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    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—and are 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, Tefilin, 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 pinna-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, who 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?