Jethro and Moses … and Christ

Bodelian Library, Oxford, MS Bodley 2708, Folio 39V
A good man? Moses’ father-in-law, Jethro, is a devoted family man, well respected for his advice on governing and his benevolent leadership of the tribes of Midian. This early 13th-century illustration from the Bible moralisée depicts Jethro (seated under the arch on the right) rewarding Moses (left) for rescuing his daughters (six of whom are pictured in the center) and their flocks from rival shepherds.




Jethro, to most people, was the not-so-bright son of Jed and Granny on “The Beverly Hillbillies.” How many realize that Jethro was the name of Moses’ father-in-law? Jethro was “priest and prince of Midian,” the area where Moses encountered the Burning Bush.

Jethro comes to Moses in the wilderness of Sinai, before the giving of the Ten Commandments, because he is bringing his daughter–Moses’ wife–back to him. Although the text does not tell us this earlier, she evidently took their children and went to her father for safekeeping during Moses’ confrontation with Pharoah; when Moses tells Jethro everything the Lord did for the people, including the plagues, this is all news to Jethro. If his daughter had seen any of this, she would have told him; evidently, she left Moses in Egypt before the plagues began. In thanksgiving for the deliverance of the people, Jethro offers a large sacrifice and invites all the clan leaders to the feast that follows.

The text tells us that Jethro is priest-and-prince. We already knew that he was wealthy because of the description of his large flocks when Moses first meets him. Whether Jethro was a wealthy herdsman who was therefore acknowledged as “prince” or was the prince and therefore was wealthy, we don’t know. But the linkage of royalty and priesthood only occurs one other time in the Old Testament: the priest-king Melchizedek who blesses Abraham and is seen as a “type” of Christ by the Epistle to the Hebrews.

Medieval rabbis were eager to avoid the embarrassment of Moses having a pagan priest-prince as a father-in-law and so they began to suggest that Jethro was circumcised after he heard the recitation of God’s mighty acts of deliverance–after he heard what became the Passover haggadah, in effect. This made Jethro, like Melchizedek, a legitimate priest before Aaron and his sons were made a legitimate priesthood. This makes Jethro, like Melchizedek, a foreshadowing of Christ–the Son of David who is both priest and king on the Cross. Jethro, however, was not the focus of the typology in the Epistle to the Hebrews because he did not evidently live forever, like Melchizedek did; Jethro was an imperfect type of Christ, the ultimate king-priest who is eternal.

Nevertheless, this makes for fascinating speculation about Moses–raised as a prince of Egypt– and his immediate family as Middle Eastern royalty and their connection to priesthood in both Moses’ father-in-law (Jethro) and his brother (Aaron).

Dare to Touch

… a synagogue leader came and knelt before him and said, “My daughter has just died. But come and put your hand on her, and she will live.” Jesus got up and went with him, and so did his disciples.

Just then a woman who had been subject to bleeding for twelve years came up behind him and touched the edge of his cloak. 21 She said to herself, “If I only touch his cloak, I will be healed.” (Matt. 9)

The woman with the 12-years hemorrhaging had been bleeding for as long as the dead 12-year old had been alive. Blood and life. 12 apostles. 12 tribes of Israel. Life vs Death. The life of the Kingdom vs fallen life in a fallen world. The episodes of the girl and the woman are short hand for the Gospel in so many ways.

The hemorrhaging woman is frequently cited in prayers in preparation for Holy Communion. We see ourselves in her: as she dared to reach out to touch Christ’s garment, hoping to be healed, we dare to reach out to receive his body and blood, hoping to be healed as well. Healed. Raised from the dead. Healed, aka “saved.” (Both words are derived from the same root in Greek.)

We “are bold” to say Our Father before Communion. Do we realize how daring it is to reach out, making a throne with our palms to receive the King of Kings? We frequently do this pro forma, unthinkingly, out-of-habit. But if we were truly awake, would we dare?

This woman, traditionally known as Berenice, is possibly also the woman known as Veronica who is said to have wiped Christ’s face with a cloth which was then marked with the image of his face. (Veronica and Bernice are both names derived from the same Phoenician root.) Both stories—Bernice and Veronica—are about daring to reach out, daring to touch. About cloth.

The Word of God clothes himself in human flesh. He dares to reach out towards us, inviting us to reach out to him. He dares to touch us in our grief, isolation, need. He welcomes our touch in return.

Judge Not? Humble Access

Medieval angel holding scales of justice, illustrating Libra, the constellation of scales in the zodiac.


Judge not, lest you be judged. You will be judged by the same standards that you use to judge other people. The measure you use will be used to measure you. (Matt. 7)

Does Jesus mean, “Don’t hold anyone accountable?” Does he mean, “Don’t have any standards?” Does he mean, “Let people get away with everything?” Of course not!

St. Joseph, the foster father of Jesus and the righteous man betrothed to the Mother of God, was prudent. He took his family to Egypt to escape the murderous intent of King Herod when Jesus was 2 years old and he brought his family back to Israel when King Herod died but he didn’t just go back to the village they had lived in before. He took them to live somewhere else because Herod’s son–who was worse than his father!–was ruling over their old hometown. St. Joseph certainly used his judgement, his common sense, and prudence to decide what to do in each situation. He did not bury his head in the sand and pretend to not see what was as plain as day for the safety of his family.

Jesus is not telling us to hold no one accountable. He’s telling us to hold ourselves accountable to the same standards we use to hold everyone else accountable. Maybe I have every excuse in the book to explain why I am late–the subway went out of service, it was pouring rain, there were no taxis, the bus got stuck in traffic–but then I get furious when someone else is late and makes me wait. Maybe I want to through someone in proverbial jail when they do something that I allow myself to do all the time. Maybe I am always the victim. Maybe it’s never my fault. Is that realistic? Is that honest?

Being honest is not about masochism and beating ourselves up for things we think we can’t help. It’s a simple statement of fact, like the opening lines of the Prayer of Humble Access:

We do not presume to come to this thy table, O merciful Lord, trusting in our own righteousness but in thy manifold and great mercy. We are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs from under thy table ….

This is not masochistic wallowing in guilt; it is a simple statement of fact.

Jesus is telling us to be humane. He’s telling us to be human. He’s telling us to be honest and admit that we fall short of our own standards and can’t expect other people to live up to standards or follow rules that we can’t–or simply choose not to–follow. He’s underscoring the importance of holding ourselves accountable the same way we want to hold everyone else accountable: “Our Father …. forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.”

From the writing of Dorothy Day