ESSAY: The God Who Sees All of Me (Parashat Lech Lecha)

What do we need when we are suffering?  

Learn from Hagar.  

Hagar suffered under the harsh treatment of Sarai, ran away and had an experience of God that strengthened her so that she could return and resume her life.    

What was it that fortified Hagar in that divine encounter?  Hagar tells us  – Atah El Ro’i, You, God, are “the God who sees me (Genesis 16:13)” –  it was the impact of being seen.  What do we need when we are suffering?  To be seen. 

Rashi, in a comment on this El Ro’i name, explains that God “sees the injury of those who have been injured.”  This is how Hagar felt – that God saw and understood her hurt.  Indeed, one of the messages that the angels – according to tradition there were multiple – delivered to her was that she would give birth to a son whom she should call Yishmael because God had heard [shama] her suffering (16:11).   

What difference does it make to have your suffering seen and heard?  Quite a big difference, apparently, as it allows Hagar to return to the same difficult situation but to bear it with greater resilience, optimism and strength.   We have all had this experience.  We tell someone our troubles – and even though there is still no solution in sight – if we feel heard, we experience some relief and can resume life more cheerfully.  The same burden – seen – feels lighter.  

This is one aspect of Hagar’s experience of El Ro’i, of the “God who sees me.”  According to this reading, to have God see “me” means to have God see “my suffering.” But we are more than our suffering, and perhaps Hagar meant something else as well.  Perhaps she also meant that she felt “seen” in the fullness of her being, her full human potential. 

Indeed, the angels do offer this message as well.  They say to Hagar – go back home to your difficult situation (16:9).  Which I understand as –  You got this.  You are strong and resilient.   You think you need to escape and hide out, but I, God, see you in your full capacity to weather this.  I have confidence in you.  

And the angels also say – You are “pregnant” with so much potential that it cannot even be measured (16:10-11).  What wants to pour out of you is more than anyone can imagine.  I see you in your infinite glory and brilliance.  I see who you could become and what you have to offer the world.  And I will hold that vision for you, like a lantern lighting the way  – even as you suffer and struggle on your journey – so that you can see it and live into it.

This, too, is a message we need to hear in our moments of suffering, to be reminded of our indomitable light, to be seen not just in our current pathetic form – as we often view ourselves in such moments  – but in our infinite essence and in all our evolving possibility and potentiality.   

So there is a double meaning to Hagar’s designation of God as El Ro’i, the God who sees me. The seeing that God does is both a seeing of suffering – compassion – and a seeing of human potential – confidence.  

What do we need when we are suffering?  Both compassion and confidence, to be told both – “this is really hard” and “you got this,” both “I see how much you are suffering” and “I see your strength.”  Both to be met where we are with kindness and to be shown where we could go with support.  Both to be held and to be led forward.  Both to be cared for and to be cheered on.  

We need both.  Compassion without confidence leans dangerously towards pity; it doesn’t foster growth, but tends to further encourage stagnation and disempowerment.  And confidence without compassion can feel aggressive and invalidating; we need to be heard before we can soften enough to consider new options.  

We need both, and at different moments, we may need one more strongly than the other. Sometimes, when we are very low, we can only be reached by the company of a listening ear and a resonating heart. And at other times, we are lifted out of the pit of suffering and despair by the galvanizing energy of someone else’s confidence in us, by the life affirming possibility that arises in us from being seen in our wholeness.

May we feel, like Hagar, that we are fully seen by God, both in our suffering and in our infinite potential, and may we be God’s eyes on earth to fully see one another. 

Photo by Lalu Fatoni at Pexels

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