Parshas Yisro 5780
Bureaucracy gets a bad wrap. Sure, the red tape that prevents employees further down the food chain from using their own best judgement and make their own decision leads to all sorts of annoyances for those of us little people trying to just get some answers and get things done. From passports to insurance coverage to credit card payments to medical bills, how frequently we find ourselves in need of the elusive higher-up who can actually authorize the decision we need as we tread water at the lower levels of the bureaucratic abyss.
But bureaucracy is not without its redeeming value. After all, sending the entire population of customers, consumers, and citizens right to the top to resolve even the simplest of issues would create a nightmarish logjam, and would also sideline the most senior members in the organization from handling the most vexing problems. The CEO can’t man the customer support hotline, the general manager can’t sell hot dogs in the stands, and the governor can’t be the one to fill potholes.
It’s an obvious principle of management; so how was it lost on Moshe Rabbeinu? Moshe’s father-in-law, Yisro, enters the camp to find that his son-in-law is serving as the sole judge for the entire population. Yisro succinctly sums up the issue to Moshe:
(נָבֹ֣ל תִּבֹּ֔ל גַּם־אַתָּ֕ה גַּם־הָעָ֥ם הַזֶּ֖ה אֲשֶׁ֣רעִמָּ֑ךְ כִּֽי־כָבֵ֤ד מִמְּךָ֙ הַדָּבָ֔ר לֹא־תוּכַ֥ל עֲשֹׂ֖ה וּלְבַדֶּֽךָ׃ (יח:יח
You will surely become worn out—you as well as this people that is with you—for this matter is too hard for you, you will not be able to do it alone. (18:18)
Moshe is ultimately swayed by Yisro’s advice to institute a hierarchical system and install other judges who can handle lower-level cases. But what took so long? The need to reserve our greatest talents to solve the most difficult problems is obvious to us all (occasional griping notwithstanding). Why didn’t Moshe detect the need for this from the outset?
Perhaps Moshe himself offers the answer. Moshe’s response to his father-in-law’s inquiry is terse, yet revealing. Upon being questioned as to why Moshe hears all the people’s cases himself, he explains:
(וַיֹּ֥אמֶר מֹשֶׁ֖ה לְחֹתְנ֑וֹ כִּֽי־יָבֹ֥א אֵלַ֛י הָעָ֖ם לִדְרֹ֥שׁ אֱלֹקים׃ (יח:טו
And Moshe said to his father-in-law, “For the nation comes to me to seek out G-d.” (18:15)
Moshe’s assessment is simple, yet profound. Indeed, for one who seeks an interaction with Hashem, there could be no better conduit than Moshe. Who better to convey G-d’s answer to questions of halacha, G-d’s verdict on a particular court case, G-d’s solution to a dispute between two parties, than the person who enjoyed the closest possible relationship with Him? The people want to connect to Hashem, and there is no one who could facilitate that rendezvous better than Moshe; how can he deprive his people of that?
A careful read of Yisro’s argument to Moshe is enlightening. “נבל תבל”, he says, “You will surely become worn out.” Moreover, “גם העם הזה—so will this nation.” Yisro doesn’t simply make a pitch for greater efficiency. He warns that what Moshe wants to offer most—himself—will waste away under the enormity of the workload and that the system will invariably implode. Every Jew may be worthy of an encounter with Moshe Rabbeinu, but the limits of space and time make that impossible. Forging ahead on the current path means inevitably arriving at a breaking point. It will mean the cruel irony of being left incapable of servicing a single Jew as a result of attempting to service every last one.
None of us is in as high demand as Moshe Rabbeinu, but, then again, our energy and ability is not of his caliber, either. The reality of being pulled in too many directions is one we all have to face and it is difficult to retreat from for the same considerations that Moshe had. Every project is important, every organization is worthy, every neighbor is beloved. Each has a valid claim to lay upon our time, money, and energy, and saying “no” feels callous and dismissive.
Yet we must allow Yisro’s words to ring in our ears as well. “נבל תבל,” we will surely become worn out. In our zeal to seize every opportunity and validate every request, we’ll eventually run out of steam. One’s own self is his greatest asset and that self needs to be properly preserved to have true value and make a real impact.
Even more importantly, “גם העם הזה,” even the people that surround us will suffer from our overwork. Being there for others in a depleted state robs them of the best version of ourself that could possibly be offered. It means providing one’s spouse, children, friends, coworkers, neighbors, and anyone else in our orbit with a sub-par version of ourselves because we insist on doing it all, even as the walls of reality close in around us.
Productivity guru David Allen once said, “You can do anything, but not everything.” This, in effect, was the message of Yisro and the one heeded by Moshe, our greatest teacher. If we try to be everything, we will end up being nothing; if we try to help everyone, we will end up helping no one. Saying “yes” to one opportunity necessarily means saying “no” to another. It is critical that we assign each word to its proper place.