A surprising amount of the Torah is written in inventory.
G-d came down from on high loaded up with lists.
The number of sheep was 337,500.
The cattle came to 36,000.
From each group of animals, G-d levies a tax.
Some of all, for Him.
There are similar lists of men, families,
the amount of able bodied from 30-50.
These too are for Him.
To mount the tent, guard it, keep out the riff raff.
The book is called Numbers.
Numbers is neither the most inspirational or engaging of
The Five! Books! of! Moses! (Ft. lists).
Seriously, even the Rabbi’s talk was a stretch in terms of
relation. The Torah is a tree of life, for those who grasp her.
And so the sanctuary begins to chatter.
Not the same revolt as it would have been in the churches I knew but
still, more buzz than usual.
A conservative shul, despite its misleading name,
traffics in the lax and genial.
The man in front of me who has been honored with the Fifth Aliyot
takes a long look at an email before deleting it:
These Asians Have Bigger Penises than Black Men, Here’s Why.
I am more scandalized by the use of the phone in the sanctuary than,
well, the email.
The young women behind me discuss,
if there are any good baby names in the parsha this week.
There are not, I looked.
I rush to record all this in my little red notebook,
concealed in the Tanakh.