Yitro: The First Other
The problem . . . is that we don’t believe we are as much alike as we are . . . If we saw each other as more alike, we might be very eager to join in one big human family . . . and to care about that family the way we care about our own.(Mitch Albom quoting Morrie Schwartz, Tuesdays with Morrie)
In the previous chapter, we discussed a basic model of familial cooperation that provides a structure for communal living. A related issue that has not yet been addressed is relationships between communities. These are ultimately more problematic than the relations within a family or a community. Indeed, most wars are not fought within a communal unit but rather between different groupings.
Short of a utopian messianic scenario, mankind will always be divided by culture, geography and the like. And it is these separations that allow us to exclude most of the world’s inhabitants from what we see as our own interests or, as we termed it in the previous chapter, our “team.” To go from this inevitably human perspective of insiders and outsiders to the fighting of wars often does not take much.143In this regard, the phrasing of the commandment to love reacha (your friend or neighbor; Vayikra 19:18) appropriately limits the object of one’s love to something accessible to the average man. Reacha limits the obligation to a person in one’s community and not to every person on the face of the earth. Granted, we are also commanded to love the stranger (ger), but this too has been traditionally understood to be speaking only about the stranger in our midst. Moreover, this latter command is one that comes with a certain emphasis in the text, indicating its difficulty. (See Chapter 7, note 12, for elaboration on the connection between a commandment’s emphasis and its difficulty.) Two groups both desperately wanting the same thing have very little means by which to come to an agreement, so long as they see each other as foreigners.
The fact that human history may be seen as an almost uninterrupted string of wars and conflicts shows that we are in even more pressing need for a workable ethic between communities than we are for the team ethic discussed in the previous chapter. Thus, we will certainly want to look at some of the many strangers who appear together in the Torah.
No less than his modern counterpart, the Biblical Jew was part of a small and vulnerable community. As such, necessity required that he have dealings with foreigners. To take the earliest example, Avraham needed to interact with Pharaoh, (Bereshit 12:14–20)144Bereshit 12:14–20. Avimelech (Bereshit 20),145Ibid., 20. Efron (Bereshit 23:3-19),146Ibid., 23:3–19. and the various leaders involved in the Sodomite wars (Bereshit 14:10-24).147Ibid., 14:10–24. Happily, most of these encounters ended up positively enough. Thus, at first glance, they give us early hope for the coexistence of nations. At the same time, a more careful examination of these encounters reveals that all of them are characterized by a palpable sense of quid pro quo. Pharaoh is willing to give Avraham back his wife and even to enrich him because he has already seen that Avraham has unusual powers that can be used against those who mistreat him. Likewise, Efron is gracious to him only in order to help him secure a very lucrative deal for the burial plot being solicited. For his part, Avraham likely realizes that even with all of the Divine aid he receives, he is ultimately alone. That being the case, he must somehow get along with the lords of whatever place he finds himself.
It is fairly intuitive that when common interests are found, there is certainly room for banquets and deals. But what happens when interests don’t overlap? After all, it is obvious that the interests of any two groups are rarely identical. Precisely for that reason, then, Avraham does not provide us with a highly useful paradigm of how to deal with the stranger and we will therefore need to look further to find a model of peaceful coexistence between different groups, specifically when there is no obvious convergence of interests.
To help us find such a model, we will turn our attention to the most blatant contrast in the Ya’akov and Moshe narratives described in Chapter 3 – their fathers-in-law.
The Fathers-in-Law: Lavan and Yitro
In the same way that it is difficult to find two more similar stories than the respective exiles of Ya’akov and Moshe,148See Chapter 3. it is equally difficult to find two more disparate parallels than the roles played in these stories by their respective fathers-in-law.149For our present purposes, we are assuming that the various names for the man referred to as Moshe’s father-in-law (i.e. Yitro, Re’uel, Chovev) all describe the same person, whom we will, for simplicity’s sake, call Yitro. While this point is a matter of debate and there are those who suggest that the various names refer to different people, most of the relevant citations are, in any case, from sections where the father-in-law is explicitly referred to as Yitro. Whereas Lavan seems to do something disagreeable every step of the way, Yitro does just the opposite, constantly providing help and support to his son-in-law. Ya’akov has to ask to marry one of Lavan’s daughters (Bereshit 29:18),150Bereshit 29:18. whereas Yitro offers Zipporah to Moshe as his bride (Shemot 2:21).151Shemot 2:21. Not only that, Lavan makes the terms of the marriage agreement almost unbearable (Bereshit 29:26–7);152Bereshit 29:26–7. in the case of Moshe, we don’t hear of any formal terms whatsoever. Most significantly, when Ya’akov asks to leave, we see Lavan trying repeatedly to foil his desires (Bereshit 30:25-35; Bereshit 31:22-24).153Ibid., 30:25–35, 31:22–24. Regarding Moshe, he is not only given permission but an apparent blessing as well (Shemot 4:18).154Shemot 4:18. On the one hand, Lavan runs after Ya’akov in what could be understood as an effort to kidnap the wives and the children, whom Lavan describes as his own (Bereshit 31:43).155Bereshit 31:43. Yitro, on the other hand, runs after Moshe for just the opposite reason – to bring his son-in-law’s children and wife back to him (Shemot 18:1–6).156Shemot 18:1–6. Finally, when Lavan catches up with Ya’akov, he tries to impose his own religious preferences on his son-in-law, making sure that their non-belligerence pact makes reference to his own god as well as the God of Ya’akov (Bereshit 31:53).157Bereshit 31:53. In comparison, when Yitro finds Moshe in the desert, he makes the decision to offer sacrifices to his son-in-law’s God alone and to leave sacrifices to his own gods for a more appropriate time.158Of course Yitro’s sacrificing only to God would be a foregone conclusion if he himself had completely converted to the Jewish faith, as indicated by many rabbinic statements. We will explain later, however, that such a reading doesn’t seem to fit well with the text’s simple meaning, nor does it seem to be a consensus position among the sages. As a result, we will assume that Yitro had not completely left idolatry at this time and that he made a conscious choice to worship only the Israelite God in Moshe’s presence.
The Torah further emphasizes the difference between the two stories by constantly referring to Yitro as Moshe’s father-in-law, while Ya’akov’s father-in-law, Lavan, although mentioned far more frequently than Yitro, is not described as such even once. Instead, when we need clarification of his identity, we hear that he is an Aramean, the brother of Rivka or the son of Betuel. Although the Torah generally speaks about Moshe’s relatives in relation to him (i.e., Moshe’s sister, Moshe’s brother, etc.), still, the stark contrast between the Torah’s repeated identification of Yitro as a father-in-law and of Lavan as everything but a father-in-law is far too blatant to be unrelated to the discussion at hand. Hence, Lavan serves as a foil to Yitro: he is not called Ya’akov’s father-in-law because he has not earned that title, even if his daughters are married to Ya’akov. To see what is required for that title, the Torah has us wait until we come to Yitro. Lavan must first show us what a father-in-law should not be in order for Yitro to eventually illustrate what a true father-in-law needs to be.
It is worth noting that the entire Bible describes only one other man as a father-in-law – the anonymous father of the concubine of Giv’ah (Shofetim 19:1–10).159Shofetim 19:1–10. Whether the Torah, or the Bible as a whole, uses the corresponding word “chatan” to mean a son-in-law with similar intentionality is less clear. See, for example, Bereshit 19:12–14. There too, the father-in-law is notably benevolent in his treatment of his daughter’s husband. Specifically, he rejoices when he sees his son-in-law, he feeds him and gives him drink, he beseeches him to prolong his visit and, ominously, not to leave when it is not safe. He is perhaps even more remarkable for lavishing benevolence on a somewhat murky character who, in any case, takes the daughter only as a concubine and not as a full wife. If, of all the many fathers-in-law in the Bible, only Yitro and he are singled out, it makes us think that they are the only ones the Bible feels deserve this designation. That is, they are the only ones who spell out the Biblical vision of a true father-in-law. And if we are to judge from these two men – as it appears that we should – that vision ultimately consists of someone who shows deep concern for his son-in-law’s welfare.
The Stranger Who Marries Our Daughter
Even though we might assume that the standard relationship between father-in-law and son-in-law is basically harmonious, we shouldn’t take it for granted. By reading the story of Lavan and Ya’akov, we can better appreciate the natural opposition that can exist in the relationship.
When Lavan first agrees to take Ya’akov on as a son-in-law, he already couches his graceless agreement in words of resentment at the whole institution. “It is better that I give her to you than that I should give her to another man” (Bereshit 29:19)160Bereshit 29:19. he says, as if this is the better of two evils. Indeed, by the end of the story, when Lavan catches up with his fugitive son-in-law, his feelings become quite transparent. Referring to that which has accrued to Ya’akov, Lavan unabashedly claims that “the daughters are my daughters and the sons are my sons and the flocks are my flocks and everything that you see is mine!” (Bereshit 31:43)161Ibid., 31:43. In effect, Lavan’s depiction of a son-in-law is that of a culturally sanctioned thief. Even more, this is a thief who steals that which is most precious. Put otherwise, taking on a son-in-law is a sort of grueling compromise that one must make in order to provide for a daughter’s needs. From this perspective, if one’s sons are an asset that will add to one’s wealth, daughters are only as a liability. In fact, from this callously commercial perspective, they are a net loss.
In contrast, Yitro gives us a completely different conception of the relationship between father-in-law and son-in-law. While Yitro is more circumspect about what motivates him, the honor granted him by Moshe and the Jewish people shows that there is more than a little wisdom to Yitro’s policy, even if only from a pragmatic point of view.
In place of the resentment that Lavan shows toward his son-in-law at every step of the way, Yitro immediately shows respect for his son-in-law’s independence – a respect which may well be the most vital element in such a relationship. Shortly after we are introduced to Yitro, he recognizes Moshe’s autonomy by granting his son-in-law the right to live away from him (Shemot 4:18).162Shemot 4:18. As mentioned earlier, Lavan’s resistance to Ya’akov’s request to leave is in stark contrast to the blessing Yitro gives to Moshe when he makes the same request. Likewise, the concubine’s father mentioned above also acquiesces to his son-in-law’s (in this case, unwise) desire to leave toward dusk. That the son-in-law is able to leave freely despite his father-in-law’s opposition only reinforces the notion that a proper father-in-law accepts his son-in-law’s right to make his own decisions. The father-in-law can advise otherwise, as he does in this case, but he cannot infringe on the son-in-law’s prerogative to make the decision for himself and his wife.163The Torah emphasizes the centrality of acceding to such a request in an interesting twist, where it is Yitro who is requesting to take leave of Moshe (Bemidbar 10:30). At that point, the tables are turned and the father-in-law is the more vulnerable guest – all the more so since Moshe’s stature has eclipsed that of his father-in-law. Recognizing the basic equality between them, Moshe also limits himself to trying to convince Yitro to stay and steers clear of anything more coercive.
This respect immediately signals a relationship of equals. Such equality is certainly not obvious, given the father-in-law’s usually more powerful standing in society and the filial obligation that the son-in-law’s partner – the married daughter – still needs to fulfill. This is all the more true in the case of Yitro, who is not only Moshe’s father-in-law, but initially also his boss (something equally true about the relationship of Ya’akov and Lavan, as emphasized in Chapter 3).
The equal footing that Yitro gives Moshe is the only attitude that the son-in-law can comfortably accept from someone who is ultimately a stranger, as we will soon explain. For being a stranger is at least partially defined by not having any prior relationship, hierarchical or otherwise. This holds true even when that stranger becomes a relative through marriage.
Treating a stranger as an equal requires far-sightedness. It requires the understanding that when strangers work together it usually ends up being to everyone’s benefit, in spite of the personal loss of status or property that it might originally entail for one of them. Investment in the future always requires giving things up in the here and now. Apparently armed with this knowledge, Yitro exhibits a willingness to freely give to his son-in-law.
The Other
Yitro truly gives much to Moshe, but he is best remembered for the advice he gave Moshe to appoint judges below him. For our purposes, what is most important here is the manner in which Yitro respects his son-in-law’s autonomy even as he bestows his wisdom upon him. He does this by expressing his valuable solution in an even more valuable manner. By conditioning his suggestion on Divine confirmation (Shemot 18:23),164Shemot 18:23. he makes sure that it will be acceptable to his son-in-law’s religious sensibilities.165Obviously, there are limits to this. Though we can be sensitive to the religious sensitivities of the other, Jewish law demands an uncompromising stance towards any foreign religious practice or belief deemed detrimental to our mission as Jews.
This last point may be most significant. Through it, we see Yitro’s advice expressed in a way that shows a willingness to see the world from a foreign perspective which is radically different from his own. Ultimately, this willingness is the true litmus test of whether one can truly cooperate with the stranger. It follows that the paradigm of cross-cultural cooperation given to us by Moshe and Yitro is dependent upon our willingness to extend ourselves beyond our most valued communal attitudes and beliefs. (Obviously, we are not discussing an openness to the other so extreme as to become self-destructive.)
We learn from Yitro that perhaps only when we are motivated to listen to the other and to see the legitimacy of the opposing perspective do we open ourselves up to the other’s resultant needs and demands. Presumably, at that point, competition for resources as well as affection takes on a completely different hue.
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Of course, the willingness to have empathy for this particular stranger has its impetus in a father’s continued concern for his daughter after she moves out of her parents’ home. This is most clearly illustrated by the description of the other benevolent father-in-law mentioned above. There, the text repeatedly reminds us of the obvious fact that he is the “father of the maiden” as well as the father-in-law.166See Malbim and Me’am Loez on Shofetim 19:13–14, who point out this unusual double epithet but give somewhat different explanations. Though less pronounced, Yitro’s interest in Moshe is also grounded in his being the “father of the maiden.” His main mission in going to Moshe in the desert is to take care of his daughter by bringing her back to her husband. Thus, the concern of the Biblical father-in-law remains rooted in his concern for his own offspring even as it also extends to her husband.
At the same time, the son-in-law still remains more a stranger than true family. Indeed, the Biblical son-in-law remains only indirectly connected to his wife’s father. Economically, the in-law is not much better than any other foreigner, receiving no direct inheritance. In other areas as well, the bond is tenuous and impermanent – it only truly exists when the blood relative is still alive. Hence, the novelty of Ruth is that she decides to continue the bond with her mother-in-law, Naomi, even after Ruth’s husband has died. That this is not expected is succinctly heard in Naomi’s words to her daughters-in-law, “Why should you go with me? Do I have more sons in my womb that they should be husbands to you?” (Ruth 1:11–12)167Ruth 1:11–12.
Yitro’s geographic and cultural distance from Moshe further demonstrates the very real separation between parents-in-law and children-in-law. One example is when Yitro rebuffs Moshe’s attempt to have him go with them to the Land of Israel. His graciousness notwithstanding, Moshe also makes it clear that there will always be separation between the two. In fact, Moshe had already hinted at this to Yitro earlier. When Moshe asks to go back to Egypt, he asks to return to his brothers (Shemot 4:18),168Shemot 4:18. a term that clearly excludes Yitro. This is emphasized a second time when Moshe tries to convince Yitro to stay with the Jews – Moshe speaks about us and you (Bemidbar 10:29).169Bemidbar 10:29. For his part, Yitro reflects back the knowledge that he will remain an outsider, emphasizing that Midian is his home (Bemidbar 10:30).170Ibid., verse 30. In other words, both protagonists know that whether Yitro chooses to go and live with the Jews or not, he will never be a member of Moshe’s in-group. The question of Yitro’s joining the Jews is one of proximity, not one of true unity. For there are distinctions that can be bridged and there are those that cannot. The bond that Yitro and the Jews can create is a real one, but it is not meant to remove the distinction between those within and those without.
An Unlikely Association
One may wonder why we don’t see the paradigm of Yitro and Moshe earlier in the Torah. It may simply be that the right combination of characters does not precede them. At the same time, it seems purposeful that the paradigm of how to treat others is set among two individuals who are more than moderately different from each other. In this case, it is not just the story of two people who are not part of the same community – it is the story of two men who lead radically dissimilar lives. Reinforcing our sense of intentionality, the Torah clearly emphasizes some of the major differences between Moshe and Yitro.
Here, the generational gap that almost always separates fathers-in-law from their sons-in-law is compounded by an important cultural hurdle. The Torah repeatedly tells us that Yitro is a Midianite. It tells us this not only when Yitro first meets Moshe, but also when he and Moshe are reunited – showing us that his national identity is not altered by his familial connection with Moshe. In fact, the Torah may be indicating just the opposite. When the two are still together in Midian, Yitro is described as “his father-in-law, Kohen Midian.” Later when they reunite, the order is switched and he is now Kohen Midian, Moshe’s father-in-law,” telling us that Yitro doesn’t just keep the identity of Kohen Midian, he apparently becomes even more entrenched in it.171Of course, this can also be attributed to Moshe’s absence; whatever influence Moshe had upon him waned when the two men were apart. At a time when religion and nationality were identical, Yitro’s retaining his Midianite identity bears a critical significance. More than just a common Midianite, as “Kohen Midian,” he is a man of standing in the national and religious community of his birth.
The simple meaning of the word kohen is priest – exactly how it is understood by some of the early rabbinic sources.172See the first opinion in the Mechilta on Shemot 18:1. That being said, it is also true that the second opinion in the Mechilta as well as the Targum Onkelos try to deflect the negative implications of such a term by translating the word according to its secondary meaning, leader, as per its apparent usage in II Shmuel 8:18. That would make him a minister in the idolatrous cult of his native culture, something no doubt anathema to his son-in-law. His statement, “Now I know that God is greater than other gods [elohim],” (Shemot 18:11)173Shemot 18:11. While the same claim could be made about the Israelites’ rhetorical question in the song at the sea (ibid., 15:11), “Who is like You among the gods (elim)?”, the fact that it is phrased as a question makes it easier to interpret otherwise. (Whereas a statement is based in a speaker’s frame of reference, a question is directed more toward that of one’s interlocutor. Though the Jews are not speaking to anyone in particular, it is possible that they are addressing all of mankind who, for most of history, held polytheistic beliefs.) only gives us more reason to think that he never renounced his polytheistic beliefs. Furthermore, Yitro lives among idolaters and returns to them174Even if Yitro’s return to Midian is not made totally clear from Bemidbar 10:29–33, this is certainly his explicitly expressed original intention, and many of the classical commentators conclude that the Torah would have let us know if he changed his mind and decided to stay with the Jews. See, for example, Abarbanel and Ohr haChaim. See also Seforno, who holds that Yitro went back to Midian, but agreed to send his own children with the Jews. after being invited to join the monotheistic Jewishpeople.175Indeed, the rabbinic voices that would like to understand otherwise are hard put to explain this behavior, speculating that he went back to Midian to convert his countrymen. Such statements notwithstanding, had Yitro actually converted, one wonders why neither Biblical nor rabbinic texts discuss his conversion per se, in the same way as we find with Ruth. At the same time, that doesn’t mean that we should discount him from being a righteous gentile. According to many early and late rabbinic authorities, it is enough that he gives sacrifices to the God of Israel, at least as one of several deities that he worships, in order for him to be considered a righteous gentile and not an idolater. Simply put, there could be no greater gap between the man of God and the polytheistic priest.
Whatever connection Yitro does share with the Jewish people has very little to do with the Jews themselves; it is rather based on his relationship with his daughter and, through her (and through his grandchildren), with Moshe. Another example from the text reminds us about how Yitro viewed his world. When the Torah recounts Yitro hearing about the deliverance of the Jewish people, it explains that he heard “what God did for Moshe and for Israel” (Shemot 18:1).176Shemot 18:1. That this order is not coincidental is reinforced later by a similar passage wherein Yitro advises Moshe to appoint other judges, explaining that otherwise, first Moshe will become worn out and then, secondly, the Jewish people will also become worn out (Shemot 18:18).177Ibid., verse 18. Indeed, the author of Sifrei underscores the critical importance of Moshe in Yitro’s bond with the Jews. He writes that Moshe tried to give Yitro the mistaken impression that he, Moshe, was also destined to cross over into Israel, because otherwise Yitro would immediately refuse to go there himself (Sifrei Bamidbar 78:3).178Sifrei on Bemidbar 10:29. In other words, Yitro’s link to the Jews is contingent on Moshe, and not on any broader connection to the Jewish nation.
In short, by stressing the gap that exists between Yitro and Moshe, the Torah drives home that their affable relationship has little to with anything they share intrinsically. Keeping the story of Ruth in mind, we can presume that Yitro had the option of making the relationship with his son-in-law’s people/religion both fundamental and permanent. The differences between him and his son-in-law could have been bridged.
At the same time, had Yitro chosen the path of Ruth and melded into Moshe’s family and nation, the relationship would have less application to the broader global community. It would have been a story of two former strangers who combined their fortunes to create a new, unified community. If, however, Yitro does remain an idolater and yet still shows true love and concern for Moshe, we are given what might be the best window into the Torah’s vision of positive interaction with the “other.” Hence, Yitro and Moshe signal a paradigm of strangers who remain strangers. They continue to see the world through the lenses of very different cultures. And yet, in spite of what separates them, they are able to work together and show genuine concern for each other.
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Procreation does not automatically require the institution of marriage – reproduction in the animal kingdom is rarely accompanied by anything that we could construe as matrimony. Alternatively, God could have created a world in which incestuous relationships were preferable. Instead we have been given an institution which forces us to create bonds with strangers and move out of our immediate family circle. And this it does in two ways. Primarily, it makes us fasten our most significant interpersonal bond with someone we often meet only as an adult, long after we have developed our own character, attitudes and values. But perhaps even more important for the current discussion is the secondary level: it forces us to create relationships that are created with our spouse’s family. When two people wed, they create new nuclear communities; when parents-in-law and children in-law are brought together, they create more complex and thus more difficult networks of interpersonal concern. These inevitable networks are what force us to deal with strangers. And in learning how to deal appropriately with such strangers – as well as others beyond the family purview – we are well advised to take our cue from the Jewish tradition’s première father-in-law.
Through Yitro and Moshe we see how to relate to the in-law. Though our relatives by marriage can be dissimilar to us, we meet in the realm of common human concern. In fact, sometimes this is the only thing that we have in common. At the same time, it is precisely this shared concern that allows us to feel what is most articulately described in German as “mitleid,” literally, pain with. When I share my child’s pain with her husband, we experience the same vicarious pain together. In that sense, we both experience something more similar to each other than that which we share with the daughter and wife we both love. The awareness that a stranger can share so completely in my own emotions vividly opens me up to my commonality with him – one even more basic than what I can appreciate via a common culture or religion. We all love and we all hurt, we all have needs and aspirations. More important than anything else, we are all created in the Divine image.
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Since the humanity we share with all people is usually taken for granted, we normally focus on what separates us. The things that separate us from other communities are very real – the problem is that they prevent us from seeing the many more things that we have in common with all men. Appreciating this baseline commonality is the most critical ingredient in our ability to work with people on “other teams.”
In sum, the son-in-law is a stranger who captures our interest even as he remains distinct from us. He is one step away from the anonymity of the total stranger. Through the prism of this chosen stranger, however, we learn to act toward the total stranger. Indeed, through this prism we understand that there is ultimately no such thing as a true stranger.