Rosh Hashanah & Yom Kippur Sermons
Hagar & Sarah Dvar Torah by Sara Levine Petroff
Each year, as we read, and annually re-read the stories of the Torah, I am constantly surprised by the variations of interpretations. Each year, as I grow older, and my life experiences deepen, so too does my appreciation for this spiritual memoir of our collective family politics. Marital issues, sibling rivalry, jealousy and power struggles. It's all there. The Torah spiritually excavates down to, and morally guides us through the most fundamental and relevant of familial baggage. Baggage so important that we wrote it down, rolled it up, and carried it with us for five thousand, seven hundred and sixty seven years.
And today, on this Rosh Hashanah morning, we unfurl this precious scroll, yet again, to glean insight into one of the most disparaging, and bitter of family feuds. This would be tale of Sarah and Hagar. As you we all know, Avraham had been promised by God this great and numerous nation from his offspring on 3 separate occasions, yet, Sarah remained childless. Frustrated and disappointed, she took the initiative in finding a solution.
In keeping with ancient Near Eastern traditions, Sarah gave Hagar, her handmaid to Abraham to procreate by proxy, (literally, from the Hebrew le'ishah meaning to wife), she was to be Abraham's secondary wife, and thus by definition subordinate to Sarah. These are the first biblical navigations through the hazardous and morally complex waters of surrogacy. This is a profoundly emotional issue, wrought with jealousy, feelings of inadequacy, egoism, bitterness and idealistic ethical conduct.
Who among us could suppress the devastation of a barren womb, bring a second wife under our roof, approve of conjugal relations with our husband (at our suggestion), with the understanding that any child that results would be loved as our own? Could I have stood on that altruistic moral high ground and said, "It's OK, I can handle it?" Not a chance, however, how many times have I plunged head long into waters, the depth of which I have misjudged? Ramban warns us not to make vows which our beyond our capacity to fulfill, saying "A good deed is only credited to the account of the one who completes it."
When the young and fertile Hagar conceives a child by Avraham right away, Sarah is torn apart with jealousy and envy. Resentful and humiliated over her diminishment, she complains to her husband, expressing her bitterness and blaming him for allowing a delicate situation to disintegrate. Refusing to accept any responsibility in the matter, Avraham simply shrugs his shoulders and leaves Sarai to resolve the dispute. She was literally de-moralized, in that she lost her moral compass, becoming physically and psychologically abusive.
So, Hagar flees into the wilderness. There, by a fountain of water, an angel finds her, and urges her to return to the situation of subjugation, to let "yourself be afflicted under her hand" and in return, God promises to greatly increase her offspring, to the point that they will be too many to count. This seems like a set up. To me, the underlying message is that I will build you up, if you allow Sarah to break you down. Through her willingness to return, Hagar becomes a paradigm for all women exploited, abused, rejected and abandoned. The pity of Hagar becomes the punishment of Sarah. Is this not a recipe for a multitude of Hagar's descendants to claim victimization? Why would God have Hagar return but to shame Sarah, giving her a daily reminder of her maternal and spiritual inadequacies? What a hostile home. Two women scorned and no one to run interference.
When an emotional haystack has been building for years, it's hard to pinpoint the actual straw. I am sure each of us can remember a holiday celebration when a lifetime of family politics hit the fan. For Sarah, it was at the weaning ceremony of Isaac. Ishmael is a teenager, playing with his half brother, Isaac the wonder child; he turns to Hagar saying Mom, I don't know what all the fuss about Isaac is. Everyone knows that I am the first born son and I shall inherit everything.
That was it. Sarah orders Abraham to turn them out to die in the desert. The feast of Isaac ultimately becomes the famine of Ishmael. Sarah really had no right to demand that Ishmael be divested of his legitimate status as son and heir to Abraham.
The maternal rejection of Ishmael by his surrogate mother, our mother, is excruciating to visualize. Sarah actually wants Hagar and Ishmael to die. How can a mother do this? We look to our matriarchs and patriarchs for ethical guidance. They are our role models: Sarah, the archetypal mother, in whose footsteps I should follow, for whom I was named. I am angry and ashamed.
And how can a father allow this to happen? Abraham did nothing to keep peace in his family but simply acquiesced as one wife expelled the other and her child. What a dad. What a man. What compassion. Abraham does not shine as a Father in this chapter of his life. Not of their own choosing, brother is now pitted against brother, through the sins of their parents. Fathers have an amazing capacity to nurture or torture their children, and many underestimate the powerful impact they have on their families. Robert Fulghum, the author of All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten says to us- Don't worry that children never listen to you; worry that they are always watching you.
And what of the omnipotent parent who watches over all us other parents incase we loose it? Where is God in all of this? Is it possible to read into this text that the deep dichotomy between these Semitic siblings is divinely sanctioned? Because Islam traces its lineage from Abraham through Ishmael and Judaism, through Isaac, both claim to be spiritual Children of Abraham. Thru a paradox of promises made, and kept by God, we now have two nations will forever be at odds with each other. The biblical inheritance withheld from Ishmael, must now be withstood by Israel every single day. Thanks for the legacy Mom and Dad!
Well, aren't I just the quintessential child, blaming my quintessential parents for all past, present and future troubles?
But I am no longer a child. Being an adult is to cease pointing fingers of blame. I, too, am a woman and a mother and can identify with all of my parent's insecurities, power struggles, feelings of inadequacy and the natural maternal instinct to want more for my own child. Who am I to judge or fault Sarah and Abraham? Who am I to question God's actions? On this, of all days, when I begin this week of introspection, I must refrain from reading this story of Hagar and Sarah as a manuscript of a soap opera, and delve deeper, using it instead as an ancient reflection stone against which I can catch a glimpse of my own human shortcomings, for I too, am flawed, and come literally and biblically from imperfect parents.
Every year this heart rendering tale requires me to examine if I am doing right by my own family. Are my personal transgressions being transcribed down thru the generations? I am compelled to reflect and resolve, and to once again, reset my moral compass. This week, as each of us unfurls our own emotional and spiritual baggage we are beholden to take an honest, unflinching look from whence we came, in order to establish a principled path for this New Year. I would not trade this baggage for anything else, since it has deepened in richness from stewing for so long!
Shannah Tova
