Holding Less, Becoming More

Yitro, Moshe, and the Strength of Shared Responsibility

In memory of our holy soldiers who fell sanctifying God’s Name and the Land of Israel:Ephraim son of Liat and Shmuel,Yosef Malachi son of Dina and David,Eliyahu Moshe Shlomo son of Sarah and Shimon,Yosef Chaim son of Rachel and Eliyahu,Netanel son of Revital and Elad,Yakir son of Chaya and Yehoshua.

There is something slightly uneasy about the opening of #ParashatYitro.

We are building up to a HUGE national moment, and then... We are given a family conversation, a father-in-law criticizing his son-in-law.

#Yitro watches #Moshe all day. He sees the people lined up from morning until night. He sees Moshe answering questions, settling disputes, carrying everyone on his shoulders. Against every piece of parenting and in-law wisdom ever written — he opens his mouth.

As a mother-in-law, I have spent years reading this scene and cringing.

Please stop.

Aaaahh, don’t say it.

Yitro proceeds to do everything psychology tells a parent-in-law never to do. He questions the system. He offers advice. He tells Moshe how to run things. Directly. Calmly. With confidence.

And somehow — incredibly — it works.

Moshe listens. He takes it seriously. He changes the entire structure of leadership.

Which immediately raises the question: how?

This is not how these conversations usually go. Anyone with a family knows that. So something else must be happening here, something beneath the surface.

This does not feel like Moshe and Yitro’s first rodeo. There is a sense that they already know each other. There is a kind of cosmic trust in the room that allows this moment to unfold the way it does.

(Just to be clear: please don’t try this at home, parents-in-law.)

Seeing What the Leader Cannot See

So what allows this conversation to land? What does Yitro see that Moshe himself may not fully see yet? Once we stop focusing on the boldness of the moment and start listening to the content of what is being said, the picture sharpens.

What Yitro sees is not a small leadership flaw. He sees a system that is slowly draining the person at its center.

The Torah describes the scene:

וַיַּעֲמֹד הָעָם עַל מֹשֶׁה מִן הַבֹּקֶר עַד הָעָרֶב

“The people stood over Moshe from morning until evening.”(שמות י״ח:י״ג)

Yitro names the problem with shocking clarity and rare language:

לֹא טוֹב הַדָּבָר אֲשֶׁר אַתָּה עֹשֶׂה

“The thing you are doing is not good.”(שמות י״ח:י״ז)

And then comes the phrase that sits at the heart of this parasha: Why is what Moshe doing such a problem? 

נָבוֹל תִּבֹּל — גַּם אַתָּה גַּם הָעָם הַזֶּה אֲשֶׁר עִמָּךְ

“You will surely wear away — both you and this people who are with you.”(שמות י״ח:י״ח)

Yitro explains why:

כִּי כָבֵד מִמְּךָ הַדָּבָר — לֹא תוּכַל עֲשֹׂהוּ לְבַדֶּךָ

“Because the matter is too heavy for you; you cannot do it alone.”(שמות י״ח:י״ח)

Moshe’s response is telling. 

כִּי יָבֹא אֵלַי הָעָם לִדְרֹשׁ אֱלֹקִים

“Because the people come to me to seek God.”(שמות י״ח:ט״ו)

They need him. They rely on him. They want direct access. And Moshe steps forward to carry it all.

Isn’t this exactly what a leader is meant to do?

If the people are asking, if they are seeking God, if they want guidance, what could possibly be wrong with answering the call?

Yitro’s insight is that the problem is not Moshe’s devotion. It is the system that devotion has created. Moshe has become the single address for everything: teaching, judging, translating God’s will. The people are no longer learning how to stand on their own; they are waiting in line.

The Torah doubles its language when describing the outcome: נָבוֹל תִּבֹּל. The commentators explain this doubling in two complementary ways.

Rashi (שמות י״ח:י״ח) points directly to the continuation of the verse — גַּם אַתָּה גַּם הָעָם הַזֶּה — teaching that the wearing down applies to both Moshe and the people. A leader in this position may genuinely believe he is being altruistic, stepping up for the sake of the nation. Yet the Torah insists that when one person holds everything, the leader collapses — and the people do as well. The very over‑stretch meant to help them ends up weakening them. 

Ibn Ezra explains that נָבוֹל describes an inner withering, like a leaf that dries out before it falls. First the inner vitality erodes; only afterward does the outer structure collapse. In this reading, Moshe’s exhaustion is the first stage of a much larger breakdown.

Taken together, these explanations reveal the fundamental issue. Responding to need without limits slowly damages the relationship on both sides. The giver loses strength and clarity and develops resentment, and the receiver loses agency and growth, leading to fragmentation and argument.

There is an important Torah principle being taught here. When someone stretches beyond their true capacity, even for noble reasons, the cost does not remain personal. It spreads through the system and weakens everyone involved.

When “Lo Tov” First Appears: Back to Eden

This idea is underlined by a rare phrase. The Torah uses the words לֹא טוֹב only twice in the entire Chumash.

The first time is in Eden:

לֹא טוֹב הֱיוֹת הָאָדָם לְבַדּוֹ

“It is not good for the human to be alone.”(בראשית ב׳:י״ח)

The second time appears here, with Moshe.

This parallel invites us to look back at Eden with fresh eyes. Adam was not physically alone when the Eden failure occurred. Chava existed. They spoke. They acted together. But structurally, Adam remained the sole carrier of responsibility and command.

God gives the command about the tree only to Adam:

וַיְצַו ה׳ אֱלֹקִים עַל הָאָדָם לֵאמֹר

“God commanded the human, saying…”(בראשית ב׳:ט״ז)

Chava receives the command through Adam. Chazal note that Adam adds a protective layer, adjusting the boundary in an effort to safeguard her. What emerges is confusion rather than clarity. Responsibility is carried for another adult instead of being shared with trust.

This same pattern appears in the next generation. Kayin struggles with sharing space — with his brother and with God. God speaks to him directly:

לָמָה חָרָה לָךְ… וְאִם לֹא תֵיטִיב לַפֶּתַח חַטָּאת רֹבֵץ

“Why are you angry… if you do not improve, sin lies at the door.”(בראשית ד׳:ו׳–ז׳)

Kayin’s difficulty with parallel existence turns rivalry into destruction.

From Eden to Sinai: Souls, Repair, and Shared Responsibility

Yitro enters the Torah as a correction to this long story. His descendants are called בְּנֵי קֵינִי, linking him directly to Kayin’s lineage.

Here the Zohar adds an essential layer of depth.

The Zohar teaches that Adam HaRishon contained within himself the spiritual roots of all later souls, and that Moshe represents the repair of Adam’s damaged da’at — the capacity to carry divine knowledge into the world in a stable, structured way.

The Zohar states:

"אָדָם כָּלִיל כָּל נִשְׁמָתִין"

“Adam encompassed all souls.”(זוהר א׳ כ״ה ע״ב)

And regarding Moshe, the Zohar teaches:

"מֹשֶׁה שְׁקִיל כְּכָל יִשְׂרָאֵל"

“Moshe is equivalent to all of Israel.”(זוהר ג׳ רט״ז ע״ב)

Read together, the Zohar’s picture becomes clear. Adam began as a single human consciousness meant to hold the whole of humanity. That structure collapsed under its own weight. Moshe appears as the repair of that model — once again a single consciousness carrying the whole, but now required to learn how to distribute that weight so it can endure.

In that sense, Moshe stands in the same spiritual position as Adam once did, now at the edge of national revelation.

The Zohar also explains that Yitro emerges from the side of Kayin after refinement. Kayin’s original failure was his inability to tolerate parallel existence — another standing beside him before God. Over generations, that spiritual energy is purified. Yitro appears as the corrective expression of Kayin’s line: strength that no longer competes, but organizes; power that no longer excludes, but distributes.

This is why Yitro can say to Moshe what no one else can. Adam needed a partner who could hold responsibility alongside him. Moshe needs a structure that allows others to stand beside him. Yitro supplies precisely what was missing in Eden and endangered again here — shared responsibility grounded in trust. He even names the outcome of this repair in practical, human terms:

וְכָל־הָעָם הַזֶּה עַל־מְקֹמוֹ יָבֹא בְשָׁלוֹם

“And all of this people will come to their place in peace.”(שמות י״ח:כ״ג)

When responsibility is shared and trust is restored, people are no longer crushed or dependent. Each person is able to stand in their own place, whole and at peace.

What Kayin could not tolerate, Yitro actively creates: shared leadership, distributed responsibility, and trust in others to stand fully in their roles.

This repair has to happen before Sinai. A nation cannot become אִישׁ אֶחָד בְּלֵב אֶחָד — one people with one heart — when one person is holding everything alone.

Before Torah can be given, a foundational middah must be learned: honesty about our own limits, paired with faith in others to carry responsibility without being overprotected or managed. That quality allows real unity to form.

Yitro’s courage and Moshe’s humility repair something ancient. Eden faltered when one soul carried too much. Kayin stumbled when he could not share space. This moment brings a different way forward — shared responsibility, clear limits, and trust.

Only then can a people stand together and receive the Torah.

What This Asks of Us Today

This parasha invites us to look at our own relationships and roles. It asks us to notice where we may be carrying more than is truly ours to carry, and where that over‑carrying may actually be getting in the way of growth — our own and others’.

Sometimes we stretch ourselves because we care. Sometimes we step in because someone asked. Sometimes we hold everything because it feels responsible, generous, even loving. And yet the Torah here invites us to recalibrate. Chesed begins with honesty — honesty about our own capacity, our limits, our energy, and our role.

Just as important, it asks for faith in the other. Faith that another person can hold responsibility, make choices, grow, and stand on their own feet without being over‑protected, managed, or buffered from reality. Trust creates space. Space creates strength.

When we live this way, relationships become lighter and stronger at the same time. Leadership becomes sustainable. Families become healthier. Communities become more resilient. And most importantly, we create vessels that can actually hold the presence of God and the demands of Torah.

Yitro teaches us that truth spoken with care can be an act of love. Moshe teaches us that humility is the willingness to listen. Together, they model a pre‑Torah middah that still matters deeply: shared responsibility, clear boundaries, and trust.

That is how Torah finds a home — not in exhaustion or overreach, but in relationships sturdy enough to carry it together. When we learn to live with shared responsibility and trust, we echo Yitro’s promise once again: each person can arrive at their place in peace, and together we can become a people capable of standing as אִישׁ אֶחָד בְּלֵב אֶחָד.