Why We Miss the Messages That Could Set Us Free?

Parashat Va’era and the Art of Attention

Rabbi Adi Romem

Parashat Va’era invites us to confront an uncomfortable truth: sometimes, even when life speaks to us clearly, we simply do not hear.

The Torah suggests that the problem is rarely the message itself. More often, it is our ability, or inability, to listen. And there are many reasons why listening fails.

Some people do not listen because they are consumed by daily concerns: building pyramids, chasing deadlines, watching bank balances. Others do not listen because they are too certain of themselves. And sometimes, the message is simply not delivered in a way they can hear. When we are overwhelmed by worry, our inner ears close. When we are busy figuring out how to survive the month financially, we may miss an opportunity that could change the entire equation.

This is precisely where Va’era begins.

The Israelites are enslaved in Egypt, crushed by hard labor and endless demands. And yet, there is good news. God tells Moses that redemption is coming, that liberation is near, that the suffering will not last forever. Moses, filled with hope, rushes to share the message, both with the people and with Pharaoh.

And then something unexpected happens: No one listens!!!

The Torah tells us plainly: “Moses spoke thus to the Israelites, but they did not listen to Moses.”, Until now, we assumed Moses was the problem. He himself claims to be “heavy of speech.” But suddenly, the Torah turns the mirror around. Perhaps the issue is not the speaker at all, but the listener.

And the Torah explains why: “They did not listen to Moses because of shortness of spirit and hard labor.”

People who live in survival mode struggle to listen. When life is reduced to making it through the day, through exhaustion, pressure, and fear, there is little emotional space left for hope. When your mind is occupied with work, bills, insurance, utilities, and the constant hum of responsibility, there is no quiet left inside to receive a promise of freedom.

There is another reason as well: impatience. A shortened spirit is not only exhaustion; it is an inability to stay present. Philosopher Peter Hoeg once observed that very few people truly know how to listen. Their distractions pull them out of the conversation. Either they are already planning how to fix things, or they are imagining their own entrance onto the stage once the other person finally stops talking.

Listening requires humility and patience, two resources that are scarce in a world that moves too fast.

Moses, discouraged, voices a painful doubt: “If the Israelites did not listen to me, how will Pharaoh listen to me?”

And indeed, Pharaoh does not listen, but for a very different reason.

Pharaoh is not exhausted. He is not overwhelmed. He is full. Full of himself. A king who believes everything belongs to him, that his power is self-made, that he already knows all there is to know. A vessel that believes it is already full cannot receive anything new.

This becomes the third barrier to listening: arrogance. When we are convinced that we already understand how the world works, when certainty replaces curiosity, the ears close again.

And so the Torah maps out a deeply human portrait of disconnection. We do not listen because we are busy, because we are impatient, because we are proud, because we are distracted, because our phones demand attention, because our inner monologue is louder than the voice in front of us, because preconceived ideas leave no room for surprise. And sometimes, like the Israelites in Egypt, our lack of listening causes us to miss the very message that could set us free.

What happens next?

God understands that words alone are not enough. Before the people will one day say na’aseh v’nishma-“we will do and we will listen”- God shifts strategy. If they cannot hear, they will see. Signs and wonders enter the story. Pharaoh, who refused to listen, encounters reality in a way that can no longer be ignored.

Perhaps this is why the portion is called Va’era- “And I appeared.” A portion so deeply concerned with listening is named after seeing. Because sometimes, the path back to hearing begins with awareness. With noticing. With paying attention.

Parashat Va’era gently asks us a question that feels especially urgent today: Where in our lives are we not listening? What messages- divine, human, or quietly internal- are trying to reach us while we are too distracted, too certain, or too tired to hear?

The tradition suggests that the universe does send messages. That God still speaks. But listening requires space. It requires slowing down. It requires humility. And it requires the courage to believe that something good and meaningful may be trying to find its way to us.

Shabbat Shalom.