Based on a Shmuess from Parshas Yisro
February 13th, 2009
We have an interesting story in the Parsha. Yisro, the Shver (father-in-law) of Moshe Rabbeinu, shows up. Now, we all know the old joke about the guy looking for a shidduch. They ask him what he wants, and he says, "I want a girl with a PhD." They ask, "An intellectual?" He says, "No. Papa Has Dough."
Anyway, Yisro shows up with Moshe’s wife and two kids. And Rashi brings down a fascinating, almost strange, dialogue. Yisro sends a message to Moshe: "I, your father-in-law Yisro, am coming to you. With your wife and two sons."
Rashi explains the subtext. Yisro is effectively saying: "Come out and greet me! And if you won't come out for my sake, come out for your wife's sake. And if not for her, come out for your two sons!"
Moshe goes out, Aharon goes out, the Elders go out, and essentially Klal Yisroel goes out. Yisro gets massive Kavod (honor).
But stop for a second. Doesn't this sound a little... infantile? A little needy? Here is Yisro, the great spiritual seeker, standing at the border saying, "Give me Kavod! Pay attention to me! If not for me, for my daughter!" Is Yisro suffering from low self-esteem? Does he need a confidence boost from the son-in-law?
This is occurring right before Matan Torah. This is the introduction to the Ten Commandments. Why is this here?
Stones Don't Have Feelings
To understand this, look at the end of the Parsha. The Torah tells us not to build the Altar with steps, but with a ramp. Why? Because lifting your legs on steps is a slight disrespect—a "breach of modesty"—toward the stones of the Altar.
Rashi brings a Kal Vachomer (a logical inference): These stones have no daas (intelligence). They don't have feelings. There is an old Israeli song, "Yesh anashim im lev shel even" (Some people have hearts of stone), but stones do not have hearts! Yet, the Torah demands we treat them with respect and not step on them casually. If we must respect stones that don't care, how much more so must we respect a human being created in the Image of God who does care?
Think about Challah. We cover the Challah on Friday night so it doesn't get "embarrassed" that we made Kiddush on the wine first. Have you ever seen a Challah in a psychologist's office suffering from an inferiority complex? No. We don't cover the Challah for the Challah's sake. We cover it for our sake.
We need to train ourselves in sensitivity. If you are sensitive to a piece of bread, if you are respectful to a rock, maybe—just maybe—you’ll eventually learn how to treat a human being.
The Football Helmet & The "Tzelem Elokim"
Yisro wasn't demanding honor because he needed it. He was teaching Moshe and the Jewish people the prerequisite for receiving the Torah. He was saying: "If you can't bother to come out and show respect to a person—to your father-in-law, your wife, your kids—you are not ready for Sinai."
We have a problem in our culture today. We don't realize what a human being is.
I remember back in Yeshiva, I was learning with my chavrusa, and we needed a specific sefer. There was only one left on the shelf. I walked toward it and took the sefer. As I was walking back to my seat, another guy—let's call him "Butch"—was walking toward it. Butch was built like a linebacker.
Butch puts on a football helmet (which he apparently kept by his seat?), lets out a roar like a lion, and charges. He rams into me, spins me around, rips the sefer from my hands, pushes me to the floor, cradles the book like a football, and sprints to his seat.
And what happened? The whole Yeshiva cheered! High-fives all around! "Great hit, Butch!"
I’m lying on the floor, drooling, wondering what truck hit me, and people are celebrating. Why? Because in that moment, Butch didn't see me as a person. He didn't see a Tzelem Elokim (Image of God). He saw an obstacle between him and the sefer he wanted.
If you realize that the person standing across from you is a Tzelem Elokim, you cannot physically ram them. You cannot tackle them. The reason sports culture allows for such violence—and why we cheer for "big hits" where guys get pulverized on every play—is because we view people as objects in a game.
The Waitress and the King
There is a machlokes (dispute) in the Medrash. Rabbi Akiva says the main rule of the Torah is "Love your neighbor as yourself." Ben Azzai says there is a greater principle: "This is the book of the chronicles of Man... in the likeness of God He made him."
Ben Azzai wins. Why? Because love is important. But more important is to respect everyone created in Hashem's image. Every human is royalty.
They tell a story of the great Rav Shmuel Kamenetsky at a wedding or a dinner. He told the waiter, "The food was delicious." Someone asked him, "Rebbe, why tell the waiter? She didn't cook it."
Rav Shmuel said, "When someone does you a favor, they want to feel that you enjoyed it. If she brings me the food, and I enjoy it, she feels better about her favor."
The next day, Rav Shmuel asked the same waitress, "Were you wearing glasses last night?" She was shocked he noticed.
To most of us, a waiter is a "pair of hands." A bus driver is a "steering wheel mechanism." We don't look them in the eye. We don't treat them as people. We treat them as functions. That is a lack of Kavod HaBriyos.
There is a terrifying Medrash. After 120 years, when we go up to Heaven, they ask us the famous questions: Did you learn Torah? Did you deal faithfully in business? But there is one less known question question that shakes you to the core:
"Did you make your friend a King over you?"
Did you treat the guy next to you in Shul, the waitress, the guy you disagree with politically, as royalty?
This applies to our daily lives.
You call someone. They don't pick up. You leave a message. They don't call back. You call again. Nothing.
Why don't people return phone calls? I’ve done a deep analysis of this, and there is only one reason: They don't respect you.
If the President of the United States called, would they call back? If their biggest donor called, would they call back? Yes. Immediately. If they don't call you back, it’s because you don't matter enough. It is a bizayon (disgrace). It is disrespecting a Tzelem Elokim.
Rav Ovadia Yosef once famously (and controversially) said that the boys from the Ashkenazi Yeshivos go to Gehinnom. Why? Because on Purim they get drunk and make fun of people. They do "comedy" skits mocking their Rebbeim or their friends.
If you embarrass someone publicly—HaMalbin pnei chavero—you lose your Olam Haba. You lose Eternity! Is it worth it for a laugh? Is it worth it to be the funny guy?
The Takeaway
Yisro stood at the mountain and said, "Moshe, before you get the Tablets, before the thunder and lightning, come out and say hello to your father-in-law. Treat your wife like a Queen. Treat your children like princes."
If we want the Torah, we have to stop looking at people as obstacles, as functions, or as objects. We have to look at every person—the guy on the bus, the annoying neighbor, the person calling us on the phone—and see a King.
Because if you don't respect the person, you can't have the Torah.
Gut Shabbos.
2-3-4 Ivdu Es Hashem Bi-simcha....
