Jewish tradition grapples with this very idea when it comes to the people of Israel. Are we a numbered nation, or something… more?

Bamidbar Rabbah, a collection of Midrashic teachings on the Book of Numbers (Bamidbar in Hebrew), dives deep into this question. One passage, Bamidbar Rabbah 2, particularly caught my attention. It starts with the seemingly contradictory phrase: "Which cannot be measured and cannot be counted."

Rabbi Simlai asks a pointed question: How can something be both numbered and unnumbered? Isn't that a contradiction? He offers a fascinating answer: When the Israelites are not following God’s will, they can be counted. They are a defined entity, "no fewer than six hundred thousand," as the text emphasizes. "The number will be," implying that when we stray, we become just another statistic.

But, Rabbi Simlai continues, when the Israelites are performing the will of the Omnipresent, they transcend numbers. They become something beyond quantification, "which cannot be measured and cannot be counted." It's as if their righteousness elevates them to a state where mere numbers are insufficient to capture their essence.

Rabbi Simon, quoting Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi, takes this idea further. He echoes the initial question: How can something be both numbered and unnumbered? He then gives examples of individuals who, through their actions, became countable – in a negative sense. The text mentions the story in Leviticus 24:10 of the "son of the Israelite woman" who blasphemed, bringing shame upon the community. Then there's Akhan, from Joshua 7:18, who violated the ban and caused Israel's defeat. And Zimri son of Salu from Numbers 25:14, whose public defiance of God's law during the plague was a grave sin.

These individuals, through their unrighteousness, became countable, identifiable, and ultimately, condemned. "The unrighteous have a number," the text declares starkly. But then comes the powerful contrast: "The righteous cannot be counted." Because the righteous...they are "which cannot be measured and cannot be counted."

What does this all mean? It suggests that our actions, our choices, define whether we are merely a statistic in a large group, or something truly unique and immeasurable. When we align ourselves with goodness, with God's will, we tap into a potential that transcends simple accounting. We become part of something larger than ourselves, something that defies quantification.

It makes you wonder, doesn't it? Are we living lives that make us "countable," or are we striving to be something more, something that escapes the confines of numbers and statistics? Are we contributing to the collective righteousness that elevates us beyond measure? It's a question worth pondering, a challenge worth embracing.