SALT – PARASHAT YITRO

By Rav David Silverberg

MOTZAEI

            Toward the beginning of Parashat Yitro, the Torah tells the story of Yitro’s arrival at the Israelite camp at Sinai, where he is warmly greeted by his son-in-law, Moshe.  We read that Yitro observes Moshe personally presiding over every legal dispute, and advises Moshe to delegate this responsibility to a network of judicial experts.  Moshe heeds Yitro’s advice and appoints judges to tend to the people’s legal needs.

            A careful reading of this narrative may perhaps reveal a number of important insights into what we might describe as the “art” of offering criticism.  For one thing, we should note that Yitro did not simply criticize what Moshe did; he offered an alternative.  It is easy to tell somebody that what he does is incorrect, but it is far more constructive to suggest a different plan.  Moreover, Yitro did not simply offer an alternative suggestion – but he presented it with specific details.  Often, especially when the advice comes from outsiders who are unfamiliar with the intricacies of the system involved, the alternative is suggested in very general terms, without any meaningful advice as to whether or how it can be realistically implemented.  Yitro, however, described in very specific terms what kind of people Moshe should appoint as judges and the hierarchical structure that should be established.

            Significantly, Yitro concluded his remarks to Moshe with a warm blessing to him and Benei Yisrael: “If you do this thing, then God shall direct you and you shall be able to endure; also, this entire nation will peacefully find its place” (18:23).  This conveyed to Moshe the message that Yitro’s motivation was not personal pride or ego, but rather his sincere concern for his well-being and that of the people.  Often, people resist criticism because it comes across as a personal challenge, the instigation of a kind of power struggle between the two parties.  Yitro wisely made a point of emphasizing his genuine concern for Moshe and the people; it became clear that he made his suggestion out of sincere love and concern, and not out of pride or a lust for control.

            Finally, and perhaps most importantly, Yitro spoke to Moshe in a gentle, refined manner, as noted by the Midrash Lekach Tov, commenting on the verse, “Moshe’s father-in-law said to him: This that you are doing is not good” (18:17).  The Midrash writes, “This teaches that Yitro was a distinguished person, that he spoke circuitously and said, ‘it is not good’.”  Chazal found significance in the fact that Yitro described Moshe’s system as “not good” rather than “bad,” a choice of words that reflected Yitro’s “distinguished” character.  He spoke in a refined, courteous manner, ensuring to use gentle, moderate expressions.  Whereas usually criticism is expressed with harsh invectives such as, “This is terrible,” or “You’ve got to be out of your mind,” Yitro spoke to Moshe gently and respectfully.

            Criticism is very difficult to hear, and even more difficult to accept.  If the one offering criticism is truly sincere in his desire to help, and succeeds in expressing this sincerity through kind, gentle words, then his criticism stands a much greater chance of succeeding and achieving the desired result.

SUNDAY

            The Torah in Parashat Yitro tells the story of Moshe’s establishment of a judicial network at the advice of his father-in-law, Yitro.  Upon observing Moshe dealing single-handedly with all the nation’s legal cases, Yitro advised Moshe to find qualified individuals to serve as judges to relieve his burden of responsibility.

            In presenting his plan, Yitro speaks of the selection of qualified individuals with the difficult word, “techezeh,” which literally means, “you shall view” or “you shall foresee” (18:21).  In context, this word clearly means “select” or “appoint,” as Targum Yonatan and Seforno explicitly write.  However, the use of the verb ch.z.h. led Rabbi Yehoshua, as cited in the Mekhilta, to explain Yitro’s instruction as referring to a special kind of “viewing,” namely, prophetic insight.  Yitro advised Moshe to use his prophetic powers in selecting judges, thereby ascertaining that the most qualified and capable individuals would be chosen.  Rashi indeed comments on this verse, “with the ru’ach ha-kodesh [sacred spirit] that is upon you.”

Rabbi Yehoshua’s interpretation, however, is not the only view recorded by the Mekhilta.  Rabbi Elazar Ha-moda’i explained this word differently, claiming that it refers to “machazit zo she-chozin bah ha-melakhim” – “this ‘vision’ with which kings see.”  It seems that according to Rabbi Elazar, Yitro speaks not of prophetic vision, but rather the kind of keen insight with which successful leaders are generally endowed.  In selecting qualified judicial leaders, Moshe was to employ not any prophetic capabilities, but rather his human talents in character assessment and skills recognition.

            The question arises as to why, according to Rabbi Elazar, Moshe was advised not to use ru’ach ha-kodesh is appointing the nation’s judges.  Yitro lists a number of important qualities that rendered a candidate qualified for this position.  Would it not be preferable to employ divinely-inspired insight in determining who among the nation posses these qualities?  Wouldn’t this method of selection have ensured that only the most worthy individuals would be chosen?

            Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his Yalkut Yehuda, suggests that Rabbi Elazar detected one critical flaw in the use of ru’ach ha-kodesh for this purpose, namely, that it would not have ensured the people’s respect for the judges’ authority.  In his view, Moshe could not have selected judges on the basis of prophetic insight, because the people would not necessarily recognize the credentials’ of candidates chosen in this fashion.  The advantages of using ru’ach ha-kodesh, the confidence it would give Moshe in determining the most qualified candidates, would be offset by the people’s failure to readily acknowledge their worthiness.  It was important for the judges to not only be qualified, but to be overtly qualified, for their qualifications to be evident and clearly manifest to their constituents.  Therefore, according to Rabbi Elazar, Yitro advised Moshe to employ ordinary, human insight in searching for qualified judges, so that their credentials would be clear for all to see.

MONDAY

            Much has been written about the first of the Ten Commandments (or what is generally counted as the first of the commandments), the proclamation of, “I am the Lord your God who took you out from the land of Egypt.”  Among the more famous questions that have been discussed is why God chose to describe Himself as the Being “who took you out from the land of Egypt,” rather than as the Creator.  At least instinctively, we would certainly point to the creation of existence out of sheer nothingness as a far more impressive achievement than the Exodus, as miraculous as it was.  Many have therefore wondered why God introduced His revelation to Benei Yisrael by making reference to the Exodus rather than creation.

            Ibn Ezra famously cites this question in the name of Rabbi Yehuda Halevi, and suggests that God mentioned the Exodus because all members of the nation experienced its firsthand and could thus relate to the manifestation of divine power through that event.  God’s role as Creator, Ibn Ezra writes, can be understood most fully by those who probe the natural world and master the sciences, which testify to the infinite wisdom of creation.  The simpleminded masses, who have limited exposure to scientific knowledge, cannot recognize God through nature.  But the Exodus was experienced by all, and God therefore specified this event in order to convince the entire nation to submit to His authority.

            Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his Yalkut Yehuda, suggests, quite simply, that God chose the Exodus over creation to set an example of prioritization for us to follow.  God would later admonish through the prophet Yirmiyahu (9:22):

Let not the wise man pride himself over his wisdom; let not the strong man pride himself over his strength; and let not the wealthy man pride himself over his wealth.  For one who takes pride shall take pride in this: understanding and knowing Me – for I am the Lord who performs kindness and justice in the land, for this is what I desire.

In introducing the Ten Commandments, God Himself abided by this rule.  He chose to emphasize not creation – the greatest manifestation of divine might – but rather the Exodus, the expression of His concern for the oppressed and downtrodden.  The Almighty “takes pride,” as it were, not in His unparalleled power, but rather in the fact that He “performs kindness and justice in the land.”  He does so in order to teach us about where our priorities and ambitions should be directed.  While we are of course bidden to continue God’s work of creation, of building and developing the world, our foremost priority must be continuing the work of the Exodus, looking out for those in need and caring for those experiencing distress – “for this is what I desire.” 

TUESDAY

            A number of sources address the question as to why the Torah found it necessary to present the story of Yitro’s arrival at the Israelite camp just prior to the narrative of Ma’amad Har Sinai – God’s revelation to Benei Yisrael at Sinai.  The story of Yitro tells of the warm welcome extended to Yitro by Moshe, Aharon and the elders, and his recommendation to Moshe to establish a judicial network.

            One answer is expressed by the Midrash (Shemot Rabba 30:3), which notes the fact that the narrative of Ma’amad Har Sinai is both preceded and followed by the theme of mishpat (the Torah’s legal system).  The Midrash compares the Torah in this regard to a noblewoman who walks with armed guards on either side of her.  The concept of mishpat – a fair and effective judicial system – serves as Torah’s guard in that it upholds and defends its laws and values.  Therefore, the event of our receiving the Torah is surrounded on both sides by this theme, which serves as its guarantor.

            Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch offers a somewhat surprising explanation for the significance of the story of Yitro as an introduction to Ma’amad Har Sinai:

Nothing is so instructive for us, as this information regarding the first legal institution of the Jewish State, coming immediately before the chapter of the Law-giving.  So little was Moses in himself a legislative genius, he had so little talent for organizing, that he had to learn the very first elements of state organization from his father-in-law.  The man who tired himself out to utter exhaustion and to whom of himself did not occur to arrange this or some similar simple solution, equally beneficial to himself and his people; the man to whom it was necessary to have a Jethro to suggest this obvious device, that man could never have given the People constitution and laws out of his own head, that man was only, and indeed just because of this the best and most faithful instrument of God!

According to Rav Hirsch, the story of Yitro is told to demonstrate Moshe’s administrative and legislative incompetence.  It underscores the fact that Moshe could not possibly have put together a “torah” of his own; there was no possibility of his forging a religious and legal system and calling it divine.  If he was unable to realize on his own the need for a network of judges, then he most certainly was incapable of conjuring up the intricate, complex system of Torah law.  This narrative therefore precedes the story of Matan Torah, as it serves to proof the divine origin of the Torah presented to us at Sinai.

            We might wish to consider yet another possible explanation – one which takes into account the view (held by Rashi, among others) that these narratives appear out of chronological sequence.  According to this view, Yitro’s recommendation to establish a judicial network took place after Matan Torah, despite the fact that the Torah places this account before the narrative of Matan Torah.  It is perhaps significant that immediately after the receiving of the immutable, God-given Torah, an innovative measure was implemented in order to apply it more effectively.  Yitro in no way altered the Torah’s laws, but he did introduce a new system for upholding those laws.  The juxtaposition between Yitro’s recommendation and the giving of the Torah might therefore underscore the element of originality and innovation in applying the immutable Torah.  This story shows that while we must never feel entitled to modify the Torah to even the slightest extent, we are bidden to devise effective strategies for applying it, upholding it, teaching it and preserving it.

            Much later in the Torah (Bamidbar, chapter 10), we read of the commandment regarding the chatzotzerot, the trumpets that were blown by the kohanim on various occasions for various purposes.  A number of Midrashim comment that the original trumpets made by Moshe were buried and never used again.  Rav Yechezkel Abramsky is cited as explaining that symbolically, the disuse of the original chatzotzerot teaches a basic lesson regarding the conveying of Torah tradition.  Namely, while the sound must always remain constant and unchanging, the instruments used in producing those sounds must often change from one generation to the next.  The tools employed by Moshe in producing the required “sounds” of Torah instruction and guidance might not be suitable in another generation.

            Similarly, this might perhaps be one lesson that emerges from the story of Yitro.  Already before we read about Matan Torah, we are informed that the unconditional immutability of the Torah notwithstanding, some ingenuity is often required in deciding upon the most effective and appropriate strategies to uphold it.  Just as Moshe adopted Yitro’s recommendation and implemented his system, similarly, spiritual leaders in future generations will, on occasion, be compelled to devise new methods to ensure the successful and accurate transmission of our eternal heritage.

David Silverberg

WEDNESDAY

            Parashat Yitro tells of God’s revelation to Benei Yisrael at Mount Sinai and the declaration of the Ten Commandments.  The final, and perhaps most obscure, of the Ten Commandments is that of lo tachmod, which is commonly translated as, “You shall not covet.”  This prohibition forbids the experience of desiring the property owned by somebody else, thus giving rise to the obvious question of how the Torah could legislate such a law.  While we readily understand the prohibition against theft, the requirement to overcome one’s competitive and materialistic instinct, it seems difficult to explain how the Torah can command a person to avoid covetous feelings toward other people’s possessions.

            Ibn Ezra famously answers this question by drawing an analogy to a peasant villager who harbors no expectations or hopes of marrying the empire’s princess.  The possessions of other people should be seen as intrinsically “off limits” to the point where one cannot even imagine owning them.  According to Ibn Ezra, then, this prohibition does not forbid an emotion as much as it demands a certain perspective, requiring us to look upon the property of others as something to which they, and only they, are entitled.

            Rav Simcha Mordechai Ziskind Broide, in his Sam Derekh, suggests a different approach to lo tachmod.  A number of Midrashim establish a correspondence between the Ten Commandments and the first section of Parashat Kedoshim.  According to these sources, the commands issued there in Parashat Kedoshim reflect the same themes and concepts embodied by the Ten Commandments.  The various Midrashic passages differ slightly from one another in identifying the specific parallels between Parashat Kedoshim and the Ten Commandments.  The Midrash Tanchuma claims that the prohibition of lo tachmod corresponds with the prohibition of “lo ta’ashok et rei’akha” (Vayikra 19:13) – withholding payment from workers.  Vayikra Rabba, however, associates lo tachmod with the famous command of “ve-ahavta le-rei’akha kamokhha” – “You shall love your fellow as yourself” (19:18).

            Rav Broide notes that the association between lo tachmod and “ve-ahavta le-rei’akha kamokhha” likely answers the question as to how the Torah can issue a prohibition against covetous emotions.  Essentially, lo tachmod commands us to feel truly concerned for the well-being of others, such that we rejoice in their success and good fortune.  The wealth attained by one’s fellow should bring him joy and satisfaction as though he had attained it himself.  Envy and covetous feelings surface when a person wishes only for his own good fortune and not for the good fortune of others.  The tenth commandment therefore instructs to care for others the way we care for ourselves, and feel happy, rather than envious, about the wealth and success of our peers.

David Silverberg

THURSDAY

            The fourth of the Ten Commandments is the obligation of Shabbat observance, in reference to which the Torah states, “For six days you shall work and perform your activity” (20:8).  Rashi, citing the Mekhilta, writes, “When Shabbat comes, you shall consider all your work completed – that you do not think about work.”

            It appears that according to the Mekhilta, one may not even think about his professional and financial affairs on Shabbat.  The observance of Shabbat entails not only refraining from the various categories of forbidden activity, but also diverting one’s attention away from his workday affairs.

            This ruling runs in contrast to the Gemara’s conclusion in Masekhet Shabbat (150a), “Dibur assur hirhur mutar” – one may not speak of workday matters on Shabbat, but thinking about them is permissible.  The Gemara explains this ruling on this basis of the prophet Yeshayahu’s description of Shabbat observance (58:13), in which he mentions desisting from pursuing and speaking of one’s affairs, implying that silent contemplation of one’s work is allowed.

            The view expressed in the Mekhilta likely follows the dissenting opinion recorded in the Gemara.  As the Gemara mentions, there is a view that forbids saying to one’s fellow on Shabbat, “Let’s meet after Shabbat” for the purpose of hiring him for a certain job.  Even though the individual makes no mention of the purpose of the meeting, this view forbids making such a statement, since planning to hire employees even in one’s mind is not allowed on Shabbat.

            In truth, we may reconcile the Mekhilta’s comment with the accepted halakha, which allows thinking of business affairs on Shabbat, on the basis of a ruling of Rabbenu Yona in his Iggeret Ha-teshuva (as cited by the Beit Yosef, O.C. 306).  Rabbenu Yona writes that although Halakha generally allows thinking of one’s workday matters on Shabbat, this is forbidden if such thoughts will evoke feelings of anxiety or distress.  Such feelings are, of course, in conflict with the sense of calm and serenity that must characterize the Shabbat experience.  Hence, Rabbenu Yona writes, contemplating work matters is forbidden on Shabbat if this would cause a person to grow tense and anxious.

            Conceivably, the Mekhilta, which speaks of the requirement to feel on Shabbat as though all one’s work is completed, refers to the feelings of anxiety that contemplating one’s work might cause.  It might agree, however, that if a person knows that thinking of his business affairs will not bring him distress, then such thoughts are permissible.  (This point is made by Rav Chayim Leib Eisenstein in his Peninim Mi-bei Midresha, Parashat Yitro.)

            The Shulchan Arukh (O.C. 306:8) rules that although one may, strictly speaking, think of his financial affairs on Shabbat, it is proper to avoid doing so, due to the general mitzva of oneg Shabbat – enjoying oneself on Shabbat.  No distinction is made in this passage between one who suspects he will grow anxious by engaging in such thoughts, and others.  This would seemingly indicate that the Shulchan Arukh applies this ruling to all individuals, regardless of whether workday thoughts would cause them anxiety.  This is indeed the position taken by the Mishna Berura.  On the other hand, one might argue that if the Shulchan Arukh explains this position on the basis of oneg Shabbat, it goes without saying that one may engage in such thoughts if they would not interfere with his enjoyment of Shabbat.  Since the only issue at stake is oneg Shabbat, the prohibition obtains only if one’s enjoyment would be compromised.  Yet a third possibility is that the Shulchan Arukh worked off the reasonable assumption that all people would experience some degree of unease thinking of their work or financial responsibilities, and thus it is proper for everybody to refrain from such thoughts on Shabbat.

David Silverberg

FRIDAY

            Among the questions that arise when studying the first section of Parashat Yitro is why Moshe had not previously considered establishing a network of judges.  The Torah tells that Yitro, Moshe’s father-in-law, observed Moshe personally presiding over all the people’s legal cases, and advised him to appoint a large number of judges to alleviate his burden.  We might assume that Moshe had considered this option at some point, but for whatever reason preferred tending to all cases personally.  Why did he choose not to appoint other judges, and why did he ultimately accept Yitro’s suggestion?  (Earlier this week, we cited the comments of Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch who claimed that Moshe in fact had not considered this readily obvious personality, and this narrative thus demonstrates Moshe’s poor administrative skills.)

            The answer, perhaps, is that Moshe was, without doubt, the most qualified scholar to settle legal disputes.  He realized that delegating this responsibility would compromise the nation’s judicial standards, and he therefore personally tended to all the cases.

Why, then, did Moshe ultimately accept Yitro’s proposal?

One answer emerges from Yitro’s concluding remarks to Moshe when offering his suggestion: “If you do this thing…then you shall be able to endure, and also, this entire nation will each arrive at his place in peace” (18:23).  The Chafetz Chayim noted that Yitro here points to two benefits of his proposal: Moshe’s endurance, and “peace” among the nation.  Apparently, Yitro’s concern was not only for Moshe’s well-being, but also of the impact of Moshe’s pressure upon the people.  The Chafetz Chayim explained that long lines waiting for Moshe’s adjudication would discourage people from seeking arbitration.  Plaintiffs would just return home, rather than spend their day waiting for a hearing with Moshe.  Their feelings of resentment toward the defendant would then remain wedged in their hearts, as the issue never reaches resolution.  Yitro therefore urged Moshe to establish a more efficient system that would encourage plaintiffs to bring their cases for a hearing, rather than allow the conflicts to go unresolved.

If so, then Moshe’s predicament involved the clash between two conflicting concerns: maintaining the highest judicial standards, and establishing an efficient system.  Yitro succeeded in persuading Moshe that a balance between these two goals could be reached by carefully selecting qualified judges.  Even though they would certainly fall short of Moshe’s unparalleled stature, this small compromise is offset by the accessibility of courts.

Thus, Moshe indeed understood on his own the need for delegation, but was hesitant to take this route out of concern for maintaining the highest possible standards.  Ultimately, he accepted Yitro’s plan and conceded that simplifying the arbitration process was worth the small price of appointing qualified judges that could not rival his stature.

David Silverberg