Our tradition teaches us that the world itself was once like that, a desolate and empty space, until something truly remarkable happened.
Bamidbar Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic teachings on the Book of Numbers, explores this very idea. It begins by referencing Deuteronomy 32:10, "He would find him in a land of wilderness..." But what does it mean that God "found" Israel in the wilderness?
The text suggests that before the Exodus from Egypt and the giving of the Torah, the world was, in a sense, incomplete. Bamidbar Rabbah points to Hosea 9:10, "Like grapes in the wilderness I found Israel," emphasizing this discovery. It paints a picture of a world in a state of tohu vavohu, emptiness and wailing, until the Israelites left Egypt. The world was a midbar, a howling wasteland.
Think about it: the Exodus wasn't just about physical liberation; it was a cosmic event. It was the moment when God began to "encircle" Israel with clouds of glory, granting them understanding through the Torah, and preserving them like the pupil of His eye. What an image!
The text asks us to consider the extent of God's love, protection, and preservation. It was so immense, so intimate, that it's compared to the care one gives to the most precious part of their being: the pupil of the eye.
And how did God demonstrate this love? He asked Moses to tell the people to build a Mishkan, a Tabernacle, in their midst. God was essentially saying, "I am leaving the supernal realm and descending to dwell among you." What an incredible thought!
But it doesn't stop there. God instructed Moses to arrange the people according to banners, each tribe with its own identifying symbol. Why? Because, as God says, "You are children to the Lord your God" (Deuteronomy 14:1). They are God's children, and they are also His hosts, His army. As Exodus 7:4 states, "I will take out My hosts, My people the children of Israel, from the land of Egypt." And Numbers 2:3 reiterates, "The banner of the camp of Judah, according to their hosts."
The Bamidbar Rabbah emphasizes that because they are God's hosts, He arranged them according to banners in His name. "Each at his banner." It’s not just about order; it’s about belonging, identity, and being part of something bigger than oneself.
So, what does this ancient text tell us today? Perhaps it’s a reminder that even in our own "wilderness" moments, those times of emptiness and uncertainty, we are found, encircled, and cherished. Maybe it's a call to remember our connection to something larger, to our community, to our tradition, and to the Divine presence that dwells within us and among us. Can we create a Tabernacle, a sacred space, in our own lives, where God can dwell? And can we embrace our own banner, our own unique identity, as part of the larger tapestry of the Jewish people?