I have heard several interviews lately with a Jesuit priest named Father James Martin. He is promoting his latest book, called “Work in Progress,” which refers to himself.

Driving home after an urgent dog food buying mission, I heard the tail end of an interview with him and wondered idly how old he is. Because it’s not unusual for young people to see themselves as a work in progress. But it turns out that he is only three years younger than me. And I’m getting on in years.

Like Father Martin, I am a clergy person.

And I too am a work in progress. The last couple of years haven’t been particularly easy, but I’m hanging in. Some days are better than others.

While thinking about Father Martin and his diligent outreach beyond the normal bounds of his job, I realized that this week’s Torah portion is especially relevant.

The Torah portion is called Yitro, named for Moses‘s father-in-law Yitro, pronounced Jethro in English. It is one of only two Torah portions (out of 54) named after a non-Jewish person.

Seeing as this is the Torah portion in which the 10 Commandments appear, it is astonishing that it is named for someone who isn’t Jewish. There is a message in this, I believe.

It begins with a quiet interaction between Moses and his father-in-law. Yitro is warm, kind, and thoughtful. He is the high priest of his own people, and yet he treats Moses with great respect.

He gives Moses valuable advice on how to lead without burning out, which Moses wisely heeds. Only then does the Bible get down to the business of telling us what happened on Mt. Sinai.

The seemingly innocuous exchange between the two men offers an example of how we as humans can interact. It’s not the religion a person practices that matters. It’s the intention to reach out to another human being and have a positive effect on them, without any hint of proselytizing.

It’s being kind. Thoughtful. Respectful. It’s doing exactly what religion demands of us — to strive to make the world a better place. Not only for ourselves, but for every person.

Even the smallest mitzvah matters. Jew or gentile, rabbi or priest, we each have the ability to touch another person, elevating their soul and our own.