Edited and adapted from Ari’s Grill and Torah from 2017.
Parshat Yitro is one of the most special portions in the Torah—not only because it contains the Ten Commandments, but because of how and where they are given, and even more so, who the parsha is named after.
Yitro, Moshe Rabbeinu’s father-in-law, was not Jewish. And yet, the most foundational moment in Jewish history—the giving of the Torah at Mount Sinai—appears in a parsha named for a non-Jew. That fact alone is very strange and should stop us in our tracks.
Why would the Torah choose to anchor its most sacred moment to a figure outside the Jewish people?
At the same time, the Sinai experience itself raises deep questions. It was a national revelation: an entire people heard God speak. Yet no one was allowed to ascend the mountain or even touch it. God warned Moshe explicitly that anyone who crossed that boundary would be punished by death.
What, then, was the point of a revelation on a mountain that no one could approach? If everyone could hear God anyway, why the physical distance? And how is it possible that just one day after such an overwhelming experience, the nation of Israel built a golden calf?
These questions are not historical curiosities. They go to the heart of what Judaism understands faith, morality, and human responsibility to be.
Faith Is Not About Comfort
To begin answering them, we must step outside the modern mindset that assumes everything must conform to our understanding or comfort. We live in an age where moral legitimacy is often measured by personal feeling: If I’m comfortable with it, it must be right. Torah rejects that premise outright.
We are not the center of the world. This is really something that we have to understand as humans. You know, we have an ego, and we think the world is only for us.
Judaism does not define morality by comfort. In fact, morality often demands that we restrain our comfort. Wanting something—even strongly—does not make it permissible. The classic example is simple but sharp: wanting a cheeseburger does not make it kosher.
Torah is not about us being comfortable. It is about aligning ourselves with a reality that transcends us.
That is why Mount Sinai had boundaries. The inability to touch or ascend the mountain was not a flaw in the revelation—it was the message. God’s will is not subject to negotiation or emotional appeal. Whether something feels fair or intuitive is irrelevant.
The world, according to Judaism, was created with purpose. And that purpose is not dictated by human ego.
This is what the world was created for, according to Judaism. God gave us a soul, gave us a body, gave us the tools to uplift our body and the soul, and also gave us the tools to destroy both the soul and the body. And our job in this world is to choose.
Holiness Means Separation
This idea is reinforced by how Judaism understands holiness itself. The Hebrew word Kadosh does not mean “holy” in the mystical or sentimental sense. It means separate. Distinct. Defined by boundaries.
God is holy, we are holy as well, according to Judaism, man is a spiritual being. According to Judaism, man is the son of God. All men, women and children.
That is why, by the way, murder is so bad, because if someone murders someone, God forbid, it’s as-if they’re killing a spark of God, because each man and woman and child was created with a spark of God. (Obviously one cannot kill God or a spark of God; this is a metaphor.)
That is why the Torah’s laws are so precise. Separation is not punishment—it is structure.
The tragic story of Uzzah illustrates this powerfully. When the Ark of the Covenant appeared to be falling, Uzzah reached out to steady it, believing he was acting righteously. Yet he was punished for touching it. Why? Because the command was explicit: the Ark was not to be touched. His intentions were human—but the command was divine.
Judaism does not measure morality by intention alone. “I thought it was right” is not the standard. Obedience to God’s will is.
Human Responsibility Is Not Optional
At the same time, Judaism does not teach passivity. The idea that humans should simply “wait for God” while doing nothing is foreign to Torah thought.
There is a well-known parable about a man drowning at sea who refuses help from the Coast Guard, a cruise ship, and a fisherman because he insists that God will save him. When he dies and confronts God, he is told: I sent you help three times. Why didn’t you take it?
God works through human action. Redemption does not descend in a vacuum. We are expected to act within the framework God gives us.
This is why Yitro’s role is so important.
A non-Jew gives Moshe advice on how to govern the Jewish nation—and Moshe accepts it. Not because Yitro had authority over the Torah, but because it was good advice, and wisdom, truth, and responsibility are not limited to any one people.
That moment is not accidental. It is essential.
Sinai Was a Spark—Not a Substitute
Mount Sinai was a spark. A powerful one. But sparks do not sustain faith.
Faith is sustained by choice.
That is why the golden calf was possible just one day later. Not because the revelation failed—but because revelation alone does not remove free will. God does not coerce belief. He does not override choice.
Even Adam and Chava who saw God, still chose wrongly.
Judaism insists on choice because relationship requires choice. A forced relationship is not a relationship at all. You cannot hold a gun to someone’s head and demand love—and God does not do that either.
The Torah was given publicly, but it must be chosen privately—again and again.
Why the Parsha Is Named Yitro
This brings us back to the central question: why is the parsha that contains the Ten Commandments named after a non-Jew?
Because choice is universal.
The Jewish people have a unique responsibility: to uplift the world, bring light into it, and model moral clarity. But Judaism does not force belief.
Non-Jews are not expected to observe the Torah. They are bound by the seven Noahide laws. Everyone has a role. Everyone has a choice.
Yitro represents that choice.
Parshat Yitro teaches us that faith is sustained by daily, difficult, conscious choices—guided by the laws God gave us.
And that is why this parsha is specifically named after a non-Jew, because we all have choices to make in this world.
Our goal is to elevate ourselves into a spiritual level, elevate our bodies into a spiritual level, and bring the entire world upward with us.