
Shemot. The Book of Shemot (Exodus). A new story begins here. The Book of Exodus is completely different from the Book of Genesis. Until now, we have heard the stories of the patriarchs, read about personalities, families, and individuals. They were the heart of the story. In Genesis, God was the God of the family—present in person, speaking in dreams, but sometimes perceived as acting according to a grand and mysterious plan beyond our comprehension.
Here, already in the first verse, the focus shifts. We are talking about "the children of Israel," about a group. The transition is gradual but rapid, and the group becomes a collective: "And the children of Israel were fruitful and multiplied, and waxed exceeding mighty." The king of Egypt gives a name to this metamorphosis: he calls it "a people." This is the first time that Israel is referred to as a people.
"Behold, the people of Israel are numerous and powerful. Let us deal wisely with them, lest they multiply." (ibid., 10).
This is the first time Israel is referred to as a nation. From this point on, we no longer speak of a family, but of a nation. "The people of Israel" – contrary to the opening statement of the Declaration of Independence, we did not become a nation in the Land of Israel, but rather in exile. In our first exile: the Egyptian exile, which is also the only exile in the history of the Jewish people that took place entirely in one place – in the land of Goshen.
And Rabbi Abraham of Sochaczew says that it was good that it was so:
"In all the exiles, the Israelites were scattered in different places, only in the Egyptian exile were they all in one place, because all the exiles came after the giving of the Torah, and the Torah unites and brings together the Israelites despite their dispersion, but the Egyptian exile was before the giving of the Torah, and if they had been scattered in different places, they would not have been able to survive, God forbid."
But that is not the only difference. Not only does the human character change, but so does the character of God. In Exodus, we encounter a new kind of God: a God who hears, remembers, sees, and knows. This is a God who cares.
"""And God heard their groaning, and God remembered His covenant with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. And God saw the children of Israel, and God knew them.שDeath, 25-23)
The idea that it is possible to influence God, to motivate Him to act through human cries, is not self-evident. It is an idea that contradicts the image of a distant God who has a plan that we cannot understand. The parashah tells us that God is "human" in the deepest sense—He has feelings and the potential to empathize with our suffering. The God of Exodus is indeed powerful in His appearances—fire, cloud, and special effects—but He is also a God who "cares.", And it can be moved. And here arises the poignant question posed by Moses: If God cares so much and is capable of acting, why was the suffering necessary?
This is also the question Moses asks God at the burning bush, when he asks Him what His name is. He did not ask, "What is your first name?" or "How should I address you?" but rather, "What kind of God are you? Where have you been all this time?"
Rabbi Jacob Leiner, (the second Rebbe in the dynasty of the Izhbitz-Radzin Hasidic Rebbes) in his book House of Jacob, writes exactly that: Moses asks, "When I come to the Israelites to tell them that you are finally coming to redeem them, they will ask me: Where was God yesterday when the Egyptians filled their quota of bricks with my children? Where was God when they threw my son into the Nile the day before yesterday? How can they turn to you, and what will you answer when they ask where you have been until now?
And the well-known answer is not unequivocal. It is perhaps the most enigmatic answer in the Torah:
"And God said to Moses, "I will be what I will be; And he said, Thus shalt thou say unto the children of Israel, I will be hath sent me unto you." (Exodus 3:14).
The enigmatic answer "I will be what I will be" as God's self-designation has given rise to countless interpretations. I would like to offer two interpretations that speak to my heart:
Of course, this is not enough for Moses. He knows that if he comes to the Israelites with such an ambiguous message, he has no chance of success; therefore, God corrects himself. Actually, he does not exactly correct himself, but rather tells Moses that he should present him to the Israelites not as "I will be what I will be" but as "I will be" – he will be there, come what may. Always present, always on guard... always with you... even though his real name is "I will be what I will be" – that is the divine reality. In fact, one could say that God and Moses are "working" on the Israelites. They know the truth, but it is a secret between them, because the people need hope, they need to believe that the Holy One will be there; and ultimately, both God and Moses understand that belief in the success of the mission of redemption is essential to its success, and that without it, they will not receive cooperation from the equally important factor – the people – who have just been created as such. He knows that "I will be what I will be" has no meaning without belief in "I will be." Therefore, it is not really a lie, but a kind of white lie.
The God reflected in this interpretation is a God with whom one can identify, a God who really wants to help but cannot always do so. This is a very human God. Such an image makes me want to resemble him in the human qualities that I myself attribute to him: he is friendly, accessible, caring, very emotional, and has the best of intentions.
Perhaps we can offer another interpretation of God's twofold answer to Moses's profound question. It may be that there is not one true answer for Moses and another, less difficult answer for the people; perhaps the true answer lies in a combination of the two answers. "I am," says God, "both "I will be what I will be" and "I will be."" "I will be what I will be" is the answer to the intellect, to the mind, the only possible answer when we try to confront our God with the imperfect reality in which we live. This is the complex philosophical answer. "I will be" is the answer to the heart, to emotion. The God of "I will be" offers us comfort and hope. There is no slip of the tongue or correction here. There are two elements here that are essential to human beings. There is an essential paradox here.
In difficult times such as these, we may need the God of "I will be" more than ever, but we recognize and understand, and cannot help but know that reality is complex, and all we can receive from God is "I will be what I will be": "I promise nothing... I will try very hard... What can I do? All in all, I am just God..."
Co-founder of Beit Tefila Israeli, community rabbi, and director of the organization since its inception. Married with two children, a Tel Avivian at heart.