Va’era

At a moment of deep-rooted despair, when the Israelites are crushed by the weight of slavery and Moses himself is questioning his calling, God speaks to Moses in a way that reshapes Jewish theology and history; “I appeared to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob as El Shaddai, but I did not make Myself known to them by My name יהוה” (Exodus 6:3).

This verse seems puzzling. Surely each of the patriarchs knew God on a deep and personal level. Abraham argued with God over the fate of Sodom. Isaac experienced God’s blessing and continuity. Jacob wrestled with God and was renamed Israel. How, then, can God say that the divine name יהוה was not known to them?

The Torah is not suggesting that the patriarchs were unaware of God, but that they encountered God in a particular way. El Shaddai is traditionally understood as the God of promise, nurture, and potential. This is the God who says; “I will give,” “I will bless,” “I will make you into a great nation”. Our patriarchs lived with extraordinary faith, but their relationship with God was largely defined by promises that were deferred. They believed without seeing fulfilment. They trusted across generations, planting seeds whose fruits they themselves would never fully harvest.

Now, standing at the threshold of redemption, God introduces a new dimension of the divine relationship. The name יהוה is associated with presence, becoming, and faithfulness in action. This is the God who acts in history, who hears the cry of the oppressed, who intervenes, redeems, and liberates. יהוה is not only the God who promises, but also the God who fulfils.

This shift is of great importance. Slavery is not only a physical condition, it is also a mental and spiritual one. Enslavement shrinks the imagination. It makes hope feel dangerous. When generations are born and die under oppression, even ancient promises begin to sound hollow. God’s declaration at the beginning of this week’s parasha is not theological abstraction, it is pastoral reassurance. God is saying that the time of waiting is coming to an end. The covenant is moving from vision to reality.

This also presents something profound about the human experience of God. Our ancestors in the Book of Genesis did not lack faith simply because they lived without redemption, their faith was shaped by endurance. The Israelites in Egypt, however, needed a different encounter. They needed to know God not simply as the source of meaning, but as the force of change. The Torah teaches that revelation is not fixed or unmoving. In such circumstances, God encounters people as they are, offering what is most needed for resilience and growth.

At different times, we’ve probably experienced what it means to live like our ancestral patriarchs, holding onto faith through uncertainty, trusting that our efforts matter even when results are not imminent. At other times, just like the Israelites, many of us have longed for movement, relief, even evidence that our prayers are being heard. This verse reminds us that both experiences are sacred. Neither is a failure of faith. Each reflects a different way of encountering the same God.

The text also invites humility. The patriarchs were giants of our tradition, yet even they did not experience every aspect of the divine relationship. No single generation, no single person, ever encounters God fully. Revelation unfolds across time, through history, through human struggle and resilience.

As we read this verse, we are invited to listen for the name of God that is speaking to us now. Are we being asked to wait with courage, or to step forward with trust? Do we hold onto promise, or do we recognise fulfilment taking shape?

In every generation, the journey from El Shaddai to יהוה continues. And in every generation, we are called to discover how God’s presence is being made known, again and again, in our own lives and in our world.

Shabbat Shalom
Rabbi Sam Zwarenstein