Jewish academic and Hebrew scholar Irene Lancaster explains the story of Hannah from the Jewish perspective and her "threefold revolution".
On Rosh Hashana - Jewish New Year - we read the story of Hannah and how she introduced the world to prayer.
There are many themes of Rosh Hashana, including reflection, repentance and sacrifice. But in many ways the story of Hannah is the most remarkable of all. This is the story of someone who in the face of constant daily persecution resets her life and in so doing reworks the destiny of the Jewish people.
Hannah’s story is found in the opening chapter of the Book of Samuel. It deals with barrenness and the blame game that accompanies infertility.
Hannah lived in the pre-monarchic period of the 11th century BCE. Through her immense bravery, Hannah gave birth to Samuel, who became a religious hero to the Jewish people: prophet, priest and military leader, as well as their last judge. Samuel was from a very young age brought up in Shiloh by the High Priest, Eli, in the Mishkan (Tabernacle), the precursor of the Temple.
But why Hannah and what was her role?
In 1 Samuel 1:1 it states that there was ‘one man’ called Elkanah. Usually the Hebrew would state ‘a man’. The addition of ‘one’ signals that Elkanah, Hannah’s husband, was special and his lineage was from the tribe of Levi. Elkanah means ‘G-d has acquired’ and he had prophetic gifts.
Elkanah had another wife, Penina. She had children - unnamed. But Hannah had none. Verse 5 implies that Hannah was the favourite wife and was given the choicest portion of the sacrificial offering to appease her ‘anger’ at remaining childless.
Unlike in the earlier case of loving sisters, Rachel and Leah, however, where Rachel was favoured by Jacob, yet Leah gave birth to far more children, including Judah, the ancestor of David, Penina treated Hannah to daily taunts and contempt. Unlike Rachel and Leah, she lacked empathy.
Moreover, also unlike the parallel Rosh Hashana reading of Genesis 21, Hannah didn’t have Sarah’s option of removing her own rival Hagar and wild son Ishmael from the household. Sarah’s reason for this drastic action was the pernicious influence of Ishmael on her own son Isaac, which was hindering his spiritual growth.
Hannah’s case was different. Rachel and Leah displayed true sisterly love. Sarah was Hagar’s mistress. Hannah didn’t have these attributes. So she took the drastic action of herself leaving for Shiloh and the Mishkan. Here she ‘poured out her soul’ to G-d in such a way that the High Priest, Eli, thought she must be drunk.
In Hebrew prayer means ‘to judge yourself’. It’s a reflective verb. Hannah was fed up and at the end of her tether. None of the men who ran her world could help her. Her husband meant well but didn’t do anything about Penina. Eli, the High Priest, understood sacrifices, but didn’t understand personal communication with G-d and was therefore judgemental.
But Hannah’s silent prayer was also a challenge to G-d. Why did He treat her like this?
Surely He could change things. Frequent journeys to Shiloh to sacrifice didn’t appear to change one’s life for the better. Is this simply rote behaviour? Was something else needed?
A new kind of action was required, and Hannah was its instigator in Jewish history. Hannah wasn’t drunk from wine but from sorrow. Instead of drowning her sorrows in drink, she downed her sorrows in prayer.
This was maybe the most radical act in Jewish history thus far. Hadn’t the final verses of Deuteronomy stated that we are ultimately responsible for our own fate? And wasn’t the shofar blowing of Rosh Hashana designed to show us the way? And didn’t the last chapters of Isaiah, read in the month leading up to Rosh Hashana, encourage us to ‘rise, shine, for your light has come’.
At that moment, Eli, the High Priest, realized that a barrier had been broken in the development of the Jewish religion. He therefore decided to be on the right side of history and help Hannah.
Hannah returns home with Eli’s blessing, conceives and gives birth to Samuel. When Samuel is aged two, at the end of the weaning period, Hannah hands Samuel over to Eli at Shiloh, as a ‘loan’ to G-d. Eventually Hannah wants Samuel back. He is her son, her gift, and they would not be separated forever. He is therefore not a gift but a loan.
What a contrast with Sarah. When Abraham takes her beloved son, Isaac, to be sacrificed at Mount Moriah, he doesn’t even let Sarah know, and she dies shortly thereafter, some say of grief. This story of the Akedah (Genesis 22) is also read at Rosh Hashanah, but Hannah appears to have greater empathy, vision and wisdom than Abraham.
Hannah’s revolution was threefold. She introduced the concept of prayer as therapy and as far more efficacious than sacrifice. With prayer comes connection, reciprocity and ease with G-d. All radical concepts.
Secondly, Hannah introduced a less centralized attitude to religion, in which time and place were not always or necessarily the prime factors. Hannah found that the individual could actually influence outcomes without remaining dependent on established institutions and important personages. Later, for instance, Samuel would again upset the hierarchy by replacing Eli’s own sons who were simply not up to the job of religious leadership.
And, most of all, Hannah demonstrated the power of prophecy, which was to replace the priesthood as the main source of proximity to G-d. Hannah herself was a prophet.
In addition the Mishkan itself would be dismantled and the Ark of the Covenant taken by the Philistines. The Mishkan would no longer represent the heart of the nation. The prophet would become the heart of the nation, initiated by Hannah and implemented by her son, Samuel, who served G-d his entire life in the prophetic capacity, having two biblical Books named after him.
Importantly, Hannah realized that men are mere mortals and often steeped in illusions. Husband Elkanah told her she was much loved, but tolerated Penina. The High Priest Eli was a good man, but on his own terms and therefore judgemental regarding behaviour he couldn’t understand, whilst over-indulging his own children.
We therefore conclude that Rosh Hashana, the most important day in the Jewish calendar (actually lasting two days both in Israel and the diaspora), is also a celebration of women.
Yes, we have the blowing of the shofar, reminding us of our true calling; we have the apples and honey to sweeten the judgement pill.
However, without the proactive impact of women like Sarah and Hannah we wouldn’t have Isaac or Samuel; we wouldn’t understand the real meaning of sacrifice. Most of all, we wouldn’t be blessed with the unique power of prayer, where we pour out our tears to G-d, knowing that sometimes it is far better to buck the trend, break the bounds of established norms, and learn new ways to fight for what is right.
