Our lives have to be a progression. Moving forward, you’re not the same person you were yesterday

“Take a census of all the congregation of Bnei Yisrael, from 20 years old and up, according to their fathers’ houses, all that go out to the army in Yisrael.” (Bamidbar 26: 2)

It’s interesting that the Torah puts so much importance, and spends so many pesukim discussing counting Bnei Yisrael.

There are two types of counting. The first is a count to know the total. It’s a simple physical counting, plain rote, what we’d call a monkey’s action. The counting itself is not important; it’s the total that you get at the end. You count to see if there are ten people in a room for a minyan. It doesn’t matter who you count first or second. The question is: do you have ten?

Then there is a second type of counting. This is a counting that has a great chashivus, that has a great depth and meaning to the actual counting. This counting has order, a plan, and progression. One thing follows the other. For example, we count Sefiras Ha’omer. Simply put, it’s a rote counting to know the days until Shavuos is here. Yet Chazal have revealed to us that the actual counting is much deeper than that. The days are going in a progression from the middah of Chesed, to Gevurah, to Tiferes, to Netzach, to Hod, to Yesod, to Malchus. It’s a counting that is a preparation for Matan Torah (Rabbi Reisman, Shiurim al Chumash).

I just had a birthday. Notice I didn’t use the word celebrate, as that’s generally not my feeling when I realize my birthday is looming. (I‘m not sure why this always takes me by surprise, as it’s been happening the same time, every year for — beep! — decades.)

Somehow the thought that another year has slipped by always sends me into a tizzy. Help! What have I accomplished by now? How has the gift of my life been actualized and utilized to its full potential? My perfectionist self seems to find no comfort in random reassurances, and my protective self opts to ignore my birthdays with all their implications.

Another example would be counting the days of Creation. We don’t just want to know the total amount of days it took to create the world. Creation was a progression, starting with Yom Echad — Hashem being One and alone in His world, until the world progressed and then there was man, and then Shabbos. Each day built on the other.

So, too, counting Bnei Yisrael is this second type of counting. Every Yid is building upon the avodah of the next. Every Jew contributes. Yissachar was counted and then Zevulun. Zevulun’s parnassah was important because he was supporting Yissachar. And Yissachar’s learning was helping Zevulun. Each person builds on the next, and the actual order and progression is important.

Yet this year, Hashem sent me a hug. After several technical delays week after week, this past Shabbos we were zocheh to celebrate with a kiddush for our newest granddaughter ka”h. And yes, Hashem arranged it that this past Shabbos was also my birthday.

I’d like to give you another example of counting. Counting the days of our lives. We count our days, our weeks, our months, our years, our decades. Every moment you get older with the counting of age. Birthdays come and we notice them.

To some people the counting of days is a simple counting, with no progression at all. It just involves living each year of one’s life until the end.

Yet to others, the counting itself has meaning, each year building on the other. Chazal say ben arbaim l’binah, ben chamishim l’eitzah, ben shishim l’ziknah. Each step of our life has to bring us to another madreigah, another level higher. Our lives have to be a progression. Moving forward, you’re not the same person you were yesterday. It’s like a book, a progression from the beginning, to the middle, to the end — the climax. Such counting of our lives is meaningful.

There I was on my birthday, surrounded by my children, grandchildren, mechutanim, and their families, all gathered to give thanks to the One Above for this little bundle of joy that had joined our family.

As I accepted the brachos of those attending the kiddush, I acknowledged what this birthday represented: the blessings of each progressive year building on the other. I rocked my granddaughter in her carriage and relished the deep sense of contentment and gratitude I was feeling. Happy birthday to both of us.

 (Originally featured in Family First, Issue 903)