I went looking for the origins of the phrase - “the good, the bad and the ugly.” The internet seems pretty definitive that it comes from the 1966 epic spaghetti western film of the same name, which starred Clint Eastwood.
As a “spaghetti western,” it was an Italian film dubbed into English. The title speaks to the underlying mores of each of the main characters. In Italian, it was “the good, the ugly, the bad,” but Hollywood felt the cadence of “the good, the bad and the ugly” worked better in English.
I’m not actually going to talk about that film - I’ve never seen it - but I do think its title applies nicely to another epic adventure - that of the Israelites in this week’s Torah portion.
We’re in Parshat Yitro. The Israelites are nearly 50 days past the Exodus from Egypt. They’re just starting to get their sea-legs, or desert-legs if you will. A lot happens in this portion, and it follows this schema - the good, the bad, and the ugly.
First, the good.
The portion is named for Yitro - or Jethro - Moses’s father-in-law. Yitro is a tremendous character. Firstly, he’s not an Israelite - he’s a midianite priest whom the Torah holds in very high regard. In this portion, Moses reunites with his beloved father-in-law and tells him everything that happened to this point - from the plagues to the Red Sea to now living as a free people.
The text says that Yitro yichad - from chadah - he rejoiced over everything God had done. “Blessed be יהוה,” Jethro said, “who delivered you from the Egyptians and from Pharaoh, and who delivered the people from under the hand of the Egyptians!”
This is Yitro’s first lesson: start with the good; start with gratitude. It sets the tone for every interaction; it even sets the tone for the challenges ahead.
So with that, we move to the bad. Torah relays that the very next day, the day after their reunion, Yitro observes Moses at work. He sees Moses standing before the people weighing in on their interpersonal disputes and questions from sunrise to sunset.
לֹא־טוֹב֙ הַדָּבָ֔ר אֲשֶׁ֥ר אַתָּ֖ה עֹשֶֽׂה He says to Moses. “This thing you’re doing is lo tov, it’s not good! You will surely wear yourself out, and these people as well. The task is too heavy for you; you cannot do it alone!” He then suggests a system of judges, wise people appointed as Moses’ deputies to attend to the people’s problems.
This is Yitro’s second lesson: pace yourself. You are doing holy work. If you burn out, if we lose you. When we lose you, we lose an important changemaker, and whatever you were trying to fix will continue to be broken.
And then the ugly. Well, maybe not ugly, but certainly there is a terrifying and awe-inspiring sight in this week’s Torah portion. The parshah ends with the Israelites standing at the base of Mount Sinai. We’re told that Mount Sinai was all in smoke, “for יהוה had come down upon it in fire; the smoke rose like the smoke of a kiln, and the whole mountain trembled violently.” The Israelites are told to not approach the mountain, to not dare to touch it. If they do, they will be consumed, killed, by God’s power.
Yet from within this violent picture, God speaks to the people and dictates the Ten Commandments - the ten building blocks to an ethical society.
We go from terror to opportunity; from uncertainty to empowerment. Yitro ends with a way forward.
I find I’m using this “good, bad, ugly” framework and the parsha’s insights to carry me through these most dramatic weeks in Israel and the US. I find I need a methodology to survive the relentless heartbreak and worry that has taken hold and that Torah this week offers me one.
Start with the good, start with gratitude. It sets the tone for every interaction, it even sets the tone for the challenges ahead.
The good: there has been an immense amount of interfaith activity in the Rivertowns in the last few weeks. Two weeks ago Woodlands hosted interfaith clergy from around the Rivertowns to figure out how we may deepen our relationships to one another: minister to rabbi, priest to pandit. Then more emails flew back and forth, from the social action committees in local churches and synagogues offering help in combating antisemitism, interacting with ICE, providing food, health care and funding where the government is stripping away rights or providing roadblocks to care.
My good: I am grateful for a network of caring neighbors who look past lines of difference to protect the most vulnerable among us and assert love in the face of hate.
The bad: it would seem that we are going to go into every Friday night with stomachs in our chests as we await the release of more hostages from Gaza. This week, the ceasefire and hostage exchange seemed more tenuous than ever and the emaciated appearance of the last three hostages has us even more worried for the state and fate of those who remain. The psychological and physical terror knows no bounds. Hamas’ depravity, and the dangerous escalation by politicians, has us begging: please, please value life.
I think we could all argue that at this point I’ve already ventured from “the bad” to the “ugly,” unfortunately. When it comes to Israel/Palestine, when it comes to civil liberties, when it comes to attacks on American democracy through abuses of power, we want to do everything we can, immediately, to offer protection, but let’s be honest, many of us feel paralyzed by the enormity of the situation.
So here we must grab onto Yitro’s teachings yet again: pace yourself. You are doing holy work. If you burn out, if we lose you. When we lose you, we lose an important changemaker, and whatever you were trying to fix will continue to be broken.
This is yet another Sinai moment, friends. Yet, instead of a mountain on fire, it is our world that is on fire. Each person must stand at attention, listen and do as our hearts command us, but we must also be mindful of how to draw closer without feeling consumed and depleted.
Here are the base of the mountain on fire, we ask what change can we make right here in our small corner of the world? How can we transform this moment from terror to opportunity; from uncertainty to empowerment?
Again, the wisdom lies in the parsha. The first words God proclaims from Sinai are, “I יהוה am your God who brought you out of the land of Egypt, the house of bondage: You shall have no other gods besides Me…I will incur guilt on those who reject me, but I will show kindness to the thousandth generation of those who love Me and keep My commandments.”
Showing kindness to those who love me. Not revere, not obey, but LOVE. Our God deals not in fear but in love, the most binding, eternal emotion we have. This permeates the Torah, teaching us that love is the guiding force and the way to God. Hasidic wisdom teaches us that “only after we come to love people, can we come to love God.” Love is here at the base of the mountain.
The work ahead is not easy, but if we ground ourselves in gratitude and love, we will find the strength to move forward. Just as the Israelites stood at Sinai in the face of both terror and hope, we too can transform our fears into actions of healing and compassion. May we always choose to love, to protect, and to empower one another in this sacred work. Amen.
