07 Feb YISRO: TO THINE OWN SELF BE TRUE
WHY NO STEPS
ASCENDING TO
THE ALTAR?
Climbing the
Hotel
Bill, Jim, and Scott
were at a convention together sharing a
large suite at the top of a 75-story hotel.
After a long day of meetings, they were
shocked to hear that the elevators in their
hotel were broken, and they would have
to climb 75 flights of stairs to get to their
room.
Bill said to Jim and Scott, “Let’s break
the monotony of this unpleasant task by
concentrating on something interesting.
I’ll tell jokes for 25 flights, Jim can sing
songs for the next 25 flights and Scott
will tell sad stories for the rest of the
way.” On the 26th floor, Bill stopped
telling jokes and Jim began to sing. At
the 51st floor, Jim stopped singing and
Scott began to tell sad stories.
“I will tell my saddest story first,” he
said. “I left the room key in the car.”
No Stairs
This week’s Torah portion, Yisro,
capturing the most important and
defining event in Jewish history, the
covenant crafted between G-d and a
people chosen to become the paragons of
morality and holiness in an earthly
world, concludes with a strange
instruction:
“You shall not ascend My Altar on steps
so that your nakedness will not be
uncovered upon it.”
The biblical commentators explain that
the priests serving in the Temple wore
short pants, spanning from the thighs to
the knees. Ascending stairs requires one
to take wide, extensive, and spacious
steps, which would expose more of their
body, and would not befit the reverence
required in G-d’s home. The Torah,
therefore, required a ramp ascending to
the altar, since this allows the priest to
take small strides in a dignified and
respectful manner.
The great 11th century French biblical
commentator Rashi explains this in
greater detail: “Steps require you to take
wide strides. Although this does not in
actuality expose your nakedness…
nonetheless, taking wide steps is close to
exposing nakedness. Thus, by taking
wide steps, you treat the stones of the
altar in a humiliating manner.” Rashi
adds that this mitzvah teaches us an
important moral lesson. “If regarding
these stones which lack the perception to
be hurt by their humiliation, the Torah
says, ‘Since there is a need for them, do
not treat them in a humiliating manner,’
your fellow human being who is created
in the image of your Creator and is
sensitive to humiliation, how much more
so must you treat him with respect!”
The Climax
As mentioned above, this week’s
portion captures the most significant
event in the history of the Jewish people
and of the world — when G-d, in a
moment never to be repeated again —
revealed to an entire nation His existence,
charging it with the mission of saturating
the world with holiness. This was the
moment when the Creator communicated
to the world His universal laws of
morality and ethics. If we believe that
somebody created the world and cares
about its destiny, it is fair to assume that
at some point this Being communicated
with its inhabitants His intent in creation.
This is indeed what transpired at Sinai. It
was the event that gave human history, in
historian Paul Johnson’s words, “the
dignity of purpose.” It paved the road in
the jungle of history.
One would expect that the closing
sentence of this portion would somehow
capture the power and grace of this
extraordinary moment, one that in many
ways shapes the moral history of
humanity. Yet the Torah chooses to
culminate this section with what seems
to be a simple and mundane law: “You
shall not ascend My altar on steps so that
your nakedness will not be uncovered
upon it.” Why?
Finding Your Own Truth
It is precisely in these final words that
the Torah shares with us a moving lesson
regarding the human quest to “ascend
G-d’s Altar,” to climb the ladder of moral
and spiritual enlightenment.
Often in life, people experience a new
awareness that inspires them to move
their lives to a different level, to live
deeper, and to love deeper. They are
moved to make changes.
Yet sometimes, as a result of a
genuine longing to abandon a
previous lifestyle of shallowness,
falsehood, addiction,
promiscuity, loneliness, or
shame, people begin to take wide
and expansive steps, determined
to reach great peaks in short
spans of time, craving to master
elevated modes of consciousness
and lifestyles.
Thus, immediately following the most
spiritually enlightening and earth-
shattering event in history, when G-d
shared Himself with humanity, the Torah
culminates with this declaration: “You
shall not ascend My Altar on steps, so
that your nakedness will not be
uncovered upon it.” Do not become who
you are not. Do not jump to places
beyond yourself. Every movement
forward must be internalized and
integrated into your individual identity
because when you take steps that
overwhelm you, rather than elevate you,
you may end up naked and exposed. You
might fall down fast and hard. People
who overestimate themselves, often end
up underestimating themselves.
Never disregard, the Torah is teaching
us, the value of one small move in the
quest for truth. Wherever you are in life,
you can serve G-d genuinely according
to your own potential and situation. You
can discover the light of G-d within your
present condition. Challenge yourself to
encounter your own inner light and truth;
you need not climb on the truths and
experiences of others. Grow you must;
challenge yourself you must. But take
the ramp, not the stairs. Don’t jump
ahead of yourself, because your authentic
self may be left behind. And when you
discover that, you may fall down and
lose everything. You might end up bare.
King Solomon put it simply: “Do not
stand in the place of the great.” Why?
Not because by stepping into the shoes
of the great, you will be robbing
somebody else of his or her place of
greatness. Rather, by doing so, you will
be denying yourself your own individual
process, the one that is great for you.
Real people are inspired by other people
but never copy them.
Of course, there are moments you make
take a big jump that may initially seem
frightening. Big things happen when
ordinary people muster the courage to
actualize extraordinary visions. The path
to recovery and to healing always
requires a drastic leap. Yet we must
ensure that these big steps enhance our
true identity rather than crush it; that
they embody our inner calling, mission,
and power, not a superficial emulation of
other people’s standards and behaviors.
“To Thine Own Self Be True,” is also
true in the religious and spiritual life.
Sometimes even more. G-d wants you to
be you, not me. He wants me to be me,
not you.
Wine and Vinegar
A Talmudic vignette:
The Talmud quotes one of its great
sages, Mar Eukva, saying the following
curious statement about himself: “I am,
in comparison to my father, what vinegar
is in comparison to wine. When my
father would eat meat, he would wait a
full 24 hours until he ate cheese. But I?
When I eat meat, I eat cheese during the
following meal” (around six hours later).
The obvious question is, if this Talmudic
sage held his father’s behavior in such
high esteem, to the extent of seeing
himself as vinegar compared to his father
as wine, why didn’t he change his
behavior and follow his father’s custom?
Why didn’t he turn himself into “wine?”
The answer may be that Mar Eukva was
keenly aware of the truth that his father
was on a totally different spiritual level
than he. Waiting a full 24 hours after
eating meat before he would eat cheese
would in some mystical way enrich his
father’s soul. For the son to engage in
this behavior, it would be merely an act
of copying and mimicking his father’s
behavior. For his soul, this would be a
meaningless experience.
Since according to Jewish law, after
eating meat one needs to wait only six
hours in order to eat dairy products, this
sufficed for Mar Eukvah.