It’s a question that perplexed some of our sages, too.

Take Ishmael, for example. Genesis 25:12 starts out: "These are the descendants of Ishmael son of Abraham, whom Hagar the Egyptian, Sarah’s maidservant, bore to Abraham." Okay, fair enough. But then, why dedicate verses to his lineage and even his age at death? That's what Rabbi Ḥama bar Ukva and some other rabbis were scratching their heads about, according to Bereshit Rabbah 62.

As the story goes, they were sitting, wrestling with this very question. Just then, Rabbi Levi happened to walk by. Recognizing his wisdom in halakha, Jewish law, they asked for his insight. And Rabbi Levi offered a fascinating explanation: "It is in order to tell you at what age your ancestor [Jacob] was blessed!"

Think about it. By knowing Ishmael's age when he died, we can actually deduce that Jacob was sixty-three years old when he received his father’s blessing. (See Megillah 17a for more on this calculation.) Hidden within the details of Ishmael's life, a seemingly unrelated but crucial piece of information about Jacob’s story emerges.

But the questions don't stop there. Genesis 25:17 tells us: "These are the years of the life of Ishmael, one hundred and thirty-seven years, and he expired and died and he was gathered to his people." Again, why the detailed account of this "wicked one's" years?

The answer, the rabbis suggest, lies in an act of khesed, of kindness. It is because Ishmael traveled "from the far reaches of the desert to perform kindness for his father [Abraham] in attending his funeral." Even Ishmael, despite his complicated relationship with his father, showed respect and love in the end.

And then there's Genesis 25:18: "They dwelled from Ḥavila to Shur, that is adjacent to Egypt, all the way to Assyria: he settled among all his brethren." This verse sparks yet another interpretive dance. The text says "he settled [nafal, literally, 'fell down'] among all his brethren." But earlier, in Genesis 16:12, regarding Ishmael, it says, "He will dwell [yishkon] [among all his brethren]." What’s the deal?

Bereshit Rabbah explains that “all the days our patriarch Abraham was alive – yishkon." Ishmael was in a state of settled strength. "When our patriarch Abraham died – nafal." He fell in stature. The text continues: "Before he extended his hand against the Temple – yishkon; once he extended his hand against it – nafal." (See Psalms 83:3–19.) In this world – yishkon; but in the future – nafal."

So what does it all mean? Perhaps it's a reminder that even figures who seem distant or even antagonistic in the grand narrative have their moments of connection, of influence, and of change. Ishmael’s story, as told in these verses and interpreted by the rabbis, isn’t just about Ishmael. It’s about Jacob, about Abraham, about the interplay of kindness and conflict, and about the ever-shifting balance of power and influence. It shows us that even those on the periphery can hold vital clues to understanding the bigger picture. And that even those who "fall" can still be remembered for the good they did.