Rabbi Eli J. Mansour
This month, we find ourselves in the proverbial “dead of winter,” but we are given a small taste of springtime, in the form of Parashat Yitro, which tells the story of Matan Torah, the event which we celebrate in the beautiful, joyous warmth of spring. Indeed, the latter part of this parashah is the portion which we read in the synagogue on Shavuot morning.
However, this story has a prologue which introduces it. Before we read of Gd’s revelation on Mount Sinai and pronouncement of the Ten Commandments, we are first told of Yitro, Moshe’s father-in-law, a former pagan priest, who came to the Sinai desert to join Beneh Yisrael and undergo conversion. Fascinatingly enough, the result of this seemingly unimportant episode is that the Torah portion that tells of the most significant event in human history, Gd’s revelation to give us His body of law, is called “Parashat Yitro.” Since this portion opens with the story of Yitro, and the name “Yitro” is the second word of this parashah, this became its name.
Is this merely a random coincidence, that the name of this most significant portion is “Yitro,” or might there by some deeper meaning and significance behind this name?
We must also note the irony of the fact that this parashah is named after the ultimate outsider – a man from a different country, a former leader of idolatrous cults, who joined Beneh Yisrael just prior to the Revelation. Apparently, his story, what he brought us, is so vital and fundamental that it was chosen as the appropriate introduction to Matan Torah, and to have the portion named after him.
Yitro’s Berachah
The answer to these questions begins with Yitro’s jubilant reaction upon hearing Moshe’s report of the miracles that Gd had performed for Beneh Yisrael – the plagues that befell the Egyptians, the splitting of the sea, the supernatural food and water provided in the desert, and so on. Yitro was overjoyed, and exclaimed, “Baruch Hashem asher hitzil etchem – Blessed is Gd who has saved you!” (18:10).
The Gemara (Sanhedrin 94a) finds it jarring that nobody until Yitro made such a proclamation. It is a source of great shame to Beneh Yisrael, the Gemara comments, that they did not bless Hashem for the miracles He performed for them, but Yitro did.
At first glance, this criticism of Beneh Yisrael strikes us as unfair. Beneh Yisrael sang the beautiful Az Yashir, a song of praise to Gd, following the splitting of the sea, as we read in the
previous parashah (Shemot 15). Why are they criticized for not exclaiming, “Baruch Hashem asher hitzil etchem” like Yitro did, if they actually sang a lengthy song expressing their joy over the miraculous salvation that Gd had wrought?
The Brisker Rav (Rav Yitzchak Zev Soloveitchik, 1886-1959) offered a brilliant answer, based on a halachic analysis of birkat hagomel – the blessing required after being delivered from a situation of peril.
Halachah obligates one to recite this berachah after safely emerging from one of the four following situations: captivity, illness, desert travel, and sea travel. Beneh Yisrael faced all four dangers – having been held as slaves, been dealt brutal blows by their ruthless taskmasters, traversed the sea and journeyed through deserts. Yet, at no point do we find that they recited birkat hagomel to thank Gd for rescuing them from these dangers.
The Brisker Rav explains that when Yitro declared, “Baruch Hashem asher hitzil etchem,” he did so in fulfillment of the obligation of birkat hagomel. Of course, Yitro himself did not endure these travails, and was thus not required to recite birkat hagomel, but he recited this blessing on the people’s behalf. The Shulhan Aruch (Orah Haim 219:4) rules explicitly that one who is required to recite birkat hagomel may fulfill this obligation by having somebody else recite it on his behalf. Let us imagine, for example, a gravely ill patient who has recovered, but still feels too weak to recite an unfamiliar blessing. Such a person may ask his friend to recite birkat hagomel for him, and fulfill the mitzvah by listening attentively to the berachah and answering “amen” (just as we do for the obligation of kiddush, for example).
This is precisely what Yitro did – he recited birkat hagomel on the people’s behalf. The Gemara finds fault in Benei Yisrael for failing to have recited this berachah earlier, and waiting until Yitro came along and recited it for them.
Sharing the Emotional Burden
If, indeed, Yitro’s exclamation was actually a halachic act – reciting birkat hagomel on the people’s behalf – then we can develop this point further to gain insight into Yitro’s unique character.
The Taz (Rav David Segal, d. 1667), one of the most important commentators to the Shulhan Aruch, introduces a vitally important qualification to this halachah, which permits someone to recite birkat hagomel on his fellow’s behalf. He writes that this works only if the person reciting the berachah truly and genuinely experiences the other person’s sense of joy and relief. In order for the rescued individual to fulfill his obligation through another person’s berachah, that other person must share his emotions, his feelings of jubilation over having been rescued from a perilous condition.
If so, then we must conclude that this is how Yitro felt upon hearing of the miracles that Hashem performed for Beneh Yisrael. He felt real exhilaration, as though he himself experienced this deliverance from bondage.
Indeed, the Torah uses an unusual term in describing Yitro’s joyous reaction to the stories of Beneh Yisrael’s salvation – “Vayichad Yitro” (18:9). While the word “vayichad” has been interpreted in several different ways, it seems clear that Yitro experienced a unique level of joy, which the Torah sought to emphasize by using this term. Perhaps, the Torah wishes to convey that Yitro did not merely rejoice, but truly sensed the people’s elation. He had this
unique quality of empathy, genuinely feeling other people’s pain during times of hardship, and other people’s exuberance in times of joy and triumph.
This quality of Yitro is manifest also in the next story told about him.
He observed his son-in-law, Moshe, spending the entire day working very hard, tending to the people as they brought to him their problems and disputes to resolve. Yitro urged Moshe to appoint other judges to work under him, so he would not have to shoulder this burden of responsibility alone. This was not just another instance of the all-too-familiar phenomenon of a father-in-law offering unsolicited advice to his son-in-law… Yitro, true to his nature, felt Moshe’s physical and mental stress as he struggled to guide the people all by himself, and so he stepped in to help.
Yitro thus emerges as a paragon of the quality referred to by our sages as noseh be’ol im havero (Avot 6:6) – literally, “carrying the burden with one’s fellow.” The great rabbis of mussar elaborated at great length on the importance of this quality, of sharing other people’s emotional burdens, genuinely feeling their pain and sorrow, and seeking to alleviate it as though it was one’s own. This quality is not just an important moral imperative – it is an actual prerequisite for Torah commitment. We cannot take upon the obligations of the Torah without first taking upon ourselves the obligation to look out for our fellow in distress, which requires genuinely feeling his pain.
Yitro may have been an outsider, but he brought us precisely what we needed at the exact time we needed it. We could not receive the Torah before first learning from his example of empathy.
The story of Yitro introduces the story of Matan Torah because before we accept the Torah, we must first accept the burdens of our fellow Jews. Their problems must be our problems; their hardships must be our hardships; and their joys must be our joys.
Indeed, when we look at the personalities of great Torah sages, we notice that they are not only outstanding scholars, but also people who shoulder the burden of their fellow Jews. Torah scholars have always been at the forefront of charity and advocacy work, constantly working and exerting immense efforts on behalf of individuals in distress and of the Jewish community as a whole.
It should not surprise us at all that these giants maintained their outstanding standards of scholarship even while devoting a great deal of time and attention to helping people in need – because to the contrary, shouldering the burden of others is a prerequisite for becoming a Torah scholar. It is precisely due to these sages’ outstanding empathy and concern for other people that they were able to achieve greatness in Torah – because this quality is an indispensable prerequisite for Torah devotion.
This insight speaks directly to us, as our brothers and sisters in Israel continue to deal with the pain, loss, and hardships of war. There are so many bereaved parents. There are so many widows and orphans. There are so many wounded soldiers, some with permanent conditions and disabilities. There are so many soldiers dealing with PTSD. There are so many reservists whose families are buckling under the heavy burden of life without a husband, father and breadwinner. So many parents cannot sleep because their son or sons are fighting. So many have had their homes damaged or destroyed.
“Yitroism”
As Torah Jews, we cannot for a second be indifferent to the plight of our brothers and sisters in distress. We religiously-committed Diaspora Jews must be at the forefront of the effort to lend assistance and support, in addition, of course, to our heartfelt prayers. The ABCs of Torah Judaism is “Yitroism,” empathizing with those in need, and this is our duty at this difficult time. Each of us has something to contribute, in terms of financial assistance, advocacy efforts, or logistical support for the organizations who work on behalf of Israelis affected by the war. We must each find the way we can help out and lend a hand to our beloved brothers and sisters in Eretz Yisrael.
May Hashem bless our efforts with success, bring an end to the tragedies and suffering, and send us our long-awaited final redemption, speedily and in our times, amen.