Parashat Vayakhel/Pekudei

Parashat Vayakhel/Pekudei

Adar 23, 5772 ~ March 17, 2012
by Joel Ackerman

Over the last several weeks, we have heard a lot of incisive commentary on the matter of community – first from Rabbi Dardik in his drash on parasha Terumah, then from Marshall Schwartz and Ginna Green in their mini-drashot. Then we read Ki Tissa, which describes how the Israelite community was almost torn apart through the incident of the golden calf, which resulted in G-d’s almost destroying the people and in which they were engaged in internecine warfare, brother against brother.

But G-d forgave the people and gave them the opportunity to restore their relationship with Him by building the mishkan. And He also gave them the opportunity, and the means, to build or rebuild their community and cement it.

The Israelites were ready to act on these opportunities, and had the desire to carry out G-d’s command to build the mishkan, but that would not be enough. The initial desire, excitement and enthusiasm would have to be converted or translated into acts that would have a lasting effect. Both the work to be done and the way that it would be done would be equally important.

The task of building the mishkan and its contents was not given to Moses, but to Bezalel. So, too the task of rebuilding the community was given to Bezalel, not to Moses. It had to be that way, for Moses had been involved in the fighting and killing within the community.

That the task of rebuilding the community – and the ability to do it - was given to Bezalel is shown in the language of the Torah (ch. 26, verse 31). In speaking of Bezalel, Moses repeats G-d’s words to him “V’maleh oto ruach Elohim b’chochmah bitvunah uvda’at uvchol m’lacha” – “And He has filled him with the spirit of G-d, in wisdom, in understanding, and in knowledge, and with every craft.” The difference between these attributes is made clear by the use of the word “and” in connection with the last two. G-d imbued Bezalel with knowledge and craftsmanship in particular, that is, knowledge how to build and how to make the items. That should have been enough to enable Bezalel to make those items. So why did G-d also give him wisdom and understanding? In order to know how to lead the broken community in this task so that it could be rebuilt – or rebuild itself – and to do it with the spirit of G-d.

Bezalel had to become a project manager, and Oholiav had to become his assistant. It was not enough that they knew how to make the items, or even that they knew how to teach others to do that. They also, as every project manager knows, had to know how to knit the community together to carry out the work and, in this special case, how to guide the people in rebuilding the community that had been torn.

To properly rebuild the community, it would be crucial that

· everyone take part - those who could see the big picture and those who are detail-oriented, those who have greater skills or talents and those who have lesser or different ones, those who have established abilities and those who have natural talents that can be brought out by participating and by being taught

· the results are attributed to all;

· and that none should be left out and nothing left over.

Meanwhile, Moses has to absorb the meaning of a task he is to perform – anointing both Aaron and his sons as the kohanim. Our sages point out that Moses could anoint Aaron with a whole heart and with joy. Aaron was his brother, and Moses could be happy that Aaron was named kohen gadol. But Moses’ sons were not destined to follow him in his leadership role. So Moses might have felt envy towards Aaron’s sons, but he nevertheless was commanded to anoint them in the same way, and with the same joy, as he would anoint their father. Not an easy command to carry out, but one that was necessary in the process of building the community.

And Moses had to learn for a second time that he was not supposed to do everything himself. Earlier, at Sinai, Jethro had advised him to give others part of the task of judging disputes in the community. Now, G-d tells Moses that he will not have to build the mishkan himself. In fact, Moses should not try to build it himself. G-d has appointed two men – Bezalel and Oholiav – to carry that out.

Everyone worked on building the mishkan. Some did the complex tasks – weaving, carpentry, metalwork, building the altars, etc. Others brought materials, assisted, schlepped stuff, held the materials while they were being worked on, cleaned up, etc. The metalsmith crafting vessels for the mishkan cannot work alone. He needs other people – to bring the metal material, to tend the fire, to hold an object while it is being worked on, to cool the object. They might have the same level of skill as the smith, or they might not, but they are essential to carrying out the work. The weaver needs someone with very fine motor skills to cut thin threads out of gold sheets (see ch. 39, verse 3) and people to spin the yarn (ch. 35, verse 25). The woodworker preparing panels for the walls needs help in measuring, cutting and shaping the wood, planing the edges, and other tasks.

Our sages like to paint a picture that the original enthusiasm and excitement of the people was maintained throughout the construction of the mishkan. Perhaps so; if so, that would not only be highly unusual, but would seem to be almost miraculous. In addition, such harmony might even be deleterious to the need for cementing a community. It could seem artificial; we humans don’t normally function that way. Working in perfect harmony on such a complicated project would quickly be seen by those participating to be unnatural. Everyone enthusiastic all the time? Smiling all the time? No change of expression?

No; in my mind the needed repairs to the community, the cementing, came about through working together on the mishkan in human ways – building together, arguing together, getting frustrated together, working through problems together, finding solutions together.

And it probably was not a smooth process. Even the commentators probably knew better; some of them were skilled craftsmen. Hitches commonly occur whenever people work together on a project. Sometimes things don’t go well. Sometimes measurements are off. Sometimes tempers flare. Sometimes work has to be redone. But Bezalel (and Oholiav with him) had been given the necessary wisdom and insight to keep the work on target and to keep the attitude of the people steady. In the end the results were attained, and all were credited with the final result – the mishkan and the objects it held.

A final thought. This parasha is often questioned for the length of its details. Why doesn’t the Torah simply state that all the work was done as G-d had commanded, for instance just contain the text of ch. 39, verses 42-43? Why list every task, every item, every little detail?

Perhaps to remind us of the immense amount of work that went into the building of the mishkan and its contents. To review lovingly each and every item that was made. To realize the scope of the work. To allow every person who worked on that project to feel a strong sense of accomplishment in having completed the work. To allow every person to point to one or more items and be able to say “I helped make that”.

All of this helps to build, and to maintain, a community.

Parashat Ki Tisa

Parashat Ki Tisa

Adar 16, 5772 ~ March 10, 2012
by Ginna Green

With thanks to this community: the wonderful parents of Gan Mah Tov,

and the generous members of Beth Jacob

My son developed recently a (perhaps fleeting) passion for geologic time. Somehow, this kid has internet search down, and he finds the most amazing content on the web. A few weeks ago, I was stunned by an image that he'd found on the web site of the U.S. Geological Survey. I'm still not sure if it was the graphic display of the age of the earth, the quality of the rendering or the realization that, by myself, I really am next to nothing that blew my mind the most. I may be made b'tzelem elokim, and for my sake the world was created—but there's nothing like a geological timeline to underscore that we are just dust and ashes.

This is precisely why being part of a community is critical to just about every species on the planet. The notion of how important it is surfaces in different ways this week, when we celebrate Purim by reading Megillat Esther and read Ki Tisa as the parasha.

Ki Tisa is bursting with topics. It’s got fragrant mixtures; architecture; kashrut and more. I’m drawn, however, to the notions of community suggested by both the annual census and, of course, That Whole Incident with the Golden Calf.

“Meanwhile, the people began to realize that Moses was taking a long time to come down from the mountain. They gathered around Aaron and said to him, “Make us an oracle to lead us. We have no idea what happened to Moses, the man who brought us out of Egypt.”

We’re stiff-necked, petulant, and juvenile at times, Jews, and we can add anxious to the list just based on these lines from this week’s parasha. I don't wish to be an apologist for the actions of those desperate to replace Moses with something, anything (an “oracle,” even) as a leader, a bridge between themselves and G-d. But the people coalesced around a perceived need and responded—not optimally, but with a response nonetheless. Commentators posit that all the future tragedies that befall the Jewish people are rooted, at least in part, to this incident, and that is so noted. (As much is suggested when G-d says “... When I grant special providence to the people, I will take this sin of theirs into account.”). But my focus at this precise moment is not on the act, but the initial thought and response that preceded it.

Community, in and of itself, is a neutral concept, though it is often assigned a positive connotation. Communities, and the individuals and organizations of which they are composed, are not neutral, however. Communities and their components have within them to power to be forces for good, or forces for not-so-good. We generally do not speak of possibilities like the negative impact of community, or the ways in which communities exhibit bad behavior or allow it to persist, but just as community actions have positive impacts, they have negative ones as well. Without a doubt, the Golden Calf would count as a negative.

That Whole Incident with the Golden Calf demonstrates to me that while we, as Jews and human beings, can make fantastically poor decisions, we often don’t make them in a vacuum. It is our community that helps us confront, contemplate and configure responses to issues and problems we encounter as individuals. And no doubt the community tackles community problems too. While we waited impatiently at Mt. Sinai for Moses to return, some of us were anxious, concerned, and maybe faithless. But is there something to be said for uniting and acting together, even in an agitated state and with such a problematic action? I contend that there is. Of course, not everyone participated in That Whole Incident with the Golden Calf (but everyone did witness): women, Levites and most male adults abstained. But for the 3,000 who felt vulnerable and incomplete in the absence of Moshe, they found a problematic way to fill the chasm between themselves and Hashem that appeared when Moshe did not.

Perhaps this is why Moshe went to bat for us. He knew that we didn't truly mean ill or sin, or that we no longer believed in the G-d who had brought us out of Egypt, but that, rather, we were not yet comfortable enough with ourselves to be alone with Hashem. We were young Jews. We needed Moses, or a proxy. We made a grave mistake. But our community was worth saving.

But not the community within the community that started it all. As the story goes, the Levites killed the 3,000 who were at the root of That Whole Incident with the Golden Calf. That too, however, unpleasant as it may be (it reminds me of the deaths of Avihu and Nadav in Shemini), reflects to some degree the nature of community—this time in deference and service to G-d, rather than fear of being alone with G-d. The Levites responded quickly and deftly to Moshe's request:

“Whoever is for G-d, join me! … Let each man put on his sword, and go from one gate to the other in the camp. Let each one kill [all those involved in the idolatry], even his own brother, close friend or relative.”

Certainly, the Levites were inflicting great punishment for a great sin, but perhaps they were also strengthening the greater community by removing potentially problem parts and weak links.

Thankfully, it’s not usually bad news when we band together. The Purim story reflects this:

“Go, gather all the Jews found in Shushan, and fast for my sake. / Take neither food nor drink / for three days—night and day. / I and my maidservants will also fast this way. / Having done this, I will come to the king / even though it is unlawful ….”

All the Jews in Shushan! Not 3,000 of us. We all fasted. And we were all at stake. It's difficult to find a more dramatic instance where we all united in fighting threats to our existence (especially when read aloud by Gav Shapiro). Our actions in Shushan are almost the opposite of That Whole Incident with the Golden Calf. Then, some of us banded together, but not with an ideal result. Our joining Queen Esther in three days of fasting reflects the positive impact of community, the act of coalescing around a universal, positive goal. And we succeeded.

Whew.

I'll close by returning to the very beginning of Ki Tisa, when we are given instructions on taking a census of our people.

“This is what everyone who is entered in the records shall pay: a half-shekel by the the sanctuary weight—twenty gerahs to the shekel—a half-shekel as an offering to the Lord.”

We all matter to our nation, and we should all matter to each other individually. Of course, this is a census, so it would be wildly inaccurate and irresponsible to allow the rich to give more and the poor to give less. But it does not make it any less true that no one person matters more than another; it's mentioned throughout Torah and Talmud. Some may do more, and some may make more but no one matters more. So we collect 1:1. These collected funds then become community money, used to purchase materials for building the Mishkan. Could there be a more holy way to cement our status as a community than by all contributing equally to our holy structure in the desert?

I connect Purim to this week's parasha with the notion of community, and how sometimes communities make good choices, and sometimes poor choices. Importantly, whether we are on the side of right, or the side of wrong, we remain a Jewish community: supportive of one another, dependent on one another, and interconnected.

Parashat Tetzaveh

Parashat Tetzaveh
Adar 9, 5772 ~ March 3, 2012
Marshall Schwartz

There are two unusual structural elements in this week's parsha, Tetzaveh, that deserve careful attention. First, Tetzaveh is the only parsha from the beginning of Exodus until the end of the Torah from which Moshe's name is absent. Why is it missing? Secondly, this is the second of five parshiot – the last five in Sefer Shemot – which discuss in exquisite detail the building of the Mishkan. Why does this event deserve such a long, repetitive narration when the story of creation takes only 34 verses? Moreover, is there any relationship between these two anomalies?

Removing Moshe's name means that our text in this parsha presents us with a verbal construct not found anywhere else in the Torah. Instead of the usual, “Vayedabber YHVH el Moshe laymor”, or “Vayomer YHVH el Moshe”, or even “Tsav et B'nei Yisrael” – “And Hashem spoke to Moses, saying...”, “And Hashem said to Moses”, or “Command the Children of Israel” – we have the following verses:

“V'attah t^etsaveh et B'nai Yisrael, v^eyikhu eilekha shemen zayit zakh, katit lama'or, l^eha'alot ner tamid” [Ex. 27:20; “And you shall command the Children of Israel, that they shall take for you pure olive oil, pressed, for illumination, to cause the lamp to ascend continuously.”]

“V'attah hakreiv eilekha et Aharon ahikha v^eet banav itto mitokh B'nei Yisrael l^ekhahano li – Aharon, Nadav va'Avihu, Elazar v^eItamar b'nei Aharon” [Ex. 28:1; “And you shall draw Aaron near to you from among the Children of Israel – Aaron, Nadav and Avihu, Elazar and Ittamar, the sons of Aaron.”]

“V'attah t^edabber el kol hakhmei lev asher mileitiv ruah hokhmah veasu et bigdei Aharon l^ekad^esho l^ekhahano li” [Ex. 28:3; “And you shall speak to all those with a heart of wisdom, and they shall make the vestments for Aaron, to sanctify him in order that he may minister to me.”]

Moshe has become nothing more than “you”.

Three principal rabbinic explanations have been given for this parsha-long lacuna. The Vilna Gaon suggested that Moshe's absence from Tetzaveh reflects the fact that this parsha is always read close to the traditional date of Moshe's death, the seventh of Adar. So his absence from the parsha is a mirror of his absence from this world. The Paneah Raza, on the other hand, avers that the absence of Moshe's name is a reflection of the principle that “there is no anger that does not leave an impression”. More explicitly, when Moshe begged Hashem to send someone else to lead B'nei Yisrael out of Egypt, Hashem “became angry with Moshe” [Ex. 4:13-14], and declared that Aaron would accompany Moshe and speak for him. Thus, Aaron and not Moshe received the priesthood, and, since this parsha is concerned solely with the activities of the priests, Moshe's name was omitted. Finally, the Ba'al HaTurim declares that the reason Moshe's name is missing is Moshe's declaration in next week's parsha, Ki Tissa, that if Hashem does not forgive B'nei Yisrael for the sin of the Golden Calf, he should “blot me out from Your book which You have written” [Ex. 32:32] – and so his name is “blotted out” from the preceding parsha.

None of these three explanations seem completely satisfying. The Vilna Gaon's concept requires assuming many facts not in evidence: that the division and timing of the parshiot was set at the same time that Hashem dictated the Torah to Moshe; that Ezra and his colleagues has no role in determining the final status of our text; and, perhaps most telling, that Hashem revealed to Moshe the (approximate) day of his death by omitting his name from this parsha. Occam's razor rules out this drash.

As for Moshe's request to “blot me out from the book”, this, too, presents several difficulties. First, Moshe's complete statement in Ex. 32:32, after the episode of the Golden Calf, reads, “And now, if you would only forgive their sin! But if not, blot me out from Your book which You have written.” But Hashem did indeed forgive the sin of B'nei Yisrael – why then is Moshe's name blotted out? And if it was to be erased from “Your book which You have written”, why is it excluded only from this one parsha? I would suggest that Moshe's request may have served as a catalyst for removing his name from this section of the Torah, but was not the underlying cause.

Lastly, we turn to the Ba'al HaTurim's proposal, that Moshe's disinclination to lead B'nei Yisrael caused the priesthood to be transferred from himself to Aaron, and his name is omitted here because the parsha is concerned almost exclusively with the duties of Aaron and his sons. Is this a valid “punishment” for Moshe's reluctance? Wasn't losing the priesthood sufficient? And, if true, why was his name removed only from this one section of the Torah, and not any of the many other chapters that are devoted entirely to priestly activities? Perhaps excluding Moshe's name was a sort of punishment, but I do not find convincing the argument that the underlying reason was his reticence.

So what, then, was the cause? For what failing is Moshe's name excised from Tetzaveh? Hashem chose Moshe because he was the person best suited to confront Pharaoh and lead the Israelites out of Egypt. But that election did not mean that Moshe was best suited for all the leadership tasks that needed to be performed in order for B'nei Yisrael to enter and conquer Canaan. Particularly, Moshe has clearly failed to reform this unruly mass of former slaves. Even before leaving Egypt, they start to complain: “May Hashem look on you and judge you!”, they cry to Moshe. “You have made us obnoxious to Pharaoh and his officials and have put a sword in their hand to kill us.” [Ex. 5:21] At Yam Suf, they muttered again: “They said to Moshe, 'Was it because there were no graves in Egypt that you brought us to the wilderness to die? What have you done to us by bringing us out of Egypt? It would have been better for us to serve the Egyptians than to die in the wilderness!'” [Ex. 14:11-12] And then, just three days after seeing “the mighty hand of Hashem” split the Yam Suf, they again accost Moshe about the lack of food and water: “The Israelites said to them, 'If only we had died by Hashem's hand in Egypt! There we sat around pots of meat and ate all the food we wanted, but you have brought us into this wilderness to starve this entire assembly to death.'” [Ex. 16.3] To top off this list, we have the Golden Calf, discussed in next week's parsha, but probably occurring at the same time that Hashem spoke the words of Tetsaveh to Moshe.

B'nei Yisrael are mired in their generations-long slave mindset. While Moshe has taken Israel out of slavery, he has not been able to take slavery out of the Israelites. Once dependent on their slave masters for not only their “pots of meat” but for the very structure of their lives, B'nei Yisrael are now dependent on Moshe. They are still far from being a coherent whole, a people who embraces their unity and responsibility as servants of Hashem. How then can this murky darkness that clouds their souls be lifted, replaced by the light of freedom?

I suggest that Hashem's solution to this dilemma had two distinct elements, both reflected in this parsha. One is the eradication of Moshe's name from this parsha, part a symbolic act to underscore the fact that the Israelites are dependent only on Hashem, not any human – not even Moshe. And this erasure may also be a symbolic punishment of Moshe for his inability to wrest the slave mentality from the hearts and souls of his charges.

The second salient of this campaign is reflected in the extended, if not exaggerated, repetition of the details of assembling the Mishkan and its accoutrements. What all the signs and wonders displayed by Hashem (the ten plagues, the splitting of Yam Suf, the revelation on Har Sinai) have failed to accomplish -- the molding the people into a cohesive group imbued with responsibility and identity – is achieved instead by moving the nation to act on its own behalf, by building the tabernacle. As Chief Rabbi Jonathan Sacks has written,

That is when G-d does the single most unexpected thing. He says to Moses: speak to the people and tell them to contribute, to give something of their own, be it gold or silver or bronze, be it wool or animal skin, be it oil or incense, or their skill or their time, and get them to build something together – a symbolic home for my presence, a Tabernacle. It doesn't need to be large or grand or permanent. Get them to make something, to become builders. Get them to give...

During the whole time the Tabernacle was being constructed, there were no complaints, no rebellions, no dissension. What all the signs and wonders failed to do, the construction of the Tabernacle succeeded in doing. It transformed the people. It turned them into a cohesive group. It gave them a sense of responsibility and identity.

Seen in this context, the story of the Tabernacle was the essential element in the birth of a nation. No wonder it is told at length. … The Tabernacle did not last forever, but the lesson it taught did.

And this lesson is reflected in a small snippet of Talmud that we read at the end of Kabbalat Shabbat services (and which, here at Beth Jacob, we frequently add at the end of the daily Shacharit service):

Rabbi Elazar said in the name of Rabbi Hanina: Torah scholars increase peace in the world, as it is said: And all your children will be students of Hashem and your children will have abundant peace. Do not read 'your children' [banayikh], rather 'your builders' [bonayikh]. [BT Berakhot 64a]

Parashat Teruma
Adar 2, 5772 ~ February 25, 2012
by Sid Miller

We rely on various representations to signal the presence of social values, the power of the state, the function and construct of laws, and existence of an overriding belief system. Examples of such symbols include the Israeli flag, the depiction of the blindfolded woman of justice, and the Star of David.

The presence of such well known symbols can provide individuals and communities great comfort and joy. Such symbols remind us of the values, responsibilities, beliefs, and the underlying principles that guide our lives and the lives of our friends, acquaintances, professional and personal colleagues.

In a heterogeneous society, differing symbols compete for the attention and adherence of selected members of the population. In Parsha Terumah, we are reminded of Hashem’s recognition of Humanity’s need to be reminded of the immediate, recognizable representations of His presences, dwelling places, and laws and admonishments.

Like fond remembrances of playful children shouting and playing, an endearing poem, and a prophetic observation, the constancy of the sights and sounds of Hashem’s dwelling place, the dressing that protects and preserves his advise and laws provides the adherent and observer instant recognition of what they behold, and the values, responsibilities, and awards that are attendant.

Hashem, in Parsha Terumah, has outlined the universal visual structure through which He communicates His presence and His universal principles and laws. It is these principles and laws that Jews are exalted to recognize, teach, and follow during their daily lives.

Heshem’s instructions are specific, focusing on such components as the design and construction of the Sanctuary, Tabernacle, tables, the placement of the Menorah, and how the walls will be clothed. He focuses on materials, craftsmanship, and arrangement, insuring His presence will be recognized and all who approach will acknowledge His laws and obligations.

This is what Terumah seeks to establish and convey: An unchanging, universal presence, constant and upright.

Parashat Yitro

Parashat Yitro
Shevat 18, 5772 ~ February 11, 2012
by Joanne Jagoda

A Discussion of Parasha Yitro

This week’s parasha is one of my favorites and is certainly loaded with possible topics to consider including the monumental event of the giving of the Ten Commandments. I have chosen to limit myself to the first section of the parasha which deals with Yitro, the Midianite priest, who was the father in law of Moshe. The first question one should consider is why this parasha was named for Yitro. Let’s take a look at what he did for B’nai Yisroel to merit the honor of having the parasha named after him, one of only a handful named after people.

A little background…Yitro was a Midianite priest, one of pharaoh’s advisers and a man of status and wealth. Moshe had fled to Midian after having killed the Egyptian hitting one of the Hebrew slaves. He had helped Yitro’s daughters get water at a well and was invited to meet him. He stayed with him working as a shepherd and married Zippora one of Yitro’s daughters. While tending the sheep, he saw the burning bush and heard G-d’s voice telling him to return to Egypt and help his people. When Moshe returns to Egypt, Yitro chooses not to go with him. Though Midian had an alliance with Amalek, Yitro did not become an enemy of B’nei Yisrael. Zippora and the two sons of Moshe had remained with Yitro and at the beginning of the parasha he is bringing them back to reunite with his son-in-law.

The parasha opens with the words, “Yitro, the priest of Midian, father-in-law of Moshe heard everything that G-d had done for Moshe and to Israel, his people that Hashem had taken Israel out of Egypt." There are several striking points in this sentence. He is identified first as a priest of Midian then as the father-in- law of Moshe. Yitro "heard" how the Red Sea was split, how Amalek was defeated and about the miracle of the Exodus. He also "heard" what G-d had done for his "people" Israel. It is worth noting that Yitro is mentioned as the father-in-law of Moshe, חותן משה, seven times in the parasha which reiterates his relationship to him on a personal level, as family. The text uses various forms of the term חותן, father-in-law, another six times within the chapter.

Moshe’s respect for Yitro was evident because he “went out to greet him,” Va yetze Moshe likrat hotno. When Yitro hears about all that G-d had done his reply is profound. He says, Baruch Hashem, praised be G-d who rescued you from the hand of Egypt and from the hand of Pharaoh. This established a precedent of using the phrase, Baruch Hashem. When Yitro listened, he was able to comprehend the greatness of G-d. While the whole world heard, Yitro heard and was humbled and became a convert. The Midrash states that Yitro had studied all the religions of the world and rejected them as false. When he said, ‘Now I know that Hashem is greater than all other powers” it was a powerful message about his understanding that Hashem is the true G-d.

One of the many on-line discussions I read (Ohr Sameach) offered that when Yitro heard of the Exodus and the miracles that were performed for the Jewish People his happiness was so great that he felt physically elated, like someone who weeps or faints through being overwhelmed with the emotion of unexpected joy. Literally, his flesh started to prickle. He had gooseflesh, (18:9) a visceral reaction. Yitro really listened and grasped the meaning of the momentous events.

There is also a very interesting debate among our great sages as to whether Yitro came to Moshe before or after matan Torah: Rashi feels that Yitro joined B’nai Yisroel after the giving of the Torah while others feel that Yitro arrived after the war with Amalek but before the giving of the Torah. Regardless of whether the giving of the Torah occurred before or after he came, the Torah places the section of Yitro before. The implication was that Hashem wanted to give Torah to a disciplined society with an orderly legislative process in place.

Yitro observed that his son-in-law Moshe was judging the people from morning until evening. He gives him sage advice about not getting burned out, What you are doing is not good. You are going to wear yourself out, along with this nation that is with you.” Yitro’s concern was that Moshe could not possibly hear all the cases and the people would get weary waiting for their cases to be heard. He tells him to delegate and appoint leaders to act as trusted judges who will seek the leader's counsel only in the most difficult cases.

Yitro gives four important virtues all judges should possess to insure they would be impartial and have the proper qualities and spiritual strength necessary to judge the nation. Yitro also suggested the different divisions of the legislative system, leaders of thousands, hundreds fifties and leaders of tens. Our sages question why the Torah makes such a point of relating Yitro’s advice. Abarbanel and other scholars even suggest that what he said was nothing new and Moshe was merely giving Yitro respect as his father in law.

When Yitro gave his advice it was especially valuable because he was a stranger who would not be suspected of having any ulterior motives. One could think of him as an outside “consultant.” Yitro advised with great wisdom that Moshe must, look among all the people, rather than choose from among the people. He was admonishing Moshe to look into the character of the people personally in making his selections. Moshe was a wise son in law, “Va Yishma Moshe Lekol hotno, and “Moshe heeded the voice of his father-in-law and did everything he said.”

In considering the placement of the story of Yitro at the beginning of the parasha it is significant because the people had to learn a lesson of what it meant to listen. Yitro heard and understood and acknowledged Hashem. In one of the d’var Torahs I read, there was an interesting point that suggests the placement of the Yitro story has a direct relationship to the giving of the Torah which will follow. It could have gone almost anywhere in the story of the march through the desert. It would make even more sense in a couple of weeks, after the detailed laws beginning in Exodus 21 in Parashat Mishpatim that form the basis for Moshe's work as judge. It's only after Moshe gives up some of his work and steps back from the minutia that he is available for God to summon to the mountain and receive the Torah and be in a position to experience God's revelation. It's only when the people don't have to stand in line all day to talk to Moshe that they are freed up to listen to the Ten Commandments.

The relevance of studying Yitro is not only for the advice he gave in establishing the judiciary but because of his understanding of the greatness of Hashem. He also taught the people the importance of listening. How often do we really listen with understanding to the prayers we hear that we too often recite by rote. We need to stop sometimes to look around us and listen and contemplate the miracles of Hashem so that we can utter with sincerity the same praise, Baruch Hashem as Yitro did.