14 Feb FAN OR PLAYER? THE BIG GAME CALLED LIFE

Over 208 million
viewers tuned in at
some point to watch
last year’s Super
Bowl. In fact, the big
game drew so much
attention, that last year
a 30 second commercial cost $7 million,
or $233,333 per second. Consider this –
In contrast, only 158.4 million people cast
a vote in the 2020 presidential election,
which was considered an impressive
turnout. Indeed, the last ten Super Bowls
attracted more than 150 million viewers
while the 2020 election is the only
presidential election to hit that mark. This
is not just a statement on the country’s
priorities – data also suggests that people
like to watch and be spectators to
something big.
Vayishma Yisro kohen midyan chosein
Moshe eis kol asher asah Elokim l’Moshe
u’lYisroel amo, ki hotzi Hashem es
Yisroel mi’mitzrayim. Rashi, quoting the
famous statement from the Gemara in
Maseches Zevachim, asks, mah shemuah
shama ubah? What did Yisro hear that
inspired him to come. Rashi answers he
heard about the splitting of the sea and the
war with Amalek.
The question of the Talmud is perplexing.
What do you mean “What did Yisro hear
that made him come,” did the Rabbis not
read the end of the pasuk, where it clearly
states what Yisro heard?
But there is something that troubles me
much more, that is indeed somewhat
staggering. While we read this week of
the impressive arrival of Yisro, how he
abandoned all of the other religions and
modes of worship to join the Jewish
people in the desert, we never find out
what actually happens to him. The pasuk
tells us a little later, Vayeshalach Moshe
es chosno, vayeilech lo el artzo. Moshe
sends off his father-in-law, and he goes to
his land. Why didn’t Yisro stay, where did
he go off to? What ultimately happens to
Yisro?
Indeed, we do encounter Yisro one more
time. He reappears amidst the drama and
saga of Jewish History. In the book of
Bamidbar, Yisro reemerges among the
nation of Israel, but again seeks to depart
back to his home. This time, in a striking
departure from what we would call normal

behavior between a son-in-law and father-
in-law, Moshe begs, pleads and implores

Yisro to stay.

After a brief back and forth, the
discussion ends abruptly and we are again
left without knowing what happened to
Yisro. Indeed, the Torah literally leaves it
a mystery: did Yisro ultimately reside
among the Jewish people or did he move
on? The text is so ambiguous that it leaves
room for the commentators to debate the
issue. The Ramban explains that Moshe’s
arguments were so cogent and convincing
that Yisro yielded to the request and
remained among Bnei Yisroel. The
Seforno comments that Yisro followed his
earlier pattern and once again split off
from the Jewish people and headed home.
The question for us, though, is why
would the Torah omit this seemingly
important fact, this very relevant detail?
We heard so much about his arrival, why
not include whether or not he stayed?
The answer to both questions, I believe,
is the same. In truth, the Torah is not
concerned with what ultimately happens
with Yisro. Where did he live, how many
children did he have, what minyan did he
daven at, what kind of yarmulke did he
wear, all of this is not what we learn from
Yisro. The Torah is most impressed with,
and wants to impress upon us, how Yisro
did not exist in life as a spectator, an
observer, but rather lived by listening
carefully and by being moved by what he
heard. He didn’t watch from the sidelines,
but he decided to enter the game.
The Talmud wasn’t asking what did
Yisro hear that made him come, that’s
clear from the pasuk. Look at the language
of the question again. The Gemara didn’t
ask mah shemuah shama, what did Yisro
hear, it asked mah shemuah shama u’bah,
what did Yisro hear that made him come,
that got him off of his couch, and to live
life.
Yisro merits having a Parsha named for
him—and not just any Parsha, the one that
contains the most seminal event in Jewish
History, matan Torah—because he taught
us a critical lesson. We must not live as
spectators but we must enter the game.
All of Yisro’s contemporaries heard the
miraculous events that occurred to the
Jewish people. We recite every day,
Sham’u amim yirgazun, they all heard.
But Yisro didn’t hear as a spectator from
the sideline, he really heard the message
and was moved to action.
I am a sports fan. There is nothing wrong
with being a spectator at times but we
have to distinguish between real life and

leisure. In his book ““The Meaning of
Sports: Why Americans Watch Baseball,
Football and Basketball and What They
See When They Do,” Michael
Mandelbaum, a professor at Johns
Hopkins, argues that we escape our lives
and live vicariously through the athletes
we watch when we become spectators.
He writes, “The word sport is related to
‘disport’ to divert oneself. Baseball,
football and basketball divert spectators
from the burdens of normal existence…
The prominence of the word play in team
sports reveals their affinity with drama,
the oldest form of which is in English, the
play and the participants in which the
actors are by tradition like participants in
games called players.”
In the 1950s, the Lubavitcher Rebbe zt”l
met with a young man who was about to
become a Bar Mitzvah. After meeting
with him and giving him a bracha, he had
one more question for him: “Are you a
baseball fan?” The Bar-Mitzvah boy
replied that he was. “Which team are you
a fan of — the Yankees or the Dodgers?”
The Dodgers, replied the boy. “Does your
father have the same feeling for the
Dodgers as you have?” No. “Does he take
you out to games?”
Well, every once in a while my father
takes me to a game. We were at a game a
month ago. “How was the game?” It was
disappointing, the 13-year-old confessed.
By the sixth inning, the Dodgers were
losing nine-to-two, so we decided to
leave. “Did the players also leave the
game when you left?” “Rabbi, the players
can’t leave in the middle of the game!”
“Why not?” asked the Rebbe. “Explain to
me how this works.”
“There are players and fans,” the baseball
fan explained. “The fans can leave when
they like — they’re not part of the game
and the game could, and does, continue
after they leave. But the players need to
stay and try to win until the game is over.”
“That is the lesson I want to teach you in
Judaism,” said the Rebbe with a smile.
“You can be either a fan or a player. Be a
player.”
This escape, this notion of living as a fan
is perfectly acceptable for windows of
time necessary to relax. The problem is
that this mindset, this attitude has
pervaded much of our ‘real’ lives. What
might be termed a spectator psychology
has invaded virtually every area of human
concern. Far too many people sit on the
sidelines and contentedly observe others.

People become ‘just spectators’ to their
own lives. They therefore cannot act to
improve their lives and to change what is
going on in their lives any more than they
can act to change what is going on in the
movies or the soap operas.
In a reality TV, spectator society, it is so
easy to sit on our couch and be critical of
others. It is easy to become complacent,
satisfied and content watching those
around us but not actually seeking to
change ourselves, to embrace that which
is correct or to make a difference.
We don’t know what happens to Yisro,
but it is unimportant. What is important is
that he taught us how to be a seeker and a
searcher. He taught us how to break the
mold of those watching from the sidelines
and make the decision to join the game.
Hashem tells Bnei Yisrael, Va’Esa
Eschem al Kanfei Nesharim V’Avi
Eschem Eilai, I will lift you up on the
wings of eagles and I will bring you close
to Me. The first move is made by Hashem;
I will bring you close to Me. And in the
next pasuk the Torah uses the term
segulah: V’Heyisem Li Segulah Mikol
Ha’Amim, you will be to me more
beloved than all the nations. He makes
the first move and we respond. As the
pasuk says in the end of sefer Eichah,
Hashiveinu Hashem Eilecha V’Nashuva;
Return us to You and we will respond with
Teshuvah.
In just a few months we will sit at the
Pesach seder and when it comes time to
welcome Eliyahu HaNavi we will get up
and open the door. Let me ask you an
obvious question: can Eliyahu not come
through the chimney? Can’t he crawl
through the window or walk through a
closed door? Why do we have to open the
door? If we want the geulah, the
redemption to come, we can’t remain
seated in our chairs as spectators, but we
must get up and respond with action.