In this week’s parashah HaShem and Moshe meet. HaShem reveals the divine essence in a mysterious phrase: Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh, which can be translated in many ways that all can be summarized as Being. Since ancient Hebrew did not express the idea of tense the way we expect in modern language, it’s possible that the single word אהיה Ehyeh can mean will be, was, or is.
One possible lesson we may learn here is that, as Psalmist and Prophet both assure us, HaShem does not change. The essence of Being is, always. Another lesson, courtesy of the mystics, is that since we are, at our best, created in the Image of that Being, we are also capable of that kind of steadiness: as we were, we are and will be.
The question each of us faces in the mirror is, what part of all that is will I reflect in all my Being? So much exists and exerts its strength in the world and in the human psyche: evil is possible, so is indifference; fear as well as hope.
One conundrum of this mysterious passage is that HaShem indicates, in so many words, that
וָאֵרָ֗א אֶל־אַבְרָהָ֛ם אֶל־יִצְחָ֥ק וְאֶֽל־יַעֲקֹ֖ב בְּאֵ֣ל שַׁדָּ֑י וּשְׁמִ֣י ה’ לֹ֥א נוֹדַ֖עְתִּי לָהֶֽם׃
I appeared to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob as El Shaddai, but I did not make Myself known to them by My name ‘ה (Ex.6.3).
On the surface this is endlessly problematic, since we can find the name HaShem, which we indicate as ‘ה, throughout the Patriarchal stories of Genesis. The issue for our ancestors may be that they could never access the story from the starting point where we find ourselves. Yes, they knew suffering and struggle, but they never questioned their link to each other, their kehillah, their community, the way that many Jews do today.
The great commentator Rashi suggests an explanation that hints at this:
שמי ה׳ לא נודעתי להם But by My Name ‘ה I was not known to them — It is not written here לא הודעתי [My name ‘ה] I did not make known to them, but לא נודעתי [by My name ‘ה], was I not known [unto them] — i. e. I was not recognised by them in My attribute of “keeping faith”, by reason of which My name is called ה׳, which denotes that I am certain to substantiate My promise, for, indeed, I made promises to them but did not fulfill them [during their lifetime].
The Patriarchs had the same problem we do, at essence: they were individuals following after a dawning idea; they did not see it in their lifetimes. Abraham was told that their offspring would be as numerous as the stars in the sky, but that did not happen for hundreds of years after that promise was made. The Patriarchs did not have a community in which they could belong, which could be the grounding for their lives and their struggles. They never saw the fulfillment of their hopes and dreams, although those hopes and dreams were fulfilled.
It follows, then, that promises are not revealed in their wholeness to individuals, but only to the communities in which they have their Being. This weekend we celebrate the life and teachings of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. He understood this truth clearly and spoke of it in the last speech he gave, on the day before he was murdered. The message: I’ve seen what we are all dearly hoping for, and whether or not I get there is not important. We will get there.
Where Dr King wanted to take us is a place where love outweighs hate and sweeps away injustice. From here, the scholarship of Dr Israel Knohl leads us directly back to our parashah with a recent article showing that Ehyeh possibly derives (as well as if not instead of the Hebrew) from the cognate ancient languages of the area, and that its root means not life but love. Love within community, if we would be a kehillah; love beyond that which would separate us, if we would be ivri, the Hebrews, whose name literally means “boundary crosser.”
We have one choice in these days, and that is the stance we will cling to as the chaos around us intensifies. We can choose hate or love, idolatry or HaShem. If we choose love – strong, passionate, powerful love – we cannot hope that we will ourselves see the outcome of our choice. But we can deserve to claim the hope that the day will come when our community, in which we have our Being, will see the Promise Land.
Torah for the 21st Century by Rabbi Ariel Stone 