The book of Shmot Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Exodus, offers a fascinating perspective on this very idea, focusing on Moses, Jethro (Yitro in Hebrew), and the unexpected consequences of hospitality.
Let's delve into it. The verse says, "Moses went…" (Exodus 4:18). But why "went"? The Rabbis see more than just a simple departure. They connect it to Proverbs 17:17: "A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity." Who is this "friend who loves"? It's Jethro, who welcomed Moses with open arms when he fled from Pharaoh.
The Midrash suggests a powerful principle: when you embrace a mitzvah, a good deed, it leaves a lasting legacy on your household. Jethro's mitzvah was sheltering a fugitive, a deliverer escaping an enemy. Ironically, from his lineage emerged someone who sheltered an enemy fleeing a deliverer – Sisera, the Canaanite general who sought refuge in the tent of Yael, the wife of Heber the Kenite (Judges 4:17). And who were the Kenites? Descendants of Jethro, "the father-in-law of Moses" (Judges 1:16).
So, because Jethro showed friendship and love to Moses, his descendants became brethren to Israel in their time of need, and Yael famously drove a tent peg through Sisera’s temple, ending his reign of terror.
But the story doesn't end there. When God commanded Moses, "Go now, and I will send you to Pharaoh" (Exodus 3:10), Moses hesitated. Why? Because, according to the Midrash, he felt indebted to Jethro. "Master of the world," Moses supposedly said, "I cannot go without his permission. Jethro accepted me, opened his home to me; I am like a son to him. He who opens his door to another, owes him his life."
Think about that for a moment. Moses, chosen by God to liberate the Israelites, felt bound by gratitude to his father-in-law. This concept of owing one's life to someone who offers hospitality is echoed in other stories, like that of Elijah and the widow of Tzarefat. When her son died, Elijah pleaded with God, even questioning why he had brought evil upon the widow who sheltered him (I Kings 17:20). Elijah felt such a debt of gratitude that he risked his own standing before God to revive her son. And, as the story goes, "The Lord heeded the voice of Elijah, and the soul of the child was restored" (I Kings 17:22).
The Midrash goes further, suggesting that the honor we owe to someone who opens their door to us surpasses even the honor due to our parents. It uses the example of Elisha, who, upon Elijah's ascension, received a double portion of his spirit (II Kings 2:9). Shouldn't he have used that power to revive his own parents, as Elijah revived the widow’s son? The implication is that the debt to one’s host takes precedence.
This is why, the Midrash concludes, Moses felt compelled to return to Jethro. "Moses went and returned to Jeter his father-in-law" (Exodus 4:18) – not simply to say goodbye, but to acknowledge the profound debt he owed.
So, what does this all mean for us? It's a reminder that even seemingly small acts of kindness and hospitality can have far-reaching consequences. It speaks to the enduring power of gratitude and the importance of honoring those who offer us shelter and support. And it challenges us to consider the debts we owe, and how we can repay them, not just with words, but with actions.