Parashat Yitro – Food for Thought on Matan Torah

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Good morning, everyone. I’m trying to send you some food for thought on this very special parasha, Parashat Yitro, which is the parasha of Matan Torah.

I would like to specifically mention teachings that my dear husband, Harav Shlomo ben Rav Yitzchok, used to speak about when we came to Parashat Yitro. Everything I’m telling you today is based on his teachings—teachings that are written in the sefer Sifrei Sig V’shiach BeNivim, which he wrote.

Why Is This Parasha Called Yitro?

Hearing Is Not Enough — Responding Is Everything

We are told that this parasha is called Yitro, we all know it’s a very interesting title to give to a parasha that contains something as fundamental as the Aseret HaDibrot, the essence of the entire Torah. We have to understand why this parasha was given this special name. The Torah could have called it Parashat Vayishma, just like we have a Parasha called Vayeira. It could have been called Vayishma, but it is not named after the first word. Instead, it is named after the second word—Yitro.

Why? Because Yitro teaches us a very important lesson.

He heard. The whole world heard. Everybody knew what was going on. Everybody witnessed the miracles. But out of the millions of people in the world, there was one individual who not only witnessed and not only understood—but responded. He said, “I am going to join Am Yisrael.”

Why? Because we are told that he heard about the makkot, he heard about Kriyat Yam Suf, and then when he heard that Amalek came to fight, to desecrate the Name of Hashem. At that point, he said, “I understand now how Hashem dominates the entire universe. I am going to come and sanctify the Name of Hashem.”

“I shall join Am Yisrael and tell everyone that what Amalek did is absolutely wrong. Amalek is trying to destroy the universe, but I want to rebuild it.”

That is why he had such faith, and why he was ready to abandon everything he had built in his life. He came out to the desert. He was willing to give it all up for the sake of his emunah.

That is why the parasha is given the name Yitro—because that is what Kabbalat HaTorah means: to go into the desert, to follow Hashem blindly, and to say, “Whatever Hashem wants of me, that is what I shall do.”

So in a very interesting way, we call this the parasha of Matan Torah—the giving of the Torah. But what is actually stated in this parasha? Only the Aseret HaDibrot, the Ten Commandments: five commandments governing the relationship between Hashem and us, and five commandments governing the relationship between people.

Matan Torah or Matan HaDibrot?

How the Ten Commandments Contain the Entire Torah

So why do we call it Matan Torah? We could have called it Matan HaDibrot. But we have to know that the Aseret HaDibrot, as the Maharal explains, actually contain the entire essence of the 613 mitzvot of the Torah. Although the Ramban teaches us that there is a debate as to whether the first two dibrot—the first two commandments—are actually commandments at all: Anochi Hashem Elokecha (“I am your God”) and Lo yihyeh lecha elokim acherim (“You shall not worship any other deity”). Are these truly commandments? Because the question is: can faith be commanded?

The Rambam says yes—faith is something logical that can be commanded. But at the same time, it is the basis of everything. We will not go now into the details of the first two commandments, but they are the actual foundation of our entire faith. If we do not believe in Anochi Hashem and Elohim acherim, we cannot keep the Torah at all. This is the basis of everything. Therefore, according to the Rambam, it is not even a commandment, but rather a statement. There are, of course, various opinions on this subject.

Moshe Rabbeinu and the Angels

Why the Torah Belongs on Earth, Not in Heaven

Now we know that when Moshe Rabbeinu went up to Har Sinai, before Matan Torah, to receive the Torah, the angels wanted to kill him. Fire came out of their mouths, and they tried to burn Moshe. Moshe was terrified. HaKadosh Baruch Hu told him, “You do not need to be afraid of the angels. Hold on to My throne, My Kisei HaKavod—that will protect you—and you can argue with them.”

Moshe argued with them. The angels said that the Torah was created before the world; it is the most precious thing that Hashem has. Why should the Torah be given to human beings, who sin and are not always loyal and faithful? Why give them the Torah?

So Moshe Rabbeinu answered them: “Do you have parents? Do you keep Shabbat? Do you have a yetzer hara? You do not need mitzvot, because you do not have a yetzer hara. What do you need the Torah for?” 

Then Moshe asked them a very interesting question: “Were you enslaved in Mitzrayim? Did you experience slavery? Did you suffer? Do you understand what happened to us in Mitzrayim?” Egypt is called Kur HaBarzel, the iron furnace, as we spoke about two weeks ago. Iron, when you want to purify it, must be heated until it becomes liquid. Then it can be poured and strained, and all the residue—the impurities—remain behind, leaving only pure metal.

Mitzrayim was meant to prepare Am Yisrael to receive the Torah. Its purpose was to build them spiritually. We know that eighty percent of Am Yisrael perished in Mitzrayim, and only twenty percent came out. That twenty percent proved their emunah. They performed Brit Milah. They brought the Korban Pesach. This is what prepared them.

After leaving Mitzrayim, they still had a seven-week journey before reaching Har Sinai. Why seven weeks? The Chachamim explain that this is comparable to the seven days of purity during which a bride prepares herself before getting married.

Moshe Rabbeinu was telling the angels that a person can only receive the Torah if he has been prepared in a very difficult way. You angels have never been through challenges. You have not faced trials. You do not understand slavery. You do not understand what we went through. We went through all of this for one purpose only: so that we would be able to receive the Torah.

What Is Torah?

A Code of Laws or a Path of Transformation?

So we are asking the question: what is Torah? As the Ramban asks in his introduction—what is Torah? Is Torah a code of laws? Is it something theoretical? How can we define Torah in order to understand it?

My husband used to always bring the Midrash that says that before HaKadosh Baruch Hu brought the Torah to Am Yisrael, He proposed the Torah to all the nations of the world, so that they would not later come and say, “Had You offered us Your Torah, we would certainly have accepted it.” According to the famous Midrash—and the well-known song—an angel comes to each nation and asks, “Do you want the Torah?” And the automatic response of each nation is, Mai kativ bah? What is written in the Torah? What is the Torah about?

Is it just mathematics? What is it? Is it a code? Is it merely a collection of laws? Is it a story? What is Torah?

So HaKadosh Baruch Hu comes to Esav, and Esav asks, Mai kativ bah? What is written in the Torah? And Hashem answers, Lo tirtzach—you may not murder. Esav responds, “But my entire livelihood depends on killing. That is who I am. I cannot accept such a commandment.” And he rejects the Torah.

It is said that HaKadosh Baruch Hu then came to Yishmael, the Arabs. They too asked, Mai kativ bah? What is written in the Torah? And HaKadosh Baruch Hu answered, Lo tignov—you may not steal. And they said, “Excuse us, but this is our way of life. We cannot accept that. We got the bracha veyad kol ba”

HaKadosh Baruch Hu went to the Egyptians, and the Mitzrim asked, “What is written in the Torah?” And Hashem answered, Lo tin’af—you shall not commit immorality. And they said, “But that is our lifestyle. That is how we live. We cannot change to that extent.”

So the question is: if all the nations received some understanding of the Torah and saw that it contradicted their own nature, how did Am Yisrael understand what Torah really is? How were they able to say Na’aseh ve’nishma—that we are willing to accept the Torah under all circumstances?

Hagbalah: The Power of Spiritual Boundaries

My husband was also accustomed to say that before Matan Torah, Am Yisrael received a very specific mitzvah: hagbalah. Har Sinai had to be fenced. Moshe Rabbeinu was commanded to place a boundary around the mountain so that no one would ascend it at the moment of Matan Torah, when the Shechinah would appear.

And the question is: how did this give them an understanding of what Torah actually is? What does hagbalah mean? The explanation is that one of a person’s primary ambitions is to understand everything that happens in the world. Human beings are naturally curious. We are constantly asking questions: why is this so, and why did this happen, and why do we want to understand?

Because when we understand something, it is much easier for us to accept it and to keep it. Chazal say that when HaKadosh Baruch Hu was about to come down on Har Sinai, one of the greatest spiritual temptations would have been to draw closer to the Shechinah, to the Divine Presence—to try to get a better view, to understand: What is the Shechinah? What are angels? What is Hashem? What is this Divine energy?

Moshe Rabbeinu tells them: you must know one thing—hagbalah. There are limits. And we are not speaking only physically; we are speaking spiritually. There are boundaries to what you can reach. There are certain things you will never be able to understand, because that belongs to the depth of Divine wisdom. Many things take place in the world—can we explain everything? No. As we know, there are fifty gates of wisdom. Forty-nine were given to human beings, but the fiftieth belongs only to Hashem. We will never be able to attain that level.

And therefore, when Am Yisrael was offered the Torah, they said: we understand what Torah is. But even when we do not understand, even when we reach our limitations, we will keep it under all circumstances, even without having all the answers.

Now let us return to what was proposed to the non-Jewish nations when they asked mai kativ bah. Am Yisrael understood their limitations. There are things we cannot understand—but why is it that when Hashem offered His Torah to the nations of the world, He told them things that contradicted their very nature? My husband used to ask: why didn’t Hashem say, “What is Torah? Torah is beautiful. You have Shalosh Regalim. You have Shabbat once a week. You have so many beautiful and relatively easy mitzvot.” Why did HaKadosh Baruch Hu tell the nations of the world something that went against their most basic way of life?

If we want to understand what Torah is about, the answer is that Torah’s entire purpose is to guide us. Torah is a derech. Its purpose is to transform us and improve our character, to correct our flaws. If we are not perfect—and none of us are—what does Hashem demand of us? He demands that we perfect ourselves, that we improve, that we become better human beings.

So Hashem is telling Esav: do you want to know what Torah is? Torah will help you become a better person. If you have within you a desire for killing, a desire for vengeance, I will give you the tools to overcome that negative impulse. You can become a better person. And Esav answers: I am not interested. I want to stay the way I am. And the same thing is said by Yishmael, and the same by Mitzrayim. All the nations say: we do not want to work on ourselves. We accept ourselves as we are, and we do not want to change.

But Am Yisrael said Na’aseh ve’nishma: we are undertaking a life of action, a life of doing, a life of self-improvement, whether we fully understand or not.

Fire, Water, and Desert

The Three Elements with Which the Torah Was Given

To understand even more deeply what Torah is, Chazal teach that the Torah was given with three elements. The Torah was given in the midbar, the desert. The Torah was given with water—there was rain at the moment of Matan Torah. And the Torah was given with fire—there were pillars of fire surrounding Har Sinai. This was a once-in-history event that never recurred. The way the Torah was presented had to be dramatic, with fire, water, thunder, lightning, and loud noise, to impress upon Am Yisrael that the world cannot exist without Torah.

Why these three elements?

Fire represents passion and warmth. Before reaching Midbar Sinai, Am Yisrael came from Refidim, where they were attacked by Amalek. The word Refidim contains the root rifayon, weakness. What weakened them? They were walking through the desert toward Har Sinai, but they no longer had the same passion they had when they first left Mitzrayim. On the first day of the Exodus, they were filled with excitement and anticipation. But as the days passed, that passion slowly diminished. When they arrived at Midbar Sinai, the passion returned. One of the foundations of Torah is that it must be kept with warmth, desire, and enthusiasm—every single day.

That is why the Torah says bayom hazeh—on that specific day they arrived—but does not give an actual date. It teaches us that every day Torah must feel new. Every day we must renew our passion for Torah.

Water represents continuity. Water flows constantly and never stops. It teaches perseverance and consistency—what we call hatmada. A desert is a place of nothingness. It symbolizes humility. There is no gold, no silver, no buildings—just emptiness. The desert teaches that to receive Torah, one must make oneself empty, put oneself aside. As the Midrash says, one must make oneself like a desert.

Tanur Shel Achnai

Greatness in Torah — and the Necessity of Unity

At this point my husband used to tell the children about the famous discussion in the Gemara concerning the Tanur Shel Achnai. In those days, ovens were made of earthenware rings fitted together. One such oven became impure, and the question arose whether it could still be used. There was a great debate among the sages. Rabbi Eliezer ben Hyrcanus, a tremendous talmid chacham, held that the oven was still pure and usable, while the other chachamim ruled that it was impure.

Rabbi Eliezer became very impassioned and said: I will prove that I am right. There was a carob tree nearby, and he said, “If I am right, let the tree uproot itself.” The tree uprooted itself. The sages said: we do not bring proof from a tree. He then said: “If I am right, let the river change direction.” The river flowed backwards. They said: we do not bring proof from a river. Then he said: “If I am right, let the walls of the Beit Midrash fall.” The walls began to lean. Rabbi Yehoshua shouted at them: how dare you interfere in a halachic debate? The walls remained slanted, and the Gemara says they are still slanted to this day.

Finally, Rabbi Eliezer said: “If I am right, let a voice come forth from Heaven.” A bat kol declared: the halacha follows Rabbi Eliezer. But the chachamim responded: Lo bashamayim hi. The Torah is no longer in Heaven. We follow the majority. Hashem responded: Nitzchuni banai—My children have defeated Me.

What is this teaching us?

The Vilna Gaon and the Ohr HaChaim explain that Rabbi Eliezer was trying to show that he embodied the foundations of Torah. The carob tree symbolized simplicity. Rabbi Eliezer testified that he lived a life without material indulgence. The water symbolized humility—water always flows downward. He was not seeking honor. The walls symbolized constancy—his perseverance in Torah learning day and night.

Yet despite all this, there was one missing element: unity. At Har Sinai, Am Yisrael stood ke’ish echad be’lev echad. Rabbi Eliezer could not fully yield to the collective decision. Torah requires unity, even when one believes he is right.

And we conclude with bayom hazeh—every day Torah must be new, as if we received it today. When we hear the Aseret HaDibrot on Shabbat, we must feel renewed acceptance, Na’aseh ve’nishma, as if it is happening now.

From Aseret HaDibrot to the Mizbe’ach

Finally, after the Aseret HaDibrot, the Torah speaks immediately about building a mizbe’ach. Hashem says: Bechol makom asher azkir et Shemi avo eilecha u’verachticha. Rashi asks: shouldn’t it say, “where you mention My name”? The answer is that Hashem is teaching us that building a home or a structure is not enough. The Shechinah comes only where it is truly welcomed—where there is spiritual building, not only physical.

I will end with a story my husband used to tell: two neighbors who stopped speaking for twenty years after an argument. One day, one of them decided to make peace and invited the other to her son’s wedding. The date conflicted with a medical procedure, so they postponed the wedding by two days. On the original date, there was a tragic collapse in a wedding hall in Talpiot. Because of peace, lives were saved. Gadol hashalom.

Have a wonderful Shabbat, and all my love,From Yerushalayim