Hagar, Sarah's maidservant was an enigmatic personality. According to tradition, she was the daughter of Pharaoh, given as a gift to Avraham when Pharaoh recognized Avraham's spiritual greatness. Not only was she the wife of our patriarch, but she also merited in her own right to converse with angels on at least two occasions. Yet, when she was banished with her son from Avraham's house, the Torah states that she departed and "strayed" in the desert of Beer Sheva. When the water Avraham had supplied ran out, she threw her son under one of the trees and moved away. Rashi interprets Hagar's straying as straying from the spiritual path and returning to the idol worship of her father's house. Later commentators struggle to understand this. It is inconceivable that a woman of such great spiritual heights would fall to such a degree. As further proof, not only did Hagar subsequently speak with an angel, but Avraham remarried her. Certainly he would not have taken her back if she had reverted to idolatry. Then what did the Torah mean by her straying?
Rabbi Wolbe explains that her sin was a lapse in faith. The well of water the angel showed her was there all the time, but she did not see it until Hashem "opened her eyes." Then she filled the pitcher completely, not trusting that Hashem would continue to provide water, notes the
Darchei Mordechai
. On her level, that was a lack of faith. The
Netivot Chaim
points out that Hagar's banishment from the home of Avraham made her both physically and spiritually vulnerable. During that weak moment, the Hammite Egyptian nature of her birth emerged, writes Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch. Ultimately though, she regained her faith, as the episode concludes with Hagar caring for her son and seeking a wife for him.
Rabbi Shmuelevitz teaches us that when disappointment and trauma face us, we must hold on tightly to our faith. If we let ourselves fall into despair, we open the door for the
yetzer hara
to entice us to sin. At difficult times, we must regain our equilibrium and faith, as Hagar did. In
Proverbs
we read that the
tzadik
falls seven times and rises up. Rabbi Frand interprets this to mean that one becomes righteous through the fall itself and then struggling to get up, for it is only through the struggle initiated by the fall that one grows.
A person of faith is never lost, notes Rabbi Gifter, for he knows that wherever he is, that is where Hashem wants him to be. Yet our eyes may be closed, and we do not recognize the purpose of our present location, just as Hagar could not see the well that was right in front of her eyes. If we feel lost, it is only because we have lost faith in Hashem's plan for us and we want to be in total control of where we are. If we understand that nothing happens by chance, that Hashem has orchestrated everything that happens to us for our benefit, we will never feel lost or frustrated, says Rav G. Rabinowitz. We will never be angry at others, cast blame for something that occurred, or feel overwhelmed by our challenges, for we would know that all is as it should be. A lack of faith brings uncertainty and stress in our lives.
Rabbi Chaim Shmuelevitz teaches us that a man of faith is like a child in its mother's bosom. It doesn't matter where "life" and his mother carry him; he always feels safe. But when he no longer feels his mother's presence, he is lost. When Hagar felt lost, when she threw her child down, she no longer felt the presence of Hashem. That lack of faith was considered a tinge of idolatry, a hint of life lived believing in coincidences and whims, as she experienced in her father's house. We often feel lost because our priorities are distorted, says Rabbi Frand. At the redemption of the first born, the
kohen
asks the father, "Do you want to keep the
shekels
, or your son?" It is obvious that at that moment every father opts to keep his son. Yet, this question is a challenge for the parents' entire lives. Are they pursuing dollars so avidly that they lose sight of being there when their children need them? Chasing after material pleasures at the expense of a Torah life is also a form of idolatry, says Rabbi A. Miller
.
The
Ohr Doniel
points out that Hagar had just experienced Hashem's caring. He had opened her eyes and she had seen the well of water He had provided. Filling her pitcher at that moment demonstrated a lack of faith in Hashem's further providence, if not a lack of gratitude for the presentation of the water. Somewhere within her there was a hint of a doubt about her future survival despite the angel's promise to her in the name of God. We are certainly not in complete control of our thoughts and may sometimes find ourselves questioning our faith, especially in times of stress. Yet we must believe that Hashem will provide for us in the manner that He sees fit, in a manner that will help us grow and reach our true purpose.
