D'var Torah on Parshat Yitro

D’var Torah for Minyan Tehillah
Parshat Yitro ~ 19 Shevat 5768 ~ January 26, 2008

This week’s parsha, Yitro, comes at a critical transition point in the book of Shmot and, in effect, in the entire Torah.

When we meet Moshe and the Children of Israel in Parshat Yitro, less than three months have passed since their dramatic rescue from Pharaoh in Egypt and their triumphant march across the (temporarily-parted) Sea of Reeds. In the middle of this portion, in chapters 19 and 20 of the Book of Shmot (Exodus), we witness the meeting of God and the Children of Israel at Mount Sinai, culminating in the first appearance of the Ten Utterances/Commandments. But this parsha is not known as “Sinai” or “Torah”; instead, it is called “Yitro,” which begs the question: Why, between the deliverance of the Children of Israel from slavery in Egypt and the unparalleled revelation at Sinai, does the Torah shift our focus to the character of Yitro? What lessons might we gain from this story?

Perhaps the best-known aspect of Yitro’s story is his advice to Moshe on how to set up a system for governing the Children of Israel and for adjudicating legal cases. The answer to the question of Yitro’s importance seems apparent: he comes to teach Moshe a lesson about distributing the responsibilities of governance in order for Moshe – and the children of Israel – to be prepared to receive and then implement God’s laws. This lesson is key, but Yitro’s importance is much deeper than this.

I believe that the reason for Yitro’s presence here is expressed in the very beginning of this Torah portion. In Exodus 18:1, we learn that “Yitro priest of Midian, Moshe’ father-in-law, heard all that God had done for Moshe and for Israel His people” and then sets out with Moshe’s wife, Zipporah, and his two sons, Gershom and Eliezer, to meet Moshe in the wilderness. He finds Moshe at a crucial juncture in his leadership – he is on the verge of burnout after the travails of the Exodus, which have included a series of crises: the terrifying lack of water (twice) and food; grumblings and the early stirrings of rebellion among the people; and – most recently – a vicious attack by the nemesis of the Israelites, Amalek.

It is at this moment that Yitro comes, and in this context that Yitro does his most important work – he reminds Moshe of who he is and he provides a positive reframing of the situation – and of the mission of Moshe and b’nei Yisrael.

Before this is possible, Yitro first must re-establish his relationship with Moshe as both a public leader and beloved family member. Thus he is called “Priest of Midian, Father-in-law of Moshe.” Interestingly, the title “Priest of Midian” immediately drops from the rest of the narrative, while “Father-in-law” appears 13 times! The text seems to go out of its way to hammer home the relationship between Yitro and Moshe, one where Yitro is father-in-law, mentor, guide, and even father figure.

With the relationship established, Yitro then proceeds to remind Moshe of who he is. We see this with the appearance of the two sons of Moshe, with their wonderfully evocative names. The first son, Gershom (“Stranger There”), reminds Moshe of where he has come from: “I have been a stranger in a foreign land.” The second son, Eliezer (“My God is Help”), making his first appearance in the Torah, reminds Moshe that, “The God of my Father was help, and He delivered me from the sword of Pharaoh.” Both of these names, tellingly, are apt descriptions for the entire Children of Israel; this family reunification helps Moshe understand the value of his relationship with his children - and with God – and helps him recognize his interdependence with all of the people of Israel.

Yitro next reframes Moshe’s narrative as one of celebration and optimism, and of moving forward in relationship to God. Yitro has heard “all that God had done for Moshe and for Israel his people,” but Moshe then relates “all that God had done to Pharaoh and to Egypt on Israel’s account, all the hardships that had befallen them on the journey….” Immediately following Moshe’s trauma-filled retelling, Yitro retells the story his own way: “Vayichad Yitro” – The Torah brings this rarely-used verb, vayichad, to indicate that Yitro was jubilant over “all of the good that God had done for Israel.” He recites a blessing of thanksgiving (the first “Baruch Hashem” ever recorded!) and then brings a burnt offering and sacrifices for God. Here, Yitro provides the tools for Moshe (and for Aharon and the rest of the Children of Israel) to be able to acknowledge the moment and appreciate their relationship with God.

Yitro is effective in communicating with Moshe because he quite literally meets him where he is, and because he has developed a relationship with him that is built on mutual respect. We have seen this in earlier chapters of Shmot, when Yitro welcomed Moshe into his family, offered his daughter in betrothal to Moshe, and gave an approving “Lech l’shalom” (Go in peace) blessing to Moshe when he took leave to return to Mitzrayim to free b’nei Yisrael. Yitro’s message to Moshe is heard because it is part of the framework of that relationship.

Yitro’s successful communication with Moshe resonates with me as I think about my experience last month, when I led a group of 26 students from Harvard and 7 of their Israeli peers on a two-week journey throughout Israel. At one point, on a hike in the Negev desert, a good friend of mine who was helping to staff the trip – a rabbi who made aliyah many years ago and now teaches in Jerusalem – was talking with me about the current state of life in the State of Israel. Usually a pretty upbeat and hopeful guy, he surprised me by saying that he doesn’t envision the Jewish people ever being united, that Israeli society is being torn apart by disunity, and that he doesn’t have a lot of hope for the long-term viability of the Jewish State.

I listened to him and questioned a few of his points and assumptions, but I did not mount a vigorous argument against his perspective. His words echoed in my mind as we continued our journey through Israel, and other speakers and experiences gave credence to some of his concerns while raising others – the potentially existential threat posed by the Islamic Republic of Iran; the specter of a possible “Third Intifada” that could be home-grown, fueled by disaffected, disillusioned, and often seething young people within some Bedouin and other Israeli Arab communities; the yawning gap between secular and religious Jews within Israel; and on and on.

But despite these impressions – and very real concerns – the overall sense that I felt and experienced while I was traveling through Israel was one of hope, and I was left wondering how to convey this sense in a way that would be credible and meaningful to others, and especially to my Israeli friends.

Yitro’s capacity to communicate and re-frame recent history for Moshe and b’nei Yisrael inspires my answer of how to respond to my friend’s lamentation about Israel’s future: it is to reframe it in a positive – and realistic - light. Visiting Israel as an outsider but also one who deeply loves and feels connected to the country, the land, and its people, I was struck time and again during my recent visit by the astounding vibrancy of Israel. This year Israel celebrates its 60th anniversary year as a modern state, and it is a country that boasts high-tech triumphs, an extraordinary military, a diverse and well-educated populace, world-class universities, and robust contributions in the worlds of art, culture, literature, and even sports – all with a Hebrew accent.

But, more than any of these important – but still generalized – accomplishments, my sense of hope comes from the idealism and commitment that I see, hear, and experience in speaking and interacting with young Israelis who are committed to continuing to build their society and country. During one conversation on our trip, we met with Moshe Halbertal, a professor at Hebrew University who helped to write the IDF’s Purity of Arms laws for ethical military behavior. During the discussion, Halbertal was working from a photocopied English translation of the Purity of Arms laws, and complained of the poor quality. In response, one of our Israeli participants, an IDF officer who recently completed his active service, reached into his pocket and handed Halbertal his laminated “Purity of Arms” code, which he – and every soldier in Israel – carries with him at all times. It was a reminder that Israel is a place where moral and philosophical questions do not play out in a vacuum. On another day, we walked through Yad Vashem in the morning and then through the Har Herzl Military Cemetery later that afternoon, and I could see in my students’ and their Israeli counterparts’ faces the same mixture of sadness and determination and hope that I believe inspired the founders of the modern State of Israel.

The challenges facing Israel today are daunting, and sometimes demoralizing. I know – viscerally – that there are real dangers and terrible trade-offs that come with the realities of Israel’s existence. But when I take a step back and think of this phenomenon – that we happen to be living in a moment when the Jewish people are exercising sovereignty in the homeland of Israel for the first time in 2000 years – I believe that even the challenges are indicative of the overall strength and vitality of the place and its people. Like Yitro, I know that, for my message to be heard and to be taken seriously, I must meet my friends in Israel where they are – at least figuratively, and sometimes literally. I must hear and try to understand their frustrations, but, when possible, I must appreciate and rejoice in their continuing accomplishments and triumphs, which go so far beyond the triumph of daily existence.

Shabbat shalom.