Thoughts on Advisors and Leaders

Originally Posted February 6, 2026

It is striking that this week’s Torah portion containing the central moment of Jewish history—the Israelites standing at Sinai, receiving God’s word and the Ten Commandments—bears the name of Moses’ father‑in‑law, Jethro. By highlighting Jethro and his advice, the Torah draws our attention to an essential dimension of Moses and a lesson about leadership itself.

After welcoming his father‑in‑law, who congratulates him on the success of his mission and acknowledges the power of the Lord, Moses spends an entire day adjudicating disputes among the people. By evening he is exhausted. Jethro approaches—not to flatter him, not to scold him, but simply to tell the truth: “The thing you are doing is not good.” And Moses—who has every reason to bristle—listens. He changes course. The community becomes stronger because a leader was willing to hear hard counsel from someone who cared enough to offer it.

Once you start noticing advisors in the Torah, you see them everywhere. And once you see them in the biblical narrative, it becomes impossible not to notice them in our own world.

A midrash teaches that Pharaoh had three advisors when he contemplated enslaving the Israelites: Balaam, Job, and Jethro. Balaam, the prophet for hire whom we later meet in Numbers, urges Pharaoh to act ruthlessly—enslave the Israelites, oppress them, and eventually cast their infants into the Nile. Job, the rabbis say, remains silent. He neither protests Balaam’s cruelty nor offers a more hopeful assessment of the Israelites’ potential. He simply says nothing. Jethro, seeing where this was heading, refuses to participate. He flees to Midian rather than lend legitimacy to Pharaoh’s plans.

The rabbis teach that their fates mirror their choices. Balaam, forced to speak only God’s words, is discredited and later dies in the violence at Baal Peor. Job suffers calamity after calamity, learning too late that silence can also be a sin. Jethro, by contrast, escapes Egypt, welcomes Moses into his family, embraces the God of Israel, and—according to the Mekhilta—returns to Midian to bring his followers to Torah. The midrash makes a bold claim: advisors are not bystanders. Their words—and their silences—shape history.

Later in the Bible, in Second Samuel, David flees Jerusalem as Absalom seizes the throne. Absalom receives two competing pieces of counsel: Achitophel urges swift, ruthless action; Hushai, secretly loyal to David, counsels patience and restraint. Absalom chooses the advice that flatters his ambition, and it leads to catastrophe. A generation later, Solomon’s son Rehoboam does the same, rejecting the elders who counsel moderation and embracing the young men who tell him what he wants to hear. The result is the division of the kingdom. In both cases, the tragedy lies not only in flawed leaders but in the counsel they choose to elevate.

Centuries later, we meet Ahasuerus, the Persian king who drifts from one advisor to another. Haman manipulates him with promises of silver; Mordecai and Esther open his eyes to the danger he has enabled. If Moses models a leader who can hear hard truth, Ahasuerus shows us the peril of a leader with no internal compass at all. The fate of an entire people hangs on who has his ear.

Our own history offers its own contrasts. George Washington deliberately assembled a cabinet of ideological opposites—Hamilton and Jefferson—believing the republic would be stronger if he heard arguments from every side. Abraham Lincoln famously built a “team of rivals,” trusting that dissent would sharpen his judgment rather than weaken it. Other leaders have chosen differently, seeking loyalty over wisdom, affirmation over truth. History tends to remember the difference.

We need not spell out the contemporary resonance. We are living in a moment when the character of a leader’s advisors may matter as much as the character of the leader. Some advisors speak truth. Some enable harm. Some remain silent. And the consequences ripple far beyond the walls of any palace or office. One might hope that leaders’ advisors would guide them toward the rule of law, basic morality, and the common good, rather than simply feeding ego or indulging whim.

The Torah portion reminds us that leadership is never solitary. Even Moses needed someone to say, “This isn’t working.” Even the greatest leaders depend on the courage and integrity of the people around them—people willing to speak truth to power. So the question for this week is not only what kind of leaders we have, but also: what kind of advisors do they choose, and what kind do they allow themselves to hear?

And for all of us, in our own spheres of influence, large or small: are we surrounding ourselves with people who tell us the truth, or only those who tell us what we want to hear? Do we welcome counsel that benefits us and those around us, or do we turn a deaf ear to voices that challenge us?

Our tradition urges us to pray for leaders who listen, and for advisors who speak with courage. The fate of communities—ancient and modern—has always depended on both.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Edward Friedman