What’s the deal with humans as numbers?
In my years at college and grad school, I was a pretty good student, but I did fail one course: statistics. (I passed it the second time around. My degrees are legit:) I didn’t fail because it was so hard (although it didn’t come naturally to my non-mathy brain.) I failed it because it was so dang boring to me, that I didn’t even put in the effort to learn it well enough. To this day, I have little interest in quantitative analysis, and pay far more attention to what we call “qualitative research,” although rationally I realize we need both for useful data.
Last month, I needed several reminders to partake in the census, because while I get that we need to be counted, there is a big part of me that resists being a number.
In the parsha cycle we are now beginning the book of Numbers. Every year when we read these Torah portions, I wonder about the necessity to wax so wordy about statistics. They list the numbers per tribe: “their offspring, stories, their families, their fathers’ households, the number of their names, from age 20 and up…” repeatedly for each tribe, and then again it does the math for us at the end. Why??
Honestly, I haven’t found an answer that satisfies me yet. But I still try to make meaning where I can:
Actually, in the Torah – they weren’t actually counting people. That is technically not allowed. Maybe because we not really supposed to be reduced to statistics. They were counting coins. The Torah makes it very clear that the coins in no way represented individual differences: “the poor won’t give less and the rich won’t exceed the half shekel contribution.” Humanity is not gauged by socio-economic status.
There are a few ways to say “count” in Hebrew:
L’spor: which also means to tell a story, with slightly altered vowels. (We have this in English too; think of a bank “teller” or to “recount” a story.) We don’t just count for the sake of having stats; what we enumerate is there to tell us something, to give us information to extrapolate for valuable application.
L’mnot: which also means to apportion or appoint. When we count out quantities, often it’s for the purpose of allocation or distribution. We assign sums to utilize resources or manpower efficiently.
L’fkod: which also means to remember or assign a task (also the root of the word “collateral- pikadon.” When we count things, we are acknowledging their existence, and generally designating them for a specific purpose.
L’sah: which also means to uplift, carry, or forgive. When we list items or people, and assign them a sense of value, we show that they “count,” they matter, they have weight and worth.
We tend to read this portion during the “sefira” (omer counting) time of year, and as all the Yeshiva elementary teachers always liked to say: “It’s not just about counting the days, it’s about making the days count. That’s why we count up, not down.” Counting days, coins, soldiers. Why?
We humans have two very basic emotional needs: to individuate and to belong.
We each want to live our own story, have our own purpose, be remembered, uplifted, and appointed to our own identity and calling. (Yes, my alert reader friends, that sentence just incorporated all the meanings for “count” listed above.)
But. No, not but. AND. And, besides for wanting to be individuals, we also don’t want to feel totally alone. We crave connection, we require social support and interaction. We want to know how we’re doing, who our people are, where we fall in the bell curves. Belonging to groups, being part of a larger whole, can be a source of strength and joy- and on the flipside, feeling fully on the outside, that loneliness is excruciating. And so we try to walk the line- to balance the needs and identity of the self with that of the group, individual and collective. Whether it’s a relationship, a family unit, a tribe, a nation or humanity- the concentric circles of being exist in delicate homeostasis.
We don’t count people directly. People are not numbers; we are names and souls. We don’t formally reduce to statistics. But at the same time, there IS a certain equality factor: each of us is a child of G-d. We are each endowed with an immutably holy soul, a Divine spirit. We are born, we die, and we do stuff in between. We have intrinsic worth. There are times, like when we’re planning a party or a war, we need to know how many bodies to account for. And so everyone gives a literal token- a half shekel to say: “I am here. I am not this coin, this number, this statistic, but I need to line up with my brothers, to defend, to account, to take my place as an important member of this group, so that we know we’re all here, who’s doing what, and that we all matter.” (And that’s why it’s half a shekel not a whole; to symbolize incompletion- more over-repeated school lessons.)
These particular sefira days are lining up pretty similarly this year- we joke about not knowing what day it is because so many identifiers have been cancelled. Sometimes people can get to feeling like that too: nameless, faceless numbers in a mass of sameness. We follow trends but we want to forge our own paths. The challenge is to both unite and stand out. To connect but not necessarily conform. As it says in Avot: “Where there’s no person, strive to be [the] person,” don’t’ be afraid to stand out, and also: “Don’t withdraw from the community” – embrace the unity of humankind. Create a sense of rhythm , of routine, of mutual influence, while holding space of diversity, creativity, and uniqueness.
Jews are blessed to become numerous: like grains of sand and stars in the sky.
Sand blends in, humbly. Stars shine forth, proudly. There is value to both.
Have you ever wondered how often people engage in sexual activity?
Or how often is optimal for healthy, happily married couples to aim for?
(I purposely used the euphemism “be intimate” in the title because often, people who ask this question in the framework of “supposed to” are uncomfortable with the more direct language of “have sex.” They may prefer to say things like : “be together, do it, make love, have relations, etc.” Whatever works:)
Couples therapists get this question a lot, especially from people who feel like they didn't or don't have enough information in the area of sexuality education.
It’s a legitimate curiosity, but the answer may be unsatsifying.
Firstly: “supposed to” is not a great framework for healthy sex. It works better when the focus is on mutual pleasure, not obligation or comparison.
Second: Frequency is not something that is mandated. Not psychologically, not legally, not Biblically.
It’s determined by and customized to each couple.
There is a Medrash that describes this, and is quoted by Rashi in this week’s Torah portion (I’m writing this the week of VaYishlach, but you can read it any week:)
When Yaakov sent gifts of livestock to his brother Esav, the Torah lists in great detail, the numbers and species of all the animals in the caravan.
Why do we care how many he-goats and she-goats there were?
The answer offered is that the ratio of male to female animals was determined by how often they needed to mate, which was determined by how strenuously they worked. The Medrash extrapolates an analogy to human mating schedules. (The paradigm used by the Talmudic literature is phrased in terms of a husband’s requirement to be available for his wife, not the reverse, but sex should always be consensual both ways.)
The Medrash says that men of leisure might be available daily, laborers twice weekly, donkey drivers once a week, camel drivers ones a month, and sailors/ those who travel for work, every six months.
Of course these are just some examples but Rashi goes on to explain:
“From here we learn that this need is not equal to every person [or couple.]” It depends on the couple’s individual schedules, emotional, and physical limitations and needs.
I’ve heard many people say that they were initially under the impression that couples only have sex when they want to conceive a baby. They were genuinely shocked to learn otherwise. This is not so ludicrous, when you consider the fact that many young people are taught about sex only in the framework of “how babies are made” if that much. Of course, most couples have far more sexual activity than they do children or attempts to conceive them.
It’s a legitimate query to ask how often couples have sex, but there isn’t a one size fits all answer.
Naturally there are some broad, cultural averages, and data. The most commonly quoted one is approximately once a week, but the numbers range significantly, and fluctuate within each couple based on many variables, such as stages of life like pregnancies, having babies and young children, medical or situational factors, and other variables that often make it challenging or more feasible. So please do not use that average to shame yourself or your partner for wanting more or less than that!
The healthiest answer to "how often should a couple be intimate is “as often as works well for both of them at each stage and season of life.”
Desire discrepancies and changes in libido over time are normal, but if you're finding that yours or your partner's are feeling disruptive to your relationship, please take the time to have a loving, strategizing conversation about it with your spouse, read up on the subject, and if necessary reach out for help.
Check out my course!
A Religious Families Guide to Healthy Holy Sex Education: Sacred Not Secret
Elisheva Liss, LMFT is a psychotherapist in private practice. Her book, Find Your Horizon of Healthy Thinking, is available on Amazon.com. She can be reached for sessions or speaking engagements at speaktosomeone@gmail.com More of her content can be found at ElishevaLiss.com