Parshat Vayera5 min read

Ishmael Was Exiled From the Land but the Rabbis Said He Repented

Ishmael was cast out of Abraham and out of the covenant. But the Midrash preserves a tradition that he repented in old age and let Isaac take precedence.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Trial That Outweighed the Binding of Isaac
  2. What the Brothers Were Fighting About
  3. What Happened When the Water Ran Out
  4. The Boast and the Counter-Offer
  5. What Repentance Looked Like

The Trial That Outweighed the Binding of Isaac

Abraham was very distressed. And he sent them anyway.

Legends of the Jews, Louis Ginzberg's synthesis of Talmudic and midrashic sources, preserves the full weight of the choice. The rabbis who counted Abraham's trials, who argued over which was hardest, gave the question serious attention. The binding of Isaac was obviously severe. A father about to kill his son. But some rabbis judged the expulsion of Ishmael to be more agonizing. Ishmael was the firstborn, the child Abraham had waited twenty-five years to have, the boy circumcised at thirteen as the first Israelite to receive the covenant of the flesh as an adult. Sending him into the wilderness was not performed on a mountain in response to a direct divine command. It was executed in the morning, before witnesses, in the family's own courtyard, in response to Sarah's demand. And Abraham did it because God told him to listen to Sarah.

What the Brothers Were Fighting About

The conflict between Ishmael and Isaac that precipitated the expulsion had a specific content. Legends of the Jews records that Ishmael, skilled with a bow, would shoot arrows in Isaac's direction and claim it was play. The arrows were not play. The inheritance was the actual subject: Ishmael believed that as firstborn he deserved a double portion, and Isaac should receive one. Sarah saw through the archery. She told Abraham that Ishmael was not worthy to be heir with her son and that his connection to the household, in this world and in the world to come, must be severed entirely.

The demand was hard. God confirmed it. Abraham sent Hagar and Ishmael into the wilderness with bread and a skin of water.

What Happened When the Water Ran Out

The water was gone before they reached shelter. Hagar placed the boy under a bush and walked away far enough that she would not watch him die. She called on the gods of her Egyptian childhood. Ishmael prayed to the God of his father's house. The Midrash records the two prayers as structurally different: Hagar reached for the familiar, Ishmael reached for the genuine. His prayer was heard. God commanded Miriam's well to spring up in the desert and provide water. God appeared to Hagar and showed her what was already there waiting to be found.

God also made a promise to Hagar about Ishmael's future: he would become a great nation. The promise did not contradict Isaac's covenant inheritance. It ran parallel to it. Being outside the covenantal center is not the same as being outside God's hearing, and the rabbis were careful to preserve that distinction.

The Boast and the Counter-Offer

Before the expulsion, while both brothers were still in Abraham's household, Legends of the Jews records a scene of sibling confrontation. Ishmael boasted to Isaac: I was thirteen when I was circumcised, and I bore it willingly. My circumcision was a greater act of faith than yours because I had the capacity to refuse and did not. Isaac answered: you think you have done something significant by giving one small piece of flesh? I would give my entire life if God asked for it.

The rabbis read this exchange as the moment when the covenant's direction was already visible. Ishmael offered what cost him something at the time. Isaac offered everything, including what he had not yet been asked to give. The binding of Isaac was not a surprise when it came. It was the fulfillment of an offer Isaac had already made in an argument with his brother over whose sacrifice was greater.

What Repentance Looked Like

The tradition does not describe Ishmael's repentance as a speech or a conversion. Bamidbar Rabbah, the midrash on Numbers, preserves the tradition alongside a broader meditation on names and destiny. The names of Ishmael's descendants are read as encoding what became of the man who was cast out: someone who continued, who built a nation, who grew old, and who at the end made room for the brother who had inherited what he had been denied.

When Abraham died (Genesis 25:9), the text names both sons at the burial: Isaac and Ishmael. Ishmael is named first in some readings, Isaac in others, but both are present. Both sons buried their father. Legends of the Jews treats Ishmael's presence at the grave as the visible evidence of his repentance: he came, and he let Isaac take the position of precedence, and he stood behind him at the grave of the man who had loved them both and sent one of them away. The rabbis called this teshuvah, return, the full arc of a man who had been expelled from the family structure and came back to it at the end, not to reclaim what he had lost but to honor what he had never stopped being part of.

IshmaelAbrahamIsaacHoly LandRepentance
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From the tradition

Sources

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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.

Legends of the Jews, V. Abraham, Ishmael Cast OffLegends of the Jews

As Isaac grew, tensions flared between the two half-brothers over inheritance rights. Ishmael, the elder, believed he deserved a double portion, while Isaac should receive only one. According to Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, Ishmael, skilled with a bow and arrow, would aim his missiles at Isaac, claiming it was just a jest. But Sarah saw through the "jesting."

Sarah, deeply concerned about the future, insisted that Abraham give everything to Isaac, ensuring no disputes would arise after his death. "Ishmael," she declared, "is not worthy of being heir with my son." And, as if that weren't enough, she demanded Abraham send Hagar and Ishmael away, severing all ties between them and Isaac, both in this world and the world to come.

Of all the trials Abraham faced, this was the most agonizing. The thought of separating from his son tore at his heart. But that very night, God appeared to him. "Abraham," He said, "knowest thou not that Sarah was appointed to be thy wife from her mother's womb? She is thy companion and the wife of thy youth… What Sarah spoke unto thee was naught but truth." (Legends of the Jews)

The next morning, Abraham rose early, gave Hagar a get, a bill of divorcement, and sent her and Ishmael away. To publicly mark her status, he bound a rope around her waist, signifying she was a bondwoman.

As they journeyed, Sarah's "evil eye," as the text puts it, made Ishmael sick with a fever. Hagar, carrying him, depleted the water Abraham had provided. Desperate, not wanting to witness her son's death, she cast him under a willow bush. The Legends of the Jews specifies this was the very same spot where angels had once appeared to Hagar, promising her a son.

In her anguish, she cried out to God, "Yesterday Thou didst say to me, I will greatly multiply thy seed… and to-day my son dies of thirst!" But Ishmael, too, cried out to God. And it was his prayer, coupled with the merits of Abraham, that brought them salvation.

However, even as Ishmael prayed, the angels argued against him before God. "Wilt Thou cause a well of water to spring up for him whose descendants will let Thy children of Israel perish with thirst?" they asked. God, in his infinite wisdom, responded, "What is Ishmael at this moment, righteous or wicked?" When the angels conceded that he was righteous, God declared, "I treat man according to his deserts at each moment." (Legends of the Jews)

According to the Legends of the Jews, Ishmael prayed, "O Lord of the world! If it be Thy will that I shall perish, then let me die in some other way, not by thirst, for the tortures of thirst are great beyond all others." (Legends of the Jews)

But Hagar, perhaps lacking the same faith, turned to the idols of her youth. It was Ishmael's prayer that was answered. God commanded Miriam's well, a miraculous well created in the twilight of the sixth day of creation, to spring forth and provide water.

Yet, even after this miracle, Hagar's faith remained weak. She refilled the bottle, fearing the water would run out again. This reminds me of the saying, "Throw the stick into the air as thou wilt, it will always land on its point." Hagar, having come from Egypt, returned there with her son, seeking a wife for him.

It’s a poignant tale of faith, doubt, and the enduring bond between a mother and her son. It makes you wonder, doesn't it? How much does our past shape our future, and what role does faith play in overcoming life's most challenging trials?

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Legends of the Jews 5:199Legends of the Jews

Their water is gone. Facing death by dehydration, Ishmael turns to God, pleading, "O Lord of the world! If it be Thy will that I shall perish, then let me die in some other way, not by thirst, for the tortures of thirst are great beyond all others."

It's a poignant moment, isn't it? A child confronting his mortality, begging for a different kind of end. And what about Hagar? The story tells us she didn't pray to God. Instead, she called upon the idols of her youth.

Ginzberg, in his masterful Legends of the Jews, doesn’t shy away from showing us the complexities of faith. In this moment of crisis, we see two very different responses to the same dire situation.

What happened next is nothing short of miraculous. Ishmael's prayer, the story says, was heard. God commanded Miriam's well to spring forth. Now, Miriam's well is no ordinary well. It was created in the twilight of the sixth day of creation, a source of life itself! According to tradition, this well followed the Israelites during their 40 years of wandering in the desert.

But here's where it gets even more interesting. Even after this incredible miracle, Hagar's faith remained… unchanged. She immediately filled the bottle with water, driven by fear that the well might vanish as quickly as it appeared. It’s a very human reaction, perhaps, but also a telling one.

Then, Hagar journeyed to Egypt with her son. There's a proverb attached to this part of the tale: "Throw the stick into the air as thou wilt, it will always land on its point." What does it mean? Well, Hagar was Egyptian, and to Egypt she returned, seeking a wife for Ishmael. There's a sense of inevitability here, a pull back to one's origins.

This small story, tucked within the larger narrative, offers a glimpse into faith, fear, and the enduring power of origins. It makes you wonder: What do we do when faced with the miraculous? Do we embrace it fully, or do we cling to our fears and familiar patterns? And how much are we shaped by where we come from?

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Bamidbar Rabbah 16:10Bamidbar Rabbah

Does a name shape destiny? Does it reflect character? Or is it just… a label?

The book of Numbers, Bamidbar in Hebrew, gives us a lot to chew on in that regard. Specifically, Bamidbar Rabbah 16 explores the names of the spies sent to scout the land of Canaan, and it sparks a fascinating question: What's in a name, really?

The verse in (Numbers 13:16) says, "These were the names of the men." But the Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary), in Bamidbar Rabbah, doesn’t just leave it there. It lists some of those names – "Setur son of Mikhael…Naḥbi son of Vofsi…Geuel son of Makhi" (Numbers 13:13–15) – and then launches into a broader meditation on names and deeds.

The Midrash posits that there are four types of people, categorized by their names and actions: those with pleasant names but repulsive actions, those with repulsive names but pleasant actions, those with both pleasant names and actions, and, well, those with names and actions that are… less than ideal. It’s a powerful framework.

So, who fits into these categories? According to the Midrash, Ishmael and Esau fall into the first category: pleasant names, repulsive actions. Ishmael's name means "God listens" [shome’a el]. Esau. well, his name can be connected to the idea that he "performs" [oseh] the will of his Maker [osehu]. But, the Midrash implies, their actions didn't quite live up to the promise of their names.

Then there are those with repulsive names but pleasant actions. The Midrash gives the example of those who ascended from the exile, citing (Ezra 2:53): "The children of Barkos, the children of Sisera, the children of Tamaḥ." The Midrash tells us that these names "have no reference to anything positive, and appear to be names which were originally not used by Jews." Sisera, for example, was the name of a military commander who oppressed Israel, as we read in (Judges 4:2). Yet, despite the negative connotations of their names, the actions of these people were praiseworthy – they returned to rebuild Jerusalem.

And finally, we arrive at those whose names and actions are equally…unpleasant. Bamidbar Rabbah points to the spies as prime examples. Take Setur, for instance. The Midrash connects his name to the Hebrew shesetaro, meaning "he eliminated him" – implying that Setur’s actions led to his own removal from the world, a consequence of his negative report about the Land of Israel.

It's a harsh assessment. But it emphasizes the weight the Rabbis placed on aligning one's actions with one's potential.

What does this all mean for us? Are we forever bound by the meanings of our names? Probably not. But it does give us pause. It invites us to reflect on the connection between our inner selves and our outward actions. Are we living up to the best potential of our "names," however we choose to define them? Are our actions reflecting the values we hold dear?

Maybe, just maybe, a name does carry a certain weight. Not in a magical way, but in the way it subtly shapes our self-perception and the expectations of others. Though, it's up to us to write our own story, to define ourselves not just by a label, but by the choices we make and the actions we take.

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Legends of the Jews 5:212Legends of the Jews

You might imagine sibling rivalry, but perhaps you haven't imagined this level of one-upmanship.

The story goes that Ishmael, brimming with pride, decided to brag to Isaac. According to Ginzberg’s retelling in Legends of the Jews, Ishmael boasts, "I was thirteen years old when the Lord spoke to my father to circumcise us, and I did not transgress His word, which He commanded my father.” Circumcision, the brit milah, a sacred act, a physical manifestation of the covenant with God. For Ishmael, it was a badge of honor, a evidence of his obedience.

Isaac? Oh, he was ready with a retort.

"What dost thou boast to me about this," Isaac shot back, "about a little bit of thy flesh which thou didst take from thy body, concerning which the Lord commanded thee? As the Lord liveth, the God of my father Abraham, if the Lord should say unto my father, Take now thy son Isaac and bring him up as an offering before Me, I would not refrain, but I would joyfully accede to it."

Wow. Just…wow.

Isaac essentially says, "You’re proud of that? That was nothing! If God asked my father to sacrifice me, I’d be all for it!"

It's a chilling foreshadowing, isn't it? This wasn't just idle talk. It sets the stage for the Akedah, the Binding of Isaac, the ultimate test of faith for both Abraham and Isaac.

This little exchange, preserved in Legends of the Jews, really illuminates something profound about faith and devotion. It’s not just about following commands, but about a willingness to offer everything – even the most precious thing – to God. It makes you wonder: What would we be willing to sacrifice? What does true devotion really mean?

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Targum Pseudo-Jonathan on Genesis 25:17Targum Pseudo-Jonathan on Genesis

The Torah in (Genesis 25:17) gives us a short obituary for Ishmael: one hundred and thirty-seven years, and then he "expired and was gathered to his people." Targum Pseudo-Jonathan will not leave that obituary bare. It inserts three words that change everything: "he was converted in repentance."

The Aramaic is v'itachzar bi-tyuva, he returned in teshuvah. The Targum is refusing to end Ishmael's life with the rupture that began it. The boy who was sent away with Hagar into the wilderness, the archer who grew wild in Paran (Genesis 21:20-21), the brother whose hand the angel said would be against everyone, that man, in his last years, turned back toward the God of his father.

The Rabbis had reasons to read it this way. They noticed that the Torah says Ishmael "was gathered to his people," a phrase reserved in Genesis for the righteous. They noticed that Ishmael helped bury Abraham alongside Isaac (Genesis 25:9), and that in the ordering Isaac is named first, implying that Ishmael yielded precedence to his younger brother, which the sages took as a sign of his teshuvah (Bava Batra 16b).

The teaching is gentle. No one is outside the reach of return. Ishmael, who could have ended the story as a cautionary tale, ends it instead as proof that the door is never fully shut. His one hundred and thirty-seven years include everything, the expulsion, the wandering, the anger. And still leave room at the end for a different chapter.

That is what the tradition means by teshuvah. Not erasing the past. Finishing it well.

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