Parshat Bamidbar opens with the organization of Bnei Yisrael around the Mishkan — each shevet with its own place, banner, and identity. At first glance, the parsha seems primarily concerned with the technical: census numbers, camp formations, and travel protocols. However, shivim panim laTorah — there are seventy facets to Torah — and Chazal discern something deeper in the structure of Bnei Yisrael’s encampment.
Bamidbar Rabbah comments on the phrase “ish al diglo be’otot le’veit avotam” — “each with his standard, under the banners of their fathers’ house” (Bamidbar 2:2). The Midrash explains that the arrangement of the tribes around the Mishkan was not a new organizational system at all. Rather, it reflected a pattern already transmitted by Yaakov Avinu to his children when he instructed them how to carry and surround his bier after his death. Just as they carried his body back from Egypt to the Me’arat ha’Machpeilah for burial, so too would they surround the Mishkan on their wilderness journey. The structure of the camp thus embodies memory, symbolizes continuity, and expresses inherited identity.
I have been thinking about these ideas as I reflect on my second year directing the Maimonides Fellows Program.
What I value most about the program is that the Fellows are very different from one another — much like the tribes of Israel. They bring to Maimonides different personalities, talents, interests, and ways of connecting with students. Some naturally gravitate toward teaching Torah or leading discussions, while others build relationships through consistency, warmth, humor, or quiet acts of attentive care.
I think our students notice this immediately. They see that there are many paths to a serious Torah life. One student connects to a Fellow through a mishmar conversation or over meals at a Shabbaton; another through an act of kindness; another through learning together in the Beit Midrash; and another simply by feeling seen and understood. Over the course of this year, I have watched our Fellows model the fact that Torah leadership can take many forms.
Bamidbar’s image of the tribal encampment is powerful precisely because each shevet occupies a distinct place and possesses its own character, while all remain centered around the Mishkan. The Torah’s vision of community is built not on sameness, but on shared purpose alongside individual identity.
I think this is one of the central challenges of Jewish education as well. Schools must create a strong communal vision while also pursuing “Chanuch la’na‘ar al pi darko” — “Educate the child according to his way” (Proverbs 22:6), educating each student in accordance with their own personality, interests, strengths, and religious sensibilities. Students need structure and belonging, but they also need to feel that who they are matters within the larger community.
Bamidbar reminds us that a strong community is not created by erasing differences. It is created by bringing different people together around a shared sacred center — Torah and Hashem’s indwelling presence.