Blog

Each year as we begin reading the Book of Numbers—Bamidbar in Hebrew—we find ourselves journeying into the wilderness. Bamidbar, meaning "in the desert" or "in the wilderness," opens with a census, a meticulous accounting of each Israelite, tribe by tribe. On the surface, this portion seems to focus on logistics and numbers, but beneath the surface lies a profound metaphor for the Jewish experience of navigating uncertainty.

The wilderness is not just a place on a map; it is a spiritual landscape. It is a realm of transition, disorientation, and vulnerability—a place where clarity is elusive and the comforts of routine elude us. During this month when we focus on Mental Health Awareness, we realize that many experience  their own wilderness – one of vulnerability, or “stuckness.” Disconnected from one's sense of self or a path forward, our inner struggles can be as confusing or overwhelming as the desert our ancestors trekked.

Yet Bamidbar teaches us that even in the wilderness, we are not lost. God commands Moses to count each person. This sacred act of counting reminds us that every individual matters. In a time when mental illness can make someone feel invisible or unworthy, the Torah insists that each soul is seen, counted, and held in community. Being counted is not just about numbers—it’s about belonging.

 And, it should not go unnoticed that God speaks to the people from within the wilderness itself. The wilderness becomes the very place where Divine connection is possible. The Hebrew root of Bamidbar (ד-ב-ר) is the same as the root for “to speak.” In Jewish tradition, the wilderness is where God’s voice is most clearly heard. Perhaps this is because it is only in our most vulnerable, unguarded states that we are open enough to truly listen.

For those navigating depression, anxiety, trauma, or grief, Bamidbar offers a compassionate roadmap. It affirms that our experiences in the wilderness are real and sacred. And, it encourages us to listen for the voice of the Divine—not necessarily a booming voice from a mountaintop, but in the still, small voice of being known, counted, and loved.

As we journey through Bamidbar, may we remember that no one walks through the wilderness alone. Let our community be one that holds each soul as sacred, and that with listening ears, open arms and compassionate hearts be a place of support and refuge for all who seek and need us.

Shabbat Shalom,

Beth