There's something deeply puzzling about parshat Yitro. We're about to witness the most extraordinary moment in Jewish history, the revelation at Mount Sinai, the giving of the Torah, the defining event of our people's relationship with God. And yet the Rabbis choose to open the portion of the Torah not with chapter 19, which narrates the arrival of the Jewish people at Sinai, but with chapter 18, which could instead have constituted the final part of the previous portion, Beshalach. So, the portion of Revelation at Sinai opens with Yitro’s arrival, his advice to Moses about judicial reform, and only then proceeds to revelation.

Why? Even though Yitro was Moses' father-in-law, what is the Torah trying to teach us by centering a Midianite priest, a non-Jew, a complete outsider, in the narrative of our most sacred moment?
I want to suggest that Yitro's presence here is not incidental but essential, that the Torah is making a statement about the nature of revelation, the character of Jewish peoplehood, and our relationship with the wider world. And I believe this message has urgent relevance for Jewish leadership today.
The first thing to notice is timing. Yitro arrives immediately after the devastating attack by Amalek (Ex. 17:8-16). The juxtaposition is deliberate and instructive.
Amalek represents unprovoked hatred, a nation that attacked the weakest and most vulnerable Israelites from behind (Deut. 25:18), without cause or provocation. The trauma of that assault would have been profound. Here was a people freshly liberated from Egyptian slavery, still bearing the psychological scars of generations of oppression, now discovering that freedom doesn't mean safety. The world outside Egypt could be just as hostile, just as violent, just as determined to destroy them.
Into this traumatized moment comes Yitro. And the contrast could not be more stark. Where Amalek brought violence, Yitro brings friendship. The text emphasizes this: "Yitro, Moses's father-in-law, took Moses's wife Zipporah... and her two sons... and Yitro came to Moses in the wilderness where he was encamped at the mountain of God" (Ex. 18:2-5). He doesn't come as a threat but as family, bringing Moses's own wife and children back to him.
Rashi, commenting on this passage, notes that Yitro heard about the splitting of the sea and the war with Amalek, and "he came". Yitro himself exclaims: « Blessed is the Lord, Who has rescued you from the hands of the Egyptians and from the hand of Pharaoh. » (Ex. 18 :10). Unlike Amalek, who responded to Israel's liberation with violence, Yitro responded with joy and praise. Not only that, but it would appear that Yitro is intervening in a way that is connected to the abuses suffered by the Israelites at the hands of Pharaoh and Amalek.
The Torah is teaching a traumatized people an essential lesson: Not all non-Jews are Amalek. The world beyond Israel contains not only enemies and hatred but also friends and loving wisdom. This lesson was crucial then, and remains crucial now. A people defined solely by trauma, seeing every outsider as a potential Amalek, cannot fulfill its mission. The placement of Yitro immediately after Amalek insists that we hold complexity, that we remain alert to danger while staying open to connection.
But Yitro doesn't just offer comfort. He offers critique, and this is where the parashah becomes truly fascinating. When Yitro observes Moses judging the people from morning to evening, he says: "What you are doing is not good. You will surely wear yourself out, both you and this people with you, for the task is too heavy for you; you cannot do it alone" (Ex. 18:17-18). Moses accepts this advice and implements a hierarchical judicial system, appointing leaders of thousands, hundreds, fifties, and tens to handle routine cases, with only the most difficult matters coming to Moses himself (Exodus 18:25-26).
This moment is revolutionary. Indeed, it reveals that the Israelites already had disputes that needed adjudication. They already had norms and laws about property, family relations, interpersonal obligations. In other words, they already constituted a people with a culture, traditions, and legal consciousness, and all this before Sinai. Sinai provides a spiritual framework, but it works with material that already exists, with a nation whose existence does not depend only on the religious factor.
Now we come to the heart of the matter. Why does Moses, the greatest prophet, need advice from a Midianite priest? When Moses later recounts this episode in Deuteronomy (1:9-18), he presents the judicial system as if it were his own idea, but our parashah credits Yitro. Both are true: the idea originated with Yitro, but Moses incorporated it into the constitutional structure of Israel, making it Torah. As if to say that Torah isn't solely what God gave to Moses on the mountain. It's also what emerges from the interaction between Israel and the nations, from the wisdom that others offer and Israel accepts, integrates, and sanctifies. The very structure of Jewish jurisprudence, the judicial hierarchy that would define how Torah was applied, came from outside, from a non-Jew.
And here's the crucial point. This happens before Sinai. Yitro offers his advice in Exodus 18. The revelation at Sinai occurs in Exodus 19-20. The sequence matters. It's as if the Torah is saying: Only after Moses accepts Yitro's wisdom, demonstrating openness to truth from unexpected sources, only after showing that Israel can receive as well as transmit, only then is the people ready for Sinai.
What does this mean for Judaism and Jewish leadership in our own time?
First, it challenges us to resist the temptation of insularity. The trauma of Jewish history, from Egypt to Amalek to the Shoah and beyond, can make us suspicious of the outside world. And vigilance is indeed necessary, since we all know how the dormant anti-Judaism of many Western societies has reawakened in the last two years. But if we see every non-Jew as potential Amalek, we miss the Yitros, those who come with wisdom and with blessing. The parashah teaches us to hold both truths: there is real danger in the world but there are real allies; there is antisemitism and there is genuine solidarity. Leaders must cultivate discernment, not paranoia. Moreover, for reasons of survival, we have learned above all to recognize the Amalek, but we are decidedly less capable of recognizing the Yitros, and it is more important today than ever to learn to do so and to show them gratitude.
Second, it reminds us that Jewish tradition isn't hermetically sealed. We've always learned from others: Greek philosophy with Maimonides, Islamic jurisprudence in the time of the Babylonian Geonim, and in more recent centuries, Jewish ethics and social thought have been in conversation with Enlightenment humanism, psychology, and modern philosophy. This isn't compromise or dilution; it's the very pattern established at Sinai. When we encounter wisdom from outside, we don't simply reject it or uncritically accept it. We do what Moses did with Yitro: we evaluate it, integrate what enhances our path, and make it part of our ongoing revelation.
Third, it affirms that Jewish peoplehood precedes and transcends any single moment of revelation. We are not constituted solely by Sinai, essential as it is. We are a people with memory, culture, evolving norms, and collective wisdom. Leadership means respecting that, not treating communities as blank slates to be inscribed with the leader's vision, but recognizing the lived wisdom already present and helping to articulate, elevate, and connect it to our sacred sources.
Finally, it teaches that revelation is not a monologue but a dialogue. Yes, God speaks at Sinai. But that speaking happens in a context, a context partly shaped by Yitro's contribution, by Israel's existing practices, by the interaction between the particular and the universal. Torah isn't static text but living conversation, and leaders are called to facilitate that conversation, not to shut it down in the name of "authenticity" or "tradition."
So why is this sidra named for Yitro? Because the Torah wants us to know that even our most sacred moment, or perhaps especially our most sacred moment, is enriched by the presence of the stranger. That revelation happens not in isolation but in encounter. That the Jewish people's mission involves both receiving and giving, both teaching and learning. Sometimes wisdom emerges from multiple sources, from Torah and tradition, yes, but also from lived experience, from unexpected voices, from those we might too quickly dismiss as "outsiders." Moses, the first « Rabbi », since we call him Rabbenu, have the humility to say about Yitro "Your counsel is good" (Ex. 18:17) because truth appears in surprising places. And through this process the Yitro narrative is in a certain sense an integral part of the Revelation at Sinai. This is probably why the Rabbis chose to connect it to what follows and not to what precedes it.
We live in a fractured time, politically, culturally, even within the Jewish community itself. The temptation can be to retreat into tribalism, to see those who differ from us as enemies. But Parashat Yitro reminds us that this has never been our way. Even at Sinai, or especially there, we stood open to the world, learning from a Midianite priest, preparing to become "a kingdom of priests and a holy nation" (Ex. 19:6) not by separating from humanity or by monopolizing wisdom, but by recognizing it wherever it appears.
This is the Judaism we need, the Judaism I hope to serve: rooted in tradition yet open to wisdom from unexpected sources; particular in identity yet universal in concern; complex enough to see both Amalek and Yitro. May we have the discernment to know the difference, and the courage to embrace the Yitros who come bearing gifts we desperately need.