Genesis 12.1-12 What we often forget is that Abraham had not one but two sons, and that he was called on to sacrifice both of them. This week’s story, found in Genesis 21.1–21, is the story of Abraham’s sacrifice of his other son, Ishmael. Culturally there was an expectation that the firstborn would inherit, and this cultural expectation would later be reflected in the Torah (Deuteronomy 21.15–17). On the other hand, this firstborn is half Egyptian and God has already said that he will establish his covenant with the younger son, Isaac, and not with Ishmael (Genesis 17.21). This week Abraham’s journey leads us to think about the ‘other’, and about how our own stories can impact the fortunes of others. Such ‘others’ tend to invoke fear and mistrust in members of majorities, either because they appear to threaten the well-being of the wealthy majority, or simply because difference is unnerving. This level of fear and mistrust only serves to exacerbate problems of financial inequality and restricted access to education, health services, housing and employment. In most Western countries today Muslim populations find themselves a particular target of fear and mistrust as they are connected in the minds of non-Muslims with Islamist terrorism and violence. They have become the archetypal ‘other’, whether found ‘in our midst’ or seeking to enter from outside. Today Ishmael is seen as the ‘father’ of the Arab nations and Muslims look to Abraham as their father through Ishmael. Genesis 21, in a sense, represents the parting of the ways between Judaism and Christianity, on the one hand, and Islam on the other. That makes it, for us, a story with current implications. Prayers in church are often phrased like this: “we pray for those who are ….”. One of the effects of prayers of this kind, which is that we become the people who pray, while they are cast as the people who suffer. When we pray in this way we are able to exist in a kind of benevolent bubble in which we hold ourselves at arm’s length from other people who have been unfortunate enough to experience hardship. (?) The ‘other’ in Genesis 21. Prior to the arrival of Isaac it seems that Sarah and Abraham had learned to live with the idea of their half-Egyptian son, despite the initial tension with Hagar. Remember that names are significant in Genesis. ‘Isaac’ is no different. It is built on the Hebrew verb ‘to laugh’, which recalls the laughter of Isaac’s parents. Once there are two children everything becomes complicated again. The old rivalries between Sarah and Hagar re-surface as the issue of which of the two boys will become Abraham’s heir begins to bite. Now Ishmael’s half-Egyptian parentage becomes significant and his place in the family becomes precarious. This issue of ‘choosing’ between different characters recurs throughout Genesis. In order for one character to be chosen, another must be ‘unchosen’. This can sometimes be difficult for us, with our ‘egalitarian’ outlooks, to understand - to those with agricultural backgrounds – a family farm can only go to one child, because it would be simply impractical to divide it, especially over many generations – a family farm can only go to one child, because it would be simply impractical to divide it. The early Israelites told stories in order to understand and build their own identity . No doubt both of these phenomena – having children and then treating them both equally – were part of the ordinary lives of early Israelites, but they also have a lot to do with issues of identity. There were particular reasons why they became especially strong themes in early Israelite stories. Let’s think about the motif of the barren woman for a moment. It must have been tempting to think that the god of a fertility religion would have greater power to promote childbirth than Israel’s God. By telling stories about infertile women who became mothers, the Israelites were able to explore these temptations and to assert the power of their God. If the theme of the barren woman is really all about the Israelites choosing God, then the theme of the chosen son is really all about God choosing Israel. Telling stories about God choosing between characters and regularly choosing the smaller or younger character, often for no obvious reason, helped Israel to understand God’s choice of them and his non-choice of others. Central to the Israelites’ sense of identity was their conviction that God had chosen them to be his special nation. The Genesis stories are foundation stories that help to explain that choice. The sacrifice of Ishmael. Sarah demands that Abraham cast out both Hagar and Ishmael. Abraham’s reaction is significant. Genesis 21.11 says that Sarah’s demand was ‘very distressing to Abraham on account of his son’. This is perhaps the strongest statement of Abraham’s emotions that we see anywhere in Genesis. all. Sarah appears to have transferred her affections from Ishmael to Isaac. It is by no means clear that Abraham has done the same. God sides with Sarah in her support of Isaac at Ishmael’s expense. I wonder how you respond to this story. Do you catch yourself thinking, ‘It’s only Ishmael. It’s OK’? God does not appear here as the supporter of the marginalized and oppressed, as we might expect. You might remember that Ishmael’s name means ‘God hears’; God does hear Ishmael’s voice, and the angel of God speaks with Hagar. Having supported Hagar and Ishmael’s banishment, God comes and finds them in the wilderness, providing water that saves them from death. Clearly the well-being of Hagar and her son is important to God. Being ‘unchosen’ does not mean, for God, that Ishmael and his mother are not worthy of God’s attention. God speaks to Hagar for a second time (remember their previous conversation conversation in the wilderness after Hagar ran away from Sarah in Genesis 16). This in itself is extraordinary – God never speaks to Sarah, for example. What, then, does being chosen mean? And what does it mean to be ‘unchosen’? Israel’s own sense of herself having been ‘chosen’ (often referred to as the ‘doctrine of election’) is one of the aspects of Judaism that we Christians find most difficult, because of an accompanying sense that we are being excluded from God’s special favour. Clearly, in Genesis 21, being ‘unchosen’ does not mean living outside of God’s care and compassion. Some argue that ‘chosenness’ is not so much about being singled out for privilege as being singled out for a special vocation. The ‘other’ in our context When we tell our own stories, who do we cast, whether wittingly or unwittingly, as ‘other’? Just as the ancient Israelites told stories to understand their relationship with God, and through that relationship build their own identity, so do we (individuals, families, institutions and nations) tell stories to help us to build our identities. Just as Israel was focused on building and maintaining its identity through the post-exilic period, so twentieth- and twenty-first-century Jews have been engaged in identity-building, especially in the aftermath of the horrendous events of the Holocaust. One of their goals has been to establish an independent Jewish state. That goal has been achieved in the creation of the modern-day State of Israel, but it has arguably been achieved at the expense of Arab Palestinians, who have been repatriated into continually shrinking areas of Palestine and whose access into Israeli-controlled lands has been severely curtailed. It is highly ironic that the kind of high-handed treatment to which the ancestors of the Arab peoples were subject at the hand of Sarah is again today a feature of Jewish–Arab relations. Despite our divisions we are in fact members of a single family and the tensions and division that we experience today are in fact nothing new. Families always have tensions of one kind or another. The biblical families are no different. Arguments and disagreements, hurts and jealousies lead to the ‘othering’ of certain family members from time to time. We’ve seen that the building of identity can lead to casting people, sometimes quite unintentionally, in the role of ‘other’. Sometimes that might go so far as to lead to ‘sacrifice’ of the ‘other’, all in the name of the building up of ourselves. We are following Abraham’s journey story as a way of reflecting on our own stories and journeys. It is important that we take time along the way to take notice of the ways in which the building of our own identities can have the capacity to marginalize others. If we are able to read stories, including our own, from the perspective of characters other than ourselves, we are better equipped to tell healthy stories that don’t set out to build our own identity on top of, or at the expense of, our sisters and brothers. The other important thing to take away from this week’s story, I think, is some reflection about the character of God. The portrayal of God in Genesis 21 is not easy to understand. It will be important to carry some of the questions about God that have begun to develop this week into our reading of next week’s story, Genesis 22. But it is equally important to notice the reassuring elements of the portrayal of God in Genesis 21. Just because Ishmael was not ‘chosen’ but was sent away by his ‘chosen’ family, that did not mean that God had abandoned him. Instead, God singled Ishmael out for special blessing and promises, and God kept those promises so that Ishmael’s family grew to be large and strong. Questions: 1. How should we feel about a God who repeatedly instructs Abraham to allow his wife to mistreat her slave, and not just any slave but one who has borne her a child? 2. Do you come away from Genesis 21 with difficult questions about God? What are they? Do you have answers? 3. Are you aware, in your own context, of ways in which the telling of your national story excludes certain groups of peoples? 4. Are the Abraham stories more about exclusion (some are chosen, some are ‘unchosen’) or inclusion (we are all one family)? 5. Who are the ‘others’ in your society, or in your church? What causes the ‘othering’ and how is it expressed?
Genesis 18.1-15 How does God ‘show up’ in your life? Our story for week three of Lent is one in which God ‘shows up’ for Abraham. Actually, it is a feature of the Abraham stories that he meets and speaks with God relatively often. When Abraham meets with God they often speak easily, and relatively intimately, as friends. With Abraham there is little of the sense of being in danger that God’s presence seems to present to others. The reader knows that it is God who has come to visit, but Abraham can see only men. These different levels of understanding, what Abraham knows and what the reader knows, are maintained throughout the story, so that even for us as readers it can become a little confusing. Abraham is left to discover the identity of his visitors himself. This is important, because it means that at least at the beginning Abraham does not know who the visitors are – he only knows that strangers have arrived at his door. The mystery does get cleared up by the end of the story, so that by the time Abraham is standing opposite God and bargaining with him to save the people of Sodom (Genesis 18.22–33), both the reader and Abraham know that it is God that Abraham is talking with. Stories about offering hospitality to gods or semi-gods were prevalent in the cultures of the nations surrounding ancient Israel. One of the things this story shows us is that the line between meeting God and meeting others can be rather fine. Christians have often understood the ambiguity about the number of Abraham’s visitors (one or three?) and their nature (divine or human?) as indicating that Abraham’s visitors were actually the persons of the Holy Trinity. We honour the text when we read it on its own terms and try to free our perceptions of what we know came later. Further, I think that you run the risk of missing some of what the story has to offer if you are too determined to understand the visitors to be the Holy Trinity. For example, you miss the different levels operating in the story, in which you as the reader know one thing and Abraham sees another. Offering hospitality to a passing traveller was a way of converting a potentially dangerous stranger into an ally. While the host would be expected to offer the most generous hospitality he could afford, the guest was required to graciously accept whatever was offered, without asking for more. The guest also had one more obligation relevant to Genesis 18– he was expected to offer some kind of gift in return for the hospitality he’d received. Scholars love to argue about apparently minor details, and they have had a great debate about the quality of Abraham’s hospitality! Most scholars have been agreed that Abraham’s hospitality was lavish. Having children is something that is programmed into us. The desire has to be strong so that we are motivated to take on the gargantuan task of raising another person. This can make it excruciatingly painful if we, like Sarah and Abraham, find ourselves unable to have a child. Abraham’s hospitality also heralded unexpected change. heir. Childlessness was Abraham’s particular longing, but it had an unusual extra twist because without an heir Abraham did not see how any of God’s other promises could be realized. Sarah herself attributes her barrenness to God (Genesis 16.2), so she comes up with a plan to overcome her affliction. She will send her Egyptian maidservant, Hagar, to Abraham in order that Hagar might have Abraham’s child on Sarah’s behalf. Surrogacy arrangements, like this one, IVF and donation of eggs and sperm are all methods that we use to try to help nature do its job. Unfortunately, Sarah has not thought through all of the likely consequences of her plan. When Hagar duly conceives she apparently recognizes the tactical advantage that she has achieved over her mistress and she looks upon Sarah with contempt (Genesis 16.5). Sarah again turns to Abraham, who appears to abdicate responsibility for Hagar, pretty much as he had previously abdicated responsibility for Sarah during their sojourn in Egypt (Genesis 12.10–20). Abraham tells Sarah to do as she pleases. Sarah treats Hagar badly and the pregnant Hagar flees (16.6). Hagar is ‘found’ by the angel of the Lord by a spring of water in the wilderness. The angel tells her to return to Sarah and submit to her. Just as there is ambiguity about the nature of Abraham’s visitors in Genesis 18, so there is ambiguity about the identity of the angel in Genesis 16. By verse 13 it becomes clear that it is actually God to whom Hagar is speaking. God tells Hagar to name her son Ishmael, meaning ‘God hears’ or ‘God will hear’. Then, extraordinarily, Hagar gives God a name. She calls God ‘El Roi’, or ‘God who sees’. The act of naming was thought by the Israelites to generate special power, so that the person doing the naming acquired a certain power or influence over the person being named. The text doesn’t explicitly say that Hagar returns to Sarah and Abraham. It seems that she does so, however, and that she gives birth to Abraham’s ‘firstborn’, Ishmael. Abraham and Sarah have the child they wanted. Everybody (other than Hagar) is now happy. It is hard to imagine, then, how Abraham feels in Genesis 17 when, thirteen years later, God appears and promises to give him a son by Sarah. Initially, Abraham is so surprised that he falls on his face and laughs! One final thing expected of a guest – he was expected to give his host a gift. This was a way of ‘evening up the score’ (even if the gift was of no monetary value) so that there was no outstanding sense of obligation that might possibly lead to violence between host and guest. Here in Genesis 18 Abraham’s guests give him a gift. In Abraham and Sarah’s case their concern about treating the two boys equally is magnified by the fact that God is determined to treat the two boys differently. God chooses Isaac, but excludes Ishmael from his covenant with Abraham and his descendants. Sarah and Abraham took matters into their own hands. Despite several years having passed God had not given Abraham and Sarah a son, and so they took the initiative. Sarah’s plan can be thought of as just such a ‘setting out’. It would be an understatement to say that things did not initially go smoothly (especially for Hagar!). But what was the longer-term outcome? (see next week’s study). Isaac will stand within the covenant and inherit the divine promises from Abraham, but Ishmael will not. In one sense, then, Ishmael is born into a situation of inequality. However, this is not to say that Ishmael is not important to God, or that he will not receive God’s blessing. Although Ishmael will not be a member of the covenant people, God does make promises in respect of Ishmael and some of them are the same as the original promises to Abraham! Ishmael is by no means an interloper or second-class citizen in God’s long-term plan. His existence transforms both Abraham’s legacy and the world that we know. This is the way in which God acts in our lives with, around and sometimes despite our actions. As I said back in Chapter 1, in God’s economy nothing is wasted. The renewed promise of a son does not come to Abraham and Sarah in the context of something dramatic that they do. Neither Abraham nor Sarah reacted terrifically well to the visitors’ gift of a renewed promise that they would have a son. What can we take away from the story of Abraham’s hospitality? We have a God who is not limited by the things that limit us. t is important that we don’t try to limit God, but keep ourselves open to what he may choose to accomplish in us. God works within the everyday order and activities of our lives. Loving others is part of loving God. This is so even if we are carrying with us long-term unresolved longings, unanswered prayer or unhealed illness. Nine times out of ten we will not be rewarded, apart from knowing that we are doing God’s will. Sometimes, however, just sometimes, we will find that we are entertaining angels without knowing it (Hebrews 13.2). QUESTIONS 1. Is there a long-term longing, or unanswered prayer, in your life? Does it have anything to do with the journey you are currently on? 2. What is the hospitality code by which you live? Why do you live by it? 3. When has God ‘turned up’ in your life? What parts were ordinary? What parts extraordinary? Did you know that it was God, and how did you respond? 4. Does it matter at what point in the story Abraham realized that his visitor was God? Why? 5. Why did Sarah laugh? What does the narrator think of her laughter? How can you tell? 6. Influenced by this story, Benedictine monastics welcome all visitors to their monasteries as Christ. How might ordinary Christians incorporate this approach in their everyday life? 7. What do you think about Sarah and Abraham’s situation, with the promise of this new son? 8. Do you, perhaps, question whether Sarah and Abraham were right to pursue the surrogacy option with Hagar? 9. Does the renewed promise of a son suggest that they were wrong to try to find their own solution? 10. Is Abraham’s role in all of this perhaps a further instance of the scepticism, or lack of faithfulness, that he displayed in Genesis 15?