Parashat Lech L'cha: The Woman Who Named God

Parashat Lech L’cha

8 Cheshvan, 5775
Cantor Phil Baron

“The Woman Who Named God”

The title of my Clergy Corner article is borrowed from a current novel by Charlotte Gordon. The dust jacket describes this biblical tale as, “A story of fidelity and abandonment, birthright and expulsion, the saga of Abraham, Sarah and Hagar is the myth of origin for three monotheistic faiths. Ms. Gordon gives us a startling new perspective on this legendary love triangle.” Hagar, like many biblical characters before her, is finally given her due in themidrashic tradition, albeit with an overlay of modern sensibilities.

This is certainly not new. The story of Abraham and Sarah is replete with aggadic story-telling and legend. Many of us grew up thinking that these stories could actually be found in the Torah. It wasn’t until I took a closer look at B’reishit that I found the colorful story of Abraham smashingthe idols was, well, made up. I also remember how shocked I was to learn the George Washington probably never chopped down a cherry tree. Alas, childhood myths must eventually be…smashed (or chopped down!).

But back to the title of this piece. A woman gave a name to God? Yes, and she is the only biblical character to do so. And she was not Jewish. And, the name she used is not one we normally use for God.

I call your attention to B’reishit 16:10-13. Unable to bear a child of her own, Sarai (eventually called Sarah) has given her maidservant Hagar to Abram in order that he may conceive a child by her. But when Hagar becomes pregnant, natural jealousies and resentments come to the surface and Hagar must flee. An angel of the Lord comes to her by a spring and brings her some good news from God:

“I will greatly increase your offspring.
And they will be too many to count.”
The Angel of the Lord said to her further,
“Behold, you are with child,
And you shall bear a son;
And you shall call him Ishmael,
For the Lord has paid heed to your suffering.
He shall be a wild ass of a man,
His hand against everyone,
And everyone’s hand against him;
He shall dwell alongside all of his kinsmen.”
And she called the Lord who spoke to her. “You are El-roi…”

She has given a name to the ineffable. Somehow she has identified the Lord as a “God of Seeing.” And then, with Hagar’s next utterance, we get into varying translations of this difficult passage. A lot of them. I found 20 different ones! Here are a few:

From The Jewish Publication Society: …by which she meant, ‘Have I not gone on seeing after He saw me?’”

From The English Standard Version: “You are a God of seeing,” for she said, “Truly here I have seen him who looks after me.”

From the King James Bible: “You God, see me”: for she said, “Have I also here seen him that sees me?”

From Webster’s Bible Translation: “Thou God seest me”: for she said, “Have I also here looked after him that seeth me?”

Seest what I mean? Far from illuminating the meaning of the Hebrew, the translators seem as challenged as we are to find the meaning of Hagar’s observation. So briefly, here is my humble attempt.

Hagar the handmaiden, the indentured servant, the lower-class citizen, has never been seen by anyone in Abraham’s inner circle. She is invisible, someone who exists only to serve others. Now she has been visited by none other than an angel of the Lord, who has taken notice of her and her plight. And her future has been foretold by the One Who Sees All.

It is significant that the Torah elevates this character, placing her in the company of the very few that converse directly with God, although through angel surrogates. Later, in chapter 21, another angel again conveys God’s grace upon Hagar and her outcast son. Like the angels in B’reishit, we too are God’s surrogates. And if we are to be holy, as God demands, then we must strive to “see,” to open our eyes, and not be blinded by arrogance or privilege to the suffering of others.

The many aggadic stories of our forefathers and mothers are no doubt colorful and exciting, but it is an understatement to point out that the unadorned words of the Torah provide sufficient inspiration -- and a lifetime of contemplation.