My food deprivation on Tisha B'Av this year induced more guilt than sadness, as I looked at the emaciated images of Evyatar David, hostage in Gaza, a living skeleton cruelly held by Hamas for 678 days and counting, and then peeked at my full pantry. Fasting for us is a luxury, even a privilege. Evyatar is being intentionally starved by his captors. 

For much of the media and the world at large, the same is being claimed about Mohammad Al-Motawaq, the Gazan child whose image was splashed across newspapers as tangible evidence that Israel is committing crimes against humanity. Fueling more anti-Israel sentiment, Mohammad's picture fits right into the narrative that casts Israel as a practitioner of genocide. That this poor child suffers from a medical condition and that his siblings were photographed appearing healthy matters not when you are promoting an ideology. Propaganda disguised as fact that emanates from the Orwellian-named "Gaza Health Ministry," or organizations like the U.N. which lap up its lies, make it nearly impossible to discern the truth. 

But let's not permit our indignation at media bias to preclude us from recognizing that the children of Gaza are undergoing terrible suffering. There is an undeniable desperation setting in. Blame for this crisis will be assigned based on the political leanings of the beholder. But before we judge who is responsible for this situation, let us turn to our eternal Torah, which contains a story I believe could not be more relevant.

We are back in Sefer Bereishis, Perek 21, observing the home of Avraham and Sarah. Sarah has demanded that her husband banish his son, Yishmael, after Yishmael endangered the welfare of young Yitzchak, and God has ratified that request. Avraham has no choice but to dispatch Yishmael and his mother Hagar forever:

וַיַּשְׁכֵּ֣ם אַבְרָהָ֣ם ׀ בַּבֹּ֡קֶר וַיִּֽקַּֽח־לֶ֩חֶם֩ וְחֵ֨מַת מַ֜יִם וַיִּתֵּ֣ן אֶל־הָ֠גָ֠ר שָׂ֧ם עַל־שִׁכְמָ֛הּ וְאֶת־הַיֶּ֖לֶד וַֽיְשַׁלְּחֶ֑הָ וַתֵּ֣לֶךְ וַתֵּ֔תַע בְּמִדְבַּ֖ר בְּאֵ֥ר שָֽׁבַע׃

Early next morning Avraham took some bread and a skin of water, and gave them to Hagar. He placed them over her shoulder, together with the child, and sent her away. And she wandered about in the wilderness of Beersheva.

We note that Yishmael is already called the impersonal הַיֶּ֖לֶד, "the boy" and not "his boy" or "her boy." Avraham provides ample food and water, as he does not seek any harm to Hagar and Yishmael, only the creation of safe distance. The words of Rabbeinu Bachaye on this pasuk testify to this approach:

ויתכן לומר כי מה שגרש אותו בלחם ומים שיכלול ענין אחר, והוא שאברהם ראה במראה הנבואה שעתידים בניו להשתעבד תחת ידי ישמעאל, וכי ישנאו אותם שנאה גדולה שאין אומה בעולם שיהיו שונאים לישראל כבני ישמעאל, וע"כ התנהג אברהם עמו כמו שראוי להתנהג עם השונא ונתן לו לחם ומים, הוא שכתוב (משלי כ״ה:כ״א) אם רעב שונאך האכילהו לחם ואם צמא השקהו מים.

One may view the fact that Avraham provided Hagar with bread and water as an allusion to something that he foresaw concerning the future when his descendants would be oppressed by the Arabs. He foresaw that the Ishmaelites would hate the Jews more than any other nation on earth hated them. Avraham was careful not to deny Hagar and Ishmael the necessities to ensure their survival, something with which Jews provide even their enemies. He modeled himself after Proverbs 25:21 “If your enemy is hungry feed him bread; if he is thirsty, give him water to drink.”

Unfortunately, the journey of mother and son becomes tragically prolonged:

וַיִּכְל֥וּ הַמַּ֖יִם מִן־הַחֵ֑מֶת וַתַּשְׁלֵ֣ךְ אֶת־הַיֶּ֔לֶד תַּ֖חַת אַחַ֥ד הַשִּׂיחִֽם׃

When the water was gone from the skin, she left the child under one of the bushes,

וַתֵּ֩לֶךְ֩ וַתֵּ֨שֶׁב לָ֜הּ מִנֶּ֗גֶד הַרְחֵק֙ כִּמְטַחֲוֵ֣י קֶ֔שֶׁת כִּ֣י אָֽמְרָ֔ה אַל־אֶרְאֶ֖ה בְּמ֣וֹת הַיָּ֑לֶד וַתֵּ֣שֶׁב מִנֶּ֔גֶד וַתִּשָּׂ֥א אֶת־קֹלָ֖הּ וַתֵּֽבְךְּ׃

and went and sat down at a distance, a bowshot away; for she thought, “Let me not look on as the child dies.” And sitting thus afar, she burst into tears.

Here we are mystified by a mother's actions while our heart breaks for her plight. 

Rashi notes that the phrase וַתֵּ֣שֶׁב מִנֶּ֔גֶד, she sat at a distance, appears twice in the pasuk, denoting that she moved progressively further from Yishmael as he neared death. The distance is described strangely as כִּמְטַחֲוֵ֣י קֶ֔שֶׁת, the length an arrow travels after being shot (Ibn Ezra). Bartenura suggests that Hagar did this for her own safety, as Yishmael was a skilled archer and in his delirium could kill his own mother if she was not careful. Indeed, after an angel appears to direct Hagar to water for her son, Yishmael grows up and וַיְהִי אֱלֹהִים אֶת־הַנַּעַר וַיִּגְדָּל וַיֵּשֶׁב בַּמִּדְבָּר וַיְהִי רֹבֶה קַשָּׁת, God was with the boy and he grew up; he dwelt in the wilderness and became skilled with a bow. 

The Netziv, in his HaEmek Davar, takes a charitable view of Hagar's distance:

ותשב מנגד. עוד הפעם להורות שנתרחקה יותר ממטחוי קשת באשר בקשה לבכות בקול ולא רצתה שישמע הילד בכיתה שזה קשה לחולה בין אם עומד להבריא בין אם עומד למות ע״כ התרחקה עוד ותשא את קולה ותבך:

And she went to sit across from him: A second time, to indicate that she distanced herself more than a bowshot, since she wanted to cry out loud. But she did not want the child to hear her crying; as this is hard for a sick person - whether he will recover or whether he will die. Hence she distanced herself further and she raised her voice and cried.

But Rav Shimshon Rafael Hirsch decries Hagar's decisions here as the antithesis of compassion:

Hagar's entire behavior is highly characteristic and reflects the unrefined Chamite nature. A Jewish mother would not have abandoned her child, even if only to reassure the child, even if only to ease its suffering for a millionth of a second. To idly walk away because one "cannot bear to bear the pain" is not compassion; it is the cruel egoism of a still-raw human nature. In humans, the sense of duty knows how to master the strongest emotions, to make one's own pain forgotten and offer helpful assistance, even if one could offer nothing more than the benevolence of a sympathetic presence. 

It is appropriate, then, says Rav Hirsch, that the mother's cries are not heard by Hashem; only the son's are:

וַיִּשְׁמַ֣ע אֱלֹהִים֮ אֶת־ק֣וֹל הַנַּ֒עַר֒ וַיִּקְרָא֩ מַלְאַ֨ךְ אֱלֹהִ֤ים אֶל־הָגָר֙ מִן־הַשָּׁמַ֔יִם וַיֹּ֥אמֶר לָ֖הּ מַה־לָּ֣ךְ הָגָ֑ר אַל־תִּ֣ירְאִ֔י כִּֽי־שָׁמַ֧ע אֱלֹהִ֛ים אֶל־ק֥וֹל הַנַּ֖עַר בַּאֲשֶׁ֥ר הוּא־שָֽׁם׃

God heard the cry of the boy, and a messenger of God called to Hagar from heaven and said to her, “What troubles you, Hagar? Fear not, for God has heeded the cry of the boy where he is.

The child's tears matter and the child's suffering arouses God's compassion. We judge him by the innocence of his actions right now, בַּאֲשֶׁ֥ר הוּא־שָֽׁם. The mother has acted cruelly, though, and does not trigger divine sympathy. She betrays a certain indifference when she says, אַל־אֶרְאֶ֖ה בְּמ֣וֹת הַיָּ֑לֶד, "Let me not look on as the child dies." The child, not my child. 

Where do these pesukim leave us as we wander through the desert of confusion, in a seemingly never-ending war? I believe we must not be indifferent to the plight of Gaza's children who did not bring this upon themselves. It was the adults in the room who elected Hamas to run Gaza and create a terrorist state. It was the adults who largely celebrated the pogroms of Simchat Torah 5784 and who continue to hold innocent hostages captive. It was the adults whose hatred for Israel and the Jews consumed them so much that they were willing to put their own children's lives in danger by shooting rockets and invading dozens of nearby yishuvim and inviting a justifiable military response. It was the adults who stored their munitions and launched their missiles from schools and hospitals and other safety zones. Their loathing of the Jews outweighed their parental duty of protecting their own children from the Israeli counterattacks and hostage rescue missions that were bound to result. Like Hagar, they said, "Let us not see the death of the child." They accepted risk to their families by committing unspeakable atrocities.

Hamas leadership, crouching in fortified tunnels or reclining in luxury condominiums in Qatar, sit at a safe distance, הַרְחֵק֙ כִּמְטַחֲוֵ֣י קֶ֔שֶׁת, a bowshot away, while the innocent Ishmaelites, men, women, and children under their care, suffer and cry out. This could all end with the release of hostages, but with the war of public opinion against Israel being won, why concern themselves with the child?

Rabbeinu Bachaye has taught us that Israel has a responsibility to provide food and water to Yishmael. Israel claims, and has demonstrated, that much of the shipments they have sent have been stolen by Hamas and used to tighten its grip on the people. Whether we believe that Israel has done enough or has been derelict in its duty, as a compassionate nation we may not ignore children left under the bushes by the adults who cannot see. God hears the cries of these boys and girls, and so must we.