Bamidbar: Truth in an Unforgiving Wilderness

A brief word of care before this week’s d’var: some of what follows touches on themes of abuse and moral wrongdoing.

I am sure that, by now, many of you have encountered a widely circulated opinion piece by Nicholas Kristof in this Monday’s edition of The New York Times. In it, deeply disturbing allegations about systemic abuse in the Israeli prison system against Palestinian prisoners were presented. The claims are severe - so severe, to my mind, that they demand a response. Not a reflexive one, not a tribal one, but a moral one. 

When I first read the piece, I felt physically shaken. The allegations were horrifying. And the first question that arose was the most important one: could this be true? That question, uncomfortable as it is, is the beginning of the search for emet - truth. But Jewish tradition does not allow us to stop at an initial reaction. It asks more of us. It asks us to investigate, to discern, to search for truth.

So I looked deeper - into the sources, the testimonies, the credibility of those being cited in the article. What emerged was deeply troubling. Not only because of the claims themselves, but because of the fragility of the foundations upon which those claims were built.

Individuals presented as neutral voices appeared to carry clear ideological commitments against the very idea of a Jewish state. Some had histories that called into question their reliability on precisely these kinds of issues. And we are left with a difficult reality: there may well be real moral concerns that deserve attention, and at the same time, those concerns are wrapped in distortion, exaggeration, or agenda.

This week we begin Sefer Bamidbar, the Book of Numbers. Bamidbar means “in the wilderness.” The wilderness is not only a physical place, it is a moral state of being. It is a place where clarity is scarce, fear is constant, and truth can become difficult to hold onto. At the very opening of Bamidbar, the Torah describes a census taken by “the number of names.” (Numbers 1:2) Each person is counted not as a statistic, but as a name. And our sages remind us that a name is not just a label; it is essence, identity, truth.

In a world saturated with information - headlines, posts, opinions, reshares - it becomes dangerously easy to treat words lightly, to repeat, to react, to amplify. But the Torah teaches the opposite. Words are not empty vessels, they are sacred instruments. To speak is to shape reality. To repeat a claim without care, as the article chose to do, is to participate in its consequences whether it is true or false. 

There is a temptation, especially in difficult times such as ours, to collapse into simplicity. The path of least resistance calls us to say everything is true or everything is false, to defend blindly or condemn absolutely. But our tradition does not allow that. There can be real abuses that must be confronted alongside false narratives that must be rejected, and holding both at once is not weakness. That act of holding both is, particularly in an era where this ability is becoming less popular, in itself an act of great moral courage. In the Torah’s own language: mi’devar sheker tirchak - distance yourself from falsehood. (Exodus 23:7) Not just avoid lies, but distance yourself from them.

The Mishnah teaches, “in a place where there are no human beings, strive to be  human”. (Pirkei Avot 2:5) In our moment, we might hear it this way: in a place where truth is blurred, strive to be a voice of truth. Careful, forceful, and responsible voices united behind a search for truth must be heard.

Perhaps this is why Bamidbar begins with counting, with names, with order. Before entering a world full of challenges, people must know who they are, what they stand for, and how they will carry themselves. The wilderness tests many things, but perhaps most of all it tests whether we will remain faithful to truth when it is hardest to do so.

While we do not control the wilderness we are in, we do control our words. And in Judaism, that is no small thing. Words can distort or clarify, inflame or heal, obscure truth or lift it up. May we be among those who choose carefully, who seek truth patiently, who speak truth responsibly, and who, even in a wilderness of confusion, use our words to augment the light in a world badly in need of more illumination.

Shabbat Shalom