Mosaic Artwork: Philadelphia Artist Isaiah Zagar
Given at Society Hill Synagogue 11.4.22
Shabbat Shalom.
It’s a little hard to know where to begin this Shabbat, in a moment when so many important things are imminently, but not yet, knowable: What will happen with the Phillies? I’m not even going there about the Eagles … . What will happen with the election this Tuesday, and consequently, what will happen with the rights in this country that so many groups of marginalized people have fought so hard to gain; what will happen to our democracy, to life on our planet?
Some of these unknowns we have more control over; some less. When we vote, we have some control. When we make an effort to connect with others who might not have otherwise voted - even on the weekend right before an election - we have some control. When we plant a tree, go as green as we can, or devote our lives to uplifting, organizing, helping people, we have a little bit of control. When we try to help our team win by not removing our red jerseys and baseball caps for two weeks straight even in the shower – well, I would call that more an illusion of control, but I’m not judging.
But this is really what it boils down to, isn’t it: The lifelong balancing act between what we can control and what we can’t. And, as the saying goes, having the wisdom to know the difference.
The first thing God does in this week’s Torah Show (we’re in Season I, Episode 3, btw) is to ask Avram to surrender control: “Lekh Lekha,” God says, “Get up and go to a place where I’ll lead you.” Avram agrees to follow God on this journey of unknown destination - totally out of his control - but as Rabbi Jennifer Singer points out here, he also acts on what is within his control; he prepares: He asks (commands?) his wife, his nephew, and all his assistants (Servants? Slaves? Staff?) to come with him — because, as Rabbi Singer notes, he knows this calling from God will be too hard and too lonely to follow without them.
Later in the parsha (portion), Sarai attempts to take control of her and Avram’s infertility by suggesting, in the kind of move that inspired The Handmaid’s Tale*, that her servant Hagar bear Avram a child on her behalf. Hagar, it seems, has little say in the matter, but her resulting pregnancy with Avram’s child elevates her status vis-a-vis Sarai, and Sarai treats Hagar harshly because of it.
So Hagar, in an effort to regain some control over her own life, runs away. God finds her, the Torah tells us, by a spring on the road to Shur, and says, “Hagar, servant of Sarai, Ei mizeh vat, v’ana telchi?” (“Where have you come from and where are you going?”) Now let’s think about this: God has just called Hagar “Servant of Sarai,” so God most likely knows where Hagar has come from. And the text has made a point of telling us that God found her on the road to Shur, so we know that God probably also has a pretty good idea where she’s going.
Given all that, the double question rings more philosophical than physical. What is God actually asking Hagar here? To me, God seems to be inviting Hagar to consider what she can control and what she can’t. Can she change the past (where she’s come from)? No. Can she change Sarai’s behavior towards her? Probably not. But what is it in her power to do? She can decide where she’s headed, physically and spiritually, with this new child in her belly. Now, whether or not returning to Sarai and submitting to more harsh treatment is the best decision for Hagar at this point is legit up for debate, even though the alternative - traveling through the wilderness alone and pregnant - doesn’t seem so great either. But what’s interesting here is that Hagar seems to be very moved — not that God has told her where to go, but simply that God has asked her the question.
Hagar is so moved, in fact, that in response, she gives God a name: El Roi. “God of Seeing,” or “God Who Sees Me.” Because God asked her, ‘Where have you come from, and where are you going?’ Hagar feels seen. And that seems to be even more important than where she goes next.
A lot of naming happens in this Torah portion: God changes Avram’s and Sarai’s names to Avraham and Sarah; God says Hagar’s son will be called Ishmael (meaning “God hears”) and Avram obediently names him that. God even gives Godself another name - El Shaddai (meaning “God of My Breast”). But Hagar is the only person in this parsha - in the entire Torah, in fact - to give God a name: El Roi. God Who Sees Me.
So perhaps of all the things that we try to know and control in our lives, of all the things we spend every day of every week trying to change or create or make manifest, the most important thing might be this: Making someone feel seen. And having the wisdom to see them.
ADDENDUM: In the end, isn’t that what sports fervor is often about, too? Being seen. Having your city - even if briefly - on the map of national glory. Feeling proud of where we’re from and where we’re going. Sorry about the World Series, Philly — next year! And we still have many reasons, including the past two weeks, to feel proud.
*The front pages of Margaret Atwood’s novel cite Genesis 30: 1-3, in which Rachel gives her maid, Bilhah, to Jacob to produce a child on her behalf.