Let’s look at one of those now, a fraught and painful scene from Genesis, chapter 21. We're talking about the expulsion of Hagar and her son Yishmael.
The verse tells us, "Abraham rose early in the morning, and took bread and a skin of water, and gave them to Hagar, he placed them her shoulder, and the child, and sent her away. She went and wandered in the wilderness of Beersheba" (Genesis 21:14). Simple enough. But the rabbis of the Midrash, in Bereshit Rabbah, saw so much more simmering beneath the surface.
"Abraham rose early in the morning, and took bread and a skin of water, and gave them to Hagar" – the Midrash emphasizes the generosity of Abraham's household, noting his early rising as a sign of care. But then comes the phrase, "he placed them on her shoulder." The Midrash immediately asks, why specify that he placed the water skin on her shoulder?
One interpretation, as offered in Bereshit Rabbah, suggests that Abraham was deliberately trying to demonstrate Hagar's status. He wanted to show everyone that she was only a maidservant, not a wife with full rights, and that Yishmael wasn’t his primary heir. By having her carry the water like a common slave, he was making a public statement. It's a harsh reading, isn't it? A calculated act to diminish her standing.
But then the Midrash throws another curveball. "On her shoulder and the child" – but wait! The text implies Yishmael was also placed on her shoulder? How could a grown boy, twenty-seven years old according to the rabbis (based on calculations involving Isaac's supposed Bar Mitzvah feast), be carried on his mother's shoulder?
The answer, according to the Midrash, is heartbreaking: "It teaches that Sarah introduced an evil eye into him and he was afflicted with fever and pain [and could not walk on his own]." The ayin hara, the evil eye, is a potent force in Jewish tradition. It suggests that Sarah's jealousy or resentment towards Yishmael resulted in his physical weakness. This idea gets further support from the next verse: "The water in the skin was finished" (Genesis 21:15). The Midrash connects this to illness, noting that "a sick person typically drinks a lot and frequently." Yishmael's illness, brought on by the evil eye, caused him to consume more water, hastening their dehydration.
We can almost feel Hagar's desperation. "She cast the child beneath one of the bushes" (Genesis 21:15). Rabbi Meir identifies the bush as a broom tree, common in the wilderness. Rabbi Ami offers a different take, suggesting that "beneath one of the bushes [hasiḥim]" is significant because that's where angels "conversed [hesiḥu]" with her. A place of divine communication in her darkest hour.
Then comes the devastating line: "She went and sat herself opposite him, at a distance of about a bowshot, for she said: I will not see the death of the child. She sat opposite him, raised her voice, and wept" (Genesis 21:16).
The Midrash meticulously analyzes the phrase "at a distance." It connects it to other verses in the Torah that use similar language to determine precise measurements. Just as the distance around the Tent of Meeting was a specific measurement, so too was the "bowshot" distance Hagar kept from her son. Rabbi Yitzḥak even quantifies it: "About a bowshot [kintaḥavei keshet]" – two bowshots, which is one mil (a unit of distance).
Finally, Rabbi Berekhya imagines Hagar's anguished protest: "She protested her fate like one who speaks impertinently [kemataḥat] toward the One on High. She said to Him: ‘Yesterday you said to me: “I will multiply your descendants…” (Genesis 16:10); now he is dying of thirst.’" A raw, unfiltered moment of questioning God's promise in the face of unimaginable suffering. "You promised me descendants, and now my son is dying!" It's a powerful indictment of divine justice, born from a mother's love and despair.
This Midrash on Bereshit Rabbah 53 isn't just a dry exegesis of a biblical verse. It’s a window into the hearts and minds of the characters involved. It exposes the complex motivations, the cultural assumptions, and the profound theological questions that lie hidden within the text. It reminds us that even in the most familiar stories, there are always deeper layers waiting to be uncovered, layers that speak to the enduring human struggle with faith, family, and the challenges of life. And it all stems from paying attention to the details, to the small words and phrases that unlock a world of meaning.