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Order and Chaos

Deborah Greniman

In The Sacred Canopy, sociologist of religion Peter Berger wrote:

On a deeper level, the sacred has another opposed category, that of chaos. The sacred cosmos emerges out of chaos and continues to confront the latter as its terrible contrary. … To be in a "right" relationship with the sacred cosmos is to be protected against the nightmare threats of chaos. (p. 26)

The parasha of Bamidbar lays out an ideal order – a cosmic order fleshed out in the precise ordering of a human group, the Israelites, and within them the Levites. This order is set out in great detail: First the people are counted, and then each is assigned a precise place in the camp, under the appropriate flag. The ordering of the Levites is even more specific: each is given to know not only his place, but also his task in caring for the utensils of the sanctuary. One might well conclude that a precise, fixed ordering of this kind – with everything this might imply for our conduct as religious persons, then and now – is the Torah's ideal.

The midrash finds in our parasha an allusion to the ideal cosmic and human order that will come to be at the end of days, a kind of order to which we dare to aspire in messianic hopes:

The Holy One, Blessed Be He, created four directions to the world: east, west, north and south. East – from there light goes forth into the world. West – there are the storehouses of snow, hail and cold, and of heat; from there these go forth into the world. South – [from there] blessed dew and rain go forth into the world. North – from there darkness goes forth into the world. And as the Holy One made these four directions of the world, so he surrounded the Throne with four creatures, above whom is the Throne of Glory. And over against these did the Holy One order the flags of Moses. The Holy One said to him: Moses, the east, from whence light goes forth into the world – over against it will be [the tribe of] Judah, which possesses royalty … and with it the tribe of Issachar, which possesses the Torah … and with it Zebulun, which possesses wealth. … And south, from whence blessed dew and rain go forth into the world – over against it will be Reuben, which possesses repentance … and with it Gad, which possesses divisions … and Simeon in between, to make atonement for him. … After these two flags had commenced their journey came the Levites, moving with the sanctuary. … And west – storehouses of snow, hail, cold and heat – over against these are Ephraim, Benjamin and Menasseh. … North – from whence darkness goes forth into the world – over against it is the tribe of Dan. Why? Because it darkened the world with pagan worship. … And with it the tribe of Asher, to illuminate the darkness, … and with it Naphtali, which is filled with blessing, in order to provide sustenance … (Numbers Rabba, 2:10)

Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav was perhaps thinking of this midrash, or one like it, when he composed the conclusion to his tale of "The King's Son and the Son of the Maid," which tells of the trial undergone by the true prince before the "Throne of the King who had been":

The Throne was very tall, and near it stood all kinds of animals and birds made of wood … From the Throne went forth several traveled paths, extending in every direction … and on each, a certain distance from its origin, stood a golden lion, and if any person were to approach it, the lion would open its mouth and swallow him up. … They showed him this Throne, and he saw that it was missing a rose somewhere near the top … and he looked further and saw that this rose that was missing from the upper part of the throne was lying underneath it, and it had to be picked up and set back into place above. … He told them to put everything in its proper order, and when they had done so, everything began to play a most wonderful melody, and each performed its proper task.

This is how Rabbi Nachman describes the harmony of the cosmos, corresponding to the harmony of an ideal human order in which the people of Israel dwells safely in its assigned place, modest but recognized, on high and not downtrodden.

However, the context of Bamidbar opens an alternative vision of the relationship between order and chaos, between the unreconstructed world and the possibilities for its reconstruction. The parasha's opening words, which give both the parasha and this book of the Torah their name, are: "God spoke to Moses in the wilderness of Sinai." The wilderness is never a symbol of order or prosperity; it symbolizes the locus of chaos, of the goat sent to Azazel, the place in which old orders are broken down and new ones are created. That this shattering and rebuilding of order is fundamental to the sacred world is implied in another midrash from Numbers rabba:

A certain matron asked R. Yose b. Halafta: "Everyone acknowledges that God created the world in six days. But since those six days, what has he been doing? He said to her: He raises up hierarchies (sulamot) and brings them down. So and so who was rich, becomes poor; and so and so who was poor, becomes rich; as it is written, "God impoverishes and makes wealthy." (Numbers rabba, 3)

According to this midrash, which gives us a less well-known response to the matron's famous question, God's principal activity ever since the creation of the world has been to break down existing social orders! And this, indeed, is the motive that characterizes those biblical passages that describe the ideal society: the power of God and of the Torah's laws is demonstrated precisely in their potential to break down the social order. The strong and the wealthy, if they fail to abide by the ways of God, will be punished and become impoverished. The sabbatical year and the Jubilee will reinstate the ideal order that ever and again breaks down before the domination of the powerful.

The role of the wilderness in this process is to serve as a kind of laboratory. It is here that the guidelines for the ideal society are transmitted, and here, too, they keep slipping away; and when chaos inevitably threatens to overcome the relationship between God, giver of the laws that determine the social order, and their human subjects, new orders take shape. This process is incisively expressed in the haftara to the parasha.

In a kind of deconstructive response to the census described in the opening of the parasha, the haftara begins by declaring that "The number of the people of Israel shall be like that of the sands of the sea, which cannot be measured or counted" (Hos. 2:1) – words reminiscent of the promise made to Abraham. The midrash points out the impossibility of ever arriving at a precise count of the numbers of the Israelites: even as the census takes place, new babies are being born. The very effort to arrive at a precise number demonstrates that the known always points to the unknown, and to possibilities for alternative conceptions and developments.

Theologian Rachel Adler (in Engendering Judaism, chapter 4) points out this tension between order and disorder in her interpretation of the story of the "wife of whoredom" taken by Hosea, only to be left by her husband "like a wilderness." This story, Adler says, describes a relationship that has reached a point where it can no longer continue on the same basis. The two sides, Israel (the woman) and God, are treating each other like objects meant to serve their needs. However, this impasse creates a paradoxical situation: in order to revive and continue the relationship, God must transgress divine law! According to the Torah, if the woman has indeed been unfaithful to her husband, she must be put to death, and he may not take her back. In the same way, Israel's terrible sins, its worship of pagan gods, are unforgivable; they cannot be atoned. As Adler explains, this dilemma can only be resolved by way of breaking the law – not in the English sense of disobeying it, but in the sense of actually breaking down the constitutional framework itself and reinstating it on a new basis that better embodies its own ideal. The end of the haftara describes a new kind of covenantal marriage bond, unknown in the Torah: "Assuredly, I will speak coaxingly to her and lead her through the wilderness [the place where, as we have seen, new orders can be constructed out of chaos] and speak to her tenderly. … And in that day – declares the Lord – You will call Me Ishi [my spouse], and no more will you call Me Baali [my baal, husband and master, playing on the name of the pagan god Baal]."

In this context, Adler cites the verse: "It is time to do for the Lord, for they have transgressed your Torah." At times, in order to resolve the tension between the existing order and the ideal, it may be necessary to break down an existing social structure so as to reformulate it on a more right and just basis.

The parasha of Bamidbar, its haftara and their interpretations give us ample material for an inquiry into the delicate, dialectic relationship described by the Torah between order and its opposite, between the sacred order and the sacred chaos that creates new orders, between the unreconstructed world and the possibilities for its reconstruction. At times we, too, are given the chance, within the framework of the laws and structures that exist in our society, to press toward a new order, still imperfect, but perhaps more just.

Deborah Greniman is Managing Editor of Nashim: A Journal of Jewish Women's Studies and Gdner Issues, and Associate Editor in the Publications Department of the Israel Academy of Sciences and Humanities.