(Ishmael’s bow and Abraham’s tamarisk: Imagining an end to perpetual conflict; October 2025)
In 2025, the Torah readings and liturgy of Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur acquired new meaning for me in this time of conflict. Here is the record of my thoughts and research on these holy writings and the hints of guidance they provide us as we face an intractable ancient dilemma that is urgently and violently present today. This article is only a rough start. I invite you to contribute your piece to this puzzle with your comments below.
The Torah readings for Rosh HaShanah include the story of the near death of the child Ishmael. This passage is sometimes referred to as “Akedat Ishmael,” (literally, the binding of Ishmael) by comparison with Akedat Yitzchak, the binding and narrowly averted sacrifice of his half-brother Isaac. The story is framed by opening and closing references to archery, a sign that Ishmael will live by violence as a highwayman and public enemy. This is not surprising, given Ishmael’s harsh beginning as the rejected child. Jewish and Moslem traditions view Ishmael as the father of the Arab world, historically often our antagonist and oppressor.
The story of Ishmael is followed by Abraham’s treaty with the Philistine king Avimelech, which includes a promise of peace for three generations. After Avimelech leaves, Abraham plants an eshel, which is probably a tamarisk tree (Tamarix aphylla). The tamarisk’s large and powerful root system monopolizes all available water, drying up streambeds and preventing any other plants from growing nearby. This enables the tamarisk to grow quite tall in the sparsely vegetated desert landscape, where it can serve as a landmark to travelers. No plant can share space with the tamarisk. This exclusivity foreshadows social conflict as well. God has promised all of the land of Canaan to Abraham’s descendants, but they will need to fight Philistines and others to defend their land. The treaty postpones this conflict for three generations, but it is ultimately inevitable.
Some Midrashim and commentators criticize Abraham for making a treaty with Avimelech and paying for the cave and field of Ephron (Gen. 23), because these acts implicitly acknowledge the ownership by others of land that God has promised to Abraham’s descendants. Consider, for example, the following Midrash in Pesikta d’Rav Kahana (Piska 11:9, Parshat BeShalach) that also appears in a slightly different form in Yalkut Shimoni (Vayera 22):
“Swear to me by God…” (Genesis 21:23). For how many generations did he [Avimelech] make Abraham swear? For three generations: “…that you will not deal falsely with me or my children or my grandchildren…” “And Abraham arranged seven sheep separately” (Genesis 21:28). Rabbi Yehoshua of Sakhnin said in the name of Rabbi Levi: God said to him, ‘You gave him seven sheep. By your life, the Ark of the Covenant will be with them for seven months’, as is written, “And his power fell into captivity…” (Psalms 75:61). This is the Ark of the Covenant, as it is written “And the Ark of the Lord was in the field of the Philistines for seven months” (I Samuel 6:1). “And His splendor in the hand of an enemy” (Psalms op. cit.). These are the garments of the high priesthood, as is written “And you will make holy garments for Aaron your brother, for honor and splendor” (Exodus 28:2). Rabbi Yehoshua of Sakhnin said in the name of Rabbi Levi: God said to him, ‘You gave him seven sheep. By your life, in the future they will kill seven of your saintly children: Saul and three of his children, along with Eli, Chofni, and Pinchas.” It is also possible to say Samson and not Eli. Rabbi Yehoshua of Sakhnin said in the name of Rabbi Levi: God said to him ‘You gave him seven sheep. By your life, in the future they will destroy your children’s seven worlds [sacred places]: The Tent of Meeting, Gilgal, Shilo, Nov, Giv’on, and the Eternal House [the Temple] twice.”
What was Abraham’s intention in planting a tamarisk? It would have attracted attention and visitors, but to what end? The Talmud (Sota 10a-b) offers a Midrash that contrasts two homilies about the meaning of the eshel. One suggests that Abraham planted other trees as well, to create an orchard that he used to offer fruits to his guests. The other approach reads eshel as an acronym for achailah, shtiya, v’linah (food, drink, and lodging), an indication that he built an inn for travelers. In either case, the Midrashim seem to agree on Abraham’s intention in providing for these travelers:
“It [the verse] teaches us that Abraham induced all who came and sat with him to call on the name of God. How so? After they ate and drank, they would stand to bless him. He would say to them, ‘Did you really eat anything that was mine? Did you not eat from what belongs to the Lord of the world. Praise and bless the One Who spoke and the world came into existence!’ ”
Note that the Midrash plays on the language of the Biblical verse: “He planted an eshel in Be’ersheva and called there on the name of the eternal Lord God.” The Midrash changes vayikra (he called) to vayikri (he caused them to call).
The harsh framing of Ishmael’s story as a prelude to a life of opposition and predatory crime seems unavoidable. Similarly, the Midrashim show us that Abraham and Avimelech’s covenant only postpones an inevitable conflict over the land of Israel. Both stories lead into conflict and violence with no end in sight. Must one party dispossess or annihilate the other? How do we get out of this?
God’s promise to Abraham confirms that his descendants will dispossess the Canaanites, but cautions him that “the sin of the Amorites is not yet complete” (Genesis 15:16). Is this a hint that the Canaanites could have changed the course of their march to destruction? If so, it is clear from Leviticus 18:25 that they did not.
Can the symbols of the bow and the tamarisk be reinterpreted to guide us to a vision for a more peaceful alternative?
Torah Temimah, an early twentieth-century collection and explanation of Talmudic commentary on Torah verses, explains Abraham’s motivation in planting an orchard with an interesting and suggestive phrase: Abraham planted the orchard “so that many people would be gathered to him.” The image invites comparison to the tamarisk’s power to draw in water. However, it reframes the symbolism of the tamarisk from monopolistic consumer to one who attracts others; from exclusive inheritor of the Land to generous host and teacher.
Similarly, it is tempting to treat Ishmael’s deadly archer’s bow as an allusion to the rainbow, symbol of a covenant of peace between God and life on Earth. As in English, the Hebrew keshet can refer to either of these bows.
This is all very nice, but where is the power of these ideas to lead to a different reality? The question is especially compelling now with the war against Hamas, but it is much bigger than our contemporary moment. Since antiquity, Jews have lived either as a tolerated (or reviled) minority at the pleasure of others, or in their own land with hostile neighbors. Can we find a way to live at peace in our own land? The history of the Middle East suggests that peace prevails only when a larger empire controls the region, subduing local conflicts, at least temporarily. Perhaps the joint international sponsorship of the plan for Gaza currently under negotiation is a new, softer version of this path to stability.
The Torah readings of Rosh HaShanah provoked me to ask these questions. A prophetic image (Isaiah 56:6-7) in the Yom Kippur prayers suggests another approach to an answer:
“And the children of the gentiles who are lent to the Lord to serve him and to love the name of the Lord to be his servants, all who protect the Sabbath from those who profane it and uphold my covenant. I will bring them to my holy mountain and cause them to rejoice in my house of prayer, their burnt offerings and sacrifices accepted on my altar, for my house shall be called a house of prayer for all the nations.”
Can this really happen? Isaiah’s vision is of the Temple, Jewish to be sure, and on the Temple Mount, but inviting for all the nations. Could we rebuild the Temple alongside the existing mosque rather than replacing it? Current political realities notwithstanding, Judaism has generally looked favorably on the purity of Moslem monotheism. The chief obstacle, of course, is neither theological nor architectural but social: At present, support in both Israel and Gaza for the “two-state solution” so beloved in the West is virtually non-existent. Each side continues to dream of a peace that comes about because the other disappears, and a religiously inspired peace with coexistence on the Temple Mount is a wildly unrealistic pipe dream.
This passage from Isaiah is also the conclusion of the Haftarah for the fast days that commemorate the tragedies of past wars and exiles. We are told that these fasts will become days of joy in the time of the Mashiach. Let this be the last year of war, sorrow, and fasting.
Like the question that inspired it, this essay remains unfinished. I invite you to share your ideas so they can become part of the answer.
Y I’ve never understood why Avraham, to seal his claim that he dug the wells, somehow feels he has to give the Filastians a gift. Thank you Jon for the Midrashim that say it really was a poor idea.
To bring this into present it’s important to understand that the number of concessions we should be making for peace with an abundantly immoral and murderous terrorist gang is actually zero. This current deal is deeply flawed and even this week Israel could begin to see the consequences (Turks are arriving in Gaza to “help find the hostages,” but what might they be bringing to resupply Hamas?).
Best regards
Dave in Beersheva, which advertises itself, possibly correctly, as the site of the world’s 1st peace agreement.
I read the article with great interest.
It should be noted, however, that underlying the current bleak outlook, there is a highly optimistic view whereby our cousins, the Ishmaelites, actually reconcile with the Jewish people.
“And Abraham breathed his last, dying at a good ripe age, old and contented; and he was gathered to his kin. And his sons Isaac and Ishmael buried him in the cave of Machpelah in the field of Ephron son of Tzohar the Hittite, which faces Mamre.” (Exodus 25:8-9)
Rashi cites Midrash Rabbah on this verse: “Isaac and Ishmael” From this we learn that Ishmael repented and allowed Isaac to precede him. This is the “contentment” that Scripture attributes to Abraham.
There appears to be an underlying optimistic tone that in fact there will be reconciliation , even acceptance, of our way of life by the Ishmaelites, and Avraham foresaw the future that allowed his final breath to be described as ” dying at a good ripe age, old and contented.”
Rambam (Hilchot Melachim uMilchamaot) elaborates: And all these words of Jesus of Nazareth and the Ishmaelite who arose after him are only to straighten the path for the king Messiah, to repair the world to worship God together as it is written, “For then I will turn the nations to a clear language, so they may serve him with a single will.” (Zephaniah 3:9)
Efrat, Gush Etzion