Lech Lecha: Call Me Ishmael

Chapter 16 of Sefer Breishit packs a wallop in its few, terse verses.  The self-contained story can be summarized thusly:

• Sarai has been barren during ten years of marriage
• Sarai offers Hagar, her ‘servant’, to Abram as a surrogate; Abram agrees
• Sarai [literally] takes Hagar to a reluctant yet acquiescent Abram
• Hagar conceives immediately
• Some bad blood develops between wife and surrogate
• Sarai complains to Abram, who defers to Sarai’s decision
• Sarai treats Hagar so poorly that Hagar flees into the desert
• Hagar encounters an Angel who (i) instructs Hagar to return, (ii) blesses her; (iii) prophecies the birth of a son; and (iv) commands that she name the boy Ishmael
• Hagar returns to Abram, gives birth to the son, who is named …. Ishmael

Let’s work backwards.  The Torah tells us that it was Abram who bestowed the name upon the child (וַיִּקְרָא אַבְרָם שֶׁם בְּנוֹ אֲשֶׁר יָלְדָה הָגָר יִשְׁמָעֵאל).  One midrash questions why Sarai didn’t name the boy, just as Rachel (later) names the children born of Jacob and Rachel’s servant, Bilhah.  After all, the Hagar-Abram union was also merely a surrogacy contract:

The midrash answers that Sarai, out of jealousy, abandoned her right to name the child, “ושרה למה לא קראתה לו שם כדבר המלאך, מפני שהתקנאה בה על הקלת”

I cannot help but wonder if this anecdote is connected with the episode – also in our parsha – where Abram allowed Sarai to be taken captive into Pharaoh’s palace.  So dehumanized was Sarai that neither Pharaoh nor anyone in his court refers to her by name.  She is mere chattel.  Even her husband diminishes her identity by making her pretend that she is his sister rather than his partner.

While Abram left Egypt a wealthy man as a result, Sarai seems to have emerged from the palace a bold and bitter woman.  Henceforth she would not be taken against her will.  In fact, she would do the taking:

Perhaps Sarai learned the wrong lesson while being held captive.  She left the palace determined to be the strong head of the household.  She could have drawn upon the fears and anger she experienced while under Pharaoh’s control.  She could have felt a sisterhood connection with Hagar.  Both were, after all, foreign woman forced into sexual union without the power to say ‘no’.  Because she learned the wrong lesson from her forced captivity, Sarai was not kind to Hagar.  It didn’t help matters that Hagar felt and acted a little big smug.

Yet another midrash (quoted by Rashi) adduces from Abram’s naming the child that he was indeed a prophet since he ‘divined’ the name intended for the boy.  The eleventh century scholar Radak takes a more ‘Earthly’ approach.  Without quite rejecting the notion that Abram acted independently and therefore prophetically, Radak surmises that Hagar surely told Abram that the angel instructed her to name the child Ishmael.

Radak’s version is significant in that it highlights the shifting power dynamics between Abram, Sarai, and Hagar.  Hagar starts out as the servant who lacks the power to make fundamental choices about her own body.  The child that is implanted within her is the offspring of Abram and Sarai.

Hagar is transformed by her encounter with the angel.  She is blessed.  She returns, feeling powerful enough to tell Abram about her new status as a prophetess, and ‘maternal’ enough to tell Abram what to name her son.

The act of naming is an act of supreme power.  Back in Breishit, God starts the process of naming things, thereby establishing His control.  Says the Chizkuni:

A short while later, God allowed Adam to name everything else:

In these verses, The Torah lets us know that God retains ultimate control over the heavens and earth, time, and space.  But God anointed us as His emissaries on Earth, who protect the world, guard it, and even subdue it.

The power of mankind over the world is symbolized in Adam’s naming the objects in his treasury.  Similarly, parents demonstrate their power over their newborn (and over anxious relatives with strong opinions and preferences) by choosing their child’s name.

Hagar started out as the property of Sarai, then of Abram.  But with God’s Help and Love, she finds her footing and her voice.  She even convinces Abram what to name her son.  She is, after all, Ishmael’s mother!

The rift between Sarai and Hagar does not heal, and more trouble lies ahead for the complicated blended family.  In time, though, Sarai also receives God’s Blessing of motherhood.

It is no coincidence that before this could happen, Sarai would have to shed her own name and embrace a new identity.  And it is also part of the continuing irony of Torah that when that time comes to name her son, Sarah plays only a supporting role.  When Sarah overheard the prophecy that she was to give birth, she laughed.  The laughter, however, was embarrassment rather than joy:

Sarah had long ago let go of her dream of motherhood, and she was concerned that her new ‘family way’ would be a source of scorn and derision.  She feared the shame that she would be the ‘laughing stock’ of the ancient Near East.  Her laughter was not a happy one.

Why then was he called Isaac?  Because Abraham, too, laughed.  But his laughter emanated from the profound joy that God’s Promises were coming true.

Now we can appreciate Abraham’s transformation too.  He started out as the man who felt so guilty about his role in the Sarah/Pharaoh episode that he relinquished all power (including voicing an opinion) in his marriage, even when it came to Hagar.  Yet he too finally found his voice in the form of laughter.  These changes in personality were reflected in the change of their names!

Abraham helped Sarah look at the world afresh and to see God’s miraculous Powers with hope.  Slowly she let go of the pain of her past traumas.  Slowly they forgave each other.  And together, Abraham and Sarah embarked on a new chapter in their lives that would make them a father and mother, and ultimately our patriarch and matriarch.

Shabbat Shalom!