Follow ChabadInfo & Never Miss an Update!

Follow us on Instagram Subscribe to our WhatsApp status and broadcast Follow us on Tiktok Follow us on Facebook Follow us on X Follow us on Google News Subscribe on YouTube

By Rabbi Shlomo Ezagui

As we read the Book of Numbers (Bamidbar), we find ourselves immersed in the Torah’s counting of the Jewish people and all twelve tribes. The Shalo Hakodosh (Rabbi Isaiah (Yeshayahu) Halevi Horowitz) points out that this book is named after the census of the Israelites—a counting commanded by G-d, which, he writes, “is a significant act that can never be nullified.” Commentaries explain that G-d’s counting of the Jewish people endows them with a special legal status, a “counted matter” that cannot be nullified or lost. Through this census, the Jewish people are given an enduring identity, ensuring that they will never be dissolved or fully assimilated, even when they are “one sheep among seventy wolves” (Esther Rabba, Chap. 10).

But this act of counting is not simple. The Lubavitcher Rebbe asks: If something already has value, why does counting it add anything?

In Jewish law, there is a tension between the seen and the unseen. The Talmud teaches, “Blessings do not rest but only on something hidden from the eye” (Berachot 55a). There is a quality to leaving things uncounted and unobserved—a potential for greater blessing and possibility.

This tension is dramatically illustrated in the story of King David’s census, where counting the people without G-d’s command brought a devastating plague (2 Samuel 24; 1 Chronicles 21). The episode was so powerful that it shaped Jewish practice: when multiple priests (Kohanim) wanted to serve in the Temple, they would not be counted directly. Instead, each would extend a finger, and only the fingers would be counted, to avoid the spiritual danger associated with direct enumeration.

The prophet Hosea describes Israel as “the sand of the sea that cannot be measured or counted” (Hosea 2:1), suggesting a blessing in being beyond count, limitless, and not subject to the boundaries that numbers impose.

Rashi explains (Exodus 30:11) that counting people directly exposes them to the Ayin Hara—the Evil Eye—and can bring about calamity, as was the case during King David’s time (Talmud Yoma 22b). The Panim Yafot (Rabbi Pinchas Halevi Horowitz)  adds that when Jews are united, they are connected to their divine source and need no additional protection. When they are counted as individuals, they become separated and subject to individual scrutiny. In this view, blending into the greater whole is often more beneficial than standing out as a counted individual.

Yet, in mystical thought, such as Kabbalah, counting can have a positive spiritual dimension. The counting of the Omer, for example, is a process that reveals infinite potential through the act of enumeration. Here, counting is not about limitation but about bringing hidden potential into reality.

This ancient tension between counting and not counting, between being observed and remaining hidden, finds a striking parallel in the world of quantum mechanics—a field that has revolutionized our understanding of reality.

In quantum mechanics, the fundamental entities of nature, such as photons (particles of light), possess a remarkable duality. They can behave as both waves and particles, but never both simultaneously. When a photon is not being measured, it exists in a state of superposition—a blend of all its possible behaviors and paths. This is the wave-like aspect: the photon spreads out, interfering with itself, creating patterns of possibility rather than certainty.

But the moment we measure the photon—say, by detecting which path it takes through a double-slit experiment—its wavefunction collapses. The photon “chooses” a definite position; it becomes a particle, and the beautiful interference pattern vanishes. In that instant of measurement, all the other possibilities are lost, and the photon’s potential is reduced to a single outcome.

To experience light, colors, and visual phenomena as finite human beings, we indeed require finite, discrete photons. Human vision operates by detecting individual photons—packets of electromagnetic energy—that interact with photoreceptor cells (rods and cones) in the retina. Each photon has a specific energy corresponding to a particular wavelength (color) of light. When photons enter the eye, they are absorbed by these photoreceptors, which then generate electrical signals that the brain interprets as color and brightness. Thus, it is the finiteness and individuality of photons that make possible our experience of light and color as finite beings. Without these discrete quanta, the rich tapestry of color and visual experience we enjoy would not be possible.

Yet, there is a remarkably similar spiritual danger described in Jewish sources: when something is counted or observed directly, its expansive potential is limited, exposed, and even vulnerable.

Quantum mechanics also teaches us that this collapse is not permanent. The photon’s wave-like potential is not destroyed by one act of measurement. In a new experimental context, if we remove the detectors and allow the photon to pass through both slits again, the interference pattern—the hallmark of wave behavior—returns. Delayed-choice experiments have shown that the decision to observe wave or particle behavior can be made after the photon has entered the apparatus, and the outcome will still depend on the final setup. This means the photon’s true nature remains open, flexible, and context-dependent until the very last moment.

Quantum superposition and the collapse of the wavefunction thus mirror the Torah’s teachings about counting and individuality. When the Jewish people are counted by G-d’s command, their individuality is revealed and sanctified—they become “particles,” so to speak, each with a unique and indestructible identity. In the physical world we live in, G-d wants us to express our special qualities in a defined and noticeable manner.

But when counting is done without divine purpose, it can expose and limit, attracting the “evil eye” and diminishing potential, just as a photon’s wavefunction collapses and its possibilities are curtailed.

At the same time, the uncounted, the hidden, retains a superposition of potential—open to blessing, growth, and infinite possibility. The mystical counting of the Omer, a spiritual exercise, is akin to a quantum process that draws out potential without collapsing it into limitation.

The quantum world teaches us that reality is not fixed, but shaped by observation and context. We, too, have the power to choose when to reveal individuality and when to preserve the blessing of hidden potential. Sometimes, it is necessary to draw out the infinite into a specific, distinguished identity, as in the census commanded by G-d. At other times, it is wiser to let things remain uncounted, preserving their boundless possibility.

The Book of Numbers and the mysteries of quantum mechanics both remind us that the act of counting, of observing, is never neutral. It can sanctify and strengthen, or it can limit and expose. The wisdom lies in knowing when—and why—to count, and in recognizing the enduring potential that always remains, waiting to be revealed. This discernment, ultimately, is guided by the Torah, the blueprint for creation.

16