve nearly lost it.

It’s about the number of articles we’ve read and the number of emails still unread.

It’s about the number of times we’ve said, “did you wash your hands?” and the number of times we’ve said, “you have to press unmute!” 

It’s about the number of times we’ve ached for a real hug and the number of times we’ve comfortably stayed in pajamas all day.

It’s about the number of hours staring at a screen and the number of nights sleeplessly staring at the ceiling.

All of these numbers, and each means something different to each of us.

When we begin the book of Numbers this week, we read of how there must be a census of the people in order for them to resume their journey to the promised land. An accurate counting has to be taken, otherwise they’ll have no idea who is still with them and who has been lost, who will be with them in the days ahead. Each day I read the ticker on the front page of the Post Dispatch, making my own counting and wondering when our communal counting will end, furrowing my brow when the numbers are up and feeling a weight begin to lift when the curve seems to flatten.

But it’s important to remember that in Hebrew, this book is not called Numbers but B'Midbar, which means “in the wilderness.” The Hebrew reminds us that no matter what the numbers may be, we are still really in the middle of this. We have no idea where this journey ends, or how much longer it will take, or what kind of accounting will be taken between then and now. Yet it isn’t all bad news. We also remember that it’s in the wilderness that the Israelites become a people, where they learn what matters most, and who they want to be once they finally reach the promised land. In the Hebrew, the numbers are the least important thing about the story; it’s about the journey through a strange, unexpected time that will lead our people towards their future.

As we each wrestle with our own numbers, making our own decisions about how and when we open ourselves back into public life, may we remember that there are still great gifts to be found B'Midbar, if only we’re willing look for them.