“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free…”

— Emma Lazarus, The New Colossus, 1883.

This week’s Torah portion, Parashat Va-eira, opens with God’s promise of Divine redemption for God’s people, b’nai Yisrael—the Israelites—through miraculous marvels, namely the ten plagues upon Egypt. Throughout the saga of the plagues, however, Moses never refers to God as Elohai Yisrael—the God of Israel, but rather, as Elohai ha’Ivrim—the God of the Hebrews. In fact, other than references to the plagues not affecting the Israelites in the same fashion as the Egyptians,* the name, Israel, disappears from the Biblical narrative for all four chapters discussing the plagues.

Who are the Hebrews, and why the sudden shift in terminology?

Clearly, as far as the Exodus narrative is concerned, Hebrew is synonymous with Israelite, but the usage of the term Hebrew elsewhere in the Biblical text suggests that the two may not be fully equivalent. First used by the narrator to refer to Abram during the War of the Nine Kings, and later, by the Egyptians, to refer to Joseph, the name ivrim reappears in the books of Samuel in reference to a group separate from the Israelites that finds itself under the sway of the Philistines.

‘Israelite’ certainly refers to descendants of Israel, an alternative name for Jacob that he earned after struggling with a Divine messenger. ‘Hebrew,’ meanwhile, comes from the word avar, which means to ‘cross over.’ As such, its use for Abram may refer to his origin—the opposite side of the Euphrates, while its usage for Joseph, and later the Israelites in the Exodus narrative, may refer to their origins—the opposite side of the Nile, and its usage in the Book of Samuel refers to a people subjugated by the Philistines.

In each case, ha’ivrim refers to foreigners held in lower esteem than their host nation. As such, when Moses appears to Pharaoh on behalf of Elohai ha’Ivrim—the God of the Hebrews, he’s not simply representing Israel, but rather, all those from a foreign land who suffer oppression. Elohai ha’Ivrim, then, is the God of the refugee, not the God of a particular nation, suggesting that the Divine promise of redemption is one that belongs to all of humanity.

How do we honor and celebrate such a promise, one at first intended for us, but meant for the entire world?

*Which may have been added later.

— Rabbi Josh Knobel