Rachel Smith Cobleigh
Midrash on Sarah and Ishmael
November 1, 1999

	

	On the day that Isaac was weaned, Sarah felt a kind of sadness, a break 
between herself and her child.  From that day hence, Isaac would no longer be 
dependent upon her for his very substance; he would be separate from her, and 
oft times under the care of his doting father.  She saw that morning that she 
could hold him in her arms, but that he would continue to grow older, away from 
her, to fulfill the promise that the almighty, blessed be He, had made to 
Abraham.  She feared what her husband would do with the boy, and how he would 
take him away from her, farther from her with each passing day.

	She looked out through the open flap of the tent, at the sun's rays 
casting across the sandy hills, and saw her husband leading baby Isaac and the 
son of Hagar around on the camel that was Isaac's weaning-day gift.  Ishmael 
had sprung into rapidly-gowing adolescence only a year before, and his limbs 
were still racing ahead of the rest of him in their growth, giving him an over-
long, ungainly appearance.  He was holding on to little isaac's waist with 
great care, however, while the baby cooed and laughed and giggled on the 
camel's back.  Ishmael tickled the baby's belly, eliciting a new round of 
shrieks and giggles, and Abraham laughed, speaking fondly to Ishmael.

	A movement from a tent nearby drew Sarah's eye away from the scene 
before her, and she saw her Egyptian handmaiden, Hagar, pointing with pride 
and satisfaction at the three men and the camel.  Other maidservants standing 
nearby were nodding at her words, carrying empty water-skins to fill for the 
morning meal.  There was a bout of whispering and giggling in the cluster of 
younger women, and their words carried clearly through the dry air.  They 
made comments about Ishmael--"how big he's grown, he's almost a man!"--and 
about Abraham's strength and kindness to Hagar...  Several of the women 
glanced over at Sarah's tent with those words, and seeing her silhouetted in 
the doorway, turned quickly away with soft laughs.

	Sarah heard Ishmael's shouts of pleasure, mingling with the shrill 
cooing of Isaac, and the deeper tone of Abraham's laughter.  She saw their 
bonds and closeness, and she saw Hagar, watching the trio with pride, and she 
felt as if she were watching a happy family from the outside.

	Isaac, the rightful heir, was her son, not Hagar's!  How could 
that woman presume to look so proud?  Ishmael was nearly a man; soon Abraham 
would be drawing up his plans of inheritance, including that son of an 
Egyptian slave as his first-born heir!  The darkness boiled thickly in 
Sarah's heart that morning, the sky darkened in her vision, and when the 
sound of female giggling came to her ears again, she turned her fury on the 
maidservants.

	"You useless dung-hills!  Get you now and fill the water-sacks!  Your 
lord Abraham will be angry to find his breakfast not ready!"  She glowered 
and threw up her hands at them, and after another fit of giggles--the girls 
had no respect, she thought darkly--they moved away from Hagar, 
bringing the sacks with them.  Sarah lowered her hands, looking at the veins 
visible under the skin, the gauntness of her wrist.  She was an old woman, 
and her beauty had passed away with sands, long ago.  The high-pitched 
giggles of the servants were a constant annoyance to her.  Casting one last 
glance at the scene before her, for she refused to look at Hagar, who now 
stood alone, her ebony skin strong and smooth in the sunglight, she swept the 
folds of her garment over her thin arms and went back inside the tent.


****

	
	Baby Isaac sat on Sarah's lap during his weaning-day celebration, and 
the excitement wore him out quickly.  By midday, she had laid him in the cool 
corner of the tent, and he curled up contentedly, and went to sleep.  She 
brushed the soft curls from his foehead, once again caught by his beauty.  
The heir of Abraham.  She heard a roar of laughter from the men seated in the 
feast tent, and gathering her robes about her, she left the child to rejoin 
her husband.

	Upon drawing closer, however, she saw a sight that chilled her blood: 
young Ishmael was wearing a robe of Abraham's, and walking mockingly with his 
staff.  His boyishly handsome face was turned up in a wide grin, as his 
father laughed at his antics.  The other men in the tent laughed, bowing and 
making raucous comments of his manhood.  The men caught a beautiful young 
servant girl who was pouring wine from a skin, and teased her until she stood 
holding the skin and blushing.  Then they began laughing and calling for 
young Ishmael to take her.

	Sarah had seen this girl before, had heard her ask Hagar if she might 
be allowed to serve Ishmael his meal.  Hagar had agreed, and Sarah had shaken 
with anger at the brashness of them both.  At the presumption that they could 
determine the event, and event for Sarah's son!

	In the end, the girl was one of several who served the tent, and she 
stood now, trembling--though with a coquettish smile upon her lips, Sarah 
thought--as Ishmael drew closer to her.  The roar of the men in the tent grew 
louder, and Abraham was among them, looking proudly on as his son took the 
girl in his arms, and leering, kissed her forcefully.  The girl tried to 
struggle, and the men reacted with renewed shouts of encouragement.  Ishmael 
pulled her against him and she pushed him, pummeled him with her fists, 
suddenly panicking.  The roar rose higher.

	Sarah chose that moment to sweep into the tent, and her presence caused 
a sudden hush.  Her eyes focused upon Abraham, but he did not turn.  He kept 
his gaze fixed ahead, though she knew he felt her eyes boring into him.  He 
made a small hand motion, and Ishmael, with a spoiled pout, released the 
girl.  She hugged the wineskin to her body and ran from the tent.  Still no 
one spoke.

	"Cast out this bondwoman and her son; for the son of this bondwoman 
shall not be heir with my son, even with Isaac," Sarah said, venom heavy in 
every syllable.

	A tense silence hung for several moments, and then Abraham made a small 
hand motion.  Ishmael quickly removed the cloak and laid it, with the staff, 
beside his father.  Slowly, the other men in the tent rose, gathered their 
belongings, bowed in thanks to their host, and left, each passing Sarah with 
a nod of acknowledgement--none dared to touch her, so dark was her 
expression.  Ishmael left last, keeping several feet between him and her.

	Abraham still had not risen, and he looked wearily at the sand in the 
midst of the tent.  After several long moments of dark silence, Sarah swept 
her robes about her and left the tent.  Abraham's heart was heavy, for he 
knew that Sarah was right.  Through the open flap on the far side of the 
tent, he could see Hagar, her eyes pleading with him, for she had heard every 
word.  His heart aching, he looked away.



                         *****************

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© 1999 Rachel Smith Cobleigh