"And the Lord said unto Mosheh, He who spake, and the world was; who spake, and all things were. And He said, This thou shalt say to the sons of Israel, I AM HE WHO IS, AND WHO WILL BE, hath sent me unto you."
The Targum Pseudo-Jonathan on Exodus (3:14) does something astonishing. It takes the Hebrew's enigmatic Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh — usually translated "I will be what I will be" — and expands it into an opening liturgical formula: He who spake, and the world was. Who spake, and all things were.
This is not a philosophical definition of being. It is a retelling of Genesis 1. And God said, "Let there be light," and there was light. The name God gives Moses is, essentially, a reminder: I am the One who spoke creation into existence. The world you see was once a word in My mouth. The bricks and the Nile and the pyramids are not the bedrock of reality. My speech is.
And then the Name itself: I AM HE WHO IS, AND WHO WILL BE. Past, present, and future collapsed into one statement of identity. The Holy One is not only the God of the fathers — He is the God who was, is, and will be. Israel cannot be too late for Him. The Mizraee cannot outlive Him. Every generation of suffering and every generation of deliverance fits inside His Name.
The sages of the Zohar (published c. 1290 CE) found in this verse the seed of every later name-mysticism. But already in the Targum the radical claim is visible: the God who liberates is the God who speaks worlds. Redemption is simply another divine sentence about to be uttered.
Beloved, the Name that created the universe is the same Name on your side.