Changing the Theory, Not the Facts: Yitro 5786

This piece was first published in the Hanassi Highlights, Thursday 5 February 2026. You can also read it in Hebrew, via AI, by clicking here.

At first glance, Parshat Yitro can feel like a collection of unrelated episodes. The arrival of Yitro, an administrative restructuring, and the thunderous revelation at Har Sinai do not obviously belong together. Yet when we look more carefully, a unifying thread emerges—one that speaks powerfully to human growth, leadership, and faith.

There is a quote attributed to Albert Einstein: “When the facts don’t fit the theory, change the facts.” This line captures a very human tendency: to protect our assumptions even when reality challenges them. Parshat Yitro presents the opposite model. Three times in this parsha, we encounter individuals or a nation willing to revise their “theory” in the face of compelling truth.

The first is Yitro himself. The Torah tells us that Yitro heard, and he came. Chazal describe Yitro as someone who had worshipped every form of idolatry known to the ancient world. He was not ignorant, naive, or sheltered; on the contrary, he was experienced and worldly. And yet, when he heard what had happened to Bnei Yisrael—the Exodus, the miracles, the survival against impossible odds—he  did not explain it away. He listened, he processed, and he changed. In a world where most people doubled down on their beliefs (much like our world today), Yitro was willing to say: I was wrong.

The second example is Moshe Rabbeinu. Yitro observes Moshe judging the people alone, from morning until night, and offers unsolicited advice: this is unsustainable. Moshe could easily have rejected the suggestion of the outsider. Yet instead, the Torah emphasizes that Moshe did everything Yitro suggested. For the greatest leader and prophet in history to accept guidance from an outsider is not a small detail—it is a profound statement about humility and openness. True leadership is not threatened by new perspectives; it is strengthened by them.

The third, and most dramatic, transformation is that of Bnei Yisrael at Ma’amad Har Sinai. We often forget just how revolutionary this moment was. In the ancient world, gods were visible, tangible, and embodied—statues, images, faces carved into stone and metal. To worship an invisible God, with no physical representation, was not only new; it was deeply counterintuitive. It is small wonder that throughout Tanach, the struggle against avodah zarah continues incessantly. Seen in this light, the commandment immediately following the revelation at Sinai—“Do not make with Me gods of silver or gods of gold”—is not incidental. It is a deliberate reinforcement of a radically new way of relating to God.

Parshat Yitro challenges us to ask ourselves: where might we be clinging to old patterns, assumptions or habits that no longer reflect the truth we know? Do we change the facts to fit our theories, or do we have the courage to revise the theory itself?

May we learn from these examples: to listen honestly, to remain open, and to live our lives guided not by inertia or convenience, but by what is right and true.

Shabbat Shalom!

Hearing the Truth from Afar: Yitro and the Meaning of Revelation

Yitro is one of the most unexpected figures in the Torah. He comes from a great distance—geographically and spiritually. A Midianite priest, immersed in pagan culture, he stands outside the story of Israel both by birth and by belief. And yet, it is precisely he who hears. Our member Rabbi Paul Bloom takes up the tale:

The Torah tells us that Yitro heard all that God had done for Israel and, in response, the verse uses an unusual word to describe his reaction: vayechad. Chazal struggle with its meaning, and Rashi presents several interpretations, each illuminating a different dimension of Yitro’s spiritual transformation.

One explanation connects the word to joy. Yitro rejoiced—with simcha—at what Israel had achieved. For the first time in human history, an entire nation had heard the voice of God. Revelation was no longer reserved for isolated individuals; it had become a shared human experience. Yitro could celebrate that achievement, even though it did not originate from his own people.

A second explanation offered by Rashi moves in the opposite emotional direction. Yitro trembled. He shook with fear upon hearing the fate of Egypt, a nation to which he had once been close. The destruction at the Sea was not merely a triumphant story—it was also a sobering one. Yitro possessed the moral depth to rejoice in Israel’s salvation while simultaneously feeling shock and awe at the downfall of Egypt.

A third interpretation sees the word as intellectual rather than emotional. Yitro arrived at a recognition of God’s uniqueness. After a lifetime of pagan worship, he achieved clarity: monotheism is true. This was no small step. Yitro had explored many belief systems, and precisely because of that journey, his recognition carried unique weight.

A fourth interpretation is even more radical. The word is linked to sharpness—to a knife. According to this view, Yitro circumcised himself and formally converted. The Gemara identifies him as the first ger whose conversion is described explicitly in the Torah. He did not merely admire the truth from afar; he bound himself to it physically and covenantally.

Later, the Torah records that Yitro returned to his land. Rashi explains that this was not abandonment but mission. He went back to bring his family—and perhaps others—closer to the truth he had discovered. Yitro never left Israel in spirit.

One of the most striking questions in the Torah is structural: why does the revelation at Sinai—Matan Torah, the foundational moment of Jewish existence—begin with the story of Yitro? Why frame the thunder, lightning, and national covenant with the quiet arrival of a Midianite priest?

One answer is that Yitro’s story complements Sinai. Sinai is a public, overwhelming event—a national acceptance of Torah. Yitro represents something different but equally essential: personal recognition, voluntary acceptance, and inner clarity. Revelation is not only about what happens when God speaks loudly to a nation; it is also about what happens when a human being truly listens.

Yitro teaches that Torah is not sustained by spectacle alone. It requires individuals who can hear truth even when it does not flatter their past, their culture, or their comfort. His presence frames Sinai with humility and openness, reminding us that covenant without understanding is incomplete.

There is something profoundly contemporary about Yitro’s legacy. In modern Israel, the Druze community—non-Jews who live primarily in the North—have demonstrated extraordinary loyalty to the Jewish people and the State of Israel. They serve, they sacrifice, and they stand shoulder to shoulder with Jews in defense of the land. Many Druze maintain an ancient tradition that they descend from Yitro himself. Whether historically verifiable or not, the symbolism is powerful.

Yitro heard the truth. He was overwhelmed by it. And he responded—not with indifference, not with partial admiration, but with commitment. That ability to hear, to truly listen across distance and difference, may be one of the deepest prerequisites for receiving the Torah at all.

In that sense, Yitro does not merely introduce Sinai. He makes it possible.

Undeserved Praise

 Once again our member Rabbi Steven Ettinger takes a close look at the Torah narrative and asks whether its actual words are capable of supporting a popular explanation. This is what he writes:

If one were to survey Rabbinic literature throughout the ages to determine the greatest single action or merit associated with the Jewish people, the result would likely be that they proclaimed “na’aseh venishma” (“we will do and we will (then) listen”) at Sinai. They have been eternally praised for their willingness to blindly accept whatever Hashem might command, even before hearing the scope of or reasons for His commandments. The Talmud (Shabbat 88a) even describes how the angels descended and placed 1.2 million crowns on the heads of the 600,000 Jewish men – one for na’aseh and one for nishma (see also Likutei Moharan 9:22). There is only one problem. If you read the Torah, plainly, simply, with no derash or fancy Biblical exegesis, it seems clear that this never actually happened.

As an aside, but something to keep in mind as we move forward, the people leaving Egypt were a nation of freed slaves. Logically, we would expect their only response to any instruction to be “yes sir.” For a slave there is nothing other than doing. The reason for any command does not matter. Many times, there is no reason for a master’s demand other than to demean, to subjugate or to punish. A slave tolerates.  A slave never needs to understand, just to obey! Thus, they most likely would not have responded “na’aseh venishma,.” They simply were not conditioned to think that way!

After that shocking assertion, one that may have many of you “seeing thunder,” we must explore what really happened. The facts that emerge from the Torah’s narrative and the real meaning, in proper context, will allow us to better understand the mindset of the nation that received the Torah and why Hashem chose Moshe as his vehicle to transmit it.

We begin with parashat Yitro, at the beginning of Shemot Chapter 19, on Rosh Chodesh Sivan when Moshe receives a message from Hashem. Part of the message involves telling Bnei Yisrael that they will be special, and part involves the procedures for receiving the Torah (where to stand, how to dress, sexual conduct, etc.). To these rules and not to any part of the Torah itself, they reply, “whatever Hashem has spoken, we will do.” (Shemot 19:8). Thus, the first time they respond to a set of instructions – something that occurs before they were standing at Har Sinai, they simply respond “na’aseh” – “we will do” -- as one would expect from slaves. They receive these instructions on 3 Sivan.

On the third day after receiving these instructions, on 6 (or perhaps 7) Sivan. Moshe orally delivers the “Aseret Hadibrot” (Shemot Chapter 20). Nowhere from Shemot 19:8 through the end of the recitation of the Dibrot (or in the rest of parashat Yitro) do we find another stated acceptance by the people or the phrase “na’aseh vnishma”. Quite the contrary, chronologically, from this point until Moshe’s first return from Sinai, rather than accepting Hashem and his Torah, a portion of the people forge and worship the golden calf!

After destroying the first luchot, Moshe ascends Sinai two more times, once to beg forgiveness for the Jewish people and once more to re-present the Torah to the people. Parashat Ki Tisah fully narrates these events. Surprisingly, during this entire lengthy narrative of Matan Torah, the nation is not gathered together; nor is it asked to accept the Torah—and it does not declare “Na’aseh venishma.”

 However, there is an interesting aside found earlier in parashat Mishpatim. In Chapter 24, there is an abbreviated version of the second matan Torah. This narrative ignores the golden calf, it ignores the second luchot, it ignores Moshe’s interactions with Hashem. In fact, it most likely happened after all of those events – or it is an expansion, of sorts – where Moshe teaches more than just the Ten Commandments.

Moshe goes up the mountain accompanied partway by Aaron, his sons and the elders. He continues the rest of the way alone. Moshe comes down and teaches the people all of Hashem’s commandments. “Then the people said all that Hashem has commanded “na’aseh” “we will do” (Shemot 24:3). In other words, AFTER Moshe had gone up twice to receive the Torah (four times in total to speak to Hashem on Har Sinai), and AFTER he already taught them the commandments. Even then, all they said—which is what slaves would be expected to reply—was NA’ASEH!

The narrative does not end there.  It seems that Moshe does something that he was not directly commanded to do. He was commanded to fashion the ten commandments (“Carve for yourself two tablets of stone like the first” Shemot 34:1). He goes one step further; he writes down all of the commandments (Shemot 24:4) and “he reads it aloud to the people” (Shemot 24:7). Then, he does something else that seems strange. He builds an altar and sets up twelve pillars (one for each tribe), and has assistants offer animal sacrifices, specifically bulls.

After hearing the commandments, now a second time, from the written text, a text called the “sefer habrit” (book of the covenant), the people FINALLY say “all that Hashem has spoken, na’aseh venishma” (“we will listen and we will do”). Bottom line, this is a far cry from a praiseworthy nation that boldly and faithfully placed their desire to serve Hashem before they had any need to understand what He was asking from them! Instead, this is much more like students that failed an exam twice times and then passed after the teacher sat them down and spoon-fed them the answers.

There may be no good answer here. The sequence of events and the text simply contradict the Rabbinic narrative in a definitive manner. But perhaps an approach can be derived from the actions that Moshe takes, seemingly at his own initiative.He has listened as the people time and time again respond as slaves – blindly accepting commands. He knows their psychology and the nuances of Egyptian culture – their gods and the symbolism well. He knows that they cannot be true servants of Hashem, with free will, unless they break out of their slave mindset.  

He erects pillars for each tribe – the Pharaohs of Egypt had pyramids and monuments – on the basis that the newly freed nation likewise was deserving of monuments of its own. He builds an altar to sacrifice bulls. The bull was one of the Egyptian gods but, more importantly, it represented the strongest, most developed manifestation of a calf! In slaughtering and burning that bull and offering it to Hashem, Moshe was laying waste to the notion of Egyptian power before their eyes.

Finally, and for the last time, Moshe read Hashem’s commandments to them. He read these commandments from a book and they were not the oral commands of a task master. They were however part of a covenant. A covenant is not unilateral – it has two parties. In a sense they are not being commanded or coerced; they are agreeing.  When they heard this, when they understood that this Torah was a code of respect for them. Then they transformed their “na’aseh” their expression of a slave’s blind supplication, to “na’aseh venishma” – we obey and we are willing to listen, to learn, to understand. Perhaps that was why the angels gave them crowns: they had finally evolved from slavery to Hashem’s royalty, “mamlechet kohanim.”

 

 

 

Revelation and Legislation

Last Wednesday Rabbi Kenigsberg replaced regular speaker Rabbi Anthony Manning in the Wednesday morning program that Hanassi hosts with OU Israel. His subject? “Revelation and Legislation”—a fascinating review of the dramatic transition the Torah makes when it switches from telling the story of our people to itemising many specific rules within the code of Jewish law. 

In the time allotted to him, our rabbi set himself a steep challenge, examining the adjacent parshiyot of Yitro and Mishpatim in terms of their juxtaposition. Along the way he discussed the view of Rabbi Tzevi Yehudah Kook that we can learn from construing each parashah in the Torah together with its "pair" (in this case Yitro and Mishpatim). He also contrasted the views of Ramban and Rashi regarding the chronology of the Torah's content. Ultimately this powerful shiur forced us to consider a profound question: what, apart from literally laying down the law, does the parashah of Mishpatim teach us? 

You can watch and listen to Rabbi Kenigsberg's shiur on the OU Israel YouTube channel here.

The courage of the convert: Yitro 5785

The Torah describes in detail the visit of Yitro to the encampment of the Jewish people in the Sinai desert, as well as the advice Yitro gives Moshe as how to organize the Jewish people’s justice system.  Though rabbinic scholars disagree as to whether Yitro came before or after the revelation and the giving of the Torah at Mount Sinai, they generally concur that Yitro remains the template and role model for converts to Judaism.

Why is this so? Yitro is sincere in joining the Jewish people and in abandoning the pagan gods that he had worshipped earlier in his life. He is also willing to give advice for the benefit of the administration of justice in his newly adopted community. New converts are frequently hesitant to counsel Jewish society. After all, the word “ger” (“convert” in Hebrew) has the connotation of being a stranger, an outsider, a mere sojourner and not yet necessarily a fully-fledged citizen. It is most understandable that such a person may feel reticent about offering advice to those who have been Jews for generations.

 Yitro’s boldness in asserting himself immediately by seeking to improve Jewish society is a testimony to his comfort level, sincerity and commitment regarding the Jewish people and its Torah values and strictures. That is why he is given so much respect and prominence in the Torah. Converts bring with them a mindset and range of experience quite different to that of Jews raised exclusively in Jewish society, a milieu that needs constant revitalization and freshness. Our Torah is eternal and ageless but our strategy for promoting and teaching it varies from time to time and from locality to locality.

. In Yiddish there is a famous phrase, “a guest for a while sees for a mile”, and it is so often the newcomer, the former stranger who has newly entered the fold of Judaism and Jewish society, who provides the spark of energy and innovativeness that ignites Torah Judaism and propels it to the next stage. It is no coincidence that the Gaon of Vilna is buried next to the grave of the Ger Tzedek – the righteous convert to Judaism in eighteenth century Vilna. The Gaon was an innovator, a departure from the other scholars of his time and even from many of those who preceded him. Converts on the whole – those who are sincerely attracted to Judaism and not influenced by other factors or are converted by ersatz methods and insincere and non-observant courts – are an inspiration to Jewish society and prompt them to progress further and accomplish more.

This is also an important lesson that we can glean from the events described in this week’s parsha. Proper treatment of the convert is mentioned thirty-six times in the Torah – more than any other commandment or value. We should take heed of this and assess the new convert correctly, not condescendingly.

 Shabbat shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein