A God of Seeing: Hagar's Story
Part 1 of Tending the Tapestry
Photo by Mohamed Nohassi on Unsplash
This is the first installment of the Tending the Tapestry series. Tending the Tapestry examines empowering stories of women in the Old Testament and how they shape and enrich our faith today.
“And so she named the Lord who spoke to her, ‘You are El Roi [the God of seeing];’ for she said ‘have I really seen God and remained alive after seeing him?’” – Genesis 16:13
Imaginative Prayer Narrative
My feet stumble as they slide across the ever-shifting sand. I brace my arms on my knees, exhaustion making my back ache. My eyes water and I squint to determine what I am seeing. Images conjured from our minds are common in the desert, but I see flashes of green, the gentle curves of palm trees, and the shimmer of water. Oh, water! I whisper a prayer that this is not merely a mirage and make clumsy, hasty steps in that direction.
The coarse sand chafes at my face and my hands clasped protectively over my rounded belly. The heat beats down on my head, barely covered by the cloth wrapped haphazardly over my hair. I wasn’t prepared to leave; I never planned on fleeing from the camp of Abram and Sarai. Not until her threats, not until I felt I had no choice. I gently smooth the swell of my belly, “Shhh, it’s okay. We’ll be okay.” I know I’m lying to my child but it’s all I can say. We are safer here than we were in the camp of Sarai.
The closer I come, the more I am certain that the sanctuary is real. I throw myself down onto the ground, soft with grass and water weeds, and dip my entire head into the spring.
Utter bliss. The sweet water meets my lips as it trickles down my face. I feel immediately cooler and continue to splash the water on my neck.
My mind is clear enough to consider what I’ve done. From whom I’ve fled. When will they notice I have not returned? Will Sarai bother to tell Abram? Now that I’ve been given back to her, Abram has little say over my fate. I thought that returning to her service would smooth over her anger, but I was wrong.
The constant reminder of my child was always between us. Sarai’s pain contorted her mind; she wasn’t always this way, this cruel. I knew of her longings for a child, her prayers and pleas. I cried with her many nights. But pain can become a poison. And Sarai drank deeply of her pain.
She began to threaten me, to lift her hand in anger towards me. As one I could have borne it, but as two – with my child to think of – I stood firm and commanded her to stop. Her eyes grew wide as she took in my stance. My feet planted with strength, my shoulders back, my neck straight. I would not cower; she would listen, or I would leave.
When she lifted a vase, bracing for a throw, I knew what I had to do. Even when I heard her yells of “Hagar! Hagar! You come back here!” I felt no pull to return. Hagar is not my name. It means ‘foreigner’ in their tongue; a fact I discovered after being called it for months. An ugly word, so far from my own musical name, why would I return to such a call? To people who never bothered to learn my true name or to see me as a person?
I shake these thoughts from my mind. What’s done is done. After another dunk of my head in the cool water, my neck tingles. I feel eyes on me. I turn, still rubbing droplets from my eyes, and see a man. He is clothed like an Egyptian and stands a short distance away. His bearing is not threatening, he remains far enough away to ensure I won’t feel frightened of his presence.
“Hagar, slave-girl of Sarai, where have you come from and where are you going?” (v. 8) I startle because this man speaks my native tongue; yet he knows me by the name I was given as a slave. If he knows who I am in that context, there is no use lying. “I am fleeing from my mistress Sarai.”(v. 8) I have no answer for where I am going, only what I am leaving behind.
The man walks closer to me, slowly with raised hands to indicate he means no harm. He kneels in front of me, taking a well-worn cloth from his traveling bag. He dips it into the water and gently lifts it towards my face. “May I?” he asks. I nod wordlessly as he begins to softly wash the sand from my face. My eyes close for a moment, lost in the sensation of someone caring for me. Someone seeing me as worthy of tenderness.
“Return to your mistress, and submit to her.” (v. 9) He speaks with a softness to equal the cloth gently wiping my skin, but it feels like a slap. My eyes shoot open, and I stare at him. I expect to see command, righteous anger, or pride in his eyes. Emotions I can meet with shouts and anger of my own. But instead, I see care, compassion, and sadness swirling in his expression. I open my mouth to argue, but he continues.
“I will so greatly multiply your offspring that they cannot be counted for multitude. Now you have conceived and shall bear a son; you shall call him Ishmael, for the Lord has given heed to your affliction. He shall be a wild ass of a man, with his hand against everyone, and everyone’s hand against him; and he shall live at odds with all his kin.” (v. 10-12)
I am speechless. The first part, multiplying my offspring, that sounded like Abram’s covenant. Yet, this was a promise to me, not Abram. A promise that required me to survive - even more than survive - to live.
And then the rest of his words align in my head. Ishmael! My son, a boy, a wild, free, fiery boy! A man not constrained by the social hierarchy of Abram and Sarai, a man who fights for me, for us, my hope. Tears stream down my cheeks, what words. What promises. What hope for our lives.
I understand what this man is saying. To ensure this boy lives, I must return to Sarai. But I am promised that he will live and grow, free and alive. Promised that I too will live, because the Lord has heard me.
Who is this man to make such lavish promises? Who can speak of such things? Then I realize, all in moment, who has wiped the dirt from my face, who has spoken to me with tenderness, who I have seen.
“You are the God who sees.” I whisper.
Immediately, I place my hands and face downward, looking away from him, assuming a posture of worship. Then I feel hands gently lift my arms, his hands brushing the mud from my hands.
I peek up at him and ask, “have I really seen God and remained alive after seeing him?”
The corners of his eyes crinkle with laughter. He spoke in my tongue, wore the clothing of my people, met me where I was. His eyes shine with love and compassion. His gentle words remind me of the value of my life, of the life of my Ishmael. God saw me, when no one else did, and God allowed me to see Him.
He supports me as I stand up, still wobbly but strong enough to rise. Our forearms clasped together, I speak clearly and surely “You are El Roi, the God who see me.” His eyes burn with joy, with pride, with love.
Through Threads
Genesis 16 is a complicated, beautiful passage of scripture which outlines Hagar’s experiences with Sarai and Abram (later Sarah and Abraham), her encounter with God at the well, and then her return and the birth of Ishmael.
One thread which runs throughout this chapter, and the surrounding chapters in Genesis, is power dynamics. From verse one of this chapter, the name ‘Hagar’ indicates the low status of our heroine. ‘Hagar’ meaning ‘foreigner’ in Hebrew, was very likely not the birth name of the Egyptian slave woman of Sarai; and sadly, her true name has been lost to history.[1] Losing one’s name is a heartbreaking example of the dehumanization suffered by those with little to no power at this time in history.
The tangled, imbalanced power dynamic between Sarai and Hagar is forefront to the plot of Genesis 16. Sarai commands Hagar to lie with Abram, and after Hagar becomes pregnant, there is a conflict between the women. Abram responds by placing Hagar back in Sarai’s power, which she had forfeited when she first sent Hagar to Abram.[2]
After this shift in authority, Sarai “dealt harshly” with Hagar (16:6). The Hebrew word used for Sarai’s actions towards Hagar in verse 6 is the same as that used later in scripture to depict the Egyptians’ treatment of the Israelites in Exodus 1:11.[3] This stresses the severity of the abuse suffered by Hagar at Sarai’s hands, which causes Hagar to flee. Most theologians agree that Hagar’s flight was due to a mortal threat and a desire to save her unborn child.[4]
Having fled, Hagar encounters God in the desert and the complex questions of power continue. God tells Hagar to return to Sarai; a wildly difficult instruction to understand or accept – both as the reader, and presumably for Hagar. Yet, remaining in the desert alone would have meant death for Hagar. God’s instruction to return is a plea to save her life and the life of her child. God directs Hagar towards life, and He also promises her descendants “that cannot be counted for the multitude,” (16:10) mirroring the previous chapter and his covenant with Abram.
God continues his promises to Hagar by granting her the first annunciation (announcement of a pregnancy) given directly to a woman in scripture. By promising Hagar a son who was wild and hostile, God assured her that by returning she would live and deliver a healthy child.[5] But more than that, he promised her hope. While Ishmael’s description may not initially sound appealing for a mother, consider that Hagar was promised a son who would fight back against the people who hurt her.[6] A son who was given to her because God “had heard her affliction.” (16:11) The scene between God and Hagar is one that holds incredible tenderness and care; God was empowering Hagar with knowledge and hope. He was instructing her to live and ensuring her the promise of a family through Ishmael. God communicated to Hagar that no matter how powerless she felt, He had not forgotten her. He heard her affliction and He saw her.
This brings us to our second ‘through thread’ of vision. Throughout Genesis 16, the imagery and metaphors used for and around Hagar have to do with sight. Hagar sees that she is pregnant, she looks lightly on Sarai. “Behold” is used in verses 2, 6 and 11; this is a story about sight and who is seen.[7]
The Israelites did not view Hagar as possessing any real value beyond fertility, but when Hagar escapes and encounters God, she is not only seen but she sees Him. Hagar’s awe and joy do not dim her wisdom in assessing the situation as one of wonder. She bestows on God the name “a God of seeing” and says aloud “Truly here I have seen him who looks after me.” [ESV] Through her connection to and encounter with God, Hagar recognizes her life as sacred.
Because God not only saw Hagar, but He allowed her to see Him. The wording used throughout Genesis 16 foreshadowed a divine encounter of sight; though the true beauty and mystery for Hagar was the opportunity to look on God Himself. God honored Hagar in this encounter, he saw her, guided her, promised her blessings of inheritance, named her son, provided hope for Ishmael’s life, and allowed Hagar to look on Him.
This moment of divine encounter marked not only the first annunciation given to a woman but also her naming of God made Hagar the first female theologian.[8] Hagar bestowed a name on God, she gave him a title according to her experience with Him – Hagar studied God and spoke the truth. This is a huge moment in scripture! It provides us with the insight that God not only cares for the outsiders, but also empowers them to guide the history of his people; a thread which will continue with his provision for Tamar, Rahab, and Ruth – all foreign women who impact the line of Christ.
So, how does this apply to us today? Personally, it has impacted the way I feel connected to and seen by a loving God. As I mentioned in my introduction post, I studied this narrative at a point in my life when I was feeling very small and insignificant. Hagar’s story breathed new life into my understanding of my own significance and belonging in God’s family. Her story also inspired me in my calling to study God, and His word, and speak (or write) words of truth and hope. Many of the scholars who I’ve cited below speak from deep places of empathy for Hagar; like her, they have experienced the world belittling them – but through her story, they gain hope in a God who sees us all and permits us to see Him. I hope and pray this grounding and empowering sense of belonging for each of you.
Additionally, Hagar’s story calls each of us to treat the outsiders in our lives as sacred, equally seen by God, and capable of connection with God. Hagar was a slave, torn from her homeland, stripped of her name, pregnant and fleeing abuse – and God chose her, saw her, and allowed her to see him. God spoke to Hagar and reminded her of her the worth, dignity, and value of her life. We too are called to this mission, to speak the truth of every individual’s sacred worth – because, like Hagar, we are all seen by God and capable of seeing Him in all people and all things.
Reflection with Lectio Divina: Genesis 16:13
As we consider how the story of Hagar seeing and being seen impacts our own tapestry of faith, I’d like to invite each of you into a practice of Lectio Divina (divine reading) with my favorite verse from this passage of scripture. For those unfamiliar, Lectio Divina is a contemplative practice of reading one passage or verse multiple times and reflecting over what it is telling you. Use this as a starting point to your prayer or journaling. What is the story of Hagar teaching us? What emotions arise for you when reading this?
I am a bit of a translation nerd, so I often will read over various translations in my Lectio Divina to see how the wording affects my understanding. I’ve collected a few for you to peruse below.
“And so she named the Lord who spoke to her, ‘You are El Roi [the God of seeing];’ for she said ‘have I really seen God and remained alive after seeing him?’” NRCAE
“So she called the name of the Lord who spoke to her, ‘You are a God of seeing;’ for she said ‘truly here I have seen him who looks after me.” ESV
“Then she called the name of the Lord who spoke to her, ‘You are a God who sees me’; for she said, ‘Have I even seen Him here and lived after He saw me?’” NASB
Thank you so much for reading! This series is a new endeavor and I would love to hear your insights and feedback. Feel free to leave a comment or send me a message. Blessings!
Citations: Through my research, I found many scholars who spoke to Hagar’s journey with compassion and insight borne of empathy. Wilda Gafney, a womanist biblical scholar and theologian, addresses the issues of a woman in color in both present day America and with contextual insight into ancient Israelite society. Juliana Claassens, a feminist Old Testament scholar and disability theologian, looks deeply at the issues of human dignity and personhood in her work on Hagar. James Okoye, Savina Teubal, Phyllis Tribble, Cynthia Gordon, and Bellis Ogden all contributed greatly to my understanding of this passage of scripture and to my growing interest in feminist and liberation theological studies.
[1] Gafney, ‘A Womanist Midrash.’
[2] Gordon, “Hagar: A Throw-Away Character Among the Matriarchs?” Society of Biblical Literature, vol. 24, no. 1985 Seminar Papers: One Hundred and Twenty-First Annual Meeting, 1985, pp. 271–277
[3] Gafney.
[4] Tribble, ‘Texts of Terror.’
[5] Gordon.
[6] Okoye, “Sarah and Hagar: Genesis 16 and 21”, Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 32.2 (2007), 163-175.
[7] Ibed.
[8] Trible.
❤️❤️❤️ when will we get more of Tending the Tapestry?
This is very well done. I look forward to reading more. Thank you for sharing your gifts.