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    PARSHAT YISRO: WHY I AM A PROUD JEW THREE TRUTHS WHICH COMPELLED YISRO TO JOIN OUR PEOPLE

    The Story of Yisro
    The opening of this
    week’s parsha tells
    the story of the priest
    of Midian, Yisro,
    who chooses to
    come to the
    wilderness to spend
    time with the fledgling Jewish nation. “Yisro,
    the priest of Midian, the father-in-law of
    Moshe, heard of all that G-d did for Moshe
    and His people Israel; that G-d had taken
    Israel out of Egypt.” He took his daughter and
    two grandchildren and traveled to the
    wilderness to Moshe and the new Jewish
    nation. The Talmud asks this question: What
    did Yisro hear which inspired him to come to
    the Sinai desert? The Talmud cites three
    opinions:
    Rabbi Yehoshua says, he heard of the war of
    Amalek against the Bnei Yisrael and he came.
    Rabbi Elazar Hamudaei says, he heard of the
    giving of the Torah and he came. Rabbi
    Eliezer says: He heard about the splitting of
    the sea and he came.
    This seems strange. The Torah clearly states
    what Yisro heard: “And Yisro, the priest of
    Midian, the father-in-law of Moshe, heard of
    all that G-d did for Moshe and His people
    Israel; that G-d had taken Israel out of Egypt!”
    That is why he picked himself up and traveled
    to the Sinai desert. Why does the Talmud ask,
    “What did he hear that made him come?” And
    why does the Talmud offer different reasons
    than those stated in the text? Also, what is the
    logic behind these three Talmudic opinions?
    Must we always argue about everything?
    Why do these eminent chachamim attribute
    Yisro’s sacrifice to another factor?
    A Player, Not a Fan
    The question that perturbed the chachamim
    was this. Prior to his arrival, Yisro was living
    in great honor and distinction. At the height of
    his career as the religious leader of Midian,
    Yisro was surrounded by riches and glory, as
    was the destiny of the Pagan priests of yore.
    Yet he left behind all of it, only to arrive in a
    barren wilderness, eager to hear the words of
    Torah. He no longer saw himself as a Priest of
    Midian; instead, he identified himself as the
    father-in-law of Moshe. Note the question of
    the Talmud: “mah shmuah shama uba?” what
    did Yisro hear which compelled him to
    COME? Why would a person of such stature
    abandon everything in order to pursue an
    attraction to Torah? What compels an
    aristocratic spiritual leader to abandon his
    comfortable habitat and glorious lifestyle and
    come join a nation of nomads in a desert? Yes,
    the Torah tells us that he heard what G-d did
    for Israel and that he took them out of Egypt.
    But Yisro could have been content with
    hearing the stories from far, watching them on
    CNN or Fox News and reading the blogs.
    What motivated him to say goodbye to his
    past and become one of three million Jews?
    You can sit on your couch on Sunday and be
    a fan of one team or another; you can be an

    admirer, a cheerer, a supporter. But why did
    Yisro feel the need to undergo a metamorphosis
    from spectator to player? Why did he have to
    link his fate to the Jewish fate?
    For this, the sages present three alternative
    answers. For one, Yisro witnessed the war of
    Amalek against Bnei Yisrael; for the other,
    Yisro heard of the Torah. For the third, he
    heard of the splitting of the sea. These three
    events capture the three timeless features
    which embody the Jewish story.
    The Mystery of Hate
    “Rabbi Yehoshua says, he heard of the war of
    Amalek against the Bnei Yisrael and he
    came.”
    The war of Amalek represented the timeless
    enigma of anti-Semitism. Here was Amalek, a
    strong and secure nation, unprovoked and
    unthreatened, yet this Amalekite nation found
    it necessary to declare war on a young nation
    that has just set itself free from decades of
    brutal persecution and suffering. The Jews
    have been in Pharaoh’s massive concentration
    camps for 86 years—beaten, crushed, and
    murdered mercilessly. Their infants were
    plunged into the Nile River, as the men were
    subjected to slave labor and torture. Now,
    these people were finally free. Merely a few
    weeks after their liberation, Amalek declared
    a sudden bloody war on Israel. It was not a
    territorial dispute which ignited the conflict,
    as Amalek did not even make the claim that
    the “Jews were occupying his homeland.”
    The Jews were traveling in the wilderness,
    remote from Amalek’s territory. Nor were
    there any political, economic, or military
    motivations, as Israel was minding its own
    business and not intending even to visit
    Amalek’s country. Pharaoh at least had the
    excuse of fearing that the Jews would take
    over Egypt. What was Amalek’s excuse to
    come and kill Jews? The answer is: He did not
    need an excuse. This was not rational,
    calculated hatred. He just hated them because
    of their very being. When hate is rational,
    based on some fear that has some logic to it,
    even if it is unjustified, then it can be reasoned
    with and brought to an end. If I hate you
    because I feel that you undermine by business,
    or you don’t respect me in the company, the
    hatred has a cure. If I can see that you mean
    me no harm, or that you too have been
    operating out of fear, we can mend the
    relationship. But how about unconditional,
    irrational hatred? What happens if I hate you
    because of your very existence? Such hate
    cannot be reasoned with. Amalek had no
    reason—not even an unjustified reason, based
    on unjust fear or insecurity—to attack Israel.
    This was irrational, groundless hate. As long
    as Jews existed, Amalek could not feel
    wholesome. With irrational hate, it is
    impossible to reason. It has no cause, no
    logic. Therefore, it may never go away. This
    is what Yisro observed. He realized that for
    some odd reason the Jew inspires irrational
    venom and animosity in the hearts of certain
    peoples. They hate the Jews simply because

    they are Jews. Something about the Jew
    drives them mad. Yisro, an assiduous student
    of history, realized that there must be
    something incredibly holy, Divine, and good
    about the Jew which evokes such hatred
    toward him or her in the heart of every despot.
    For Yisro, this was enough to know where to
    cast his lot. Show me your enemies and I will
    tell you who you are. Draw up a list of Israel’s
    foes—from the days of yore to this very
    day—and you will see that they were and are
    all ruthless tyrants who would sell their own
    people for their greed and hunger for power.
    Stalin, Hitler, Saddam Hussein, Gamel Abdal
    Nasser, Yasser Arafat, Osama Bin Laden,
    Hafez Al Asad, Hassan Nasrallah, and
    Qassem Soleimani were not only enemies of
    Israel and the Jews. They constitute and
    remain a threat to every good and decent
    person the world over. Seeing who hates Jews
    can be a powerful, if a bit strange, source of
    Jewish pride.
    The Grandeur of Torah
    “Rabbi Elazar Hamudaei says, he heard of the
    giving of the Torah and he came.” Rabbi
    Elazar Hamudei’s point of view is that though
    anti-Semitism can teach us about the moral
    stature of the Jewish people, this was not
    enough. What enthralled Yisro about the
    Jewish story was not just that some
    people hated Jews with an irrational passion,
    but that G-d loved them, and He gave them
    His Torah. When Yisro heard of the powerful
    institutions of Judaism—its obsession with
    education, charity, justice, compassion,
    loving the stranger, respecting the slave,
    feeding the poor, honoring the old, giving
    dignity to the sick and the mentally
    challenged; when Yisro learned of the
    Mitzvos of Torah—Shabbos, Mikvah,
    Kashrus, Tefillin, prayer, study; when he
    discovered the ethical foundations of
    Judaism—that no one is above the law, that
    each person was created in G-d’s image and
    has infinite dignity, that history has a purpose,
    and that each of us was conceived in love to
    fulfill a mission—when the Midianite chief
    Pagan priest learned of all this, he fell in love
    with Torah and joined Bnei Yisrael. Now,
    3300 years later, we often take for granted the
    contribution of the Torah to civilization. But
    Yisro did not. We take for granted the quality
    of life shaped by Torah values and rituals over
    millennia. Shabbos creates happier homes;
    Torah education creates more balanced
    teenagers. The emphasis on tradition and
    history diminishes the generational gap
    between parents and children. The laws of
    Jewish burial, sitting shivah, and saying
    kaddish are deeply comforting during times
    of loss. The sense of community helps people
    in times of crisis. All of these concepts were
    new and novel ideas and Yisro, a brilliant man
    of ideas, understood the majestic grandeur of
    Torah. This is what inspired him to link his
    destiny to the Nation of Torah.
    The Super-Natural Quality
    “Rabbi Eliezer says: He heard about the

    splitting of the sea and he came.” Rabbi
    Eliezer takes it a step further. If it was only for
    Torah itself, Yisro could have remained on his
    hammock in Midian, sipping a pina-colada
    and watching a Torah webcast on TheYeshiva.
    net, or reading a good Jewish book. What
    inspired him to leave his natural environment
    to join a crowded wilderness with millions of
    Jews? When he heard of the splitting of the
    sea. The splitting of the sea demonstrated to
    Yisro another component of the Jewish story:
    The Bnei Yisrael transcended the laws of
    nature and the deterministic patterns of
    history. The largest seas, mightiest oceans,
    and fiercest tsunamis would not drown them.
    They would confront many overwhelming
    seas throughout their history, they would
    encounter impossible odds, and yet they
    would cross every sea and come out on the
    other side, stronger, more vibrant, more alive,
    and determined. A nation that endured
    crusades, inquisitions, pogroms, massacres,
    gas chambers, crematoriums, and suicide
    bombings—and yet inexplicably emerged,
    pulsating with a love for life and a zest for
    peace, this is a people whose narrative
    transcends the formulas of natural history.
    Yisro understood what the great Russian
    novelist, Leo Tolstoy, articulated in a 1908
    article: “The Jew is that sacred being who has
    brought down from heaven the everlasting
    fire, and has illuminated with it the entire
    world. He is the religious source, spring, and
    fountain out of which all the rest of the
    peoples have drawn their beliefs and their
    religions.
    The Jew is the emblem of eternity. He, who
    neither slaughter nor torture of thousands of
    years could destroy, he who neither fire nor
    sword, nor Inquisition was able to wipe off
    the face of the earth. He, who was the first to
    produce the Oracles of G-d. He has been for
    so long the Guardian of Prophecy and has
    transmitted it to the rest of the world. Such a
    nation cannot be destroyed. The Jew is as
    everlasting as Eternity itself.” Yisro
    understood that to experience this immortality
    he must leave his mansion in Midian and join
    the nomads in the desert. To become part of a
    story that transcends nature, you must
    transcend your own nature and actively join
    the symphony of eternity. Yisro was not
    Jewish. Yet he made an awesome sacrifice in
    order to join the Jewish people and internalize
    Torah. We were given this gift by birth. Will
    we not leave our comfort zones to embrace it,
    celebrate it, study it, and make it part of our
    lives?