The Sacrifices of Isaac and Ishmael

Reading Genesis 22 in light of Genesis 21

In Genesis 22, God gives Abraham a soul-searing command: “Take now your son, your only son, whom you love, Isaac, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains of which I will tell you” (Genesis 22:2, NASB).

Abraham obeys, taking Isaac up the mountain, raising his knife to slay him as a sacrifice … and then an angel’s voice cries, “Do not harm him!” A ram caught in a nearby thicket becomes the acceptable sacrifice on Isaac’s behalf.

If we stop to think about it, it’s a disturbing story.

Often, we don’t stop to think about it, because Christian interpreters have long glossed over the episode by focusing on typology—saying that Isaac and the ram both point forward to Jesus, the Son of God, who was sacrificed on our behalf.

Photo by Tom Bradley on Unsplash

And sure—that’s one level of meaning. But by itself, that explanation doesn’t feel fully satisfying, does it? Why would God put Abraham (and Isaac!) through all that just to give us a little bit of dramatic foreshadowing? And didn’t this story need to have a point back when it was written? (I’m just saying.)

“Well, God is testing Abraham’s faith,” you might say. “By his willingness to sacrifice Isaac, Abraham proves that he is willing to remain faithful to God no matter what.” The story is often taught that way.

Jared Dodson writes that the point isn’t Abraham’s faith but God’s intervention. In a world in which human sacrifice was normal, Abraham behaves according to expected tropes:

Abraham does not demonstrate tremendous faith in this story, nor does he fail significantly, he does exactly as you would expect someone in his time and culture to do. It is God’s interruption that is shocking. …

It is the shouting from the angel of the Lord that suddenly breaks the tension that had been building the entire narrative. This is the central point of the text, that Abraham acts exactly as you would expect, but Yahweh does not. …

In a world where the gods demanded the death of children, the God of Israel stopped the knife.

So, in Dodson’s reading, the story serves as a polemic against human sacrifice, demonstrating that, unlike the gods of the other nations, God does not require the sacrifice of his people’s children. In unison with the angel who intervenes to save Isaac, the story calls, “Do not harm him!” to parents who are contemplating the sacrifice of a child. Many Jewish readers—who don’t accept the typological reading for obvious reasons—concur on this interpretation.

That’s another puzzle piece that helps us make sense of the story.

But I want to propose another reading: We cannot understand the Binding of Isaac in Genesis 22 apart from Abraham’s treatment of Hagar in Genesis 21.¹ These two narratives have striking structural parallels and are separated by only one other story. They’re designed to be read side by side.

So, let’s put these two stories in conversation with each other and see what happens. Pay attention to the color-coordinated highlights in each set of passages that draw attention to parallel language or events! And let me know in the comments if you find additional connections that I didn’t highlight!

Beginning

Now Sarah saw the son of Hagar the Egyptian, whom she had borne to Abraham, mocking Isaac. Therefore she said to Abraham, “Drive out this slave woman and her son, for the son of this slave woman shall not be an heir with my son Isaac!” The matter distressed Abraham greatly because of his son Ishmael. But God said to Abraham, “Do not be distressed because of the boy and your slave woman; whatever Sarah tells you, listen to her, for through Isaac your descendants shall be named. And of the son of the slave woman I will make a nation also, because he is your descendant.” (Genesis 21:9–13, NASB)

Now it came about after these things, that God tested Abraham, and said to him, “Abraham!” And he said, “Here I am.” Then He said, “Take now your son, your only son, whom you love, Isaac, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains of which I will tell you.” (Genesis 22:1–2)

So, Sarah—who has a history of badly mistreating Hagar—has turned her attention to Ishmael. Now that Sarah has birthed her own son, she resents Ishmael’s presence. It’s unclear if Ishmael is doing anything wrong here—the word translated as “mocking” can also just mean “laughing.” (It’s also a pun, because Isaac’s name means “laughter.”)

Perhaps Sarah has good reason for wanting to get Ishmael away from Isaac. Or maybe she’s just angry and resentful. Yet, this moment evokes an earlier incident in the Abraham-Sarah-Hagar saga—during Hagar’s pregnancy, a conflict arose between Hagar and Sarah. Then, Sarah treated Hagar so badly that Hagar fled into the wilderness, where she encountered God. With the memory of that story fresh in our minds, it takes little creativity to imagine what will happen next if Hagar and Ishmael remain with Sarah.

Whether to protect Isaac from Ishmael or to protect Ishmael (and Hagar) from Sarah—or both!—God tells Abraham to do as Sarah says and send them away. Abraham’s legacy will continue through Isaac, but God will not forget Ishmael. The enslaved Egyptian woman goes out, free, from Abraham’s household, just as the enslaved descendants of Abraham will one day go out from Egypt.

Fast forward to the next chapter. God again speaks to Abraham about a son: “Take now your son, your only son, whom you love, Isaac.”

“Your only son.” That’s pointed wording, isn’t it? And in a sense, it’s true. Ishmael has been sent away fatherless; he is no longer a member of Abraham’s household. Isaac is the remaining son. But the language catches us, because we know that Abraham does have another son, now distant and estranged. The story takes this moment to remind us of Ishmael.

Provisions

So Abraham got up early in the morning and took bread and a skin of water, and gave them to Hagar, putting them on her shoulder, and gave her the boy, and sent her away. And she departed and wandered about in the wilderness of Beersheba. (Genesis 21:14)

So Abraham got up early in the morning and saddled his donkey, and took two of his young men with him and his son Isaac; and he split wood for the burnt offering, and set out and went to the place of which God had told him. (Genesis 22:3)

In both stories, Abraham gets up early in the morning and prepares supplies for a journey. For his own trip, he takes two enslaved men and a pack animal; they are well supplied for their week in the wilderness. But Hagar—embarking on a wilderness journey of indefinite length—receives only the bread and water she can carry on her shoulder.

Why is this detail so important? Well, God told Abraham that he could send out Hagar and Ishmael. He did not say that Abraham could send them out so poorly provisioned. And Abraham was wealthy! He could’ve easily spared a well-laden donkey, a couple of male bodyguards/guides to make sure she reached a city safely, and some personal wealth to ensure she could set herself up with something to live on. (We are invited here to remember, perhaps, Exodus 12:35–36—that when the Israelites left Egypt, they asked their Egyptian neighbors for clothing and gold and silver jewelry! But here, Hagar receives no such gifts.)

Abraham verbally expresses concern for Ishmael, but with his actions, he exhibits shockingly little concern for the lives of both Ishmael and Hagar.

Parent

When the water in the skin was used up, she left the boy under one of the bushes. Then she went and sat down opposite him, about a bowshot away, for she said, “May I not see the boy die!” And she sat opposite him, and raised her voice and wept. (Genesis 21:15–16)

On the third day Abraham raised his eyes and saw the place from a distance. Then Abraham said to his young men, “Stay here with the donkey, and I and the boy will go over there; and we will worship and return to you.” And Abraham took the wood for the burnt offering and laid it on his son Isaac, and he took in his hand the fire and the knife. So the two of them walked on together. Isaac spoke to his father Abraham and said, “My father!” And he said, “Here I am, my son.” And he said, “Look, the fire and the wood, but where is the lamb for the burnt offering?” Abraham said, “God will provide for Himself the lamb for the burnt offering, my son.” So the two of them walked on together.

Then they came to the place of which God had told him; and Abraham built the altar there and arranged the wood, and bound his son Isaac and laid him on the altar, on top of the wood. And Abraham reached out with his hand and took the knife to slaughter his son. (Genesis 22:4–10)

We reach the moment of highest tension in both stories—in each, the boy is about to die. Notice how differently each parent reacts. Hagar cannot watch; she lays Ishmael under a bush, walks away, and weeps.

But Abraham walks with his son. He is not only willing to watch his son die; he will plunge the knife into him with his own hand. He neither weeps nor cries out to God to spare his son.

Salvation

God heard the boy crying; and the angel of God called to Hagar from heaven and said to her, “What is the matter with you, Hagar? Do not fear, for God has heard the voice of the boy where he is. Get up, lift up the boy, and hold him by the hand, for I will make a great nation of him.” Then God opened her eyes, and she saw a well of water; and she went and filled the skin with water and gave the boy a drink. (Genesis 21:17-19)

But the angel of the Lord called to him from heaven and said, “Abraham, Abraham!” And he said, “Here I am.” He said, “Do not reach out your hand against the boy, and do not do anything to him; for now I know that you fear God, since you have not withheld your son, your only son, from Me.” Then Abraham raised his eyes and looked, and behold, behind him was a ram caught in the thicket by its horns; and Abraham went and took the ram and offered it up as a burnt offering in the place of his son. And Abraham named that place The Lord Will Provide, as it is said to this day, “On the mountain of the Lord it will be provided.”

Then the angel of the Lord called to Abraham a second time from heaven, and said, “By Myself I have sworn, declares the Lord, because you have done this thing and have not withheld your son, your only son, indeed I will greatly bless you, and I will greatly multiply your seed as the stars of the heavens and as the sand, which is on the seashore; and your seed shall possess the gate of their enemies. And in your seed all the nations of the earth shall be blessed, because you have obeyed My voice.” (Genesis 22:11-18)

In both stories, the angel of the Lord calls from heaven to intervene. Hagar and Abraham look up and notice the salvation that God has already provided—in one case a well, in the other a ram for sacrifice. And the angel reiterates that each boy will father a great nation.

When the angel speaks to Abraham the second time, he reiterates God’s promises from Genesis 12, 15, and 18. The link to Genesis 18 is especially interesting. In Genesis 18, right after the Lord tells Abraham that Sarah will give birth to Isaac, he reveals to Abraham the impending destruction of Sodom:

The LORD said, “Shall I hide from Abraham what I am about to do, seeing that Abraham shall become a great and mighty nation, and all the nations of the earth shall be blessed in him? No, for I have chosen him, that he may charge his children and his household after him to keep the way of the LORD by doing righteousness and justice; so that the LORD may bring about for Abraham what he has promised him.” (Genesis 18:17-19)

(An aside: Abraham then pleads for God to spare Sodom, negotiating over and over again. It’s interesting that Abraham is willing to negotiate with God for the city of Sodom, but he never pleads for his son’s life. I’ll likely return to this story in a few weeks to tease this idea out more. But this might suggest that there was more than one way for Abraham to pass God’s test.)²

Here, Abraham’s family is charged to do righteousness and justice so that the Lord may bring about what he’s promised. God suggests that there is some level of conditionality to his promise to Abraham and his descendants—they must do righteousness and justice.

It’s significant, then, that the text lingers on Hagar, that the story of Hagar and Ishmael in the desert parallels the Binding of Isaac.

Abraham has not done righteousness and justice for Hagar. He used her sexually for her fertility. He permitted Sarah’s abuse of her. And once Isaac was born, he sent Hagar and Ishmael out into the desert with nothing but the food and water they could carry.

Abraham has already sent one son out to his death—only divine intervention saves Ishmael. And then God commands Abraham to take the promised son to his death—and only divine intervention saves Isaac. The Binding of Isaac serves as both a limited judgment and a warning. Because Abraham, with his failure to do righteousness and justice, has violated the terms of the deal, God has every right to deal out judgment—to declare the covenant broken, end Abraham’s line, and choose someone else.

But he doesn’t. Because God is faithful even when we aren’t.

But Abraham still has to come face to face with what he’s done to Hagar and Ishmael. He, too, must experience the horror of nearly watching his son die, the dread of traveling for days in the wilderness, awaiting the inevitable.

Wives

And God was with the boy, and he grew; and he lived in the wilderness and became an archer. He lived in the wilderness of Paran, and his mother took a wife for him from the land of Egypt. (Genesis 21:20–21)

Then Abraham returned to his servants, and they set off together for Beersheba. And Abraham stayed in Beersheba.

Now it came about after these things, that Abraham was told, saying, “Behold, Milcah also has borne children to your brother Nahor: Uz his firstborn, Buz his brother, Kemuel (the father of Aram), Chesed, Hazo, Pildash, Jidlaph, and Bethuel”— and it was Bethuel who fathered Rebekah. These eight Milcah bore to Nahor, Abraham’s brother. His concubine, whose name was Reumah, also gave birth to Tebah, Gaham, Tahash, and Maacah. (Genesis 22:19–24).

Both accounts wrap up with a postscript about the wives of Ishmael and Isaac. Hagar finds Ishmael a wife from among her own people; though the full story of Isaac and Rebekah comes later, the text here alludes to Rebekah, who comes from Abraham’s own people.

This may just be another point of parallelism in the stories, and I don’t want to press it too hard. But I find it interesting that it ends here, on the subject of Ishmael’s and Isaac’s wives, since these stories are downstream of the conflict between Abraham’s wives (or more accurately, the primary wife’s behavior toward the secondary wife).

Between

One final detail—remember how I said that there’s one story that happens between these two accounts? It’s Abraham’s covenant with Abimelech. There, an exchange happens—Abraham gifts ewe lambs (sheep!) and Abimelech returns a well of water.

I don’t know exactly how this story fits in with the episodes on either side of it, but it strikes me as significant that the two men exchange a well of water (corresponding to Ishmael’s salvation) and sheep (corresponding to Isaac’s salvation). It’s yet another sign that the verbal echoes aren’t incidental—they’re central to what the author of Genesis is doing.

The God Who Sees

Abraham didn’t see Hagar. But God did.

Chapters earlier, when a pregnant Hagar fled into the wilderness, she encountered and named God: El Roi, the God who sees. God saw Hagar then. God saw the mistreatment she was subjected to in Abraham and Sarah’s household. God saw her parched with thirst in the desert, weeping over her son.

The authors of Genesis didn’t have to include these details. They didn’t have to write the story of Hagar’s exodus and the Binding of Isaac as parallel accounts. It’s worth asking why they did.

It’s important that God has always seen Hagar—the powerless, abused, discarded character. It’s important that God gives Abraham a taste of her pain. And it’s important for all of us to reckon with how seriously God takes our treatment of the vulnerable.

May we do righteousness and justice.

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1. I was alerted to Genesis 21 and 22 as parallel texts in a conversation with Brittany Kim.

2. This is inspired, in part, by J. Richard Middleton, Abraham’s Silence: The Binding of Isaac, the Suffering of Job, and How to Talk Back to God, (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2021). Though I don’t think I go as far as Middleton does.