The prophet Isaiah cries out, "But now, Lord, You are our Father" (Isaiah 64:7). But God, it seems, isn't so quick to embrace this sudden familial affection. He essentially asks, "Where were you before? Just a moment ago, Isaiah was lamenting, 'There is no one calling Your name...because You concealed Your face from us' (Isaiah 64:6). Now that you're in trouble, you suddenly remember I'm your Father?"
It's a powerful question, isn't it? It makes you wonder about our own relationships, both with the divine and with each other. Do we only seek connection when we're in need?
But God doesn't stop there. He continues, "I wish to show Myself as Father and Maker only to one who performs My will." This idea is echoed in Isaiah 43:7: "Everyone who is called by My name, whom I have created for My glory, I have formed him and I have made him." According to the Rabbis in Shemot Rabbah, this verse means that God sees Himself as the Maker of those who fulfill His commands and His will.
So, what's going on here? Is God being harsh? Is He setting an impossibly high bar for connection?
The text continues, exploring this idea of fatherhood. God asks the people, "Have you forsaken your patriarchs Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, that you call Me Father?" It's almost as if He's saying, "Don't you have other fathers you can turn to?"
The people's response is fascinating. They essentially say, "We acknowledge You as our Father." To illustrate this, Shemot Rabbah tells a story:
Imagine an orphan girl raised by a kind and trustworthy guardian. He cares for her, protects her, and seeks to find her a husband. When the scribe comes to write the marriage contract and asks for the father's name, she falls silent. Her guardian asks why, and she replies, "Because I do not know any father other than you, for it is the one who raises who is called father and not the one who begets."
This is a powerful analogy. The Jewish people, the "orphans," are being raised by God, their "good and trustworthy guardian." So they cry out, "Our Father!" But God challenges them again, referencing Abraham: "Look to Abraham your father" (Isaiah 51:2).
And here's where it gets really interesting. The people respond, "Master of the universe, the one who raises is the father, not the one who begets, as it is stated: 'For You are our Father; for Abraham does not know us'" (Isaiah 63:16).
Think about the weight of that statement. They are acknowledging God as the one who has nurtured and sustained them, even if their physical lineage traces back to Abraham. Abraham may be their ancestor, but God is the one who has truly parented them.
What does this all mean? It seems to me that Shemot Rabbah is grappling with the complex nature of our relationship with God. It's not just about biological connection or historical lineage. It's about who is present, who is caring, who is actively involved in our lives. It's about recognizing the source of our sustenance and guidance.
Maybe it's a reminder that being a "child" of God isn't just a birthright, but an ongoing relationship that requires effort, commitment, and a willingness to acknowledge the divine presence in our lives – not just when we're in trouble, but always. It is about performing God's will, of course, but as the story of the orphan girl shows, it is also about acknowledging the Divine presence that is actively involved in raising us as children in this world.