Anything But Ordinary: Hagar and Ishmael Cast Away

Anything But Ordinary: Hagar and Ishmael Cast Away
A Sermon on Genesis 21:8-21, preached at Trinity UMC in Germantown, MD
June 25, 2023

Would you pray with me? 

God of the ordinary and the extraordinary, God here and everywhere, thank you for being with us in this time and this place. By your Spirit, make your presence known to us here today. And may the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable to you, our Rock and our Redeemer. Amen. 

I know I’ve said this already, but thank you again for inviting me to be a part of your worship service this morning. It is always a joy to gather together to sing and pray and listen to scripture. And I understand that your summer sermon series is called Anything But Ordinary! As someone who both loves these grand sagas in Genesis and Exodus and being surprised at the world, my imagination is captured by the idea of seeking out the extraordinary in scripture and seeing what it can teach us. 

But boy, this is quite a scripture this morning, isn’t it. A woman and her beloved child are sent out into the desert with nothing but some bread and a skin of water, which means they were sent out into the wilderness to die. Even if we weren’t caught up in the extraordinary story of Sarah and Abraham, this is anything but an ordinary bible story. It’s not every day that we see paragons of our faith like this patriarch and matriarch choose to be so cruel. 

That may be the most extraordinary aspect of the story this morning for some of us. If we have grown up being held in the arms of the church, as many of us have, passages like the one we read this morning can be surprising. We do not expect our ancestors to be cruel. We do not expect Abraham and Sarah, honored ancestors in three faiths, to be cruel. And yet, I honestly think there’s no escaping it. If we take this story in the Bible, and others like it, seriously, we must acknowledge that the people of God can be cruel.  

But I also suspect that there are those of us here today who are not surprised by the story, who actually find this story to be a reflection of their ordinary life. There are some here who have some sense of what it’s like to be sent away, as Hagar and Ishmael are. Some of us bear wounds and scars inflicted by God’s people. We have known women like Sarah. We have known men like Abraham. We have been hurt by people like this. And if that’s you today, I’m sorry. I can’t undo what others have done to you, but know that I pray for you every day. I pray for your healing and restoration. And you may think that’s not possible. You may think your wounds are too deep to heal and your scars too snarled to fade. That’s okay. I have felt that way too. But if our passage this morning tells us anything at all, it is that God is with the rejected. God is with those who have been sent away. God is with those who have endured cruelty. And our God, who is with us always, is a God of miracles, and at this point in my life, I have come to wait on our God of miracles, no matter how long the miracle of healing may take. 

But I do still think that the surprise of this passage, what is unexpected in this passage, what is extraordinary in this passage, is the cruelty of Abraham and Sarah. We are all familiar with the story of the underdog. We all expect God to be with the rejected and the desperate. Anytime somebody is lost in the wilderness, our faith teaches us that God will be there eventually. So it’s not a surprise, it’s not unexpected when God shows up to save Hagar and Ishmael. We know stories like this. We expect a God who saves. 

But we don’t expect Sarah to demand that Abraham exile his child. And we don’t expect Abraham to agree with this request. We expect Father Abraham, who had many sons, and many sons had Father Abraham. We think of Sarah and Abraham as respectable people of faith. The writer of the letter to the Hebrews in the New Testament lists Abraham and Sarah among those who acted by faith, those who are part of the great cloud of witnesses that surrounds us. We don't expect the exemplars of our faith to be cruel. 

Now, we’re going to work our way through the story and add in some context that will help us understand the situation better, but I want to be clear: understanding why someone does something cruel, does not excuse cruelty. Sarah and Abraham have been on a journey up until this point in Genesis and there are many reasons why they did what they did, but that does not make this action any less cruel. And, importantly, just because Abraham and Sarah are beloved by God does not mean that Hagar or Ishmael owe them forgiveness. It does not mean that Hagar and Ishmael have to have anything to do with them ever again. And in fact, scripture bears witness to the fact that because there is no healing between Hagar and Ishamel and Abraham and Sarah. We will see that consequences of this choice will still echo generations down the road when Isaac’s son, Jacob, has a son named Joseph, who is sold into slavery by his other sons, and the people who buy him will be Ishmaelites, children of Ishamel. Understanding why somebody did a cruel act generations ago does not excuse cruelty, nor does it heal the harm that has been done. Healing that harm is a different process. 

Another thing to notice, as we turn to the context in this story, is our own approach to scripture. Often we read these stories as if they were set in stone. This happened, then this, then this. So and so begat so and so begat so and so. Even if we love the Bible and read it daily, there is a tendency to read stories like this with a sense of fatalism. “It always would’ve turned out this way.” But I think that we see how extraordinary the cruelty in the story truly is when we remember that Abraham and Sarah made choices in the story, choices that would change the lives of Hagar and Ishmael and Isaac forever. 

Most of us remember the bones of the story of Abraham, but as a quick refresher, Abraham chooses to leave home at God’s command, chooses to pass through the promised land and go to Egypt, chooses to “lend” his “sister” (who is actually wife) to Pharaoh, chooses to do that again in another situation, and, later, will choose to sacrifice his son Isaac at what he believes is God’s command. 

Sarah has less of a choice in this story, as we might expect, but she does choose to send Hagar to Abraham. She chooses to deal harshly with Hagar once she’s pregnant, and after Hagar runs away, Sarah chooses to take Hagar back. 

If there’s anyone whose cruelty, I can understand in the story, it’s Sarah. Abraham has treated her as a solution to a problem, rather than a human being. It’s no wonder that she laughs at the angels and asks if she will ever feel joy again when she’s told she’ll have a child. And when she finally has her son, Isaac, the longed-for fulfillment of a divine promise, she is not going to let anything challenge that. Many of us know how painful infertility can be, especially in the face of the expectation of others, maybe especially the expectations of the people of God. Unsafe, alone, bruised, Sarah will do anything to protect her joy. 

But remember, understanding is not the same as excusing. Sarah makes the cruel request that launches our story this morning. Without it, Isaac and Ishmael may have grown up as brothers. An extraordinary family to be sure, but maybe a loving family, too. Isaac may have taught his son Jacob, how to be a better brother and Jacob, they have taught his son how to be better brothers, and an unraveling that will be out of control by the end of Genesis and will spill over into Exodus, may never have begun at all. 

But honest to God, I think it’s Abraham’s cruelty that surprises me the most. Sarah asked him to cast them out, but there are many ways to do this. He did not have to send them out to the desert with a water bottle and a wave. 

In fact, Abraham’s first choice in the story is a baffling one to me. He chooses to listen to Sarah for maybe the second time in all of Genesis. He chooses to agonize over her request, rather than to reject it outright. Instead of imagining what God might do with the situation, instead of insisting to Sarah that an inheritance for Ishmael does not mean a dismissal of Isaac, that the God who has brought them this far, our God of abundance, will provide for both of Abraham’s sons, Abraham worries. Abraham have seen wonders. Abraham has received God’s promise. Abraham knows that God can do. And yet, instead of choosing radical kindness and faith in the face of cruelty, Abraham worries. 

Sisters and brothers, siblings in Christ, how often in this world do we behave like Abraham? 

And honestly, truly, I do think that Abraham is doing the best he can with what he’s been given. I know that receiving a call from God is not easy and that standing on the promises sometimes takes more trust than I can give. I understand that. But remember, understanding is not an excuse. 

I don’t know if you, like me, hear the resignation in God’s voice when God replies to Abraham, but it’s inescapable to me. “Fine, Abraham,” God says, “Do what Sarah wants. I’ve got this figured out anyway.” 

But here again, Abraham could have said no. We are only a few chapters after Sodom and Gomorrah, where Abraham stood up to God and bartered for the fate of the cities. We know that Abraham is capable of negotiating with God. But he chooses not to. He chooses to cast out Hagar and Ishmael early in the morning, just as he will choose to take Isaac up a mountain with all the tools of a sacrifice, but no sacrificial lamb. Abraham chooses to cast out Hagar and Ishmael, and a future that could have been different becomes inevitable. 

There is a whole other sermon in the story of Hagar and Ishmael in this moment, after Abraham sent them out into the wilderness. There are many other sermons on the life of Hagar. For this sermon this morning, I want us to remember the story of the first time Hagar found herself out in the wilderness because of Sarah’s cruelty. Hagar, pregnant not by any choice of her own, but by the choices of Sarah and Abraham, runs away, because Sarah has dealt with her harshly. And in the wilderness, Hagar encounters God and receives a promise from God. Hagar, even naming God “El Roi,” the God who sees.

And I think that we are familiar with the God who sees, the God, who is with us in our deepest pain, the God who is with us when we have nothing left, the God who is with us when all hope is gone. But if you need a reminder that our God is a God of miracles, and that our God is with us in the face of the cruelty of others, then take that from the story this morning. When we are battered and bruised, we can trust that God will be with us, and God will give us more than we could ever imagined we needed. 

But the same stories that comfort can also convict, depending on who you are most like in the story. And so I invite us, Church, as we come to the end of this story, to take a few moments to think about who we can see ourselves in, in the story. Can you see yourself in Sarah, bruised just like Hagar, but scared, too? Scared so much that you’ll do whatever it takes to protect you and yours? Can you see yourself in Abraham, struggling and unsure, with the pressure of a family clouding the choices you make? Have there been times in your life when you wished you were braver or more inspired, more courageous, more willing to stand up for others? 

I say that because I know I’ve had those times. 

But here is maybe the most un-ordinary thing of all this morning, more unexpected than the cruelty, more surprising than God’s solution. The most extraordinary thing of all is that God gives Sarah and Abraham another chance. God, El Roi, sees their cruelty and chooses to hold fast to God’s promise to them. God chooses to work with them, as they are. God takes this horrible choice they made and turns it into a blossoming of not one but two great nations, according to scripture. See, God is not surprised by our cruelty or our failings. God knows. El Roi knows. And still, God keeps God’s promises. God still offers us salvation and sanctification, freedom and fulfillment, new life and new blessings. 

Friends, know that this morning, whether you are Hagar or Sarah, Abraham or Ishmael, God is with you. God sees you. And God offers you a love so extravagant, so astounding, that by God’s transformative power, you can live a life that is anything but ordinary. All you have to do is accept it. 

Now, it won’t be easy. God’s love will convict us when we have done wrong, and that is never comfortable. And though God sees us and loves us no matter what we have done or what has been done to us, God’s love does not erase harm. God’s love does not undo what we have done. But God’s love can empower and encourage us to make right what we have made wrong, to the best of our abilities. We may have to endure separation because of our actions or the actions of others. That’s okay. We may have to struggle through seasons of healing or we may have to struggle with the consequences of our actions. That’s okay. God may call us to grow in unexpected and uncomfortable ways. That’s okay too, because in all of this, God is with us, closer than a bowshot, closer than a breath. God hears us, God sees us, and God loves us throughout it all. 

May we go and do the same. Amen.