Ishmael in the Book of Genesis

Genesis is a book about the Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

When Moses met the Lord in the burning bush, and was sent to deliver the sons of Israel from the bondage of Egyptian slavery, he asked, “Who shall I say sent me?” The Lord responded, “Thus you shall say to the sons of Israel, ‘I AM has sent me to you,’ and furthermore, ‘The Lord, the God of your fathers, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob has sent me to you.’ This is my name forever, and this is my memorial name to all generations.’”

The final forty chapters of Genesis  —  80% of the book  —  tells the story of the Patriarchs and their offspring. It is the story of how the Creator God of the Universe became the God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob. How he bound himself to them by oaths and promises, how he became known as trustowrthy provider and lifegiving healer.

But these final forty chapters are divided into not three books, but five. Inserted among the family stories of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob are two short books about Ishmael, and Esau.

Already in chapter twelve, Abraham has received the promise that he would be the father of nations--but these nations are not all alike sons of Israel, nor do they all inherit the land of promise. For the Lord made also a great nation of the son of the slave woman, Ishmael, and his twelve sons were twelve princes according to their tribes, but they settled in the area of Assyria. And Esau, as well, will father many nations, and we will learn in chapter 25 that Esau is the father of the Edomites.

The books of the generations of Ishmael and Esau are brief interludes in the story of the patriarchs of Israel: Ishmael’s book is a mere seven verses long, Esau’s a single chapter--a mere blip in these forty chapters. Though short, Moses singles them out as their own books. These two older brothers, Ishmael and Esau, represent most clearly the theme of brothers divided by the curse of sin, and brothers divided by the redeeming power of God’s grace. Both Ishmael and Esau are invoked by the Apostle Paul as allegories for the people of God, they are lessons for our faith. Their prominence of their presence in Moses’ story, and their prominence to the Apostle Paul, suggests that we ignore them at our peril. And both Ishmael and Esau--like Cain before them--present some of the greatest drama in the book of Genesis.

The Expulsion of Hagar the Slave

Ishmael, of course, is the son of Hagar the Egyptian, Sara’s slave. You can imagine the associations this would have had for the sons of Israel, the former slaves of Egypt. Sara, pointedly, did not believe the promise of the Lord. Her first spoken words in this story are as follows: “Now behold, the Lord has prevented me from having children. Go in to my slave girl, perhaps I shall obtain children through her.” This proposition--to us morally repulsive--was in fact a well established practice of the period. To use one’s slave as a surrogate mother for the production of offspring was common, and legal, and the result of the offspring would indeed be Sara’s possession. But the story that unfolds shows that the machinations of surrogacy, whatever their technological sophistication, present a range of challenging results.

Indeed, Hagar, and her child, are driven out of the household of Abraham not once, but twice. First in chapter 16, and later after the birth of Isaac, in chapter 21, in a story which we read this morning. In both instances, Sara appears to be harsh, even bitter, toward, in being repulsed at the results of her own plan to secure an heir. But in both instances she perceives the threat of first Hagar--who she says despises her--and Ishmael--who she detects laughing mockingly at Isaac. And the text nowhere indicates that Sara is wrong in this perception. Far from it. The Lord himself sides with Sarah: “Whatever Sarah says to you, do as she tells you, for through Isaac shall your offspring be named.”

Hagar’s resulting agony is heartrending. First she flees Sara’s wrath, but is told by the Angel of the Lord to return, and submit to her authority. A hard teaching indeed, but one that is offset by the promise of greatness for her son, a promise not unlike that received by Abraham himself: “your descendants shall be too many to count.” You can see why she would have reason to be confident for her sons prospects to inherit! And indeed, she responds piously to the angel of the Lord, calling him “thou art a god who sees.”

Sara’s Judgment on Hagar

In our reading today, it seems that Hagar and her son Ishmael are again much abused for little ofense. Sarah sees Ishmael, the older brother of 14 years, laughing at Isaac. We might skim over this, but it is Isaac whose name means “he laughs,” and this heightens the suspicion that this is a laughter of mockery, and that Ishmael is playing the part of the usurper. Ishmael is the older, bigger, and more warlike brother—he and his offspring are known for their proficiency with the bow—and he is a threat to the infant who stands to take his inheritance away. This laughter is ominous.

Sarah sees this laughter for all it signifies, and demands that Abraham himself cast out the woman this time. Again, the Lord upholds Sarah’s judgment, which is, after all, in keeping with his own assurances of Genesis 17 that Sarah would bear a son, and that kings of nations would come from her, and that the covenant would be established with Isaac, not Ishmael. The Lord had fulfilled his promise to Sara with the birth of Isaac, the impossible had come to pass, and now she perceives the threat of Ishmael, and Abraham’s lingering desire for him to share in the covenant blessings.

Abraham wants to have it both ways. He is a bit like Pascal... holding his faith like a wager, hedging his bets. Who knows what might happen to Isaac? Doesn’t having Ishmael on hand make it easier for the Lord, should some incident befall Isaac? Children often didn’t make it to adulthood.

But the Lord rebukes him for his displeasure, and reiterates the promise. “Through Isaac will your seed be named.” The Lord’s promise was not merely a matter of him having natural children, or offspring. Ishmael could fulfill that. It was a matter of having the seed of Abraham named as the covenant heir, the recipient of all the promises, which were ultimately spiritual, not fleshly. Note the significance of naming here in this episode, which we have seen before in Genesis. Sara never utters Ishmael’s name... he is not “named” as an heir. Nor does Moses in telling the story. In fourteen verses, “the son of the slave woman,” “the boy,” “the child,” is referenced 22 times; never once is he named. In a story about Ishmael, his name never comes up.

And yet... he is made a great nation. This is, in part, in response to Abraham’s request in chapter 17, when the Lord insists that the blessing will come through Isaac.  But it is also an illustration of common grace. From the sons of Cain onward we see cultural blessings and riches abounding among the ungodly. Yet these blessings—great numbers, riches, innovation—are not the blessings of the saints of the Lord. Ishmael, and the blessings that accrue to him, demonstrates that the blessings of the covenant, the blessings that belong to Isaac’s seed alone, are more than merely princes or peoples or military victories.

More importantly, Ishmael reminds us that while many nations are enumerated in Genesis, one is singled out to receive the covenantal blessings of the Lord. In the ten books of generations recounted in this volume, there are two seeds that are in view, the seed of the woman, and the seed of the serpent. Ishmael, and Esau after him, are significant to the plot on the basis of their means of departure... Though born into the covenant family of Abraham, they fade into the background, but are never totaly out of the scene. Hagar was told that her son would be “against everyone else, and would live east of his brothers,” and Moses tells us that Ishmael “settled over and against his kinsman.” Esau, later, will be identified with Edom, the enemies of Israel. Both Ishmael and Esau threaten the covenantal inheritance, and their descendants, the nations that flow from their loins, will continue to do so. They, together with Egypt (which Ishmael is associated with through is mother) make up the nations that rage round about Israel, and mock her and the Lord’s annointed.

Two Ways of Salvation

Which brings us to Paul, and to our New Testament lesson. If we wonder why the story of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob is set against the background of Ishmael and Esau, Paul does not. Paul understands that both Ishmael and Esau teach us about our faith. These stories, and this history, was enacted by the Lord for our benefit, and it was written by Moses for our reading. All history is not alike sacred history—but Paul tells us that this is, and that this history may be read allegorically. That means that Ishmael holds a lesson for our faith. What is it?

In Galatians, Paul sets in contrast more clearly than anywhere else the two proposed means of salvation. The way of the law, of works, ceremonies, and our obedience. And the way of promise, of faith, the way of Jesus Christ and His obedience credited to us by faith.

These two ways are not complementary. Your salvation isn’t begun with faith and perfected by works. Faith is not expressed, or completed, by works. Works necessarily follow faith, but they are not necessary to faith’s saving efficacy—think of the thief on the cross whose faith saved him, though he had not time for a single work. The confusion of faith and works—the yoking of our faith to works—is the most dangerous fallacy of the Christian faith. The justified believer does good works, good works do not make the justified believer.

And Paul describes these two ways of salvation as two incompatible laws, two incompatible covenants. Paul assumes that the one invalidates the other, but that in fact, the law of works does not invalidate the law of faith, because the one came 430 years earlier, with Abraham.

In chapter four, Paul describes the difference between these two covenants as the difference between being an heir of a household, and being a slave. We might think of this as the difference between being a son, who inherits as a matter of his relation, and an employee, who works to earn his wage. The way of the law results in bondage, slavery, and the way of faith results in freedom. It is no mistake that Hagar was an egyptian, for her way—the way of self-salvation, the way of depending on our strength, our scheming, our solving—is akin to the bondage and slavery that Israel experience in that land.

Paul sees in Ishmael a personification of life under the law. He was born according to the flesh, he is the son of the slave. And he persecutes the child of promise. Paul is referring her to his spiritual brethren, the Jewish Christians, who were yet relying on the law for the salvation. The matter here is not primarily one of physical persecution of the church by the world. Rather, it is spiritual warfare—it is the stealing of the comfort of the Gospel by those who rely on the law.

And this loss of confidence in the gospel afflicts us all. It afflicts every believer, every preacher, every minister in Christ’s church. To the extent that we place our trust in things other than the Gospel—special techniques of ministry, tips for healthy living, etc.—we don’t put our confidence in the Gospel.

We are children of the free woman.

Sermon text as prepared for delivery; minor errors may remain. Please do not reprint or publish without the written permission of the author.