The story of Hagar and her son Ishmael, wandering in the desert, touches on that very human struggle.
According to Legends of the Jews, Sarah, in a moment of jealousy, cast an "evil glance" upon her stepson Ishmael. This wasn't just a dirty look; it made him physically sick, burning with fever. Imagine the desperation of Hagar, forced to carry her grown son, his body wracked with illness, through the unforgiving wilderness.
They were running out of water. Remember, Abraham had provided a bottle when he sent them away. But as Ishmael's fever raged, he drank and drank, emptying the precious supply. Hagar, unable to bear witnessing her son's final moments, cast him under a meager shelter of willow shrubs. Can you feel her despair? The willows, the very spot where angels had once prophesied Ishmael's birth, now seemed a cruel mockery.
In her anguish, Hagar cried out to God. "Yesterday," she lamented, "You promised to multiply my seed beyond measure, and today my son dies of thirst!" It's a raw, powerful moment of questioning. Where is the promise in the face of such suffering?
But here's where the story takes a turn. It wasn't just Hagar's prayer that reached the heavens. Ishmael himself cried out to God. And, according to Legends of the Jews, their combined prayers, coupled with the merit (zechut) of Abraham, stirred divine intervention.
Yet, even then, the angels argued against helping Ishmael. They foresaw his descendants’ future actions, protesting, "Will You cause a well of water to spring up for him whose descendants will let Your children of Israel perish with thirst?" It's a chilling question, highlighting the complexities of divine judgment and the weight of generational consequences.
God's response is profound. "What is Ishmael at this moment – righteous or wicked?" When the angels conceded that he was righteous at that moment, God declared, "I treat man according to his deserts at each moment." This isn't a blanket approval of future actions, but a focus on present merit. It's a reminder that even within a larger narrative of destiny, individual choices and present righteousness still matter. God sees us in our immediate need, in our current state, and responds accordingly.
The story leaves us pondering. How often do we judge others (or ourselves) based on perceived future actions or past mistakes, rather than recognizing the potential for good in the present moment? The wellspring of divine grace, it seems, is often tied to the here and now.