Boulder Aish Kodesh

A story is told about R' Meshulam Zusia of Anipoli (in the language of Martin Buber): All the pupils of the great Maggid (R' Dov Baer of Mezrich) transmitted the teachings in his name - all except R' Zusia. And the reason for this was that R' Zusia hardly ever heard his teacher's sermon out to the end. For at the very start, when the Maggid recited the verse from Scriptures which he was going to expound, and began with the words of the Scriptures: ‘And G-d said' or ‘and G-d spoke,' R Zusia was overcome with ecstasy, and screamed, and gesticulated so wildly that he disturbed the peace of the round table and had to be taken out.
R' Zusia was deeply connected to the unknowability of G-d. Perhaps we take for granted that G-d not only spoke and speaks, but also has transmitted G-d's will in written and accessible form, and has given commandments and stories steeped with invaluable suggestions about relationship with the Divine. No philosophy, even one that arrived at the necessity of there being an Ultimate Power or First Cause, would arrive at the conclusion that the Divine would interact with humans, would speak and hear and act, would take favorites or designate a specific land or people as being catalysts for the transmission of that will into the world. R' Zusia knew that G-d speaking to humans, in and of itself, is more mind-blowing than what, particularly, was said.
Interaction with the Divine should never be taken for granted. The opportunity to pray - to convey one's needs, desires, dreams, and worries, to the One who holds all power - the magnitude of this opportunity and its potentials should leave a person stunned and speechless. But there is great danger for one who is encouraged, or commanded, to come before G-d three times a day in formal prayer with a specific script. Such a person might fall into the trap of thinking that he or she and G-d are buddies, and no one can be expected to be completely present all the time in prayer, and to have a really good davennen once a day, or once a week, is enough. Such a person may well lose touch with the immensity of the encounter.
A similar trap is thinking that, since a person has effectively expressed his or her self in prayer, or has been fully present and felt deep connection to the Divine, that that person, therefore, understands. Often such moments are followed by immense disappointment when something that was prayed for did not happen, or the like. We might also come to expect certain things from G-d - G-d doesn't let bad things happen to good people, for example. But, as G-d says in Isaiah 55:8, "..for my thoughts are not your thoughts, and your ways are not my ways, says Hashem." G-d and G-d's ways are still ultimately unknowable. We might know that G-d wants to ‘give the ultimate good that G-d's creatures are able to receive' (R' Moshe Chaim Luzzato, Derech Hashem, 1:2), but we have no idea how it will look.
After Moshe's encounter at the Burning Bush, where he finally agrees to take upon himself the mission to speak to Pharaoh and demand the release of the Jewish people from their bondage there, he goes with Aharon to speak with Pharaoh to that end, but with apparently disastrous results. Pharaoh not only refuses, but he makes the burden upon the Jewish people much heavier. Then he is subject to harsh rebuke from the Jewish people themselves. Understandably, he complains to G-d: "Why have you dealt badly with his people? And why did you send me?" Hashem then tells Moshe, "Now you will see what I will do to Pharaoh..."
We are left at the end of Parshat Shemot with G-d's promise to give Pharaoh his just deserve, but we have a deep lingering question: Given that Hashem is supplying Moshe's words, and Hashem is controlling Pharaoh's heart, why did Hashem command Moshe to go to Pharaoh, leading him to experience such sharp disappointment, doubt, and frustration? An explanation comes at the beginning of the next Parsha: "And Elo-kim spoke to Moshe and said, ‘I am Hashem.'" As is oft interpreted from this verse, Elo-kim as opposed to Hashem, and speaking as opposed to saying, implies harshness - but, underneath that harshness, I am Hashem.
Moshe is forced to face two stark realities: one is that, though he may be privy to the highest revelations of encounter with G-d that any human has ever or will ever experience, he simply does not know G-d's ways. (He will later ask to know G-d's ways, and be told that no person can behold His ways and survive.) The second reality he must face, and we all must face, is how we act in light of the fact that we do not and cannot know G-d's ways. The disappointment, doubt, and frustration we experience are emotions one feels when one believes that it is proper or correct to expect. They are feelings that come when one feels one is dealing with an Other who does or should fit into certain predictable behavior patterns, as governed by logic or laws of decency. But they do not apply to One who says "...for my thoughts are not your thoughts, and your ways are not my ways, says Hashem." And the situation is made more confusing when the one who says that His ways are unknowable still guarantees total and absolute benevolence.
When one realizes and accepts that G-d's ways are unknowable, and, simultaneously, that G-d is absolutely benevolent, then those doubts, disappointments, and frustrations must be seen as a reflection of one's self, and not as a reflection of G-d. And one must deal with them appropriately. It seems that G-d wanted Moshe to see his own reactions to what he perceived to be failure, so that he could effectively lead a people who would fail repeatedly throughout history. Only if Moshe was fully aware of the traps one falls into through failure, could he be of aid to the Jewish people through their journeys.
So we see that Moshe finds that he does not know G-d. We have also find that Pharoah does not know G-d - as he says, "who is this Hashem that I should listen to His voice, to send forth Israel? I do not know Hashem, and I will not send Israel forth (Ex. 5:2)." Further, we find that the Jewish people do not know G-d, as the angels say to Hashem before the parting of the Sea of Reeds - "Why do you save this people [Israel] and destroy this people [Egypt]? These serve idols, and these serve idols..." Thus, Israel was also in deep need of extricating themselves from the idolatrous theology of Egypt. The process of the plagues is really a process of education as to the extent of G-d's power.
We find this theme stated explicitly in the text: By the plague of the frogs, we find Moshe telling Pharaoh, "... in order that you should know that there is none like Hashem our G-d (Ex. 8:6)." By the plague of pestilence, we find Hashem telling Moshe to tell Pharaoh, "For this time I will deliver all of my plagues upon your heart, and upon your servants and your nation, in order that you should know that there is none like Me on all the earth (Ex. 9:14)." Similarly, we find before the last plague, "And you shall all know that I have distinguished between the Egyptian nation and the people Israel (Ex. 11:7."
Seeing as only one fifth of the Jews left Egypt, (Ex. 13:18 Rashi) and it would certainly be pompous to believe that, of course, I would have been among those who left, this Parsha is an important time to look at what we think we know about G-d. A simple reading of the Parsha reveals many facets of G-d's relationship with the world that we can know.
1) G-d speaks to people - 6:2.

2) G-d appears to people in different ways - sometimes as Elo-kim, sometimes, as Hashem, and sometimes as E-l Sha-dai (6:2-3).

3) G-d establishes covenants with people, binding G-d's self, so to speak, to give certain rewards or results to humans. Sometimes these come as a result of our actions, sometimes not. (6:4)

4) G-d has established a covenant specifically with the Jewish people to give them the land of Israel. (6:4)

5) G-d hears. (6:5)

6) G-d can give us knowledge of G-d. (6:7)

7) G-d can control people's hearts. (7:3)

G-d wants to be known. (7:5)
There are, of course, many more. It is equally important to look at the specific points that G-d wanted Egypt to understand: there is none like G-d, there is none like G-d on all the earth, and G-d has distinguished between the people Israel and the people Egypt. Do we consider G-d to be merely one among many powers, like the weather, the economy, nature, and the like, or do we understand that none of these has power like G-d has power? Do we limit the power of G-d to the realm of what we consider possible? Do we assume that G-d does not have a specific will per se, or does not ‘prefer' one thing over another? Questions like these must be asked so that we can come to a true understanding of how to relate to G-d. Usually, asking such questions will allow us to open up to a far more dynamic relationship with G-d, full with possibility and not limited by what we think G-d is or should be.