One may find it strange that a Torah portion containing the Ten Commandments is named after Yitro, the gentile father-in-law of Moshe. How do we understand the peculiar naming of our parsha?

The Talmud (Sotah 11a) records an intriguing statement in the name of R' Hiya son of Aba: Pharaoh had sought council from three individuals, Bilaam, Job, and Yitro. The question at hand was a question that has become all too commonplace to the oppressors of the Jewish people throughout history and, most prominently, during World War II; Namely, what do we do about the "Jewish Problem"? The Torah informs us that despite Pharaoh's efforts to thwart the population growth among the Hebrews, the Jewish women continued to have children, and according to one approach, as many as six children were born through each pregnancy.

The Egyptian empire had been successful in cultivating one of the most effective working classes ever assembled. But at last, the equation was no longer viable in Pharaoh's eyes; the Jewish numbers were staggering, and the existential threat of a persecuted minority was now overwhelming. And so he turned to his wisest men, his chief advisors, three characters who will all resurface within the biblical narrative once again: Bilaam, Job, and Yitro.

And what sort of guidance did they provide? The Talmud informs us that Bilaam advised Pharaoh to deal wisely with the Jews and to appoint taskmasters, sarei misim, who would oversee the work and the construction of the new Egyptian metropolis. (Shemot 1:10-11)

Our Sages elaborate that for his crime Bilaam is punished with death, unfortunately not soon enough, as he is able to once more wreak havoc with his nefarious counsel to Balak. Yitro, on the other hand is rewarded. as his descendents merit sitting in the lishkat ha'gazit, the judicial court of the Sanhedrin. The Talmud tells us that Yitro was not alone in his righteous denial of Pharaoh, for Job also refused to provide Pharaoh with guidance. Wary of the consequence of granting evil advice, Job had remained silent. Yet despite his bold abstention, the Talmud tells us that he was, nonetheless, punished with yisurin, the immense suffering delineated in the opening chapter of the Book of Job.

The contrast between Yitro and Job is a jarring one. Yitro ran away from counseling Pharaoh, and Job simply refrained. It would seem, on the surface, that these two responses were both honorable ones, as they each refused to be a part of Pharaoh's immoral arrangement. Surprisingly, though, the Talmud notes that their actions were received in vastly different ways; Yitro was exalted and Job denigrated.

How may we explain such a contrast? Didn't they both refuse to indulge Pharaoh with a response? Job's silence would seem to be appropriate, and yet he is met with extraordinary harshness. He lost his money, his children, his wife, he was afflicted with unfathomable physical ailments, not to mention the sentiment of rejection by G-d and his peers.

The answer is that Job acted as he did because he was concerned about his social stature. To be in the Kingdom of Egypt at that point in history meant that you were in the most powerful nation to that date in the world. Egypt was untouchable.

To be among the three chief advisors to Pharaoh was even more significant. Bilaam, Job, and Yitro were the top advisors to the most powerful man in the world. To advise Pharaoh meant that you were writing world history, you were important, you were probably very intelligent, certainly well connected. As a chief advisor you were mentioned in every newspaper headline and were a part of every diplomatic discussion. You were the subject of every tabloid, victim to the paparazzi, and the object of discussion to political news junkies.

Job stood to lose much by denying Pharaoh's request, though he felt conflicted by the immoral nature of active involvement. Instead, he chose not to comment, which in effect was a form of passive consent. Job's deafening silence is therefore remembered as a direct approbation of Bilaam's mandate.

When Yitro ran away from Pharaoh's advisory committee, he gave up everything, including his rank, his job and his fame. Not to mention that Yitro was risking his life should he be captured. Our Midrash's take on Yitro may be understood through the words of Martin Luther King Jr., who once stated: "One who breaks an unjust law that conscience tells him is unjust, and who willingly accepts the penalty of imprisonment in order to arouse the conscience of the community over its injustice, is in reality expressing the highest respect for law."

Yitro breaks the law, he refuses to be a part of Pharaoh's decadent world, and that is why he merits being part of rebuilding an upright world. He shows the highest respect for the law by rejecting an unjust system. By not objecting to an atrocity, one bears the brunt of responsibility. Through the contrast of Job and Yitro, the Sages are teaching us of the price of silence in the face of iniquity. Yitro's story is a reminder that there once existed scruples in this world, people who wouldn't tolerate certain types of conversation. There once were those who couldn't handle the sound of idle chatter and excessive gossip, people who would get up from a board meeting in which the conversation veered off the path of morality and common decency, regardless of the social consequences.

My maternal grandfather had climbed the ranks to the level of sergeant in the American Army during World War II. On one occasion, his commanding officer made a snide remark about Jews, suggesting that it was their fault that they were all forced to fight in the war in the first place. The simple response would have been to shoulder the insults and remain silent, but his moral barometer and pride had been disturbed, and he promptly drew back his fist and swung, knocking out the officer. That they subsequently removed his stripes, demoting him down to the level of a private, was immaterial to my grandfather because something far more important than stature and prestige was at stake.

In a similar fashion Yitro, as a consequence of his actions, was forced to relocate to the desert, to rebuild his name, and was stripped of his rank and reputation. Though he is referred to as the kohen midyan, a priest of the Midianites, which might imply a degree of international renown, his name was apparently not enough to dissuade a group of miscreant shepherds from harassing his daughters (see R' Bachya for an alternate approach).

And why did he suffer this demotion? Because he saw a problem and spoke out, and he couldn't just remain silent. Yitro compromised everything because he had scruples and a backbone. He couldn't sit idly and let well enough alone.

Those who are unable to act as Yitro did suffer from a condition of being too tolerant. Nowadays intolerance is a dirty word; we are expected to remain silent whenever we disagree. It is no longer socially acceptable to object to something, for that would make a person "intolerant." But there are things we ought not to endure and stomach.

Interestingly, the failure of Job to respond was not his alone, but was endemic to his generation. We find in the promise for redemption in Parshat Vayera that the verse states: Ve'hotzeiti etchem mi'tachat sivlot mitzrayim (Shemot 6:6), "And I will bring you out from under the burdens of Egypt." The contemporary Chasidic work, the Darkhei Noam, explains that sivlot is related to the word savlanut, meaning patience. In other words, G-d promises that He will bring the Jewish people out from under the "patience" of Egypt.

In Egypt they were too patient, and overly tolerant. The Hebrew slaves looked back at 200 years of slavery and accepted it as a fundamental truth of the world. "We were always slaves and we always will be," they believed. The prophecy of ve'hotzeiti was intended to teach the Jewish people that they have to be redeemed from their illness of tolerance. If the Jewish people want to go free, they have to first learn that they have rights, that they can call out to G-d from their crisis, and that they must not accept the abuses bestowed upon them.

Yitro is in possession of this knowledge; he knows when to object and walk out. It is for this reason that Yitro earns a special place in our history, and that his sage advice is heeded by Moshe, forever altering the judicial system. The Torah portion that presents us with the Ten Commandments is named after Yitro, since it is Yitro's unique message that serves as a sine qua non for the acceptance of the Torah; i.e., one cannot accept the Torah without having standards and barriers. We are asked to establish an unwavering commitment to the Torah's precepts, but it must be predicated on an unyielding foundation of principled ethics.

Rabbi Shaanan Gelman is the rabbi of Kehilat Chovevei Tzion (Orthodox) in Skokie.