Reclaiming our Stories: Hagar

By Sarah Locke

Read more of Hagar's story: Genesis 16; 21:1-21

The story of Hagar that we read in Genesis consists of three main acts. It is a difficult story to read for some, as it involves multiple layers of abuse.  

Act I - Sarai gives her slave-girl Hagar to Abram in order for Sarai to “obtain children by her” (Genesis 16:2) and Hagar becomes pregnant. Sarai becomes jealous, is cruel to Hagar, and Hagar runs away (Genesis 16:6). 

Act II - An angel of the Lord appears to Hagar and speaks directly with her, making an annunciation and giving a name to her child. God tells Hagar to return to Abram and Sarai. Hagar names the Lord, returns to Abram, and gives birth to Ishmael (Genesis 16:7-16). 

Act III - Sarah gives birth to Isaac and, after some time, sends Hagar and Ishmael away. God saves Hagar and Ishmael in the wilderness. God is with the boy as he grows up and Hagar finds him a wife in Egypt (Genesis 21:1-21). 

The first thing that I recognize about Hagar’s story is that I should not be the one reflecting on it and giving my own perspective. I am, for all intents and purposes, Sarai in this story. I have a comfortable home, I have privilege and status inherent in my ethnicity (whiteness for me, Hebrew for Sarai), I hold promises from God that I do not always understand or believe. Who am I to shed light on Hagar’s story? When people who look like me have spent the majority of history using, oppressing, and discarding women in positions like Hagar’s? 

Perhaps all I can do is confront the harsh reality of this story and the ways in which it has been distorted throughout history. Perhaps I can allow space for Hagar to speak into her own story. 

This story is about two women pitted against one another, under the forces and pressures of a patriarchal society. But unlike we hear in this text, Hagar “foreigner” is not just some random slave woman. Many rabbinical commentators claim that Hagar is actually pharaoh's daughter, given to Sarai when she was part of the pharaoh's harem (Genesis 12:15). Some rabbis even say that Hagar’s true name is Keturah, and that when Sarah died Abraham sought her out, married her, and had six more children with her. 

It stands to reason that many rabbinical commentators regard Hagar with much more dignity than Paul, who uses Hagar as an example of being in bondage to the law, while Sarah is freed by grace (Galatians 4). Later Christians like Augustine, Aquinas, and Wycliffe continue to abuse an already abused woman, claiming that she is "unredeemed." Perhaps Christianity’s hatred toward Hagar has more to do with her part as the matriarch of the Islamic faith (the prophet Muhammed would come through Ishmael). 

Whatever the reason, Hagar has received very little sympathy and almost no voice in the Christian tradition. 

In fact, the only time that Hagar speaks in the entire Genesis narrative is when she is approached by a messenger of the Lord in the wilderness, stating that she is running away from her mistress and when she names God (Genesis 16:8, 13). Then God sends her back to her abusers. Read that again. God sends her back to her abusers. I imagine this is why Phyllis Trible includes this story in her book Texts of Terror-- not even God is on the side of the oppressed in this story.

This encounter with the divine is remarkable. Hagar is the first woman to receive an annunciation from God and “the only person in the Bible who named God... [and] the one doing the naming has a kind of power over the one who is named” (Rev. Dr. Lynn Japinga, Preaching the Women of the Old Testament). She is also the only woman to receive a divine promise of descendants. 

How is it that a woman with this much power in the wilderness, even power over God, is held captive and silenced in the bondage of Sarai and Abram? Perhaps this woman is more than a slave, perhaps she is the daughter of the Pharaoh, perhaps she is one who is seen by God and redeemed by the birth of her son. Perhaps we owe her the dignity of telling her story truthfully and fully every time we encounter it. 

Questions for reflection: 

Have you ever lost your voice or the ability to tell your own story? Has it ever been taken from you? 

What can we do to advocate for and amplify the voices of minorities and the historically oppressed? How can we tell stories more truthfully and fully?