The Three Pillars of
a Sound Relationship
D’var Torah for
Parashat Yitro
By Rabbi Boaz D.
Heilman
Years ago, when I wasn’t a rabbi yet but still a concert
pianist, I was often asked who was my favorite composer. My answer was always, “whoever I am playing
at the moment.” Like different foods, I
had different favorite composers for my various moods.
Now as a rabbi, if you asked me who my favorite character is
in the Bible—or, in fact, in all of Jewish history—I would, without a doubt,
say, “Moses.”
Of course, in light of the fact that Moses is the main
character of four-fifths of the Torah, this answer might not come as a total
surprise. Unlike Abraham, who gets a
couple of portions; Isaac, who barely gets one; or even Jacob, whose story is
about a third of the book of Genesis, Moses gets the full nine yards. We know more about him than about anyone else
in the Bible. We know, for example, that
Moses was the most humble of all people, but also that he had no problem
standing up to Pharaoh, or even arguing with God. We also know that he had a bit of a temper
problem.
Moses, of course, was the great lawgiver of our people and,
in fact, of all humanity. He was also a great teacher and an even greater
defender, rallying the Israelites in battle against their enemies, and warding
off God’s wrath when they sinned. The
Torah calls Moses a prophet, and Maimonides, possibly the most influential
Jewish philosopher of the past 2000 years, declared Moses the greatest of all
the prophets.
How interesting, then, that of all the terms by which Moses
could have been called, the title he was given by the great rabbis of old, chaz”al (our sages of blessed memory),
was Rabbeinu—our master, our teacher,
our rabbi. In English, he’s simply
called Moses. But in Hebrew, he is
always referred to as Moshe Rabbeinu,
Moses our Rabbi.
What did the great rabbis of the first century—Hillel,
Shammai and Rabbi Akiva—what did they see in Moses that convinced them that he
was deserving of that title?
Because, above all, he was a consummate rabbi, a teacher and
a model for all future rabbis.
After all, what do we want from a rabbi?
A rabbi should teach.
As in the famous arba kushiot,
the four questions that we ask at the Passover Seder, we want to know what the
laws are, why they are there, and what meaning they might have for us
today. The rabbi should be able to tell
us that.
A rabbi should help us find meaning and purpose in
life.
A rabbi should be able to tell us why good people suffer,
and why there seems to be so much evil and pain in the world.
A rabbi should teach us about holiness, and how to bring it
into our daily lives.
A rabbi should be able to offer comfort, to listen, to give
a proper response—a word in its time—in consolation, support, or hope.
A rabbi should teach the traditions, tell the history, and
explain the rituals that define us as a people, a nation, a culture.
But one of the most important of all a rabbi’s duties is to
be a messenger. Not only to hear the
people’s stories, their complaints and their songs of praise, but also to bring
these up to God’s ear. Of course we know
we can pour out our hearts directly to our Creator, but so often we are afraid
to, or we don’t know how. That’s when we
turn to our rabbi.
Moses was all that, and more.
This week’s Torah portion, Yitro, has that magnificent scene
of the giving of the Ten Commandments, the story that cements Moses’s role as
teacher and lawgiver. But right before
that, there is a short section that tells us even more about Moshe Rabbeinu, about God and Israel,
and about the relationship that all three were about to enter.
In these verses we see Moses wearing a totally different
hat. Here he acts as an arbitrator—a shadchan, if you will—going back and
forth between God and Israel, relaying messages, conditions and responses from
one to the other.
It’s as though Moses understands that the relationship
between God and Israel is something like a marriage. Both sides have to be willing partners; there
can’t even be a smidgeon of an impression that this is a forced relationship,
one not
based on free will. After all, the
people have just witnessed God’s awesome might; they might be blinded by awe,
or perhaps overwhelmed by fear. Or they
might let it go to their heads and begin to think of themselves as somehow
superior, somehow more worthy of God’s love than other people.
That’s why Moses steps in.
With a cool head, he reminds the people that there are conditions to be
fulfilled, terms that the people—and God—must agree to. The relationship between God and Israel must
be based on love and trust, not on fear or blind obedience.
Moses acts as mediator between the potential partners. This eternal Covenant that we are asked to
sign is to be negotiated with dignity and mutual respect. Each side must
consider the meaning of their decision.
Each must face their fears and doubts, and each in turn must then affirm
their full commitment. God will be our
protector and redeemer, yes, but not unconditionally so. As God’s people, we must accept not only our
chosen-ness, but also the responsibilities that this relationship carries with
it. It is no simple matter to be a holy
nation. It may even, at times, involve
some danger, perhaps even moments of supreme dedication, of Kiddush ha-Shem.
It is to the people’s credit that, without so much of a
moment’s hesitation, they declare, “We shall do all that God has commanded.” It
is a response that pleases God and that establishes our long-lasting
relationship on firm footing.
And Moses? Will the shadchan now step out of the picture,
now that his work as matchmaker is done?
Not quite. Moses returns to his
previous function, that of the consummate rabbi: lawgiver, teacher and
prophet. There is a set of laws waiting
to be carved into the rock, commandments to be taught, students sitting at
their desks eager to hear, learn, and do.
Above all, there is a Torah waiting to be written.
The three-fold relationship between God, Israel and Torah
has been ongoing for more than 3000 years now, proof of its validity and
strength. God continues to redeem and
protect us from our enemies (even if God’s timing sometimes seems to mystify
us). For Israel’s part, we continue
studying the Torah, observing God’s laws and precepts, and trying our best to
adapt and grow with them wherever life takes us.
The rabbis teach that the world rests on three pillars:
Torah, prayer, and acts of loving-kindness.
What Moses has taught us is that our relationship with God also rests on
three pillars: Love, faith and
trust. It’s a good lesson to keep in our
minds and hearts.
May all our relationships be based on these three values. May there always be love and trust between
us, and may faith always be the bond that keeps us united with our people, with
our history and traditions, and with our God.
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