Perhaps “this thing you are doing is not good.”

Parashat Yitro, 2026

Parashat Yitro is often remembered for thunder and flame: for the Aseret HaDibrot, the Ten Commandments, spoken at Sinai. Like last month’s portion that insists that God can also be found “even in a thorn bush”, our parashah this month quietly shows that holiness is not only found in revelation; it is also found in administration. Before Israel receives a covenant, Israel must learn how to live together.

That lesson begins with Yitro noticing what everyone else has already apparently just accepted: Moses is trying to do everything himself. From morning until night the people line up, and every dispute, every injury, every question of right and wrong is funnelled through one exhausted leader. Yitro names the problem with blunt but compassionate advice: lo tov ha-davar asher atah oseh—“this thing you are doing is not good.” He does not say that this is “not heroic,” or “not impressive.” he simply says not good.

Yitro’s critique isn’t of course bout Moses’ intentions, it is, rather, about the system. A community cannot build justice, or function properly, on the back of one overburdened person. Even if Moses is wise, even if Moses is dedicated, even if Moses is indispensable. A single point of judgment or decision-making creates delay, burnout, and ultimately resentment. Worse: it teaches the people that responsibility belongs elsewhere, that morality is outsourced to “the one who knows.” Yitro proposes something more sustainable and, I believe, more sacred: structure. Appoint capable, trustworthy leaders at different levels, he says. Share the burden. Let cases be heard close to where people live, with only the hardest questions rising upward.

This is more than practical advice. It’s a theology of community building. Justice in Torah is not meant to be occasional or charismatic; it is meant to be accessible, understandable, repeatable, and dependable. A just society isn’t one where the leader is always available; it’s one where the people can rely on fair processes, clear standards, and accountable judges. In other words: justice is not just a value to be sought, it is an inbuilt part of the infrastructure.

The Ten Commandments that we hear in this parashah are not abstract spiritual slogans; they are the moral load-bearing walls of a shared life. “Do not murder,” “do not steal,” “do not bear false witness”, are these not the bare minimum conditions for any community that hopes to endure? That said, even the finest principles collapse without a way to apply them when real life gets complicated. The covenant needs a courtroom, and revelation needs responsibility.

There’s another surprise here though: the Torah places this wisdom in the mouth of a Midianite priest. Yitro is not Israelite, he is not part of the inner circle, he is not invested in Moses’ ego. He sees what insiders seem to have missed. Parashat Yitro teaches that Torah is not threatened by learning from others. On the contrary, wisdom is confirmed by its fruits: Does it strengthen life? Does it reduce harm? Does it build trust?

So the message of Yitro is this: don’t do holy work alone. If we care about justice, we must care about systems. If we care about covenant, we must create structures that help people live it. And if we want to be wise, we must be humble enough to learn: from teachers we expected to learn from, and from the voices we didn’t.

Yitro reminds us that it is our responsibility to build communities where responsibility is shared, justice is reachable, and wisdom is welcomed, so that the message Sinai can be heard not only in the sky, but in the way we treat one another every day.