Although this story falls in the middle of the Abram narrative (Genesis 12–25), and is linked both to his future (in the form of descendants) and to his covenant with God (in terms of God's keeping of God's promise to make Abram a ‘great nation’; Genesis 12:2), Abram is not a central figure in Genesis 16. Instead, this is a story about and between two women, both of whom have a controlling stake in the future direction of Abram’s fate, whether in an active or a passive manner. 

How we understand the function and role of those women is essential when it comes to viewing artworks which recall their stories. For example, if we choose to accept Athalya Brenner-Idan’s suggestion that Hagar and Sarai are intended to represent two incomplete women who become one whole person when combined (Brenner-Idan 2017: 92), then Thomas Rowlandson’s image becomes more than a lewd reference to a three-way relationship between Hagar, Abram, and Sarai. Instead, we might see Hagar as the polar opposite of Sarai and recognize that Abram is the connection between the two. As such, the two women rely on his presence so that their own stories can be understood and contextualized. Abram is the pivot around which their stories turn.   

If we refute Brenner-Idan’s claim, however, we can be helped to liberate the women from their reliance on Abram as a connecting factor and as such, perhaps better understand and empathize with their experiences. Artists can help us with this process through various artistic choices which may emphasize or obscure particular details.

In Jean-François Millet’s painting, for example, the imagery of the hot and barren landscape is both a reflection of, and a contrast with, Hagar and Ishmael’s immediate situation. It is a reflection insofar as Hagar is herself in despair. Her son appears lifeless, much like the desert around them. It is a contrast because—though Hagar is in distress and Ishmael appears at least near death—the survival of both still remains a possibility, just as there is life in the small piece of shrub which grows in the background of the image. So even the contrast opens an insight into elements of Hagar’s destiny that are yet to be revealed.

In Frederick Walker’s painting of a ‘fallen’ woman, we are encouraged to view the situation of Hagar and other ‘non-conforming’ mothers from such women’s perspectives. We are given the opportunity to see that they may be part of a harsh and inhospitable environment; that their struggle for survival can become an epic quest; but that their futures will nevertheless always be uncertain. Walker’s painting triumphs here because it also communicates the sense of isolation and loneliness which often accompanies such journeys.

The scholarly idea of pairs of women ‘mirroring’ each other to make a ‘complete’ women may be less a key to the interpretation of artworks like Rowlandson’s (and others), and more, perhaps, a reflection of how viewers’ assumptions can sometimes operate in relation to such works. More specifically, it can reveal patriarchal assumptions that women are incomplete if they do not possess a variety of character traits. Such androcentric assumptions often underpin the way women perceive themselves and other women around them.

In the case of the works in this exhibition, it may be less the works’ artists than their viewers (whether male or female) who seek to avoid facing the reality of Hagar’s situation. Viewers may be tempted to focus only on the heroic elements of her story (as we find them in Walker’s or Millet’s works) or on the titillating aspects of her narrative (as we are confronted with them in Rowlandson’s watercolour). But distorting the reality of Hagar’s—and Ishmael’s—story by such a selective focus cushions the blow of the harsh reality behind it.

Reflection upon Hagar’s situation in Genesis 16—where her enslavement leads to enforced pregnancy and ultimately to banishment—can play an important part in deepening our interpretation of, and enlarging our response to, these artworks. Conversely, when viewed attentively, Rowlandson’s, Walker’s, and Millet’s works may help to awaken our discomfort as we read the biblical text. Even if only small glimpses, they open a little more of Hagar’s reality to us than we may initially want to see. If these works begin to take us in such directions, it is a journey we should continue.

References

Brenner-Idan. Athalya. 2017. The Israelite Woman: Social Role and Literary Type in Biblical Narrative (London: T&T Clark: London)