| When I was a Harvard graduate student lo many years ago, person-sized Biblical words about law looked down on me every day from atop one of the academic buildings. They look down on me still – and on you, and on our country. |
By Rabbi David Evan Markus
Yitro 5786 (2026)
I rarely discuss my professional pedigree: I myself hardly believe it. In just one generation, my family worked its way from homeless to Harvard. My dad, born on the steppes of East-Central Asia, still can’t spell much less use a computer. My life isn’t anything that he or his ancestors could have imagined.
My first-generation immigrant experience is American Dream stuff that has magnetized millions to these shores. For millions more – trafficked here in chains, smuggled or coerced here as sex machines, lured here by promises of better lives – the Dream still abides even though too often vanishingly far from reach.
Harvard has a long journey ahead to fully heal past exclusionary elitism, but in recent decades Harvard has dedicated herself profoundly to socioeconomic access and societal rectitude. In her ivy-covered buildings I joined a growing cohort of first-generation legal eaglets and policy wonks, some from disadvantaged backgrounds near and far. Together we learned alongside the ancestrally affluent, the wealthy in social capital and connections, the so-called governing class that perhaps we might join.
And whoever we were, whatever our background or reason for being there, every single day person-sided Biblical words about law from this week’s Torah portion looked down at us from the cornice of historic Austin Hall. Here’s a cleaned-up translation for modern eyes (Exodus 18:20):
| וְהִזְהַרְתָּ֣ה אֶתְהֶ֔ם אֶת־הַחֻקִּ֖ים וְאֶת־הַתּוֹרֹ֑ת וְהוֹדַעְתָּ֣ לָהֶ֗ם אֶת־הַדֶּ֙רֶךְ֙ יֵ֣לְכוּ בָ֔הּ וְאֶת־הַמַּעֲשֶׂ֖ה אֲשֶׁ֥ר יַעֲשֽׂוּן׃ | Enjoin on [others] the laws and the teachings, and make known to them the way they will walk amidst them and the practices they must do. |
Decades later, these words look down on me still – and on you, and on our country.
These words came from Moses’ father-in-law Yitro (Jethro), kohen (priest) of Midian, who even before the Ten Commandments (also in this week’s Torah portion) saw Moses burning out. So Yitro took his son-in-law aside and advised him to delegate to capable others who have “awe of God, people of truth who spurn ill-gotten gain” (Exodus 18:21).
It would have been enough (“Dayeinu!”) for Yitro to tell Moses to delegate and “enjoin on [his subsidiary leaders] the laws and teachings.” But Yitro’s points were far deeper:
- They who lead must not imagine themselves to be law unto themselves.
- They who lead must be scrupulously honest, and despise self-service in their roles.
- They who lead must do so knowing that they thereby model for others how to walk in the world.
I shudder to imagine what Yitro might say today.
Today all of us are leaders or potential ones – whether officially so, or in the ambit of our lives and relationships. Yitro’s words therefore are for all of us, not just official leaders. Consider:
- Do we live our lives in ways that self-justify, defensively clutching our rightness?
- Are we scrupulously honest? Do we position for self-aggrandizement?
- Do we live our lives reflecting that all we say and do models for others how to walk in the world?
Covid showed us how utterly interdependent we are. This era shows us how fear, fury and misconduct can spread – and so can love, truth and fiery dedication to righteous living.
Each of us has choices and perhaps untapped ability to fulfill Yitro’s vision. His words look down on all of us. How does your life answer him?
David Evan Markus 