From Despair to Hope: A Torah Model

Rachael Turkienicz

One of the most challenging instances in life is when we begin to move from sadness to despair. This transition often involves feelings of isolation and hopelessness. Once despair sets in, a person’s perspectives can narrow, and the ability to move beyond the despairing moment minimizes. The Torah narrative of Hagar’s exile into the wilderness with her son, Ishmael, portrays her journey toward despair, as well as her journey toward its resolution: hope. By carefully reading the verses that detail Hagar’s exile, consulting with parts of Psalms, rabbinic literature, and modern psychological approaches, a model for transitioning from despair to hope can be seen.

From Sadness to Despair

Unlike moments of sadness or grief, despair has a far more all-encompassing aspect to it. According to the American Psychological Association’s dictionary, despair is: “the emotion or feeling of hopelessness, that is, that things are profoundly wrong and will not change for the better. Despair is one of the most negative and destructive of human affects.” There is a narrative within Torah, the exile of Hagar and Ishmael (Genesis 21:14–21), that portrays the human journey from despair to healing.¹ The beginning of the text outlines the dilemma and the beginning stages of despair (Genesis 21:14–16):

וישכם אברהם בבקר ויקח לחם וחמת מים ויתן אל הגר שם על שכמה ואת הילד וישלחה ותלך ותתע במדבר באר שבע‏ ויכלו המים מן החמת ותשלך את הילד תחת אחד השיחם‎ ותלך ותשב לה מנגד הרחק כמטחוי קשת כי אמרה אל אראה במות הילד ותשב מנגד ותשא את קלה ותבך

And Abraham arose early in the morning, and he took bread and a goatskin of water, and he gave them to Hagar, placed it on her shoulder, with her son, and sent her. She went and erred in the wilderness of Beersheba. And the water in the goatskin ceased, and she sent the boy under one of the bushes. And she went and sat by herself opposite, at the distance of an arrow from a bow, because she said, “I must not see the death of the boy.” As she sat opposite, she raised her voice, and she wept.

The description of events, as well as the choice of images and words, paints the picture of someone who is beginning to despair. The Torah depicts increasing challenges, as well as a mindset of personal responsibility, both of which lead to the conclusion of personal failure. Repeated images, as well as words of battle and confrontation, are used to indicate the locked perspective of conflict that repeats in the worldview playing repeatedly in the mind.

Textual Images and Word Choices

On a careful reading of the Hagar narrative, we can see that the Torah presents key signs of a despairing person: an overwhelming load, feelings of being lost and rejected, a narrowing of perception, and an effort to position oneself in opposition to or in conflict with one’s surroundings. We see in Hagar a person who has descended to the lowest spiritual and psychological levels. If such a person is left alone, there is a strong possibility of extreme outcomes.

The Load is Overwhelming

Hagar has been exiled into the wilderness with her son, and with limited supplies. The order of phrases in Genesis 21:14 indicates that Abraham has placed two warm things on Hagar’s shoulders. The Hebrew word for “goatskin of water” contains the word “warm” in it (חמת מים), and her son, Ishmael, has the warmth of a living child. Hagar is now carrying the water they will need to survive, as well as the life for which she is responsible, on her shoulders. Both these responsibilities are emitting heat as she is cast into the desert, where heat is a primary threat. By playing with this image of warmth and wilderness, the Torah shows that the things normally viewed as reinforcing survival are now being viewed as growing threats.

Although it is Abraham who is exiling her, Hagar never blames him or expresses anger toward him. This may also be explained by the description of Abraham placing these things on her shoulders. Once placed, Hagar bears both the water of their future survival and the child she birthed from the waters of her womb on both her shoulders. This image also shows the shift from carrying Ishmael in her womb to now carrying Ishmael on her shoulders. While he was in her womb, Hagar could provide water for him constantly; now that he is on her shoulder, she cannot give him what he needs, and she now sees this as her failure, not Abraham’s.

Losing the Way

The Torah tells us that, before running out of water, Hagar lost her way in the desert. Hagar is an Egyptian woman and may have been able to return to Egypt had she not become disoriented in the desert. The problem she faces begins not with a lack of resources (water) but with a lack of direction or control. The water running out is now the last measure of loss in that Hagar, the mother, can no longer provide the waters of life for her son. Hagar’s entire focus is on her relationship with her son, which becomes apparent because the loss of water is equally a threat to her own life, but she does not see it.

Rejection

When Abraham rejects Hagar, the verb used is וישלחה, “and he sent her”; when Hagar leaves Ishmael under a bush, the verb used is ותשלך, “and she sent.” This is a strange verb choice for Hagar, as it literally means “to send,” but in her case she seems to be laying her child under the bush. The deliberate use of this verb, especially because it is a constrained use, hints at the place of rejection within despair. Abraham has rejected Hagar by sending her away. Hagar will subsequently reject all meaningful relationships in her life, mirroring the rejection that triggered her despair. A key component of despair is a sense of isolation and rejection, which leads to a narrowing of perspective and connections.²

A Narrowing of Perception

Once the water has stopped, Hagar places Ishmael “under one of the bushes” (Genesis 21:16). In other words, Hagar is sitting at an oasis that has living bushes, a clear sign of the presence of water. The solution to her dilemma is sitting all around her, but Hagar is unable to see it. Hagar’s perceptions have narrowed, such that she is able to process the crisis but cannot see the opportunities for resolution.

Words of Opposition and Conflict

Once Hagar has placed Ishmael under the bush, the Torah says that she sat at a distance from him (Genesis 21:16). The exact description is ותשב לה מנגד, which literally means “and she sat in opposition.” In fact, the phrase repeats later in the same verse, emphasizing that she has positioned herself in conflict with, or opposition to, the events. The language becomes stronger when the distance being described is כמטחוי קשת, “like the distance of an arrow from a bow.” The text has used the image of a weapon to describe the measure of Hagar’s distance. A bow and arrow would be used either to attack or to hunt. In either case, Hagar is feeling that she is being preyed upon, as if she has been targeted.

The Portrait of Despair

Abraham Maslow’s Pyramid (1943) represents a hierarchy of human needs beginning with a broad base structure of physiological needs. This base covers the essential needs of food, warmth, water, and rest. The pyramid builds upward through needs of safety, belongingness and love, esteem, and culminates with self-actualization. According to Abraham Maslow’s hierarchy of human needs, Hagar has been deprived of all stages listed on the hierarchy. The resulting psychology is one of despair, a struggle to survive.

There is a commonly accepted notion that a person needs to “hit rock bottom” before rebuilding. The idea is that, while sitting at the bottom, they would understand that there is only one direction of movement, and that is upward. However, there is a second option to someone in this position: rather than choosing to move upward, the person might choose to opt out entirely. It is important to recognize when the spiral has reached its lowest point, since connecting in that moment may make all the difference in which choice the person will make. Connecting means meeting the person where they are without offering platitudes of how things will get better.³

The Torah’s Response to Hagar

The Torah’s response to Hagar’s despair is related in the verses that immediately follow the incident (Genesis 21:17–19):

וישמע א–להים את קול הנער ויקרא מלאך א–להים אל הגר מן השמים ויאמר לה מה לך הגר אל תיראי כי שמע א–להים אל קול הנער באשר הוא שם: קומי שאי את הנער והחזיקי את ידך בו כי לגוי גדול אשימנו: ויפקח א–להים את עיניה ותרא באר מים ותלך ותמלא את החמת מים ותשק את הנער:

 And God heard the voice of the lad, and an angel of God called to Hagar from the sky and said to her: “What [is upon] you, Hagar? Do not be afraid, for God has heard the voice of the lad from where he is. Rise up, carry the lad, and strengthen your hand with his, for I will place him as a great nation.” And God opened her eyes and she saw a well of water, and she went, filled the goatskin of water, and fed water to the lad.

As the narrative progresses, we are told that Ishmael has also been despairing and crying out: “And God heard the voice of the lad.” In fact, the angel tells Hagar: “God has heard the voice of the lad from where he is.” Although we are told of Hagar’s dilemma, we must not forget that Ishmael is doing worse and is at death’s door. The focus now shifts from Hagar as the victim to Hagar as the support person.

Moving toward Hope

The Torah now outlines the initial stages involved in approaching Hagar and changing her perspective. The first words spoken are words of inquiry: “What [is upon] you?” is an open-ended question of outreach that allows the person to describe what they are seeing and feeling—or, conversely, what they are not seeing or feeling.

The angel immediately proceeds to give instructions to Hagar and explain what she must do to save Ishmael. The instructions are simple and easy to follow: stand up, walk over to him, touch him, cradle him, hold his hand. Each step on its own is small but addresses parts of the isolation Hagar must overcome to help her son—to simply be present with him, no words exchanged except the offer of companionship, and to move from there to caring gestures such as touching hands, in order to strengthen each other with the power of presence and contact. Throughout it all, the angel does not tell Hagar to say anything, because sometimes words can themselves become the barriers.

Michelle Friedman, a psychiatrist who founded and directs the pastoral program at Yeshivat Chovevei Torah, notes: “What clergy do wrong is leaning forward and talking too much. In their own anxiety, they are not believing in the power of pastoral listening and hospitality. People feel like they have to make it better, to fill the space with words. They really need to quiet down.”⁴ This subtle sentiment is also present in Jewish traditions of visiting mourners at a shiva house. It is the presence of the visitor that is comforting, not necessarily the words of comfort, which can sometimes sound like platitudes. The person visiting—or, in the Hagar text, the person supporting—initially takes the role of listener. At times, subtle and small physical gestures of contact breach the isolation far more effectively than words.

Although we hear that Hagar raised her voice to sob, we are told that God heard the voice of Ishmael. Genesis Rabbah 53,19 comments on this change of subject and connects it to the phrase “from where he is”: באשר הוא שם. בזכות עצמו. יפה תפילת החולה לעצמו יותר מכל, “‘From where he is.’ On his own merit. The prayer of the one who is ailing is preferred over all others.” Genesis Rabbah states that God hears Ishmael’s cries first because Ishmael is more desperate than Hagar in this moment. The midrash clearly states that a person must be strengthened to reach out on their own behalf. Empowerment can be found in self-advocacy, in finding one’s own voice.

This concept is reinforced in the Talmud, Bava Metziʾa 33a: אבדתו ואבדת אביו אבדתו קודמת אבדתו ואבדת רבו שלו קודם, “We learn (Mishnah), his own lost article and the lost article of his father, his own lost article takes precedence. And [as regards] the lost article of his rabbi, his own takes precedence.” The Talmud lists the comparisons between us and those people in our lives we have been commanded to respect and revere. Although one might assume that the commandment to respect a father or a rabbi would be prioritized first, it is self-care that gains importance when feeling disadvantaged.

The same midrash in Genesis Rabbah (53,19) also discusses the latitude of assessment in the moment of despair. It is not about what was or what will be; it is singularly about what is within this moment. Genesis Rabbah presents a discussion between God and the angels as God is preparing to save Ishmael:

אמרו לפניו רבון העולמים אדם שהוא עתיד להמית בניך מצמא, את מעלה לו באר? א׳׳ל עכשו מה הוא, צדיק או רשע? אמרו לו, צדיק. א׳׳ל איני דן את האדם אלא בשעתו.

They said before Him: “Master of Eternities, a person who is destined in the future to kill your children by thirst, You raise a well for him?” He said to them, “Right now, what is he, righteous or wicked?” They said to Him, “Righteous.” He said to them, “I do not judge a person except for in his [present] moment.”⁵

Genesis Rabbah has narrowed the context to be this moment of time, while ruling out a discussion of the future. To begin the support for someone who is despairing is to enter the current moment of despair with them, not to begin with predicting a future. Only once the support person is standing alongside them can the discussion entertain unknown futures.

When the angel says “For I will place him as a great nation” (Genesis 21:18), the angel is now introducing a future that looks quite different than either the present moment or even what logical hope might have predicted. The statement explores the aspect of creating the possibility of the unknown. It broadens the narrow perspective on the moment and invites the person to imagine what could be.

The Torah then states that God opens Hagar’s eyes so she can see the well of water. It does not say that God creates a well; rather, the well had been there all along, but Hagar’s despair made her blind to its existence. Once the angel opens the door of possibility in her mind, Hagar can entertain the opportunities that are around and see them as possibilities.

The final verse has Hagar refilling the water from the well, an endless source of water, and seeing herself again as the protective mother to her son. This image is solidified when the text says את הנער ותשק, which means “she fed him water,” but the verb also alludes to a kiss. She is now giving Ishmael water both from the well and from her lips—the physical and the emotional/spiritual are replenished.

While the Torah provides the basis for understanding this portrait of despair and hope, it is only the outline within which the remaining texts find their expressions.

The View from Within: Psalms Can Enter the Moment

Following the example of the Torah and the midrash, an important step in supporting someone is to enter the moment they are experiencing, rather than try and force them to enter yours. The book of Psalms is filled with texts that speak to the moment of sadness from within and allow the reader to unapologetically explore its realms. It is to enter the human heart and walk around.

The psalms that describe the despairing heart from the inside validate its pain. The psalmist does not retreat from the recognition that a person can legitimately feel abandoned, isolated, and betrayed. These verses can be used to sit together with a person and enter the heartache they feel. We see this, for example, in Psalm 22:

(ב) א–לי א–לי למה עזבתני רחוק מישועתי דברי שאגתי: (ג) א–להי אקרא יומם ולא תענה ולילה ולא דומיה לי: (ד) ואתה קדוש יושב תהלות ישראל:...(ח) כל ראי ילעגו לי יפטירו בשפה יניעו ראש:...(י) כי אתה גחי מבטן מבטיחי על שדי אמי: (יא) עליך השלכתי מרחם מבטן אמי א–לי אתה: (יב) אל תרחק ממני כי צרה קרובה כי אין עוזר:

My God, my God, why have you abandoned me, far from helping me when I roared my words? My God, I call to You all day and You do not answer, and at night, and You make no appearance to me. But You are the Holy One who sits on the praises of Israel… All those who see me will mock me, they will open with their lips and they will shake their head… Because You drew me from the womb, You gave me promise at my mother’s breast. I was cast upon You from the womb, from my mother’s womb You are my God. Do not make Yourself far from me, because crisis is close, and there is no one there to help me.

The psalm begins with the validation of feeling abandoned, alone, and betrayed. It incriminates God for remaining silent in the face of beseeching words. The verbs of the first four verses speak of a present and ongoing unanswered outreach. There is no reprieve, whether it is day or night. Sitting with no answer, the psalmist reminds God that God sits on Israel’s praises. The unspoken disconnect is the complete divine disengagement from the painful outreach of someone who belongs to those who praise.

The psalm continues to explore the details of the human rejection experienced by the writer. It is in their spoken words and in their body language; it is both overt and subtle, but it is present and unending. The verbs now change to future tense. It reflects the viewpoint of a person in despair who believes that what is currently happening will continue to happen endlessly, with no change or improvement. To this point, the words of the psalm, when shared with a person in pain, creates a point at which the support person can enter the pain through validation, with no comfort offered. Any words of comfort would be understood as undermining the reality of the experience in its personal and spiritual depth and trauma.

The psalmist then expresses the reality that life exists because God wills it, and the writer therefore has no choice but to feel bonded with God. God was present at birth and through infancy, as the writer was sheltered and nourished by his mother’s breast. The psalm explains that an acceptance of God occurred in those most gentle moments when the world was reduced to God and the mother, both anchoring the new life. The fact that no one else is mentioned in the poem excludes all those who mock and will continue to mock. They have never been part of the essential picture. They are insignificant.

The language of the psalm now switches to the imperative verb form. It does not beseech but demands—אל תרחק, “Do not make Yourself far!”—ultimately stating that God’s presence is the constant, and God must stand beside him.

Modern religious pastoral care teaches clergy to understand how and when to bring God into the discussion. Theresa Clement Tisdale, Carrie E. Doehring, and Veneta Lorraine-Poriere⁶ present a case study outlining the following steps for pastoral support and care:

The importance of listening to the theological language used by the person. Entering the moment of despair to stand with the person affected includes listening first to establish common theological language and perspective.

Once the language is established, the discussion can explore the theological structure within which the person views the crisis: one of sin; personal or societal; is there promise in redemption; does the person believe in personal salvation etc.

Throughout the conversations, it is important to note if the person has maintained or changed their understanding of God in their lives, and whether the crisis has affected this or triggered it.

By using the Psalm 22 excerpts or similar verses, the discussion around God and the person’s feelings of religious context can be explored and validated. It is important to allow the suffering person to articulate spiritual feelings, and this can be encouraged by asking questions such as: What were they and what are they now? When did the change occur? What would be the ideal picture? Where do they feel God’s absence?

The journey of the psalmist toward empowerment, self-advocacy, and direct theological dialogue now includes the perspectives presented within modern pastoral literature.

Words of Comfort Can Become Words of Pain

Even as a support person might intend to bring comfort and relief, it is often easy to fall back on long held cultural beliefs that may no longer hold true. “Misery loves company” can lead someone to offer examples of suffering, believing that this will soothe the sufferer. This strategy often backfires, as it may end up adding more pain or fear to the situation or rendering the uniqueness of their moment less important.

Chapter 14 of Avot deRabbi Natan describes a situation of crisis and the responses it received:

כשמת בנו של רבן יוחנן בן זכאי נכנסו תלמידיו לנחמו נכנס רבי אליעזר וישב לפניו ואמר ליה רבי רצונך אומר דבר אחד לפניך. אמר לו אמור. אמר לו אדם הראשון היה לו בן ומת וקבל עליו תנחומין, ומנין שקבל עליו תנחומין שנאמר וידע אדם עוד את אשתו (בראשית ד׳ כ׳ה) אף אתה קבל תנחומין. אמר לו לא די לי שאני מצטער בעצמי אלא הזכרת לי צערו של אדם הראשון. נכנס רבי יהושע ואמר לו רצונך אומר דבר לפניך. אמר לו אמור. אמר לו איוב היו לו בנים ובנות ומתו כולם ביום אחד וקבל עליהם תנחומין אף אתה קבל תנחומין. ומנין שקבל איוב תנחומין שנאמר ה׳ נתן וה׳ לקח יהי שם ה׳ מבורך (איוב א׳ כ׳א). אמר לו לא די לי שאני מצטער בעצמי אלא שהזכרת לי צערו של איוב. נכנס רבי יוסי וישב לפניו אמר לו רבי רצונך אומר דבר לפניך. אמר לו אמור. אמר לו אהרן היו לו שני בנים גדולים ומתו שניהם ביום אחד וקבל עליהם תנחומין שנאמר וידם אהרן (ויקרא י׳ ג׳) אין שתיקה אלא תנחומין ואף אתה קבל תנחומין. אמר לו לא די לי שאני מצטער בעצמי אלא שהזכרתני צערו של אהרן. נכנס רבי שמעון ואמר לו רבי רצונך אומר דבר לפניך. אמר לו אמור. אמר לו דוד המלך היה לו בן ומת וקבל תנחומין ואף אתה קבל תנחומין ומנין שקבל דוד תנחומין שנאמר וינחם דוד את בת שבע אשתו ויבא אליה וישכב עמה ותלד בן ויקרא את שמו שלמה (שמואל ב׳ י׳כ כ׳ד) אף אתה רבי קבל תחנומין. אמר לו לא די שאני מצטער בעצמי אלא שהזכרתני צערו של דוד המלך. נכנס רבי אלעזר בן עזריה...וישב לפניו ואמר לו אמשול לך משל למה הדבר דומה לאדם שהפקיד אצלו המלך פקדון. בכל יום ויום היה בוכה וצועק ואומר אוי לי אימתי אצא מן הפקדון הזה בשלום. אף אתה רבי היה לך בן קרא תורה מקרא נביאים וכתובים משנה הלכות ואגדות ונפטר מן העולם בלא חטא ויש לקבל עליך תנחומין כשהחזרת פקדונך שלם. אמר לו רבי יוחנן, אלעזר בני נחמתני כדרך שבני אדם מנחמין.

When Rabban Yoḥanan ben Zakkai’s son died, his disciples came to comfort him. Rabbi Eliezer entered, sat before him, and said, “Master, by your will, may I say one thing to you?” He said to him, “Speak.” Rabbi Eliezer said, “Adam had a son who died, yet he accepted comfort over him. And from where do we learn that he accepted comfort? ‘And Adam knew his woman again’ (Genesis 4:25), now you too must accept comfort.” He said to him, “Is it not enough that I have my own sorrow, but now you remind me of the sorrow of the first human being?” Rabbi Joshua entered, and he said to him, “By your will, may I say one thing to you?,” and he said to him, “Speak.” He said to him, “Job had sons and daughters, and they all died on one day, and he accepted comfort over them. Now you must accept comfort. And from where do we know that Job accepted comfort? As is written, ‘God gave and God took, may the Name of God be blessed’ (Job 1:21–22).” He said to him, “Is it not enough that I have my own sorrow, but now you remind me of the sorrow of Job?” Rabbi Yosi entered and sat before him. He said to him, “My Master, by your will, may I say one thing to you?,” he said to him, “Speak.” He said to him, “Aaron had two grown sons, and the two of them died on the same day and Aaron accepted comfort, as is written ‘And Aaron was silent’ (Leviticus 10:3), there is no [other meaning] for silence other than comfort. Now you, too, must accept comfort.” He said to him, “It is not enough that I have my own sorrow, but now you remind me of the sorrow of Aaron?” Rabbi Shimon entered, and he said to him, “My master, by your will, may I say one thing to you?,” he said to him, “Speak.” He said to him, “King David had a son who died, and he accepted comfort. From where do we know that David accepted comfort? As is written, ‘And David comforted Batsheva, his wife, and he came to her and he lay with her, and she delivered a son, and he called his name Solomon’ (2 Samuel 12:24). Now you too must accept comfort.” He said to him, “It is not enough that I have my sorrow, but now you remind me of the sorrow of King David?” Rabbi Eleazar ben Azaria entered…and sat before him. He said to him, “I will draw an analogy for you. To what does this compare? To a man with whom the king entrusted something. Each and every day he would cry and shout ‘Woe to me, when will I be safely relieved of this trust?’ Even you, my master, You had a son who read Torah, he read Prophets and Scrolls, Mishnah, laws, and legends, and he is now departed from the world without sin. It is upon you to receive comfort that you returned your trust whole.” He said to him, “Rabbi Eleazar, my son, you have comforted me in the way that a human being should be comforted.”

The midrash presents Rabban Yoḥanan ben Zakkai as an inconsolable parent in the face of losing his son. As each rabbi enters to offer comfort, they engage in what they think he would find most comforting: rabbinic discourse. Each of the examples offered is an example from text, and the emotional arguments they present are all accompanied with prooftexts. It is the day-to-day exchange in which they all engage; it is the discourse of their lives. They are seeking to offer comfort through the security of routine.

But ben Zakkai rejects each one, not on the basis of the argument, but on the basis of the lack of humanity within the argument. He points out to them that empathy would result in increased sorrow, not comfort. The suffering of others is not a textual exchange. It is a human moment that must be recognized in the uniqueness of each one. To consider that “misery loves company” is to argue that all suffering and misery is the same and can therefore be grouped together to form some kind of community in which comfort can be found. Ben Zakkai refutes each attempt by telling his interlocutor that they are adding to his pain.

When ben Azaria gives his analogy, he is speaking in human terms, with no texts and no prooftexts. He offers the story of the human condition and the ongoing responsibility of parenting. In his final words to ben Zakkai, ben Azaria offers him comfort in the idea that, throughout his son’s life, he met his parental responsibility of providing care, knowledge, depth of insight, and guidance for a life without sin. The loss is still there, but the self-blame and doubt has been comforted. Ben Zakkai addresses ben Azaria as “my son” and by doing so offers the response that ben Azaria spoke to him from within the relationship he shared with his lost son—ben Azaria had entered the realm of ben Zakkai’s pain and spoke to him from there. In the end, the comfort is accepted because it is “the way a human being should be comforted”—it entered the human moment and spoke from within.

Conclusion

The Torah brings a powerful portrait of despair, presenting the details and steps through which Hagar’s journey leads her there. Once despair sets in, Hagar can no longer see opportunities or hope; she feels hunted and lost and has given up. The nuances of the Torah text are reinforced through modern psychological lenses of depression and despair. Once the biblical narrative changes Hagar’s role from victim to support person, we become aware of the voice of the suffering child, Ishmael. Rabbinic literature enters the text in discussing the power of self-advocacy and the importance of finding your own voice.

The ability to enter the heart, into the reality of the despairing person, is accessible through the excerpts from Psalms. Once we have validated the suffering and all the emotions that accompany it, a candid exploration of God’s presence in life or perceived absence can be discussed. The perspectives of modern psychiatric and pastoral care providers include the questioning and discussion of God, as well as the changing spiritual relationships that are important in a life journey. The importance of listening rather than speaking is crucial to creating and maintaining a supporting connection.

Ultimately, rabbinic literature shows how words of comfort that are offered must recognize the uniqueness of each person and their experiences. A moment of despair breaks the mold of the mundane; mundane words will therefore only make it worse. It is the human bond, the recognition of the suffering in its uniqueness, that can begin a discussion that moves toward comfort and hope.

Hagar, in her despair, and an angel with but a few words open a deeper understanding in us all. In allowing these texts to connect with each other, each bringing a different crucial element to the human moment, the journey from despair to hope broadens. Through this model, the Torah and all supporting texts and examples brought here allow us to recognize when someone moves closer to despair, and how we might enter that moment with them to begin a journey toward hope.

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