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Abraham, Jacob, and Moses Each Called God the Same Name

The knife was still in Abraham's hand when he named the mountain. Jacob woke on a stone and said the same word into the dark.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Knife Left the Throat
  2. Jacob Sat Up in the Dark
  3. Moses Wrote From the Wilderness
  4. There Is a Place With Me
  5. The Fathers Wore One Name
Abraham, Jacob, and Moses Each Called God the Same Name Click for full size

The Knife Left the Throat

Abraham pulled the knife back from his son's neck. He loosed Isaac's ropes. Isaac stood. The wood on the altar was wet. The ram kicked in the thicket, horns still caught. It had been running toward the altar when something tangled it. Abraham fetched it out, brought it up onto the wood, and sprinkled its blood where Isaac's throat had been. His hands shook. He had to name a mountain where heaven had stopped his arm.

He named it: the Lord will see (Genesis 22:14). Not a hope. A report. The seeing had already happened, inside the moment, while the blade was still up.

Abraham looked at the ground under his feet and used a word that sounded like a place. A place was all he had to give it. He did not know two other men would speak that word without ever hearing him.

Jacob Sat Up in the Dark

A generation later Jacob woke on a stone. He had been dreaming of a ladder, angels climbing and coming down, and God standing above it. The ground looked like any other ground. The hair on his arms rose anyway.

"How awesome is this place," he said (Genesis 28:17). He had not prepared a prayer. The sentence broke out of him the way a cry does. He had fallen asleep inside something and only named it when he sat up.

He poured oil on the stone. He set it as a pillar. Then he walked on, still frightened, toward a country that had not asked for him. He did not know he had added a second witness to a word Abraham had already used with a knife in his fist.

Moses Wrote From the Wilderness

Centuries later Moses sat in the wilderness with a psalm in his mouth. "Lord, You have been our dwelling place throughout all generations" (Psalm 90:1). He did not write that God lives in a house. He wrote that God is the house.

A dwelling is a place a person goes to. Moses wrote that there is nowhere to go that is not already inside God. He set the line down among the tents and the dust and the graves of the generation that would not cross. He did not know he had closed a count of three.

There Is a Place With Me

On the mountain Moses had asked to see God's glory. God put him in a cleft of rock and covered him. Then God said, "Behold, there is a place with Me" (Exodus 33:21). Moses stood in the cleft and heard it as a location, not as a riddle. A place with God. Not God stuffed into a place.

The world sits in God. God does not sit in the world. Dependence runs one way. Moses came down from the rock with that sentence in his bones. He had asked to visit what he was already inside.

Wherever the righteous stand, God is found standing with them (Exodus 20:21). They do not travel toward Him. They notice the ground they are already on. Jacob had arrived at "the place" and lodged there without knowing the name of the field (Genesis 28:11). The field had been holding him first.

The Fathers Wore One Name

The names of the men ran together the same way. Abraham was called Abraham. Isaac was also called Abraham. The verse that opens his story says, "This is the legacy of Isaac, Abraham's son, Abraham." Jacob was renamed Israel at the river after he wrestled and would not let go. Isaac was called Israel too. The list of those who went down to Egypt says "the children of Israel who came with Jacob" (Exodus 1:1). If Jacob is among the children, the Israel in that line is his father.

Abraham was drawn into the name as well. "The dwelling of the children of Israel in Egypt was four hundred and thirty years" (Exodus 12:40). That clock did not start when Jacob went down. It started on a night when Abraham walked between split animals. A smoking furnace passed through in the dark (Genesis 15). Dread fell on him. A span of years was spoken over him before Isaac was born. The Torah calls that whole span the dwelling of the children of Israel. The name was already on the first of them.

Abraham called the mountain Place. Jacob called the ground Place. Moses called God Place. None of them had a letter from the others. The word was HaMakom (המקום), the Place that holds every other place. The oil on Jacob's stone dried. The knife went back into its sheath. Moses came down from the cleft. The Place had not moved.


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From the tradition

Sources

2 sources

The texts behind this telling. Some cards carry a translation of the source; others are our own retelling of it, and each card says which. Every card links out to the original.

Midrash Tehillim 90:6Midrash Tehillim

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.Rabbi Mike Feuer, Jerusalem Anthology · CC-BY

The Midrash Tehillim, a fascinating collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Psalms, wrestles with this very idea. Rabbi Yitzchak points to (Deuteronomy 33:27), which speaks of God as "the abode for the God Who precedes all." But, the Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) asks, how do we know if God is the dwelling place for the world, or the world is God’s dwelling place? The answer, they suggest, comes from Moses. It is God who is our dwelling place.

Rabbi Yosi bar Halifta takes this even further. How can we know if God needs the world, or the world needs God? Is God dependent on us, or are we dependent on God? He points to (Exodus 33:21), where God says, "...Behold, there is a place with Me…" The implication? God is the place of the world, but the world is not God’s place. In other words, we are dependent on God, but God is not dependent on us. ourselves is often remembered as offering something to God, but the Midrash suggests that God is offering us a home.

Rabbi Huna, quoting Rabbi Ami, asks a simple question: why is God called "place" – Makom in Hebrew? Because, he answers, God is the place of His world, as it says in (Exodus 33:21). It's a beautiful, almost circular definition, but it highlights the all-encompassing nature of God. God isn't just in a place; God is the place.

It doesn’t stop there! The Midrash goes on to show how Abraham, Jacob, and Moses all refer to God as "place." When Abraham names the spot where he offered the ram instead of his son, Isaac, "The Lord will see" (Genesis 22:14), the Midrash sees him naming the place after God – calling God “place.” Similarly, when Jacob awakens from his dream of the ladder and proclaims, "How awesome is this place!" (Genesis 28:17), he, too, is recognizing God's presence and essentially calling God "place."

But there's another layer to this concept of "place." The Midrash offers another explanation for why God is called "place": Because wherever the righteous are standing, there God is found with them, as it says in (Exodus 20:21), "Wherever I allow My name to be mentioned, I will come to you and bless you." It’s almost as if our acts of righteousness, our dedication to justice and kindness, create a space where God's presence can dwell.

Consider Jacob's journey in (Genesis 28:11), "And he arrived at the place and lodged there…" The Midrash hints that the place itself wasn't inherently special until Jacob arrived. It was Jacob's presence, his righteousness, that transformed it into a sacred space.

So, what does all this mean for us? Perhaps it means that we are not just searching for a physical place to call home, but for a spiritual one. A place within ourselves and within the world where we can connect with the Divine. And perhaps, just perhaps, by living righteous lives, by striving to be better, kinder, and more just, we can create that place – not just for ourselves, but for others as well. We can make the world a dwelling place for the Divine.

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Bereshit Rabbah 63:3Bereshit Rabbah

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Sefaria Midrash Rabbah, 2022 · CC-BY

They saw more than just stories; they saw patterns, echoes, and hidden depths. to one of those fascinating explorations, found in Bereshit Rabbah, the great collection of rabbinic interpretations of the Book of Genesis.

The rabbis noticed something intriguing: names seemed to blur, to overlap. Abram, of course, becomes Abraham. But did you know that, according to some interpretations, Isaac and even Abraham himself were also called Israel?

It's a bit mind-bending. Bereshit Rabbah 63 digs into this. It points out the verse in (Genesis 32:29), where Jacob's name is changed: "He said: No longer will Jacob be said to be your name, but rather, Israel." Okay, that's clear enough. Jacob becomes Israel. But then it gets interesting. The Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) asks: Could Isaac also have been called Israel? They find support for this idea in (Exodus 1:1): "These are the names of the children of Israel who came to Egypt with Jacob [et Yaakov]." The rabbis cleverly interpret the phrase "with Jacob" to mean that Jacob is included among the children of Israel. If so, then who is Israel in this verse? According to this interpretation, it must be Isaac!

What about Abraham? Could he possibly have been called Israel too?

Rabbi Natan weighs in, calling it "a profound matter." He brings up the verse in (Exodus 12:40): "The dwelling of the children of Israel that they dwelled in Egypt... in the land of Canaan, and in the land of Goshen was four hundred and thirty years." Now, here's the key: those 430 years aren't just the time spent in Egypt. They start all the way back with the Covenant of the Pieces (Brit Bein HaBetarim), the covenant God made with Abraham before Isaac was even born! (Genesis 15) So, the Torah refers to this entire period, beginning with Abraham, as "the dwelling of the children of Israel."

What's going on here? Why this blurring of names?

Perhaps it's about more than just labeling individuals. Maybe it's about a shared destiny, a collective identity that transcends generations. Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob – they are all links in a chain, each contributing to the unfolding story of the Jewish people. The name Israel, then, isn't just a label but a symbol of that ongoing covenant, that shared journey. As we learn in Legends of the Jews, Ginzberg retells many stories that highlight the interconnectedness of these patriarchs and the unfolding covenant.

It makes you wonder: what names do we carry? What legacies do we inherit? And how do we contribute to the ongoing story of our own communities, our own families, our own lives? The rabbis of Bereshit Rabbah invite us to consider the profound weight and the beautiful ambiguity of a name. It's a question worth pondering, even today.

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