A gentle parent teaches their child to come when their name is called. I saw that a lot this week and unless the child was mesmerized by the television or a movie on Grandpa’s iPad, they responded. Each of the grandsons knows his name and comes when he’s called. It’s that answer, that “Here I am!” (okay, let’s be real, the most common response was “What?”) that allows dialogue to begin. “What would you like for a snack?” “We are going to eat lunch in 10 more minutes.” “Please help your cousin.” “Who would like to read a book?” Sometimes it was, “No hitting” or “Say you’re sorry” or “Please share.” But it always started with a name being called.
Moses had that moment with God in the Midian wilderness. He had stopped to study a new phenomenon, a burning bush that was not consumed. Exodus 3:4-6 tells us what happened next, “When the LORD saw that he had turned aside to look, God called to him out of the bush: ‘Moses! Moses!’ He answered, ‘Here I am.’ And He said, ‘Do not come closer. Remove your sandals from your feet, for the place on which you stand is holy ground. I am,’ He said, ‘the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.’ And Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God.”
An ancient Midrash says that God knew Moses was a novice as a prophet. God was concerned that if he spoke to Moses in a thunderous voice, he would scare him. If he whispered, Moses was not yet attuned enough to hear him. Instead, God chose to speak in the voice of Moses’ father. Moses responded to that and that’s when God told him who he really was. Not his father, but the God of his father. The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. And what did Moses do? He hid his face, afraid to look at God.
We see this term, “The God of your father” frequently throughout Genesis, but it vanishes almost completely throughout the rest of Torah, during the period of the Exodus. It is replaced by “the God of your fathers,” i.e., the three patriarchs, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.
For Moses, with his hands clamped firmly over his eyes, the LORD continued. “I have marked well the plight of my people in Egypt and have heeded their outcry because of their taskmasters; yes, I am mindful of their sufferings. I have come down to rescue them from the Egyptians and to bring them out of that land to a good and spacious land, a land flowing with milk and honey…Now the cry of the Israelites has reached Me; moreover, I have seen how the Egyptians oppress them. Come, therefore, I will send you to Pharaoh, and you shall free My people, the Israelites, from Egypt.” (Exodus 3: 7-10).
Now Moses knows why God called, what was expected of him. When God says to him “Come,” we have a pivotal moment. Moses understands the monumental task before him. It will be through him that the redemption of Israel will be accomplished.
There is a moment during the Shabbat service, usually near the beginning, when the entire congregation stands to recite the Shema for the first time (it is recited multiple times in the service). The first time it is said, everyone covers their eyes. Right hand over your eyes, eyes closed, you say, “Shema, Yisrael, Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai Echad.” This
translates to what you find in Deuteronomy 6:4, “Hear, Oh Israel! The LORD is our God, the LORD alone.” Then in a low voice you say, “Baruch shem kavod malchuto l’olam va-ed.” “Blessed his is glorious kingdom for ever and ever.”
Why cover your eyes? You aren’t standing by a burning bush. You probably aren’t even standing on holy ground, especially if you say it three times a day as is tradition.
For me, this recitation hearkens back to Moses standing by that conflagration, a bush that burns continually and doesn’t get consumed. He hears the voice of his father and responds as a good child would, then he hears the voice of the God of his father and he immediately covers his eyes. Why did Moses cover his eyes? Was he frightened? Without a doubt. Had he already seen the impossible? Yes. Was hearing God’s voice more than he could comprehend? Most assuredly. Was he maybe just a little afraid of what it means when God speaks to him? Wouldn’t you be?
When we recite the Shema we start out with “Hear.” That’s what “shema” means: “hear.” It means we are not there saying those words so we can follow with all our needs and wants. Instead it’s an acknowledgement that we are there to listen to what God has to say to us. We are tuned in and ready. We make it clear that it is him, only him, who is in our thoughts. He is the one and only. Then we remind ourselves that this earth is his kingdom, glorious and everlasting.
In a Torah scroll the letter ayin, which looks like a fancy “y,” at the end of the first word, “sh’ma,” is written in a larger font than the rest of the letters. Similarly, the dalet, which looks like the number “7,” at the end of the last word “echad” is in larger font. It looks like this (without the enlarged letters). Remember, Hebrew is read left to right:
שמע ישראל ה ‘הוא אלוהינו ה’ אחד
The ayin and the dalet together spell the word “ed” which means “witness.” When we say the Shema, we are witnesses to the unity and the uniqueness of God. We pledge in a way to actually hear what he says and live the truth of Torah in our lives.
This is a formidable task and like a child covering their eyes or burying their head in a pillow when called upon to do something they don’t want to do, or are afraid to attempt, we cover our eyes. We are saying, “God, you are too mighty, too awesome for us to look upon. We know we are called to do your will, to live out your Torah, and we are afraid. We are afraid of what you ask, but we are ready.” We say as Moses did and his forefathers, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob did before him. “Hineini. Here I am. You are God, the one true and only God and I am listening. I am ready.”
May you be moved to cover your eyes in that first moment when you encounter God each day. May you close your eyes, and cover your face and tell him, “Hineini. I am here God. I am listening and I am ready.” May you approach each day with the single thought in mind, that he has great plans for you. There is much to do. May you say, yes.
I Am My Father's Daughter 