Compassion, Blame, Humiliation in the Hagar Sarah Dynamic - Lech Lecha

This week, I had the pleasure of talking with Christian leaders in Perth about polarisation and compassion in our time, and a confronting story in Genesis about two humiliated women, Hagar and Sarah. While questions of blame and justice are always important, there needs to be a strong element of compassion whenever we are confronted with pain, regardless of the blame and justice response.

The story of Hagar and Sarah begins with admiration, according to the Midrash (1). Sarah caught the attention of Pharaoh’s daughter Hagar, when Sarah was abducted to the house of the Pharaoh (2). The princess was struck by Sarah’s character and righteousness to such an extent that she volunteered to be a maid in the house of this great woman – in modern terms, her intern – rather than stay in the palace.

The relationship between Hagar and Sarah changed, twice. First, Sarah’s infertility led Sarah to propose that her husband Abraham take Hagar as a second wife (3), with the idea that Hagar would become pregnant and the baby would be raised by Sarah. This was taking internship to the next level, but was common practice in the ancient world, as recorded in Hammurabi’s code (4). The Torah also has examples of this, with Rachel naming the children born by her maid Bilhah (5). Abraham either too quickly (6) or reluctantly (7) – depending on two interpretations - agreed to this arrangement, and Hagar became his second wife.

When Hagar became pregnant, there was a further shift in her relationship with Sarah, with her previous admiration being replaced by contempt (8). Hagar thought that Sarah’s infertility must have been a punishment from God because of hidden faults that did not match her public persona. (9) Hagar assumed that Sarah was not authentic and was deeply disillusioned with her former hero, whom she now saw as deeply flawed. Hagar made humiliating comments to Sarah about there being no place for her because she was barren and old (10), in contrast to her own pregnancy and youth.

Sarah might have felt that Hagar saw herself as Sarah’s replacement in Abraham’s life (11). Her response was to become enraged both with Hagar and Abraham (12). Abraham’s response was to encourage Sarah to do whatever she wanted to her maidservant (13).  According to the Midrash (14), Abraham feebly objected to changing Hagar’s status back from wife to maidservant, but was either too conflict-averse or too taken with Sarah’s humiliation to assert himself and his understanding of what was ethical. Perhaps he hoped that the change of status from wife to maidservant would be sufficient to cool Sarah’s rage and diffuse the situation (15).

Sarah took up Abraham’s invitation to dominate Hagar with gusto. She “afflicted” Hagar to the point that Hagar ran away from what felt like an abusive workplace (16).

There is much discussion about whether what Sarah did was wrong or somehow justified. Several highly respected early authorities are adamant that Sarah was in the wrong and use words including “sin” and “great cruelty” to describe her actions. They are also critical of Abraham for being complicit in her behaviour (17).

I am drawn to the views that the humiliation of the powerless servant at the hands of her “master’ was wrong and to be condemned.

On the other hand, the Torah is less clear about a judgement of Sarah. There is an implicit criticism of her deeds, hinted at by the fact that the Torah uses very similar words to describe Hagar’s situation and that of the powerless Hebrews who were “afflicted” by the Pharaoh (18). Both Abraham and Hagar are given very similar promises of many descendants and wealth as apparent compensation for their affliction (19). On the other hand, Hagar is addressed by an angel as “maidservant of Sarah” (20) and instructed to go back to her master and continue to suffer the abuse (21).

I will invoke Rumi here. “Somewhere beyond right and wrong, there is a garden. I will meet you there.”

“Beyond right and wrong”. There is a powerful message from the angel that God has heard Hagar’s cries (22) and encouraged her to name her son Yishmael, “God will hear”. Her suffering calls for a divine response of compassion. The Talmud writes that the gates of tears (to heaven and God) are never locked (23).

Hagar herself was deeply moved by God’s compassion. She named God, “God of my seeing”. I suggest this could be read as “God who sees me.” In other words, Hagar feels heard and seen by God.

By all means, let us not shy away from blame and seeking justice for all who are harmed, especially – but not limited to- the weak victims of the strong. At the same time, let us ensure that along with the indignation and the rage, there is compassion, and even some calm, to hear and see all who cry out in pain.

Notes   

1)       Midrash Sechel Tov to Genesis 16:1

2)       Genesis 12:15-20

3)       Genesis 16:1-3

4)       Cited in Nachama Lebovitz, Studies in the Weekly Torah Portion, Genesis, p, 156

5)       Genesis 30:3-6, see Rabbi Yaakov Medan, https://etzion.org.il/en/tanakh/torah/sefer-bereishit/parashat-lekh-lekha/banishment-hagar-did-avraham-and-sarah-sin

6)       Midrash Hagadol on Genesis 39:10 cited in Torah Shlaima, p. 675 "Our father Avraham, when Sarah told him come to my maidservant, ' immediately hearkened to the voice of Sarah, and in the end what happened to him? [Sarah said] "May God judge between me and you". However, Joseph, when propositioned [by Potiphar's wife] did not listen to her and in the end what happened to him? he took kingship and married her [Potiphar's wife's] daughter.

7)       Ramban

8)       Genesis 16:4

9)       Rashi based on Midrash Rabba 45:4

10)    Ohr Haafela - in Torah Shlaima p. 678, 21,

11)    Medan, ibid, Medan links Hagar's perspective to "The Good Earth, by Pearl S. Buck”, ..a poor Chinese farmer of lowly standing who marries a woman of equally humble background, homely, but devoted and resourceful. She helps him to the best of her ability with the difficult work in the fields, even when she is pregnant, and fights alongside him most conscientiously in their struggle to survive. They experience years of drought and hunger; the village is deserted, and the couple moves with their children to an unfamiliar town, with no income and no home. The husband despairs and becomes feeble; his wife assumes the helm of the family, and by virtue of her efforts and resourcefulness the family is delivered from its troubles. The couple returns to the village, rebuild their home and their farmstead, and grow prosperous. Once the husband is finally in a position to rest a little from his hard work by hiring laborers, he looks at his wife, whose face has been blackened and whose body has grown old from all the effort during the difficult years, and he feels that he deserves a younger, more beautiful wife. The now-wealthy farmer is inundated with offers, and a beautiful young concubine joins his household to entertain him in his free time. Slowly, his wife is pushed aside and marginalized as the concubine comes to occupy her central position in the home".

12)    Genesis 16:5, Targum Yonathan, and Targum Yerushalmi

13)    Genesis 16:6

14)    Midrash Rabba, Bereshit 45:6

15)    Tzror Hamor

16)    Genesis 16:6

17)    Ramban, Radak, Tzror Hamor

18)    Prof. Yonatan Grossman –https://etzion.org.il/en/tanakh/torah/sefer-bereishit/parashat-lekh-lekha/lekh-lekha-suffering-hagar-and-enslavement-egypt

19)    Grossman compares Genesis 16:10-12 to Genesis 15:13-14

20)    Genesis 16:8

21)    Genesis 16:9

Breaking Bread with Bishops and the Dialogue of Being and Hospitality

Humans relate better to those we categorise as friends or kin, and we can develop such connections as much – or even more- by being together than by talking. On Tuesday night, a large number of Catholic bishops and Jewish leaders had a meal together. I found it inspiring and challenging.

Bishop Greg Homeming, an older man with glasses, dressed in a very simple brown monk’s robe and sandals, spoke to us about his experiences of friendship and breaking bread with Jewish people. In his anecdotes and sincerity, he demonstrated the importance of being together.

The bishop shared his experience of having Shabbat dinner with a Jewish family. After the meal, they all began shouting at each other. His own cultural heritage is Chinese, and the lively arguing that was normal for this family of Jewish-Lithuanian culture was new and interesting for him. I have developed a friendship with this bishop, but there was another rabbi there with whom he had developed a close bond over many years. I observed them from a distance during dinner. They were in animated conversation like old friends. This was a man who walked his talk.

The bishop’s hospitality was outstanding. They organised kosher catering for us. Delicious salmon, purple and orange carrots, roast potatoes, salad, humous, fruit and two types of cake for dessert. The company was lovely, chatting about various experiences, including how bishops are appointed and visiting people in prison among other matters. As I was leaving, a bishop who had had breakfast with my son and me in July 2024 at a kosher café remembered my son’s name and asked how he was. It was an outstanding evening.

Yet, I felt a bit restless. I believe passionately in the importance of “being”, as in being present and being the best version of ourselves, as opposed to just doing important tasks. Yet, I am a product of three cultures that emphasise activity. Judaism teaches us that “action is the main thing” (1); Chabad Hasidism, under the leadership of its last Rebbe, urged relentless and urgent activism and I am a child of New York, a city that never sleep or stops hustling. I was in a room full of leaders who were responsible for the education of hundreds of thousands of children, teachers and believers and it was such an opportunity to work, yet we sat like a bunch of people without a care in the world. This was because the dialogue of being was very important for all of us. There is also something Christian (or Catholic) about the experience I had that night, that moved me even if I can’t fully articulate it.

The intersection between being, doing and hospitality plays out in the story of Abraham who was “being” inspired and elevated by a divine revelation (2). Despite the loftiness of this experience, Abraham intentionally (3) shifted his attention from the divine visitation to an opportunity to offer hospitality to passing travellers (4).  This choice is justified in the Talmud as a principle that welcoming guests is greater than receiving the divine presence, the Shechina (5).

The prioritisation of hospitality over spiritual ecstasy could be understood as prioritising doing over being. This missed the idea that for Abraham being hospitable was a deeply moving and joyful (6) experience. Abraham’s enthusiasm can be seen in the way his whole family was enlisted in feeding the travellers and the five references to speed, rushing and running in describing the preparation (7). It helps to contrast the hospitality of Abraham’s nephew Lot (8) with that of Abraham. While both men insisted that their reluctant guests join them, in Lot’s case, there was no reference to speed or any member of his family joining in (9).  

As I reflect on the hospitality, fellowship, friendship and food offered to me last night by new and old friends, I acknowledge a precious gift and I recommit to the value of being, and the practice of the dialogue of being. Not all dialogue involves words.  This is beautifully put in a psalm: “There is no talking, without their voices being heard. [Yet], in all of the earth, their message goes forth, their ‘words’ to the very edges of the world.”  (10)

1)    Ethics of the Fathers 1:17

2)    Genesis 18:1

3)    Rabbi Simcha Zisl of Kelm

4)    Genesis 18:2

5)    Talmud, Shavuot 35b.

6)    The Baal Shem Tov comment relating to Genesis 18:19

7)    Genesis 18:6-8

8)    Genesis 19:1-3

9)    Hattin, M., Vayera | Life's Concentric Circles, https://etzion.org.il/en/tanakh/torah/sefer-bereishit/parashat-vayera/vayera-lifes-concentric-circles

10) Psalm 19:4-5

Dialogue Challenges and Abraham

On Sunday afternoon, I was standing in my local library, looking Jewish, together with a Jewish child. Two teenage boys walked near us and mumbled a few words they thought would annoy us because we are Jewish and then walked off laughing. The child said to me, I want to go home now. I also felt like going home then. Being an object of ridicule and an object with which to show off to your friend how daring you are, so you can feel a sense of belonging, is unpleasant. The library is one place that makes me feel relaxed, except on that Sunday, when it didn’t.

One might argue that this is a first world problem and I don’t have permission to be annoyed because other people are suffering more. I reject that. All harm must be prevented and dealt with.

On Monday, a Muslim man in New York was mocked because of his concern about his aunt who “stopped taking the subway after September 11 because she did not feel safe in her hijab.”   The mocker suggested that complaining implied that "the real victim of 9/11 was his auntie, who got some (allegedly) bad looks". This ridicule is not ok. It is not right to divide people into “the real victims” and “the fake victims”. We should all feel comfortable on public transport or in a public library, and anywhere else and expect to be treated as people and individuals, not objects or stereotypes. This includes Muslim women who have copped this abuse for years!

Also on Monday, two people from the NSW Jewish Board of Deputies and two of us from Together For Humanity planned a youth forum for high school students in the Eastern Suburbs of Sydney. The aim was to ensure that everyone can thrive at school, feel safe, supported, valued and known at school, free from demeaning comments and racism. To get this result, the students need to think deeply about effective dialogue. The students would be offered some tips about how to do this.

One tip we will offer is to use the word “and” rather than “but” when considering conflicting perspectives (1).  This can help us see how multiple perspectives can be true, rather than one cancelling another, while the word “but” usually implies that only the words after it (“but”) are valid. 

Another tip relates to “violence” and “silence”. These are two ways in which people respond to the discomfort of some conversations, according to the authors of Crucial Conversations (2). “Violence” in this context includes trying to force an opinion on others, or verbal personal attacks.

“Silence” can include masking one’s true feelings and just going along because one might feel afraid to say what one really thinks. One problem with silence is that valid concerns are not raised and important information is lost, whereas dialogue is defined by the authors as the free flow of meaning between people which enables new ways of thinking about challenges.   

Abraham is known for his commitment to fairness and justice (3) and being a kind person who was probably not comfortable saying no to his beloved first wife, Sarah. When Sarah felt disrespected by Hagar - her former maid, who had become her rival wife of Abraham - Sarah demanded that Hagar be dealt with harshly (4). Abraham’s response to Sarah was that she could do whatever she pleased to Hagar. Sarah’s treatment of Hagar resulted in her running away.

My guess is that Abraham was not ok with this course of action, but it was easier to agree. Ramban, one of the most respected commentators on the Torah, wrote that the harsh treatment of Hagar was a sin on the part of Sarah, as well as Abraham for condoning it (5).  

Going back to the youth forum, to encourage students not to mask their real views, we will invite them to respond the following prompt. “If I was completely honest, I would say that I am not ok with…” (6). This prompt led to deeply honest conversations in a Brisbane school a while ago, and we are hoping for similar results in Sydney. 

Another tip is to reflect on what the motives are for a conversation. We are encouraged to ask ourselves “What do you really want out of this conversation” (7)? Is the purpose mutual understanding? Pushing a point of view? Venting?   

A woman and her son were approached the other night by a stranger. “Can I ask you a question?” the stranger asked. Thus began an insincere pretence at dialogue, that was really about lecturing someone about the “questioner’s” opinion. I find such behaviour so offensive, and consider it is a crime against the sacred act of dialogue.

Dialogue, when it goes well, is a beautiful means of connection and respect between people with diverse perspectives or worldviews. For Muslims, knowing people from other “tribes and nations” is part of the purpose of creation (8). It has been a profound privilege for me to be known by Muslims and people of other traditions as well as to know in return. Yet, sometimes people with the best of intentions have ulterior motives and the dialogue fails.

It has taken me a while, but finally, I learned that there are conversations “that I really feel I need to have”, that, in fact, don’t need to happen. Unlike conversations with people with whom dialogue is likely to be beneficial and lead to mutual understanding, there are people with whom conversation is unlikely to be beneficial. The divergent interests are far more compelling for them than the common good. In such cases it is better to go separate ways.

Abraham understood this was the case with his nephew, Lot. Rather than engage in dialogue with the younger man, Abraham said to him “Let there be no strife between you and me, between my herders and yours… Let us separate: if you go north, I will go south; and if you go south, I will go north.” (9) Abraham still cared about the younger man and was there for him when he needed help (10), but also created space between them. Sometimes, this is the best course of action.

The session we are planning for the high school students in mid-November will hopefully be the start of a longer engagement and learning journey that will enable the fine young people we meet to create cultures of respect and belonging in their schools.  

1)     Stone, D., Patton, B, Heen, S, (of the Harvard Negotiation project), (2023) Difficult Conversations, Penguin Books

2)     Patterson, K., Grenny, J., Switzler, A., McMillan, R., (2018) in Crucial Conversations, McGraw Hill.

3)     Genesis 16:1-6

4)      Genesis 18:19 & 25

5)      Ramban, on Genesis 16:6

6)      CHAT, Cultural Hearing and Telling program, Scripture Union

7)      Patterson et al.

8)      Sura Al Hujurat - The Rooms (49:13) O humanity! Indeed, We created you from a male and a female, and made you into peoples and tribes so that you may ˹get to˺ know one another. Surely the most noble of you in the sight of Allah is the most righteous among you. Allah is truly All-Knowing, All-Aware.  — Dr. Mustafa Khattab, The Clear Quran https://quran.com/49/13

9)      Genesis, 13:8-9

10)   Rashi on Genesis, 13:8-9

Family Comes Last? Abraham Saving Sodom but Sacrificing his Son

Photo by Ketut Subiyanto, used under CC license:

As a young boy, I waited for what seemed like an eternity, in the vast cavernous ‘770’ Synagogue in Brooklyn after the prayers, longing to just go home. But my father had important communal work to attend to as an emissary of the Lubavitcher Rebbe. Dad had many people he had to talk to, to advance his important Lubavitch outreach work. When I became a dad, I promised myself to prioritize my family over my work. I told myself that, if the price of greatness is neglecting my family, I choose my family. Almost three decades later, when I reflect on that promise, I think that, while I have certainly fallen far short of my ideal, I have at least partially fulfilled my promise. I wonder what the Torah teaches us about this dilemma.

The story of Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice his son Isaac[i], especially as it follows closely on the heels of his heroic efforts to save the wicked people of Sodom[ii], is jarring. Does it legitimize deprioritizing familial love?! After all, we have the great Abraham pleading for strangers in Sodom, but not for his son, who he is willing to kill?

Let us examine the two cases.

In the case of Sodom, God told Abraham that He planned to destroy the wicked people of that city because the injustices perpetrated by its inhabitants had provoked great cries[iii]. (To be clear, in Jewish sources, the sin of Sodom was not homosexuality, but extreme cruelty to strangers[iv]). Despite the xenophobic cruelty of this community, Abraham pleaded for mercy for them and pestered God, advocating for them six times [v]. Abraham felt compelled to cry out to the heavens to prevent the destruction of human life[vi].  “The great argument between Abraham and God…was a turning point in the history of the spirit. For the first time a human being challenged God Himself on a matter of justice”[vii].

Yet, when God calls Abraham to sacrifice his son Isaac[viii], Abraham did not offer one word of protest. His response was eager obedience and acquiescence to the divine will [ix]. It is only God’s redirection at the last minute that Abraham not kill his son, that spared Isaac’s life.

Abraham’s willingness to challenge God for evil strangers but not for his son, seems like the case of the community worker or clergyman who shows endless patience for strangers, but appears to put his family last [x]?

To try to make sense of this, I take a step back and recognize that I am using a very contemporary social lens to interpret a timeless text. As an orthodox Jew in 2022, it is right for me to search for guidance in the Torah for how to live my life now, but I also am bound to consider interpretations of the Torah that have been written over thousands of years. 

In my study of the classic and Chasidic sources, I found the dominant theme to be an emphasis on devotion to God, rather than commentary about degrees of devotion or neglect of one’s family.

Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice Isaac was not a case of prioritizing a mission or cause over a child. Isaac was Abraham’s sole successor in his mission of promoting monotheism; so, if Isaac would have been killed, that would have meant the end of Abraham’s cause rather than its advancement[xi].

Far from some frenzied burst of fanatical religious excitement, Chasidic teachings portray this moment as a dark night of Abraham’s soul, where he lost all inspiration and any high spiritual consciousness, yet his deep devotion to God was so strong that he was prepared to make this painful sacrifice [xii].

There is a Chasidic story that emphasises prioritizing parental care over spiritual experience. Once, in the middle of the night, a child of the Mitteler Rebbe [the second leader of the Chabad Chasidic movement] fell out of bed. Entirely engrossed in his spiritual-mystical studies, he did not hear the child’s cries. However, his father, the Alter Rebbe, heard the cries, closed his Torah books, and went to comfort the child. The Alter Rebbe later said to his son: No matter how deeply immersed you are in holy pursuits, when a child cries you must hear it; you must stop what you’re doing and soothe their pain[xiii]. In one instance, the Lubavitcher Rebbe told one of his emissaries whose child had some difficulties: Your main mission is looking after your child. If you have any time left after that, you can do other things[xiv].

Far from the modern, work- focused dad, whose love for his children is sometimes not evident, Abraham’s love for Isaac was clearly manifest. God’s first sentence to Abraham highlighted this when he referred to Isaac as the child he loved. As the story unfolds there is a tender exchange between son and father. Isaac asks a question of Abraham, addressing him as “my father”.  Abraham replies: ”Here I am, my son.” Then, he again tenderly refers to Isaac as “my son”[xv]. What is being described here is a loving father, with tears flowing from his eyes [xvi], who, despite feeling intense love for Isaac, attempted to do what he believed he must, to obey God.

From a contemporary perspective, Leon Kass argues that, in a sense, we all sacrifice our children. “…All of us fathers, devote (that is ‘sacrifice’) our sons to some ‘god’ or another – to Mammon [money] or Molech [an idol served with child sacrifice]. To honour or money, pleasure or power, or worse, to no god at all.  …we do so willy-nilly, through the things we teach and respect in our own homes; we intend that the entire life of the sons be spent in service to our own ideals or idols…  But a true father will devote his son to – and will self-consciously and knowingly initiate him into - only the righteous and Godly ways………

Finally, Cass points out, “the true founder [of any movement] knows and accepts the fact that his innocent sons will suffer for the sake of the righteous community, and that their ‘sacrifice’ is no proof that they are not properly loved as sons.  On the contrary, the true founder, like the true father, shows his love for his followers when he teaches them, often by example, that one’s life is not worth living if there is nothing worth dying and sacrificing for” [xvii].

In the end, we are indeed called on to ‘be willing’ to prioritize G-d over our loved ones, and this involves some painful trade-offs by parents in which children get significantly less of their parents’ attention, support and material goods they might ideally receive, but in the end, Judaism – or devotion to any cause - should not detract too much from parents’ love and care for their children and families [xviii], just as Abraham does not actually sacrifice his son. Getting the balance right is fraught for fathers, and even more so, for mothers. I believe that awareness of the dilemma is one part of managing its tensions.

 

Notes

---

[i] Genesis 22

[ii] Genesis 18:17-32

[iii] Genesis 18:20

[iv] Talmud, Sanhedrin 109b

[v] Genesis 18:23-32

[vi] The Lubavitcher Rebbe, Likutei Sichos vol. 10, p. 58, 5,

[vii] Sacks, J. (2009), Covenant and Conversation, Genesis, Magid Books and the Orthodox Union, p. 103,

[viii] Genesis 22:2

[ix] Genesis 22:3-10

[x] I wondered if this kind of attitude was inferred by some Chasidim from the Lubavitcher Rebbe’s teachings relating to the phrase from כתובות (ט ע"ב that כל היוצא למלחמת בית דוד כותב גט כריתות לאשתו, that all who went out to the wars of the house of David, would write a divorce to their wives which, although it technically has an entirely different meaning, could be understood to mean, in a symbolic sense, that Shlichut requires a prioritization of the mission over attachment to family.  

[xi] The Lubavitcher Rebbe, Likutei Sichot, vol 20, p. 76-77

[xii] Rabbi Mordechai of Lechvitch, and similarly in Chidushei Harim, based on the Arizal and the Zohar, cited In, Reisman, M. Y., שיעורים בסידור התפילה ר' מנשה ישראל רייזמאן שליט"א ע"י הרה"ג שיעור נ"ח - והאלקים נסה את אברהם ניתן לשמוע  www.kolhalashon.com

[xiii] https://www.chabad.org/therebbe/livingtorah/player_cdo/aid/2081439/jewish/Hearing-the-Cry-of-a-Child.htm

[xiv] Told to me by Rabbi Yossi Engel with the name of the Shliach the Rebbe told it to.

[xv] Genesis 22:7-8

[xvi] Rav Avraham Mordechai Alter: Imrei Emet: Sefer Bereshit, cited in White, T, Avraham and the Akeida: The Silent Sacrifice, www.contemplatingtorah.wordpress.com

[xvii] Leon R. Kass, L, R., the beginning of Wisdom p. 348-350 cited in White

[xviii]
An example of the commitment to family is expressed in this talk by the Lubavitcher Rebbe’s.
: ומכיוון שהוא יוצא למלחמת בית דוד – הרי בודאי שהוא מצליח ומנצח כו', וחוזר בשלום לביתו, על דרך מה שכתוב "ויבוא יעקב שלם", "שלם בגופו כו' שלם בממונו כו' שלם בתורתו", באופן של "לכתחילה אריבער", ואז הוא חי עם אשתו, ונולדים להם בנים ובנות עוסקים בתורה ומצוותיה – ביתר שאר וביתר עז, מכיוון שמדובר אודות חיילי בית דוד (משיחות הושענא רבה תשמ"ג ותשמ"ח. התוועדויות תשמ"ג חלק א' עמ' 251-253; תשמ"ח חלק א' עמ' 291-293
 http://www.chabad.org.il/Magazines/Article.asp?ArticleID=7222&CategoryID=1442