The Yisro Paradox
Yisro is a fascinating character, as he embodies the journey from idol worship to embracing Hashem.
The fact that one of the most revolutionary sections in the Torah is named after him is intriguing, especially considering the uncertain timing of his arrival. His placement in this Parsha, juxtaposed with the Aseres Hadibros and Matan Torah, underscores a key theme: the transition from idolatry to the recognition of Hashem's oneness.
Yisro was known for his extensive knowledge of various forms of idol worship. He was a leader in his region, and even Pharaoh sought his counsel. In fact, his initial meeting with Moshe was at the request of Pharaoh, during Moshe's trial for murder. After Moshe was sentenced to death by an international tribunal for killing an Egyptian, Yisro returned to Midian. Coincidentally, Moshe had also fled to Midian.
Despite being the Priest of Midian, Yisro wasn't popular among the locals. He was a spiritual seeker who had explored and then rejected their idol worship, which made them resent him. When Yisro's daughters were harassed at a well, Moshe was the only one who came to their aid.
Yisro welcomed Moshe into his home. Instead of sending him back to Egypt to face death, Yisro kept Moshe in a dungeon, where Tziporah, Yisro's daughter, secretly fed him for ten years. Eventually, Yisro allowed Moshe and Tziporah to become engaged, under the condition that their firstborn son would serve as a priest in idol worship. Yisro was synonymous with idolatry.
Despite his deep involvement in idolatry, Yisro had a hint of goodness within him. The Arizal explains that after Moshe (who was the reincarnation of Hevel) killed the Egyptian, who was the reincarnation of Kayin, Kayin’s soul attached itself to Yisro. From that moment, Yisro slowly began moving away from idol worship and towards Hashem. This transformation, from an idol worshiper to a believer in Hashem, sets the stage for the parsha’s emphasis on the rejection of idolatry as a prerequisite to accepting the Torah.
The Gemara1 presents differing opinions about the timing of Yisro's arrival: did he come before or after Matan Torah? One perspective suggests he arrived before Matan Torah, but was sent home before the event. There's also the possibility that he visited twice. On the other hand, Rav Eliezer HaModai believed Yisro arrived only after Matan Torah. According to this view, Yisro was in Midian when the Torah was given. There he felt the ground shake and, along with other world leaders, sought explanations from Bilaam. Bilaam assured them that while God had appeared to the Jews and the earth was trembling, the world was not in danger. This reassured the leaders, and they returned home. However, Yisro couldn't go back. He was so moved by this earth shattering event that he immediately set out for the Jewish camp and converted to Judaism.
The story of Yisro's arrival in this parasha is seemingly overshadowed by the events of Matan Torah, which are more widely known and discussed.
It's crucial to acknowledge that the Aseres HaDibros, given on Har Sinai, underscored the unity and oneness of Hashem and the rejection of idolatry. Even commandments that seem unrelated are all directed towards this theme, as illustrated in the Mechilta.
The Mechilta2 highlights that the commandments on the luchos are interconnected both horizontally and vertically. The pairs – Dibros 1–6, 2–7, 3–8, 4–9, and 5–10 – are linked, showing that violating one often leads to breaking another:
Violating the commandment against murder diminishes the image of God (1–6).
One who commits adultery has betrayed another along the lines of idolatry. This is why so many of our prophets spoke of idolatry using imagery of adultery (2–7).
Stealing often leads to falsely swearing in God's name (3–8).
Breaking Shabbos is like bearing false witness about the creation of the world (4–9).
Coveting a neighbor's wife can result in a child honoring the wrong parent (5–10).
This demonstrates an inextricable connection between commandments related to our relationship with God and those concerning our interactions with others.
Rabbi Allen Schwartz, in his insightful series Parashah Sheleimah, explains how Ibn Ezra goes one step further:
Ibn Ezra introduces a chiastic structure in the Luchos. This structure compares the top of each side with the bottom of the other. It shows that our relationship with God begins with thoughts (belief in God and rejection of other beings), moves to speech (respectful use of God's name and oaths), and culminates in actions (observance of Shabbos and honoring parents). According to Ibn Ezra, these commandments become increasingly challenging as they progress from thought to action.
In contrast, the interpersonal commandments in the Luchos start with actions (murder, adultery, theft), proceed to speech (false testimony), and end with thoughts (coveting). Here, the progression is reversed; it's easier to control actions than speak to or think about each other.
The Sinai revelation, therefore, teaches us that we are capable of meeting the challenges presented in the Aseres Hadibros. These commandments signify both the unity of Hashem and our expectation to emulate His godliness in our behavior.
After the monumental event of Matan Torah, the Torah seems to conclude with a somewhat enigmatic and anticlimactic passage.
The parasha ends with Hashem instructing Moshe to convey additional mitzvos to the people following the Aseres Hadibros:
They are not to create images of celestial beings, nor any graven images of silver and gold. 3
Not to use a sword while fashioning the stones for the Mizbeiach.4
Instead of steps, a ramp should lead up to the Mizbeiach.5
Why were these specific mitzvos chosen to be communicated immediately after the revelation at Har Sinai? How do they serve as an appropriate "postscript" to the event of receiving the Aseres Hadibros? Commentators suggest that these mitzvos demonstrate the quality and depth of what receiving the Torah entails. Consider this: Three of the Aseres Hadibros prohibit idolatry, murder, and adultery. These are fundamental laws, already incumbent on all humanity as part of the seven Noachide laws. So why emphasize these to God’s chosen people at Har Sinai?
This leads to the follow-up communication, where Moshe informs the people that being Jewish means elevating even these basic laws to a higher level of observance and sensitivity. Not just the overt sins are forbidden, but even their subtle manifestations. The new mitzvos relate to the domains of the cardinal prohibitions:
Not only is idol worship forbidden, so is making any form of celestial images.
Not only is Murder prohibited, so is using a tool of violence like a sword in crafting the Mizbeiach.
Not only is Physical immorality forbidden, so is any act that appears immodest, such as ascending the Mizbeiach via steps, as explained by Rashi.
Through these commands, Hashem indicates and acknowledges that even after receiving the Torah, the struggle against idolatry continues but is giving us a reinforcing nudge to remind us that receiving the Torah elevates every aspect of life to a new level of observance and fulfillment.
The story of Yisro, mentioned before Matan Torah, exemplifies the acceptance and belief in One God, a prerequisite for receiving the Torah and entering the land of Israel. Yisro wasn't present at Matan Torah, yet he is buried in the land of Israel, symbolizing his long journey to recognizing the one true God – a path not taken by other world leaders, only by Yisro.
Rashi asks, “What did Yisro hear that compelled him to come?” Rashi is asking why Yisro, and not others, was drawn to join the Bnei Yisrael. The entire world knew of the miracles Hashem performed for them. They all understood that the right thing to do is to join the Bnei Yisrael. However, there is a disconnect between what one knows is right, and what one can actually do. Only Yisro was able to overcome his human nature and join the Bnei Yisrael.
Acting on what we know is right can lead to significant achievements, such as having the most monumental parasha in Chumash named after us.
Yisro, the namesake of the parasha, had a unique outside perspective. He saw the burden of Moshe and the Bnei Yisrael in their system of seeking Divine guidance, a problem unnoticed by the Bnei Yisrael themselves. No one on our side saw a problem with this, but Yisro saw this from another perspective and corrected it. Yisro's contribution was crucial, as mentioned in Shmuel I, where Shaul protected Yisro's descendants from harm during the battle with Amalek.
Similarly, Moshe valued Yisro's perspective in the desert, despite Divine guidance. Yisro provided a voice of affirmation and authority, affirming God's presence and care for the Israelites. With all their experiences in the desert, Yisro could add a certain voice that was necessary for our people to hear. If they would wonder if God really hears their cries and if He could really set a table for them in the desert, who more than Yisro could emphatically say “אין כאלקינו — there is none like our God,” with the authority of Yisro.
Someone like Yisro makes us re-examine our religious assumptions.
Yisro's insights helped the Jewish people realize that they gained more than knowledge at Har Sinai; they received the Torah, embedding it within themselves. It meant each individual had the responsibility to understand and teach the Torah, not just rely on Moshe Rabbeinu.
The first step in being a true, thinking individual is to bring out our inner Yisro to help verify our ingrained values. We must break out of the default mode of human nature which turns to other mediums as if they are God, and instead we must align ourselves with the values of God and His unity.
We must do that which no other people would be willing to do. None of our prophets — from Avraham to Moshe, from Yonah to Eliyahu, from Chavakuk to Yirmiyahu — took the easy way out. We are called “Yisrael” because we struggle along with God to ease pain and suffering, and to extend success and prosperity. In short, we struggle to do what Yisro offered to do for us. When we break through the struggle, we show that we are indeed the Holiest nation.
In summary, this parasha, starting with Yisro and culminating in the Aseres Hadibros and Matan Torah, eloquently delivers a powerful and thought-provoking message: the absolute necessity of rejecting idolatry as a cornerstone of our faith and identity. Yisro's story, a journey from an idol worshiper par excellence to a believer in Hashem, sets the stage for this profound theme. His transformation underscores the essential act of stepping out of ingrained human nature and embracing the divine truth.
The parasha's emphasis on not serving idols, reiterated throughout, acts as a constant reminder of this crucial principle. It teaches us that abolishing idolatry is not just a prerequisite for accepting the Torah, it is also a continuous obligation. Even with the Torah in hand, which speaks to God's oneness in all aspects, from our actions as humans to our recognition of God, the battle against idolatry remains paramount. This is especially vital as we step into the land of Israel, a land that demands a pure devotion to Hashem.
Historically, as narrated throughout Tanach, every turn towards Avoda Zara led to turmoil for the Jewish people, illustrating the destructive power of idolatry. This recurring pattern in our history is not just a lesson but a warning. The parasha, therefore, is not just recounting events; it is imparting a timeless message – to remain a strong and united nation, idolatry must be relentlessly discarded.
Yisro's story, interwoven with the teachings of Matan Torah, thus becomes a metaphor for our collective journey. It is a call to each of us to emulate Yisro's courage in rejecting false beliefs and ideologies, to continuously affirm our commitment to Hashem's oneness, and to live by the Torah's teachings. This journey of rejecting idolatry, mirrored in Yisro's life and reinforced by the Torah, is foundational to maintaining our identity and ensuring our endurance as a nation.
This article incorporates concepts inspired by my father, Rav Yaacov Haber, my brother, Rav Sender Haber, and insights from Rav Immanuel Bernstein's "Dimensions in Chumash" and Rav Allen Schwartz's "Parashah Sheleimah," along with my original thoughts.
Zevachim 116
Mechilta, Yisro 20
Shemos 20:20
Shemos 20: 22
Shemos 20:23
This was really a fascinating read. Thank you so much for sharing.
Had you stopped with the teaching of the Arizal...it would have been enough. This was mind blowing and I’ll have to print out a copy to attempt to fully absorb over Shabbos. Thank you, Shui.