In what appears to be a most despicable act of utter cruelty the Torah describes how Hagar, after being expelled once again, having run out of water and roaming the desert in desperate search for water, suddenly discovers that her son Yishmael is passing out and dying of thirst. In what seems as an act of selfish desperation, she ‘casts off the boy beneath one of the trees’, proceeds to distance herself from him and blurts out selfishly, as if to herself, “Let me not see the death of the child.”
Could it be that Hagar, a member of Avraham’s inspired household for at least sixteen years, was so barbaric to ‘toss away her son’ and not offer him at least the warmth of a loving mother in his last moments of life?
The verse refers to this ‘tree’ she threw him under as, אחד השיחים, one of the bushes.
The Holy Kohen of Tzefas, the Sifsei Kohen, points out that the use of the term שִֹיחַ as opposed to more normative אִילָן to describe this tree is instructive. שיח is also the word that means dialogue or conversation.
There was a significant and heart rending conversation taking place here between Hagar and G-d. Hagar pointedly asks of G-d if indeed Yishmael is destined to die from thirst how then will His earlier promise to her, of a child that would reign over his brothers, be fulfilled. Yishmael too interjects, questioning G-d how He could have promised his father Avraham, “But regarding Yishmael I have heard you”, if he is about to die?
It was the result of this penetrating dialogue that ultimately Yishmael and Hagar’s pleas were accepted and thus saved. This location, the Sifsei Kohen asserts, is therefore very appropriately named שיחים, denoting the fateful שיח, conversation that took place there.
In fact it is attributed to the Holy Seer of Lublin that at the times when it appears that all prayers have gone unanswered, one may ‘cast’ off the responsibility totally to G-d. It was in the vein of King David’s summons to, השלך על ד' יהבך והוא יכלכלך (תהלים נה כג), Cast upon G-d your burden and He will sustain you”, that Hagar too, after exhausting all her entreaties that she figuratively ‘cast’ Yishmael’s fate into G-d’s hands solely.
Even more fascinating is the claim attributed to one of the greatest scholars and rabbinic figures of nineteenth century Lithuania, Reb Meir Shnipishoker, that 'אחד השיחים' here refers not merely to just ‘one’ of the bushes there, but more significantly to the ‘singular’ amongst all bushes, with the emphasis on the word שיחים and its connotation of שיחה a form of prayer unique to the Patriarchs, as it says לפני ד' ישפוך 'שִֹיחוֹ' (תהלים קב א), And in front of G-d he pours forth his supplication. This, he avers, refers to Mount Moriah, the very spot of the Holy Temple. He adds that the famous sentiment expressed by G-d when He intervened to save Yishmael, despite the prosecution of the angels who sought to condemn Yishmael due to his descendants future crimes against the Jewish nation, expressing that Yishmael nevertheless deserved to be judged 'באשר הוא שם' (כא יז), In his present state, has an additional undercurrent. 'באשר הוא שם' literally translates ‘because He is there’ alluding to the efficacy of prayer on the Temple Mount, the residence of His Divine Presence. It was this special quality of prayer, unique to this exceptional place that warranted G-d’s response.
The implications of this interpretation are mind boggling in light of current events.
Islam is the only religion other than Judaism that is unequivocally monotheistic. Despite their corrupted thinking and cruel and inhumane actions, the fact remains they communicate and converse with a ‘tangible’ G-d, who they rightfully believe hears their misguided supplications. Their history from its very inception, as cited, conveys a reality that He responds to expressions of sincere faith despite an underwhelming unworthiness.
What is the antidote to this frightening reality?
A superficial observation of the story of Hagar and Yishmael draws clear parallels to the concluding narrative of the Akeidah.
Two children of Avraham face possible extinction in the face of clear prophecies having indicated otherwise. In each tale a parent is present and involved. An angel intervenes in both episodes, in the case of Yishmael to reveal a well of water, and by Yitzchok to stave off the impending slaughter of Yitzchok. The emphasis on ‘one’ of the bushes is echoed in the designated spot for the Akeidah on ‘one’ of the mountains, both as quoted above relating to that most unique of locations, the Temple Mount.
The one glaring contrast though is that one tale is tinged with angst, frustration and despair while the other resounds with utter calmness, quiet joy and purpose despite the apparent pending doom.
What characterizes our nation as distinct from others is not simply our ability to ‘converse’ comfortably with G-d but more importantly to forge forward, despite whatever may loom ahead, with a sense of privilege and joyous conviction knowing that no matter what we may face we are at peace with ourselves and with our relationship with G-d.
This notion of שיחה as prayer, finds its full expression by none other than Yitzchok. When returning from Be’er-LaChai-Roi, ironically the very place where Hagar’s prayers were once answered during her first expulsion from the house of Avraham when she received the blessing of the subsequent birth Yishmael, Yitzchok establishes his contribution of the prayer of Mincha.
ויצא יצחק לשוח בשדה - בראשית כד סג, Yitzchok went out to supplicate in the field.
The verb for prayer used here is לשוח, literally to converse. He ‘converses’ in the שדה, the field being an allusion to the Temple Mount that Yitzchok describes as a ‘field’.
(פסחים פח. תוס' ברכות לד: ד"ת חציף)
There seems to be a inherent connection to this mode of prayer and the field, what might that be?
The very first reference to prayer is when the Torah reports how during creation,וכל 'שִֹיחַ' השדה , All the trees of the field, had not yet sprouted since it hadn’t rained because it required man to first come into existence so he may pray for it. (בראשית א ה ורש"י שם)
The Midrash reveals that trees are called שיח, because the trees ‘talk to one another’. If you listen to the wind rustling through the branches and leaves of the trees you can hear a ‘conversation’ taking place amongst them.
שיחה, a conversation, a shmooze, implies a quiet interaction between friends, free from tension, a moment laced with warmth and understanding. Trees ‘shmooze’ because the trees humble and bend themselves before the winds, allowing for a free flowing ‘breeze’ that creates the imagery of soft and endearing conversation.
A young husband once sought counsel from the great and insightful Mashgiach, HaRav Shlomo Wolbe, on how to properly celebrate his wedding anniversary with his wife. The Mashgiach told him to make a reservation at a quiet restaurant, request a candlelit table in the back and talk to his wife in whispered tones. He dutifully followed the advice and had a marvelous time. He went afterwards to thank the Mashgiach and couldn’t help himself from inquiring how the Mashgiach was so well informed in matters of romance. The Mashgiach smiled widely and told him that he engages in it every day. When we pray we converse intimately with G-d. Each of us removed from the hustle and bustle of life standing quietly alone with G-d at a proverbial ‘candlelit table’, whispering expressions of love and devotion.
Yitzchok lived every moment in quiet conversation with G-d. Even as the glint in the blade of his father’s knife flashed before his eyes, יצחק ירנן, Yitzchok exulted. (ב"י או"ח רצ"ב)
Rebbe Nachman of Breslov teaches: Know! When a person prays in the fields, all the flora enters into the prayer, helping him and strengthening his prayer. This is the reason prayer is called conversation, the concept of Siach. All the shrubs of the field empower and assist his prayer.
This is the concept of ‘And Yitzchak went out laSuach, to converse in the field his prayer was with the help and power of the field. All the flora of the field empowered and assisted his prayer, on account of which prayer is called Sichah. (ליקוטי מהר"ן ב ב)
Whether we venture literally in the forest or not in Hisbodedus, we can each nevertheless access this power of Sichah. We must learn to constantly ‘converse’ calmly with G-d during all our encounters in life, developing an intimacy that only the descendants of Yitzchok can possibly attain. It is that skill that earns us the right of heirs to the legacy of Avraham and to that most intimate of locations, the Bais HaMikdash, the veritable ‘bridal suite’ of our relationship.
May we rise to the opportunity we have every moment of our lives to engage in an ongoing warm conversation with G-d. It will allay frustration, empowering us to display before the entire world what a true and deep relationship with G-d entails. The resulting inspired and contemplative dignity that accompanies everything we do and every interaction we engage in is what will merit us our final homecoming speedily in our days.
באהבה,
צבי טייכמאן