Hagar in the Bible: The Woman Who Named God
The Relevance of Hagar in the Bible Today
Hagar’s narrative speaks with startling relevance to our contemporary context. Her story explores the intersection of gender, ethnicity, power, and divine intervention in ways that challenge both ancient and modern assumptions about who matters to God.
Why Hagar’s Story Is Still Powerful for Modern Bible Study
Hagar appears twice in Genesis, a literary choice that signals her significance in the biblical narrative. What makes her story particularly compelling is that she occupies multiple marginalized positions simultaneously: she is female in a patriarchal society, Egyptian in a Hebrew household, and enslaved in a system that denied her bodily autonomy. Yet even though these layers of powerlessness, the biblical text grants her something extraordinary, divine encounter and promise.
The Hebrew text uses the verb ra’ah (רָאָה, “to see”) repeatedly in her narrative, creating a theological wordplay that culminates in her naming God El Roi (אֵל רֳאִי), “the God who sees me.” This act of theological naming is revolutionary. In the ancient Near East, naming indicated authority, yet here, a slave woman names God, and Scripture preserves her declaration as valid revelation.
When I lead Bible studies on Hagar’s story, participants often experience a paradigm shift. Many have been taught to read the Bible through the lens of dominant narratives, Abraham’s faith, Sarah’s miraculous childbearing, Isaac’s chosen status. Reading through Hagar’s eyes requires us to reconsider what constitutes faith, promise, and divine election. Her story invites us to consider: What if God’s activity isn’t limited to our theological categories? What if divine revelation comes through unexpected voices?
How the Story of Abraham and Sarah Shaped Hagar’s Life
Hagar’s life becomes entangled in Abraham and Sarah’s story through a devastating misapplication of divine promise. God had promised Abraham descendants (Genesis 15:5), but after over a decade of waiting, Sarah took matters into her own hands.
The Hebrew text of Genesis 16:1-2 reveals something important: “Now Sarai, Abram’s wife, had borne him no children. She had an Egyptian slave-woman whose name was Hagar: and Sarai said to Abram, ‘You see that the Lord has prevented me from bearing children: go in to my slave-girl: it may be that I shall obtain children by her.'” The phrase “obtain children by her” literally reads “I will be built up from her” (‘ibbaneh mimmennah, אִבָּנֶה מִמֶּנָּה). Sarah sees Hagar not as a person but as a building material for her own legacy.
This objectification sets the stage for the conflict that follows. Once pregnant, Hagar sees (vatere’, וַתֵּרֶא) her mistress differently, perhaps with newfound status as the mother of Abraham’s firstborn son. Sarah responds with mistreatment so severe the Hebrew word va-te’anneha (וַתְּעַנֶּהָ) is the same root used to describe the Israelites’ later suffering under Egyptian slavery. The painful irony: an Egyptian slave experiences in Abraham’s household what the Israelites would later endure in Egypt.
Abraham, when presented with this conflict, abdicates responsibility: “Your slave-girl is in your power: do to her as you please” (Genesis 16:6). His passive response allows injustice to continue under his roof, even as God was establishing covenant with him.
Understanding Hagar in the Bible
To grasp the full theological weight of Hagar’s story, we must see her not as a peripheral character but as someone central to the unfolding biblical narrative, a woman who encounters the same God who speaks to Abraham.
Hagar’s Identity in the Abraham and Sarah Narrative
The Hebrew text introduces Hagar as “shifhah mitsrit” (שִׁפְחָה מִצְרִית), an Egyptian slave-woman. Her Egyptian identity carries significance beyond mere biographical detail. Egypt represents the quintessential “other” in much of biblical narrative, a powerful empire that stands in contrast to Israel’s covenant identity. Yet here, at the beginning of Israel’s story, an Egyptian woman becomes the recipient of divine promise.
Hagar occupies multiple identities throughout her narrative: slave, surrogate mother, runaway, visionary, and matriarch. The text consistently refers to her by name rather than just by her status, a narrative choice that grants her personhood even though her social position. In Genesis 16:8, the angel of the Lord addresses her directly, asking, “Hagar, slave-girl of Sarai, where have you come from and where are you going?” The question echoes God’s call to prophets, suggesting that even though her status, she stands in a direct relationship with the divine.
What’s particularly striking is how the biblical writer portrays Hagar’s agency even though her constrained circumstances. She makes decisions, to flee, to see differently, to name God, to secure her son’s future. While her options are severely limited by patriarchal and slave-holding systems, the text never reduces her to passivity. This narrative approach stands in stark contrast to how enslaved women were typically portrayed in ancient literature, as objects rather than subjects.
What Made Hagar and Ishmael Pivotal in God’s Word
Hagar’s theological significance extends beyond her personal story. Through her son Ishmael, she becomes the mother of a great nation, a promise that parallels God’s covenant with Abraham. Genesis 17:20 records God saying of Ishmael: “I have heard you: I will bless him and make him fruitful and exceedingly numerous: he shall be the father of twelve princes, and I will make him a great nation.” The Hebrew word for “heard” here (shema’ti, שְׁמַעְתִּי) connects to Ishmael’s name, which means “God hears” (from yishma אֵל, יִשְׁמַע־אֵל).
This divine response to Hagar and Ishmael’s suffering creates a profound theological symmetry in Genesis. The God who establishes covenant with Abraham also sees Hagar and hears Ishmael. Their storyline runs parallel to the chosen line through Isaac, not identical, but nonetheless marked by divine blessing and promise.
Ishmael’s position as Abraham’s firstborn son carries weight in the narrative, even though the covenant continues through Isaac. When Abraham pleads, “O that Ishmael might live in your sight.” (Genesis 17:18), he expresses genuine paternal concern. The text later shows Abraham grieving at Sarah’s demand to cast out Ishmael (Genesis 21:11), suggesting the complexity of these family relationships beyond simplistic chosen/not-chosen categories.
In the broader canonical context, Ishmael and his descendants become significant figures in Israel’s story. They represent a people related to but distinct from the covenant community, a reminder that God’s blessing extends beyond the boundaries of Israel. This theological vision challenges narrow understandings of election and points toward the more universal scope of divine care that prophets like Isaiah would later articulate.
Encounters Between Hagar and the Divine
Hagar’s wilderness experiences with God stand among Scripture’s most profound theophanic moments. These encounters reveal a God who notices suffering, responds to the marginalized, and extends promise to those outside the primary covenant line.
Hagar Fled: The Conflict That Led to Her First Wilderness Journey
Genesis 16 records how Hagar, after conceiving Ishmael, looked with contempt upon her mistress Sarai. The resulting conflict drove Hagar into the wilderness, a dangerous place for a pregnant woman alone. The Hebrew describes her location precisely: “by a spring of water in the wilderness, the spring on the way to Shur” (Genesis 16:7). This geographic specificity anchors her spiritual encounter in physical reality, a real woman in real danger in a real place.
The wilderness (midbar, מִדְבַּר) holds particular significance in biblical theology. It represents the liminal space between Egypt and Promised Land, between slavery and freedom, between death and life. That God meets Hagar here foreshadows Israel’s own wilderness experiences where divine revelation often occurs. Before Sinai, before the burning bush, God appears to an Egyptian slave woman in the desert.
What’s particularly striking is the language used: “The angel of the Lord found (vayimtsa’ah, וַיִּמְצָאָהּ) her” (Genesis 16:7). The divine actively seeks out the one who has been cast aside. This verb reverses the expected power dynamic, Hagar doesn’t find God: God finds Hagar.
The Angel of the Lord Speaks: God Meets Hagar at the Spring
The dialogue between Hagar and the divine messenger reveals remarkable intimacy. The angel calls her by name and asks about her journey, “Where have you come from and where are you going?” (Genesis 16:8). This question invites Hagar to tell her own story, to articulate her experience of oppression and flight. The text gives her voice in a narrative world where slaves rarely speak.
In her response, Hagar names her oppressor: “I am running away from my mistress Sarai” (Genesis 16:8). She speaks truth about power dynamics that the patriarchal household has normalized. The divine response acknowledges her suffering while sending her back, a troubling dimension of the text that has been used to justify oppression. But, the command to return comes with divine promise that transforms her situation.
The messenger’s identity merits attention. The text shifts between calling this figure “the angel of the Lord” and simply “the Lord” (YHWH), suggesting this is no ordinary angel but a manifestation of divine presence. That God appears personally to a foreign slave woman underscores the text’s radical theological vision.
God’s Promise and Vision for Hagar and Ishmael’s Future
The divine promise to Hagar parallels God’s covenant language with Abraham: “I will so greatly multiply your offspring that they cannot be counted for multitude” (Genesis 16:10). The Hebrew uses the infinitive absolute construction (harbah ‘arbeh, הַרְבָּה אַרְבֶּה), the same intensive form used in God’s promises to Abraham. This grammatical parallel underscores that Hagar receives authentic divine blessing, not a second-class promise.
God instructs Hagar to name her son Ishmael (“God hears”) because “the Lord has given heed to your affliction” (Genesis 16:11). The name itself becomes testimony that divine compassion extends to those who suffer under oppression. Ishmael’s predicted character as a “wild donkey of a man” (Genesis 16:12) has often been misinterpreted as derogatory, but in ancient Near Eastern context, the wild ass symbolized freedom and independence, a poignant promise to the son of a slave.
Hagar’s response to this encounter is profound: she names God “El Roi” (“God who sees me”) and expresses amazement: “Have I really seen God and remained alive after seeing him?” (Genesis 16:13). Her theological declaration becomes part of the landscape itself, as “the well was called Beer-lahai-roi” (“the well of the Living One who sees me”). Her experience of divine vision literally transforms the wilderness.
Surviving the Second Exile: Hagar in the Wilderness with Ishmael
Hagar’s second wilderness journey occurs after Isaac’s birth. Sarah, seeing Ishmael playing with (or possibly mocking) her son Isaac, demands that Abraham “cast out this slave woman with her son” (Genesis 21:10). The text notes that “the matter was very distressing to Abraham on account of his son” (Genesis 21:11), indicating his emotional attachment to Ishmael.
God’s instruction to Abraham contains a crucial promise: “As for the son of the slave woman, I will make a nation of him also, because he is your offspring” (Genesis 21:13). This divine commitment ensures that Hagar and Ishmael’s story doesn’t end in tragedy.
The wilderness scene that follows is heart-wrenching. When their water runs out, Hagar places Ishmael under a bush and withdraws “about the distance of a bowshot” because she “did not want to see the child die” (Genesis 21:16). The text then reveals a remarkable detail: “God heard the voice of the boy” (Genesis 21:17). Ishmael’s very name (“God hears”) finds fulfillment in this moment of desperation.
God speaks to Hagar again, asking, “What troubles you, Hagar?” and repeats the promise: “I will make a great nation of him” (Genesis 21:17-18). Then comes a moment of divine provision: “God opened her eyes, and she saw a well of water” (Genesis 21:19). The same verb used earlier, to see, appears again. The God who sees Hagar also enables her to see the means of survival.
Symbolism and Theology in Hagar’s Life
Hagar’s story contains rich theological symbolism that extends far beyond her individual narrative. Her experiences illuminate divine character and biblical themes in ways that continue to shape our understanding of God’s relationship with the marginalized.
The First Person to Name God: Hagar’s ‘El Roi’ Revelation
Perhaps the most theologically significant moment in Hagar’s story comes in Genesis 16:13 when she names God “El Roi” (אֵל רֳאִי), “the God who sees me.” This represents a profound theological innovation. In the ancient Near East, the prerogative to name typically belonged to those with power. Yet here, an Egyptian slave woman exercises naming authority over deity itself, and Scripture preserves her naming as valid revelation.
The Hebrew text suggests Hagar’s amazement: “Have I really seen God and remained alive after seeing him?” Her question reflects ancient Israel’s understanding that seeing God directly was dangerous or even fatal (Exodus 33:20). Hagar stands in the tradition of Jacob who wrestled with God at Peniel (“the face of God”) and marveled, “I have seen God face to face, and yet my life is preserved” (Genesis 32:30).
What makes Hagar’s theological contribution unique is how it emerges from her experience of marginalization. Her naming of God doesn’t come from a position of patriarchal authority or priestly office but from the wilderness of rejection. El Roi, the God who sees, is precisely the divine character needed by those who feel invisible or discarded.
This divine name becomes part of Israel’s theological vocabulary. While not used frequently in later texts, its conceptual impact echoes through Scripture. The Psalmist’s confidence that “The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous” (Psalm 34:15) and Jesus’s assurance that “Your Father who sees in secret will reward you” (Matthew 6:4) both reflect this fundamental attribute of God first articulated by Hagar.
Themes of Marginalization, Faith, and Visibility in Hagar’s Story
Hagar’s narrative explores multiple intersecting themes that continue to resonate with readers across centuries and contexts. Her story challenges theological systems that privilege the powerful and invites reflection on divine presence in places of abandonment and suffering.
Hagar embodies what womanist theologian Delores Williams calls “survival quality of life”, the tenacity to persist and protect life amid hostile circumstances. Her faith doesn’t manifest in triumphant victory but in stubborn endurance. When she places Ishmael under a bush and withdraws to avoid watching him die, she demonstrates both the depths of maternal despair and the refusal to surrender dignity even in extremity.
The motif of visibility runs throughout her narrative. The Hebrew verb “to see” (ra’ah, רָאָה) appears repeatedly: Hagar “saw” that she had conceived: Sarai “saw” that she was despised: Hagar “saw” a well in the wilderness. These instances of seeing culminate in the theological declaration that God sees, that divine vision penetrates human blindness and neglect.
Hagar’s journey also inverts expected power dynamics. Though enslaved, she receives divine visitation and promise. Though rejected by the covenant family, she and her son become recipients of blessing. Though forced into the wilderness, she encounters God there. These reversals anticipate Mary’s Magnificat, where God “has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly” (Luke 1:52).
The Legacy of Hagar and Ishmael in Biblical Theology
Hagar and Ishmael leave an enduring legacy that shapes biblical theology in subtle but significant ways. Their story creates theological tension with the chosen line through Isaac, a tension the biblical writers preserve rather than resolve.
Ishmael grows up to become “an expert with the bow” (Genesis 21:20), fulfilling the earlier prediction of his independent character. He marries an Egyptian woman, connecting back to Hagar’s heritage, and fathers twelve princes (Genesis 25:12-16), a parallel to Jacob’s twelve sons. The text notes that Abraham himself died “in a good old age” and was buried by “his sons Isaac and Ishmael” (Genesis 25:8-9), suggesting some level of reconciliation or ongoing relationship.
The apostle Paul later uses Hagar allegorically in Galatians 4:21-31, contrasting her with Sarah as figures representing two covenants. Paul’s interpretation has unfortunately been used to denigrate Hagar, but his typology doesn’t negate the historical Hagar’s importance or God’s care for her. Indeed, Paul’s complex allegory works precisely because readers recognized Hagar as a significant theological figure who had her own relationship with God.
More profoundly, Hagar’s experience of divine seeing anticipates later biblical theology of God’s special concern for the marginalized. Her story establishes a pattern repeated throughout Scripture: divine presence with those rejected by the community (Joseph in prison, Moses in Midian, David in the wilderness, Jesus on the cross). As Jesus would later teach, “Just as you did it to one of the least of these… you did it to me” (Matthew 25:40).
Cross-Religious and Cultural Interpretations
Hagar’s significance extends beyond the Hebrew Bible, resonating across religious traditions and cultural contexts. Her story offers a rare point of convergence where Jewish, Christian, and Islamic interpretations intersect while highlighting their distinctive theological emphases.
Hagar in Jewish, Christian, and Islamic Traditions
In Jewish tradition, Hagar (הָגָר) occupies an ambivalent position. Rabbinic interpretation sometimes identifies her with Keturah, Abraham’s wife after Sarah’s death (Genesis 25:1), suggesting her return to Abraham’s household. The Midrash explores her Egyptian heritage, proposing she was a princess who preferred serving in Abraham’s household to ruling in her own land, a detail that elevates her character while maintaining focus on the chosen line through Isaac.
Talmudic sources wrestle with the ethical questions raised by Sarah and Abraham’s treatment of Hagar. Some rabbis criticize Sarah’s harshness while others justify it as necessary protection of Isaac’s inheritance. This interpretive tension reflects Judaism’s ongoing engagement with difficult texts that challenge ethical sensibilities.
In Christian tradition, Hagar’s wilderness encounter with God prefigures divine care for the outcast. Early Church Fathers like Origen saw in her story evidence that God’s concern extends beyond the chosen people. But, Paul’s allegorical use of Hagar in Galatians 4 significantly influenced Christian interpretation, often to Hagar’s detriment. By contrasting Hagar (representing the covenant of law) with Sarah (representing the covenant of promise), Paul created an interpretive framework that has sometimes obscured Hagar’s positive theological significance.
Islamic tradition venerates Hagar (Hajar, هاجر) as the mother of Ishmael (Isma’il), whom Muslims recognize as Abraham’s firstborn son and a prophet in his own right. The Quran doesn’t name Hagar explicitly, but hadith literature develops her story extensively. Her desperate search for water between the hills of Safa and Marwa becomes enshrined in the ritual of sa’i, a required element of the Hajj pilgrimage. The well of Zamzam, which Muslims believe God provided for Hagar and Ishmael, remains a sacred site in Mecca.
What’s striking about Islamic interpretation is how it centers Hagar’s experience rather than marginalizing it. Her faithfulness and perseverance become exemplary rather than secondary. While the biblical text preserves Hagar’s significance even though its focus on the Abrahamic covenant through Isaac, Islamic tradition makes Hagar’s faithful motherhood central to the foundation story of Islam itself.
How Different Sects Interpret God Who Sees
Hagar’s naming of God as “El Roi” (the God who sees) resonates differently across religious traditions and theological perspectives. This divine attribute, visibility and attentiveness, becomes a touchstone for various understandings of divine character and human relationship with God.
In Jewish mystical tradition, particularly Kabbalah, divine seeing relates to the concept of hashgacha pratit (השגחה פרטית), individual providence or supervision. Hagar’s experience of being seen by God in the wilderness exemplifies this intimate divine attention that extends even to those outside the covenant community. Medieval Jewish commentator Nachmanides (Ramban) reflects on Hagar’s naming of God, suggesting it reveals that divine providence extends beyond Israel to all who call on God sincerely.
Christian interpretations of El Roi often connect to themes of divine omniscience and pastoral care. The God who sees Hagar in the wilderness becomes, in Christian theological development, the Good Shepherd who leaves the ninety-nine to find the one lost sheep (Luke 15:3-7). Liberation and feminist theologians have particularly emphasized Hagar’s encounter with El Roi as evidence that God sides with the oppressed against systemic injustice.
Sufi Islamic tradition finds in Hagar’s story a profound metaphor for the human search for divine presence. Her desperate running between hills seeking water parallels the spiritual seeker’s search for God. The miraculous appearance of Zamzam represents divine response to human need, God sees even when human sight fails. In Sufi thought, being seen by God (muraqabah, مراقبة) becomes a central spiritual concept that echoes Hagar’s El Roi experience.
Across these traditions, Hagar’s theological contribution, God as the One who sees, creates space for understanding divine character in terms of attentiveness rather than power alone. Her naming of God emerges not from theological abstraction but from lived experience of divine care in extremity. This grounding of theology in concrete human need speaks powerfully across religious boundaries.
Overlooked Dimensions of Hagar’s Journey
Reading Hagar’s story with fresh eyes reveals dimensions often missed in conventional interpretations. Her narrative challenges not only ancient patriarchal assumptions but also our modern readings that may unintentionally perpetuate dismissive attitudes toward her significance.
How Hagar in the Bible Challenges Patriarchal Assumptions
The very structure of Genesis preserves a radical element that subverts patriarchal expectations. Hagar, female, foreign, and enslaved, receives direct divine communication and promise. The text grants her theological voice by recording her naming of God and preserving her perspective on events.
The Hebrew narrative uses specific literary techniques that elevate Hagar beyond what we might expect in an ancient patriarchal text. She is consistently called by name rather than just “the slave woman”, a linguistic choice that affirms her personhood. The text records her inner thoughts and emotional responses, granting her psychological depth. Most significantly, the narrator allows her to speak directly, giving voice to her experience of oppression and divine encounter.
What’s particularly striking is how the text portrays divine response to Hagar’s situation. When the angel asks, “Where have you come from and where are you going?” (Genesis 16:8), the question acknowledges Hagar’s agency and perspective. God engages her as a subject with her own story, not merely as an object in Abraham and Sarah’s narrative.
This textual presentation stands in stark contrast to how enslaved women typically appear in ancient Near Eastern literature. Usually, they function as property or plot devices without voice or agency. Genesis breaks this pattern by allowing Hagar to speak theological truth that the text affirms as valid revelation.
The narrative also subtly critiques Abraham’s failure to protect the vulnerable in his household. His passive response to Sarah’s mistreatment of Hagar, “Your slave-girl is in your power: do to her as you please” (Genesis 16:6), contrasts sharply with God’s active intervention on Hagar’s behalf. This juxtaposition suggests a biblical critique of patriarchal abdication of responsibility toward the vulnerable.
Narrative Gaps: What’s Missing from Common Interpretations
Even though the text’s remarkable preservation of Hagar’s perspective, significant gaps remain that invite interpretive reflection. These silences in the narrative often get filled with assumptions that may diminish rather than honor Hagar’s experience.
One significant gap concerns Hagar’s life before entering Abraham’s household. The text identifies her only as “an Egyptian slave-woman” without explaining how she came to be enslaved or how she entered Sarah’s service. Some rabbinic traditions suggest she was Pharaoh’s daughter, given to Sarah during Abraham’s sojourn in Egypt (Genesis 12:10-20), but the biblical text itself remains silent.
Another gap involves Hagar’s feelings about being given to Abraham as a surrogate. The text simply states, “Sarai… took Hagar the Egyptian, her slave-girl, and gave her to her husband Abram as a wife” (Genesis 16:3). Modern readers recognize this as a profound violation of bodily autonomy, but ancient Near Eastern surrogacy practices normalized such arrangements. The narrative doesn’t record Hagar’s consent or lack thereof, an absence that reflects the text’s ancient context but requires ethical engagement from contemporary readers.
Perhaps the most significant gap concerns Hagar and Ishmael’s life after their second wilderness experience. Genesis 21:20-21 tells us only that “God was with the boy” as he grew up, became an expert with the bow, and married an Egyptian woman. Later, Ishmael reappears briefly to bury Abraham alongside Isaac (Genesis 25:9), but Hagar herself disappears from the narrative. What became of her relationship with her son? How did she process her experiences of divine encounter? The text leaves these questions unanswered.
These narrative gaps invite readers into an imaginative engagement with Hagar’s full humanity. Rather than filling these silences with assumptions that diminish her, we might approach them as spaces that honor the privacy of her pain and resilience. The text tells us what we need to know theologically, that God sees, hears, and responds to the marginalized, while respecting the boundaries of Hagar’s story.
Common Errors and Interpretive Blind Spots
Interpretive traditions surrounding Hagar’s story have often been shaped by theological agendas that diminish her significance or misrepresent key elements of her narrative. Recognizing these distortions allows us to recover a more faithful reading of her place in biblical theology.
The Mistake of Portraying Hagar Only as a Secondary Character
One persistent interpretive error treats Hagar as merely a plot device in Abraham and Sarah’s story rather than a theological figure in her own right. This approach reduces her to a cautionary tale about human impatience (Sarah’s scheme to fulfill God’s promise through Hagar) or a symbol of what is to be cast aside (Paul’s allegory in Galatians 4).
The biblical text itself resists this reduction. Genesis devotes substantial narrative space to Hagar’s wilderness encounters with God, records her theological declaration (naming God El Roi), and traces her son’s descendants with the same attention given to the chosen line. The narrator allows readers to see events from Hagar’s perspective and hear her voice directly, literary choices that signal her importance.
More significantly, God’s direct interaction with Hagar elevates her beyond a secondary role. The angel of the Lord seeks her out, calls her by name, listens to her story, and extends divine promise to her and her descendants. God appears to her not once but twice in the narrative, each time with words of promise and provision. This repeated divine engagement suggests Hagar stands in the biblical tradition of those who receive direct revelation, a tradition that includes Abraham himself.
Relegating Hagar to secondary status also reflects interpretive bias that privileges certain types of characters (male, Hebrew, free) over others. When we recognize this bias, we can see how the biblical text itself works against such privileging by giving voice to the Egyptian slave woman and preserving her theological contribution.
Neglecting the Role of God’s Word in Hagar’s Life Decisions
Another common interpretive error involves minimizing the divine guidance Hagar receives and the faith she demonstrates in response. Some readings suggest Hagar acted primarily out of fear, desperation, or self-interest rather than theological conviction.
The text presents a more complex picture. When the angel instructs Hagar to “Return to your mistress, and submit to her” (Genesis 16:9), she obeys even though the difficulty this must have entailed. Her return to a situation of mistreatment suggests not resignation but a remarkable faith in the divine promise just given: “I will so greatly multiply your offspring that they cannot be counted for multitude” (Genesis 16:10).
Similarly, in the second wilderness scene, Hagar responds to God’s renewed promise by taking action to ensure Ishmael’s survival. The text tells us, “God opened her eyes and she saw a well of water” (Genesis 21:19). Her ability to see the well represents not just physical sight but spiritual perception, she recognizes divine provision and acts upon it to preserve life.
Hagar’s theological legacy extends beyond her personal story. By naming God El Roi, she contributes language that shapes Israel’s understanding of divine character. Her declaration that God sees becomes part of the spiritual vocabulary available to later biblical writers and readers. The well she names (Beer-lahai-roi) later becomes a dwelling place for Isaac (Genesis 24:62, 25:11), creating a geographical link between her story and the continuing covenant narrative.
Neglecting these dimensions of divine guidance and Hagar’s faithful response not only misrepresents her character but also misses the theological continuity between her story and the larger biblical narrative. God’s word to Hagar, like God’s word to Abraham, Moses, or the prophets, reveals divine character and invites human response. The text presents Hagar as one who hears and responds to divine revelation, making her a model of faith even though her marginalized status.
FAQs
What is the story of Hagar in the Bible?
Hagar was an Egyptian slave in Sarah’s household who became the mother of Abraham’s first son, Ishmael. Her story unfolds in Genesis 16 and 21. When Sarah remained childless after God’s promise of descendants to Abraham, she gave her slave Hagar to Abraham as a surrogate. After Hagar conceived, tension arose between the women, leading to Sarah’s harsh treatment and Hagar’s flight into the wilderness. There, an angel of the Lord found her, instructed her to return, and promised numerous descendants through her son.
After Isaac’s birth, Sarah saw Ishmael playing with her son and demanded Abraham send Hagar and Ishmael away. Though distressed, Abraham complied after God assured him that Ishmael would also become a nation. In the wilderness, when their water ran out, Hagar placed Ishmael under a bush and withdrew, not wanting to watch him die. God heard the boy’s cry, showed Hagar a well, and renewed the promise that Ishmael would become a great nation.
What makes Hagar’s story remarkable is that she, a foreign slave woman, receives divine visitation and promise, and becomes the first person in Scripture to name God, calling him El Roi, “the God who sees me.”
What was God’s promise to Hagar?
God made two significant promises to Hagar, each during her wilderness experiences. In Genesis 16:10, the angel of the Lord told her: “I will so greatly multiply your offspring that they cannot be counted for multitude.” This language directly parallels God’s promise to Abraham in Genesis 15:5, suggesting that Hagar receives authentic divine blessing.
The angel further instructed her to name her son Ishmael (“God hears”) “because the Lord has given heed to your affliction” (Genesis 16:11). The promise continued with a description of Ishmael’s future: “He shall be a wild donkey of a man, with his hand against everyone, and everyone’s hand against him: and he shall live at odds with all his kin” (Genesis 16:12). While sometimes interpreted negatively, this prediction actually promised freedom and independence to the son of a slave woman.
In Genesis 21:18, during Hagar’s second wilderness journey, God renewed this promise, saying: “I will make a great nation of him.” This commitment was fulfilled, as Genesis 25:12-18 records that Ishmael became the father of twelve princes who founded tribal communities, a parallel to the twelve tribes of Israel descended from Jacob.
What is the lesson of Hagar in the Bible?
Hagar’s story offers multiple theological lessons that continue to resonate across traditions and contexts. First, it reveals God’s concern for the marginalized. That divine presence and promise extend to an Egyptian slave woman demonstrates that God sees and responds to those society overlooks or mistreats.
Second, Hagar’s naming of God as El Roi (“the God who sees me”) provides profound theological insight about divine character. Her declaration emerges not from abstract speculation but from lived experience of being seen in her suffering. This naming adds to Scripture’s revelation of God as one who notices human pain and responds with compassion.
Third, Hagar’s narrative illustrates how human actions (like Sarah and Abraham’s scheme to fulfill God’s promise through surrogacy) can create suffering while still being incorporated into divine purpose. The text neither condemns nor condones the patriarchal and slave-holding systems that constrained Hagar’s options, but it does show God working within and beyond those systems to bring blessing.
Perhaps most significantly, Hagar’s story challenges theological exclusivism. Her experience of authentic divine encounter and promise running parallel to (not replacing) the covenant with Abraham suggests God’s activity extends beyond expected boundaries. This theological vision anticipates later biblical developments like Jesus’s ministry to those outside the covenant community and the early church’s expansion beyond Jewish boundaries.
What happened to Hagar and Ishmael?
After their second expulsion into the wilderness, the biblical text tells us that “God was with the boy, and he grew up: he lived in the wilderness, and became an expert with the bow” (Genesis 21:20). Hagar found a wife for Ishmael from Egypt, connecting back to her own heritage.
Ishmael later reunites briefly with Isaac at Abraham’s funeral: “His sons Isaac and Ishmael buried him in the cave of Machpelah” (Genesis 25:9). This suggests some form of reconciliation or ongoing family connection even though the earlier separation.
Genesis 25:12-18 records Ishmael’s descendants, twelve sons who became tribal leaders, and notes that he died at the age of 137. The text describes his descendants as living “from Havilah to Shur, which is opposite Egypt in the direction of Assyria” (Genesis 25:18).
Hagar herself disappears from the biblical narrative after the wilderness provision in Genesis 21. Some Jewish traditions identify her with Keturah, whom Abraham married after Sarah’s death (Genesis 25:1), suggesting a return to Abraham’s household, but the biblical text itself doesn’t make this connection explicit.
In Islamic tradition, Hagar’s story continues beyond the biblical account. She and Ishmael are understood to have settled in Mecca, where Abraham later visited them and together with Ishmael built the Kaaba. Hagar’s desperate search for water between the hills became the basis for the sa’i ritual performed during Hajj, and the well God provided (Zamzam) remains a sacred site.