Parshat Bamidbar4 min read

The Shekhinah Followed Israel Into Every Exile

Sifrei Bamidbar refused the idea that the Shekhinah withdrew when the Temple fell. She goes with Israel, the midrash teaches, even into foreign lands.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Calendar That Restarted Three Times
  2. The Leader Who Walks in Front
  3. The Shekhinah That Refuses to Leave
  4. The Presence That Followed Them Out the Gate

The Calendar That Restarted Three Times

Israel learned to count time by the central event of its generation. After the Exodus, years were numbered from Egypt. In the second year after their going out from the land of Egypt. When Israel entered the land, the sabbatical cycle began from the day of entry: when you come to the land. When the Temple was built, the years were numbered from its construction. 1 Kings 9:10 measures time from when Solomon had finished building the two houses.

Sifrei Bamidbar notes this pattern not to make an observation about calendars but to make one about divine presence. The Holy One's marking of time followed Israel's history. The calendar did not run independently of the people's experience. It reset each time a new defining event reorganized their lives. When the Temple fell, the calendar had to reset again. From the Exile. A new clock for a new condition.

The Leader Who Walks in Front

When Moses asked the Holy One to appoint a successor, his request was specific: someone who will go out before them and who will come in before them. The Sifrei does not read this as a tactical military preference. A leader who walks in front of the army is not sending a vanguard ahead. He is Moses-style, the way Moses himself stood before Og in battle when the Holy One said do not fear him, I have delivered him into your hand.

Moses did not lead from the rear. He went out first. The people watched his back, not his gesture from behind the line. The successor Moses was asking for was one who would do the same, who would face the dangers of the land himself, as the first person under fire, before the people behind him had to face them.

The Shekhinah That Refuses to Leave

The standard picture of the Shekhinah places her inside the Temple's inner room. When the Temple stands, she is home. When the Temple falls, she withdraws to the heavens and waits for the building to be restored. Sifrei Bamidbar refuses this picture entirely.

The Sifrei grounds its alternative in a verse from Numbers: in whose midst I dwell. Israel is beloved, the midrash teaches, because even when they are tamei, ritually impure, the Shekhinah rests among them. She is not contingent on the Temple's walls or the people's purity. She goes with them. Leviticus confirms it: who dwells with them in the midst of their uncleanliness. And again: when they defile my sanctuary which is in their midst. In their midst. Inside the defilement itself.

The Presence That Followed Them Out the Gate

This teaching has an extraordinary consequence for Jewish life after the destruction. If the Shekhinah travels with Israel into exile, then exile is not divine absence. It is divine accompaniment in reduced form. The midrash is telling a people in Babylonian captivity, or in Roman dispersion, that the presence they thought was located in a building on a hill in Jerusalem was never only in that building. It followed them out the gate. It is with them now.

Sifrei BamidbarShekhinahExileMosesJoshuaTemple
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From the tradition

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The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Sifrei Bamidbar 64:2Sifrei Bamidbar

Our tradition teaches us that the way we count time is intimately connected to our experiences, our triumphs, and our tragedies. Sifrei Bamidbar, a portion of the ancient legal commentary on the Book of Numbers, illuminates this very concept.

The passage points out that we began counting years from the Exodus from Egypt. It’s right there in the Torah (Numbers 1:1): "In the second year after their going out from the land of Egypt." The Exodus, the defining moment of freedom, became year zero. Makes sense. A clean slate!

The story doesn't end there.

When the Israelites finally arrived in the Promised Land, everything shifted again. We started counting the shmita (sabbatical year) cycle from the moment of arrival, based on (Leviticus 25:2): "When you come to the land that I am giving you, the land shall observe a sabbath to the Lord." A new land, a new cycle.

And then came the Temple.

When Solomon's Temple was built, a new countdown began. (1 (Kings 9:1)0) tells us, "And it was at the end of twenty years from Solomon's building.." The Temple, the dwelling place of God, became the new marker. Imagine the excitement, the sense of renewed purpose!

Tragically, that era, too, came to an end.

With the destruction of the Temple, we shifted our focus. The Book of Ezekiel (40:1) speaks of counting from "the fourteenth year of the city's being smitten." Destruction, loss, exile… these, too, became starting points.

As the captivity in Babylon intensified, the counting shifted once more. The Book of Daniel (2:1) mentions, "In the second year of the reign of Nebuchadnezzar.." and Haggai (1:1) speaks of "the second year of King Darius.." It was a stark reminder that even in the darkest times, time marches on.

But it's not just about years, is it? Our tradition pays attention to the small details, too. Just as we count years, we also count months from significant events. Remember the giving of the Torah at Sinai? (Exodus 19:1) marks it as "In the third month of the exodus of the children of Israel from the land of Egypt."

What does this all mean? It’s a powerful message about resilience, about the human capacity to adapt and find meaning even in the face of adversity. It tells us that we have the power to define our own eras, to choose what moments will shape our understanding of time.

So, what are we counting from now? What events are shaping our perception of time, both personally and collectively? And what kind of era are we building, one moment at a time? It's a question worth pondering, isn’t it?

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Sifrei Bamidbar 139:2Sifrei Bamidbar

Our tradition teaches us it's something far more profound, something deeply connected to the well-being of the people.

We find a fascinating insight in Sifrei Bamidbar, a collection of legal interpretations on the Book of Numbers. It's discussing the verse where Moses asks God to appoint a successor, someone "who will go out before them and who will come in before them" (Numbers 27:17). But what does that phrase really mean?

Sifrei Bamidbar doesn't take it literally. It suggests that this leader isn't like others, who send people ahead as a vanguard or bring up the rear. No, this is like Moses himself, who, as we read in (Numbers 21:34), was told by God, "Do not fear him [Og], for I have delivered him into your hand." Moses led from the front, facing danger alongside his people.

Like Joshua, who, as we see in (Joshua 5:13), went to confront the mysterious figure outside Jericho, asking, "Are you for us or for our foes?" He didn't delegate; he engaged. And like Pinchas, who, according to (Numbers 31:6), was sent with the Israelite army "to the war" itself, not just directing from afar.

The text continues, breaking down that initial phrase even further. "Who will go out before them" means at the head, like Yoav ben Tzeruyah, who, in (1 Chronicles 11:6), "went up first, and he was at the head." The leader goes first, leading the charge.

It also means leading "in a troop," going out "on the way" with the people, and leading "in his merits". And "who will bring them back" is the same: in a troop, on the way, and in his merits. A true leader's integrity and actions guide and protect.

There's a fascinating little detour here. The text mentions that after a particular battle, the soldiers needed atonement even though "not one of us is missing" (Numbers 31:49). Why? Because, the text explains, they had "feasted their eyes" on the Midianite women (Numbers 31:16). Even amidst victory, a leader must ensure moral conduct.

Then, Sifrei Bamidbar connects this idea of leadership to a verse from the Song of Songs (1:7): "Tell me, O You, whom my soul loves... for why should I be covered up?" It interprets this as Moses asking God about the future of the people. The answer, drawing on (Jeremiah 43:12), is that God will watch over them "as the shepherd covers up his cloak."

The text goes on, associating "the flocks of Your companions" in Song of Songs with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. It suggests that God is showing Moses the future leaders of Israel, from the time they left the desert until the resurrection. It all comes back to the idea of shepherding, of caring for the flock.

As the Song of Songs continues (1:8), "If you do not know, you fairest among women... go out in the footsteps of the flock." In other words, follow the path of those who came before, those who led with integrity and compassion. See what I am destined to do for them in the end (of their "footsteps"), "and graze your kids by the tents of the shepherd."

So, what does this all mean for us today? It suggests that true leadership isn't about power or control. It's about service, about walking alongside your people, about guiding them with your actions and your merits. It's about protecting them, not just physically, but morally and spiritually. It's about ensuring that the "congregation of the Lord" isn't left "as sheep without a shepherd" (Numbers 27:17). It's about seeing the future generations and ensuring their well-being. And perhaps, most importantly, it's about following in the footsteps of those great leaders who came before us.

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Sifrei Bamidbar 161:5Sifrei Bamidbar

The ancient rabbis pondered this very human feeling, but they turned it on its head. What if, even in our darkest moments, in our deepest exiles, we are never truly alone? What if the Divine Presence, the Shechinah, is always with us?

The Sifrei Bamidbar, a collection of rabbinic legal interpretations on the Book of Numbers, tells us something remarkable about the relationship between God and the Jewish people. It states, based on the verse "in whose midst I dwell" (Numbers 35:34), that Israel is beloved because even when they are tamei – ritually impure – the Shechinah rests among them. We see this echoed in Leviticus: "who dwells with them in the midst of their uncleanliness" (Leviticus 16:16) and “…when they defile My sanctuary which is in their midst” (Leviticus 15:31). Even in moments of imperfection, the Divine Presence doesn't abandon us.

R. Nathan takes this idea even further. He says that Israel is so beloved that wherever they are exiled, the Shechinah is with them. It's a powerful image, isn't it? Exile is a recurring theme in Jewish history, a symbol of displacement and suffering. But the rabbis found a way to see even exile as an opportunity for connection. When the Israelites were exiled to Egypt, the Shechinah was with them. As it says in I (Samuel 2:27), "Did I not reveal Myself to the house of your father when they were in Egypt (enslaved to) the house of Pharaoh?" And when they were exiled to Bavel, or Babylon, the Shechinah was there too. (Isaiah 43:14) tells us, "Because of you I was sent to Bavel." The Divine Presence accompanied them.

The text continues, painting a vivid picture. Even in Eilam, (Jeremiah 49:38) says, "I placed My throne in Eilam, and banished from there king and officers." And even in Edom, (Isaiah 63:1) asks, "Who is This, who comes from Edom, with sullied vestments, from Batzrah?" According to this, the Shechinah followed them into every corner of their dispersion.

And it doesn't end there. When the Jewish people return from exile, the Shechinah will be with them then as well. (Deuteronomy 30:3) doesn't say "and He will return to you," but "and He will return with you!" This subtle difference in wording speaks volumes. It’s not just about God returning to the people, but about God accompanying them, sharing in their journey. As it says in (Song of Songs 4:8), "With Me from the Levanon, My bride, with Me from the Levanon shall you come."

Rebbi offers a beautiful analogy to explain this profound connection. Imagine a king telling his servant, "Why do you search for me? I am with my son. Whenever you need me, I am with my son." In the same way, God dwells in the midst of the children of Israel.

What does this mean for us today? Perhaps it means that even when we feel most distant from God, most lost or alone, the Divine Presence is still with us. Maybe it's a reminder that even in our imperfections, in our moments of doubt and struggle, we are still connected to something greater than ourselves.

The rabbis of the Sifrei Bamidbar offer us a comforting and powerful message: We are never truly alone. The Shechinah, the Divine Presence, is always with us, accompanying us on our journey, through exile and return, through joy and sorrow. It’s a beautiful thought to carry with us, isn’t it?

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