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Ishmael the Firstborn Who Fell When Abraham Died

Sarah saw Ishmael laughing, and exile followed. What she saw, three rabbis could not agree on. A prophecy explains why he fell the moment Abraham died.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. One Word, Three Crimes
  2. Why All Three Readings Can Be True
  3. Abraham's Silence and the Blessing He Withheld
  4. The Wild Man Who Held His Shape Only Under Watch

One Word, Three Crimes

Sarah looked up and saw Ishmael doing something. The Torah gives one Hebrew word -- metzahek, from the root for laughing or playing -- and then moves directly to her demand that Hagar and her son leave the household. What Sarah saw was serious enough to end the question of coexistence permanently. What it was, the Torah does not say.

Bereshit Rabbah, the fifth-century CE Palestinian midrash on Genesis, refuses to leave the question unanswered. Three sages offer three readings, and the midrash records all three because each one is supported by the same Hebrew root appearing in a different, more explicit context elsewhere in the Torah.

Rabbi Akiva, the greatest sage of the second century CE, read metzahek as a reference to sexual immorality. The same root appears in Genesis 39:17 where Potiphar's wife accuses Joseph of trying to "play with" her. If Akiva's reading is correct, what Sarah saw was Ishmael committing acts against women in the household, forcing himself on married women, violating the boundary of the house where he lived.

Rabbi Yishmael read the word as idol worship. In Exodus 32:6, Israel "rose to revel" around the golden calf, using the same root. By this reading, Sarah saw Ishmael building small altars in the fields, catching grasshoppers, and burning them on those altars in a parody of divine service. He was performing religious theater that mocked the form of sacrifice while serving something other than God.

Rabbi Elazar son of Rabbi Yosei HaGelili read the word as bloodshed. In 2 Samuel 2:14, soldiers are told to rise and "play" before their commanders, which immediately led to lethal combat. By this reading, Ishmael was practicing killing, training himself in violence, using the space of childhood play to rehearse what he would do when he was grown.

Why All Three Readings Can Be True

The midrash does not adjudicate between the three rabbis. The structure of the passage -- presenting competing readings without resolution -- was a deliberate rhetorical choice. Each reading reveals something about what threatened the household of Abraham. Ishmael as sexual aggressor threatened the women of the household. Ishmael as idolator threatened the theological project Abraham had spent his life building. Ishmael as aspirant killer threatened Isaac's life directly. Any one of these would have been sufficient reason for Sarah's demand. The midrash allows that the single word might have contained all three.

Abraham's Silence and the Blessing He Withheld

Midrash Aggadah, the broader tradition of narrative midrash, preserves the scene of Abraham's death and the blessing that waited through it unspoken. All his life, Abraham had two sons and one blessing that could only be spoken for one of them. He did not speak it. To bless Isaac openly was to wound Ishmael. To bless Ishmael was to contradict the verdict already given: in Isaac shall seed be called to you. So Abraham left the choosing to heaven. "After my death," he said, "let God bless whomever He wishes."

And after Abraham died, God blessed Isaac. Not the firstborn. The son of the promise.

The Wild Man Who Held His Shape Only Under Watch

Bereshit Rabbah also records the debate about what kind of person Ishmael was, drawn from the prophecy spoken over him before his birth: "He will be a wild man, his hand against every man and every man's hand against him." Rabbi Yohanan and Rabbi Shimon ben Lakish disagreed. Rabbi Yohanan said Ishmael would live in the wilderness while others settled in towns -- a spatial wildness, the wild ass that ranges the desert while domestic animals stay near the fence. Rabbi Shimon ben Lakish read it more literally: while others plunder wealth, Ishmael would plunder people. His wildness was not geographic. It was predatory.

Both readings see the same thing in the prophecy: Ishmael was a man shaped for a kind of life that only held its form while Abraham was alive to constrain it. The moment the father died, the blessing went to Isaac and the wildness could no longer be contained by proximity to the house that had, however uncomfortably, held them both.

He settled at Beer-lahai-roi, the well his mother had named long before, in the wilderness where God had first appeared to Hagar in her distress. He came back to the place where his line had been sustained when it should have perished. Isaac settled in the same place, inheriting without knowing it a location that belonged to his brother's story before it belonged to his own.

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From the tradition

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The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Bereshit Rabbah 53:11Bereshit Rabbah

The Torah tells us Sarah saw Ishmael "playing" (Genesis 21:9), and it was enough for her to demand, in no uncertain terms, that Hagar and Ishmael be banished. But what exactly did she see? The Hebrew word used here is metzahek (מְצַחֵק), from the root tzeḥok (צחק), meaning "to laugh" or "to play." But as our sages unpack in Bereshit Rabbah 53, it seems there was much more to it than innocent child's play.

Rabbi Shimon ben Yoḥai recounts a debate about this very verse. He tells us that Rabbi Akiva saw something truly disturbing in Ishmael's actions. Rabbi Akiva, according to this passage, interpreted metzahek as a euphemism for sexual immorality, drawing a parallel to the story of Joseph and Potiphar's wife. Remember how she claimed Joseph came "to play with [letzahek] me" (Genesis 39:17)? According to Rabbi Akiva's interpretation passed down in Bereshit Rabbah, Sarah witnessed Ishmael forcing himself on women, even trapping and violating married women. A horrifying picture, isn't it?

It doesn’t stop there. Rabbi Yishmael offers another perspective: this "playing" was actually idol worship. He points to the golden calf incident, where the people "rose to revel [letzahek]" (Exodus 32:6). In this view, Sarah saw Ishmael building altars and sacrificing grasshoppers upon them. Can you imagine the shock and dismay Sarah must have felt, witnessing such acts?

Then, Rabbi Elazar, son of Rabbi Yosei HaGelili, suggests an even darker interpretation: bloodshed. He references the verse "Let the lads rise now and play [visaḥaku] before us" (II (Samuel 2:1)4), which describes a deadly game of combat. Rabbi Azarya, citing Rabbi Levi, expands on this idea, painting a picture of Ishmael pretending to play with Isaac, but actually shooting arrows at him. It's like the proverb says: "Like the prankster who shoots firebrands, [arrows, and death], so is a man who deceives his friend, and says: ‘Am I not joking?’" (Proverbs 26:18–19). This wasn't just horseplay; it was a veiled threat, a dangerous game with deadly consequences.

So, everyone seems to agree that whatever was happening was NOT innocent. But Rabbi Shimon ben Yoḥai offers a different, more "complimentary" perspective. He argues that the issue at hand was actually inheritance. When Isaac was born, everyone rejoiced, but Ishmael, being the firstborn, supposedly declared, "You are fools! I am the firstborn, and I will inherit twice as much!"

This interpretation shifts the focus from Ishmael’s actions to Sarah’s concern for Isaac’s future. Her demand to banish Ishmael, "For the son of this maidservant will not inherit with my son, with Isaac" (Genesis 21:10), wasn't just about discipline; it was about securing Isaac's rightful inheritance. The Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) underlines the point: Sarah was saying that even if Ishmael wasn't her son, and even if Isaac wasn't her only son, Ishmael still should not inherit alongside Isaac.

So, what are we to make of all this? Was Ishmael a threat to Isaac's life, his morality, or his inheritance? Perhaps it was a combination of all three. What's clear is that Sarah saw something that deeply alarmed her, something that threatened the future she envisioned for her son and her people. This passage in Bereshit Rabbah reminds us that even seemingly simple words in the Torah can hold layers of meaning, revealing complex and challenging truths about human nature and the struggles within families. What do you think Sarah saw?

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Midrash Aggadah, Genesis 25:11Midrash Aggadah

"And it came to pass after the death of Abraham, that [God] blessed," etc. (Genesis 25:11). And He left out Ishmael. And why? Because "in Isaac shall seed be called to you" (Genesis 21:12). And during his lifetime Abraham did not wish to bless Isaac, on account of Ishmael. He said: After my death the Holy One, blessed be He, will bless whomever He wishes. Even though Ishmael was the firstborn, He did not wish to bless him; rather, after his death the Holy One, blessed be He, blessed Isaac.

"And Isaac dwelt by Beer-lahai-roi" (Genesis 25:11). He dwelt with Hagar, the widow of his father, who said "the well of the Living One who sees me" (Genesis 16:14), to the Life of the worlds.

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Bereshit Rabbah 45:9Bereshit Rabbah

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What does it mean to be a "wild man?" The Rabbis of old certainly wrestled with this very question.

The ancient commentary, Bereshit Rabbah, explores this verse, offering various interpretations. We find Rabbi Yoḥanan and Rabbi Shimon ben Lakish, two prominent sages, offering contrasting views. Rabbi Yoḥanan suggests that Ishmael's "wildness" meant he would inhabit the wilderness, while others lived in settlements. He connects this to the image of a wild ass, a pereh, accustomed to the wilderness, as mentioned in Jeremiah (2:24).

Rabbi Shimon ben Lakish takes a different tack. He interprets "wild man" in a more literal, and frankly, more disturbing way. He suggests that while others plunder wealth, Ishmael would plunder people. A chilling thought, isn't it?

Then there’s a particularly striking interpretation that plays on the Hebrew. The text reads, "His hand will be against everyone and everyone’s hand against him [kol bo]." Read it as "his dog [kalbo]" – he and a dog are equal; just as the dog eats carcasses, so, too, he eats carcasses. It's a harsh image, painting Ishmael as someone scavenging on the fringes of society.

Rabbi Elazar adds another layer, linking this verse to the rise of Nebuchadnezzar. He asks, "When will it be that 'his hand will be against everyone and everyone’s hand against him'?" His answer? With the advent of Nebuchadnezzar, the Babylonian king who, as the Book of Daniel (2:38) states, was given dominion over all creatures. Rabbi Elazar connects this to Jeremiah's prophecy (49:28) about Kedar, one of Ishmael’s sons (Genesis 25:13), and the kingdoms of Ḥatzor, which Nebuchadrezzar smote. According to this reading, Nebuchadnezzar gathered them in the wilderness and killed them.

The text even plays with the Hebrew words for "dwells." The verse says, "He will dwell [yishkon] among all his brethren," but elsewhere, regarding Ishmael, it says, "He settled [nafal] among all his brethren" (Genesis 25:18). Nafal literally means "fell." The Rabbis explain that as long as Abraham was alive, it was yishkon, a peaceful dwelling. But after Abraham's death, it became nafal, a falling, a decline. As long as Ishmael hadn't attacked the Temple, it was yishkon. Once he did, it became nafal. In this world – yishkon; but in the future – nafal.

What are we to make of all this? It seems clear that the Rabbis weren't offering a simple biography of Ishmael. Instead, they were using his story as a lens through which to understand power, exile, and the precariousness of our place in the world. They saw in him a reflection of the tensions between settled life and the wilderness, between dominance and vulnerability.

So, the next time you encounter Ishmael in the biblical narrative, remember these interpretations. Remember the "wild man," the plunderer, the figure linked to both Nebuchadnezzar's might and a dog scavenging for scraps. It’s a reminder that even in our most sacred texts, there are figures who challenge us, who force us to confront the uncomfortable realities of human existence. And perhaps, it is in that very discomfort that we find deeper understanding.

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