At the spring in the wilderness, Hagar does something that no one in Genesis has done before. She gives God a name. Targum Pseudo-Jonathan on Genesis 16:13 renders her declaration with full theological weight.
She gave thanks before the Lord whose Word spake to her. And she said: Thou art He who livest and art eternal; who seest, but art not seen!
The Aramaic leans on two of its favorite concepts — the Memra, the divine Word through which God engages creation, and the Shekhinah, the indwelling Presence. Hagar, a fugitive Egyptian slave, is the first human in the Torah to say aloud: you are invisible, and you see me. The paraphrast even explains her logic: here is revealed the glory of the Shekhinah of the Lord after a vision.
The Maggid sits with the wonder of this. Not Abraham, not Sarah, not Isaac, not Jacob. A woman running from her mistress, pregnant, thirsty, scared, is the one who coins the earliest biblical name for God from raw personal experience — El Roi, in the Hebrew, the God who sees me (Genesis 16:13). The Targum folds her cry into the grammar of Jewish mysticism itself: the Word that speaks, the Presence that dwells, the One who is alive and eternal and utterly unseen.
Theology, the Targum quietly admits, sometimes starts at a desert spring rather than at an altar. The people who most need to be seen are often the first to see the One who sees them.