The desert was hot, the work was hard, and a life of slavery was not one to be envied. Not only was she considered unimportant in society, but she had probably traveled with Abram and Sarai much farther than she had ever hoped to go. It may have seemed like good luck to her at first: being “acquired” by a rich couple as they came through Egypt (Gen 12:10), and becoming a personal maid to this beautiful woman. It was not only a chance at something new, but they claimed to be following the “true” god, and to be “chosen” for some special purpose. In fact, she had probably helped pitch the tent in various Places from the Negeb to Bethel (13:2), watching as the altars were erected and hoping that this god was worth more than these fancy structures.

But she remained simply “the slave-girl” (16:2), as invisible as a child, as meaningless as extra baggage. She had no voice in the community, no rights in the family, no recognition for the gifts she brought with her. Her youth, her race, her gender, and her position were all against her. It was only to the few like herself that she had a name: Hagar.

One day, all that began to change. Hagar received the opportunity of a lifetime—her status would be elevated, she was finally to be valued, she would become the “second” wife, a concubine. Codes written by the Hurrians show that this was normal procedure to protect the family name. If the first wife could not produce, she was allowed to pick a “surrogate’’ who would then be treated as part of the family. The child would be “adopted” by the “primary” wife, and would be seen as a rightful heir. Sarai, aware of her duties as wife, legally chose a way to fulfill her duty. And that way was Hagar.

Even with this new prestige, Hagar was unrecognized and unnamed. To Sarai she was a means to an end; to Abram, she was a vessel to allow a promise to be fulfilled. Neither spoke her name.

“And Abram went in to Hagar, and she conceived” (16:4). Hagar finally tasted recognition, a place where she was wanted, and it felt good. It felt good to be seen as more than just an extra person in the community, it felt good to be important, it felt good to have her body work for her instead of against her, but the joy was to be short-lived. Soon, legal rights were again invoked. Hagar was allowed to do only certain things, and stepping out of place gave Sarai the right to be offended.

So Sarai “abused” Hagar (16:6). The patriarch stood by as the matriarch handed out painful abuse. Abram and Sarai, the family, the leaders of the community that stood for the “true” god, became the major source of Hagar’s pain. And that became more than Hagar could bear. Pregnant, and sure she would die out in the desert alone, Hagar ran. She ran, hoping to get away from the pain, the dashed hopes, the visions of a redemptive religion. And she ran until a voice stopped her.

“Hagar, slave-girl of Sarai, where have you come from and where are you going?” (16:8) It was amazing—someone knew her name—her worth, her pain, her history. And the temporal bonds which she had lived with were recognized as well. And then God gave Hagar a promise—the same one God had given to Abram! The blessing of progeny, a special son, a future, and a place in history The lowest ranking, the least recognized, received the same promise and recognition as the wealthy, powerful man.

More radical things were yet to occur. At a well, Hagar was met with a theophany—an appearing of God—and reclaimed her own power. Hagar named God. She did not call on one of God’s names. She did not describe God. She used the naming formula which acknowledges the power and authority of the one naming, and with those words, took her experience in the wilderness, the dryness of her life, the chance to listen and speak with God, and named her own experience. To Yahweh, God of Abram and Sarai, she claimed: “You are El-roi!” El-Roi—the God of seeing. Hagar had been seen, and she had seen God. 

She recognized that her experience with God was important, and that the powerless and unrecognized had something powerful to say to the community-that being underutilized, overlooked or coming out of a family of abuse and pain, can all be turned around with the naming of one’s own experience with God. God indeed “sees.” With eyes opened, Hagar saw the abuse of the law beginning to fade. The importance of community, structure, and truth were matched by experience. Hagar was able to return to Sarai, and bore Abram a son, bringing life, continuity, and a living experience with God.