In my previous post I looked at the way the writers of 1 Samuel use literary analogies (that just means they connect two stories together) to prompt readers to ponder the connections between Hannah, the mother of Samuel, and Hagar, mother of Ishmael. This time around I want to draw out how the same passage in 1 Samuel 1 is packed with information that directs us towards another downtrodden mother: Leah.
As with the previous connections to Hagar, the story of Hannah also finds plenty of similarities in the story of Jacob’s less-favoured wife. Additionally, the bait-and-switch that we saw with the confusion over Hannah being linked with both Hagar and Sarah is repeated here. The two wives of Jacob are Rachel and Leah, the former beloved but childless, the other ‘despised’ yet blessed with many children. As with the analogy to Sarah and Hagar, the plot of 1 Samuel 1 leads us to see Hannah in the role of the beloved and childless wife, the Sarah to Peninnah’s Hagar, the Rachel to Hagar’s Leah.
The connection between Hannah and Rachel is strengthened by a curious detail: both of their stories centre around a miraculous transformation of fertility. Genesis 29:31 tells us that God “opened Leah’s womb” when he saw that she was hated, but that Rachel remained “barren”. Leah’s fertility is directly linked to her husband’s affection for her (or lack of it), the implication being that Rachel’s barrenness also stems from the love of her husband. In Genesis 29, Rachel’s infertility appears to the reader as God’s way of balancing the scales in Leah’s favour, compensating the less-loved wife with the privilege of motherhood.
The same dynamic appears in 1 Samuel 1, where we are told that Elkanah takes his family to Shiloh for an annual sacrifice, and distributes portions of sacrificed food to his household. Peninnah and her children receive one portion each, but he gives Hannah a double or choice portion, “because he loved her, and the LORD had closed her womb.” Again the husband’s affection is paired with the beloved wife’s barrenness.
So far so straightforward, we might think. Hannah is a preferred wife whose barrenness is a result of God’s intervention, just as was the case with Rachel. Once again, God is balancing the scales of the two wives, ensuring that neither one is made both unloved and childless nor allowed to enjoy both the status of matriarch and the sweetness of a husband’s affection.
Once again, however, just as with the analogy to Hagar and Sarah, the identity of Hannah is reconfigured when she goes to the temple and begins her prayer.
“Oh LORD of hosts”, says Hannah in her heart, “if you will only look on the affliction (אִם־רָאֹה תִרְאֶה בָּעֳנִי) of your maidservant […] and give to your maidservant a son…” (1 Sa 1:11)
“Leah conceived and bore a son, and she called his name Reuben, for she said, ‘the LORD has looked upon my affliction (כִּֽי־רָאָה יְהוָה בְּעָנְיִי) ; for now my husband will love me’” (Gen 29:32)
It is curious, I think, that our writers have decided to use this particular phrase, in Hannah’s prayer. The phrase “look on my affliction” is not unique to these two texts, it appears four more times in between these two instances. However, nowhere else is it said by a woman, nor in the context of childbirth. Only in these two passages does a mother express the belief that the birth of her child is a direct result of God “looking upon” her affliction. That in itself is enough to suggest that the two stories are coordinated in some way. When we consider the fact that there are already numerous connections in 1 Samuel 1 to Leah’s rival co-wife, Rachel, the likelihood of an analogy increases dramatically.
We have been comfortably reading along, seeing Hannah as a Rachel-esque figure, noting the parallels between the two women, but here we find Hannah repeating the words not of Rachel but of Rachel’s nemesis. And this is not the first time this has happened to us in this chapter! This reversal of roles happens at precisely the same moment as it did when we read the analogy with Hagar and Sarah, and happens in precisely the same way. The earlier parallels between Hannah and the beloved barren wife are undone, replaced by clear verbal allusions to the downtrodden wife, the despised one.
This bait-and-switch, repeated first with the analogy to Hagar and Sarah then again with the analogy to Rachel and Leah, has some significant implications for our story and for our understanding of Hannah.
First, the connection to Leah cements the impression we got in the Hagar analogy that Hannah’s offspring will be the less-significant ones. Leah’s children, while forming ten of the twelve tribes of Israel, are not the focus of the remaining chapters of Genesis. It is Joseph who takes centre stage, the eldest child of beloved Rachel, and Joseph’s story reaches its climax in his attempts to separate his brother Benjamin, Rachel’s second son, from the rest of his brothers and to keep Benjamin with him in Egypt without the rest. The other brothers have great parts to play, and obviously Judah in particular redeems himself and goes on to be the most significant of the tribes, but that is further on. The analogy between Hannah and Leah suggests to us that the child who will be born to Hannah will be a recurring character, not the star of the show.
Second, the timing of the analogy is connected to one of the biggest themes in 1 Samuel: Judging a person’s inner character.
The most well-known expression of this theme comes at the anointing of David in 1 Samuel 16, as God tells the prophet “Man looks on the outward appearance, but the LORD looks upon the heart”. Goliath is famously mistaken in his confidence about defeating David, just as Saul doubted that David could win the fight, due to David’s youth and lack of height. King Saul, when he is introduced as simply ‘Saul’, is presented to the reader as a false hope, being described as “exceedingly handsome (טוֹב, tov, the same word used to describe perfect creation in Genesis 1), there was no one among the people of Israel as handsome as he. From his shoulders upwards he was taller than any of the people.” That glowing account slowly reveals itself as misleading as Saul descends into madness. Every significant character in the story of 1 Samuel has some aspect of their character or life that revolves around the issue of sight and perception, and their ability to see accurately, to see as God sees, directly influences their success and failure in the narrative.
What is astonishing in 1 Samuel 1 is the way so much information about this theme of sight is folded into a short scene. Because at the moment Hannah begins to speak her prayer, we are given a glimpse into her inner being, one which only God can provide us (since she speaks in her heart), and one which clearly contradicts the outer impressions she gives. That is the point of the analogy with Hagar and the analogy with Leah. When man (us, the reader, and them, Elkanah and Eli) look on the outside, we see Hannah as a Sarah figure, a Rachel figure, the beloved but barren wife. It is only when we are allowed a glimpse of the inner person that we see Hannah as God sees her: she is Hagar, oppressed and cast out, and she is Leah, unloved and ignored.
Our perceptions, and our interpretations, must be challenged by this story. We cannot risk trusting our evaluation of a character or an event based on a merely outward seeing. Seeing as God sees is not as simple as reversing the human perception, turning a good thing to a bad one, it is a different kind of seeing that prioritises and perceives differently. Hannah, the mother of ten tribes, lies hidden behind a facade of other people’s perceptions of her, and it is only by taking the time and reading with caution that we find our way to her.