For almost two years, it was hidden in plain sight.
Abraham.
Sarah.
Hagar.
Ishmael.
Isaac.
And the Angel of the Lord.
One family.
Together.
As far as I have been able to determine, there is no other known work of art that brings all six of these biblical figures together in a single image specifically created around the idea of the reconciliation of Abraham’s first family.
And yet, for almost two years, hardly anyone knew it was there.
I had quietly placed it inside my 18th mural in Israel, at the First Station in Jerusalem. It was surrounded by the faces of the women of Iran. Looking back now, I think of those two years as a pregnancy.
The image had been conceived. It existed. It was alive. But it had not yet been born into the purpose I believe it was created for. Now it has.
And its birthplace as a stand-alone mural is Minneapolis, Minnesota.
The Number 18
My journey into public art began with Iran.
I was born in Iran. My mother and I escaped in 1978, shortly before the Islamic Revolution transformed the country of my birth.
More than four decades later, after the death of Mahsa Amini and the beginning of the Woman, Life, Freedom uprising, Iran came roaring back into my life.
I became the only artist asked by the State of Israel to create a series of murals in support of the women of Iran.
One mural became another.
Jerusalem.
Nazareth.
Netanya.
Tel Aviv.
Tzfat.
Faces of Iranian women began appearing across Israel.
Women who had been murdered.
Women who had been imprisoned.
Women who had been blinded.
Women whose only crime was demanding freedom.
Early in this journey, the number 18 became deeply significant to me. In Jewish tradition, 18 represents chai—“life.” I believed I was supposed to complete 18 murals in Israel. But somewhere on the journey toward mural number 18, something interrupted my plan.
I have learned something about interruptions. Sometimes the interruption is the plan.
The 16th Mural + an Unexpected Assignment
Around the time I was working on my 16th mural, I was approached by a conservative Christian organization about creating something completely different.
They wanted an image connected to the Abraham Accords.
Until then, almost everything I had been creating was centered on Iran, Israel, and the women fighting for freedom. Suddenly, I was thinking about Abraham.
I began asking a question:
What do the Abraham Accords actually look like?
Not a photograph of politicians signing documents.
Not flags.
Not government buildings.
Not another diplomatic photograph.
What does the spiritual idea behind the Abraham Accords look like? The answer was right there in the name. Abraham.
And there is something remarkable in the language surrounding the Accords themselves.
The Abraham Accords recognize the historic connection between the Arab and Jewish peoples through their common ancestor, Abraham, and speak about fostering peace, coexistence, mutual understanding, and respect.
That stopped me.
Because suddenly I wasn’t thinking about countries. I was thinking about a family.
Before there were modern nations, there was a family.
Before there were borders, there was a family.
Before there were peace treaties, wars, negotiations, and diplomatic relations, there was a family.
And that family began with Abraham.
So I asked myself: “What if the Abraham Accords could be represented not by politicians, but by Abraham’s family?”
That question became the image.
The First Family
To understand the artwork, you have to go back to Genesis.
Abraham (then Abram) and Sarah (then Sarai) had been promised a child, but year after year passed and Sarah remained unable to conceive.
Eventually Hagar entered the story. Hagar bore Abraham a son. His name was Ishmael.
Genesis 16:16 tells us: “Abram was eighty-six years old when Hagar bore Ishmael to Abram.”
Then something extraordinary happened. Fourteen years later, the impossible promise was fulfilled. Sarah conceived.
Genesis 21 tells us that Abraham was 100-years-old when Isaac was born. That means Ishmael was approximately 14 when Isaac entered the family.
For a period of time, there were two sons under the household of Abraham:
Ishmael.
Isaac.
Two mothers.
Hagar.
Sarah.
And one father.
Abraham.
But the family fractured.
Genesis 21 records Hagar and Ishmael being sent away. Hagar found herself in the wilderness with her son, believing she was about to watch him die.
But God had not abandoned them.
God heard the boy.
An angel of God called to Hagar from heaven.
God opened her eyes to a well of water.
And Ishmael lived.
This is important. Ishmael is not forgotten by God in Genesis. God makes promises concerning him.
God hears him.
God preserves him.
And Isaac also carries God’s covenant promise.
Two sons.
Two destinies.
One father.
And a family marked by separation. Thousands of years later, that separation still echoes through history.
So I wanted to create something that Scripture does not explicitly give us.
An image of the family reunited. Not an attempt to rewrite Genesis. Not a claim that this exact scene happened historically. But an artistic vision of reconciliation.
The Image
In the picture stands Abraham.
Beside him is Sarah.
There is Hagar.
There is Ishmael.
There is Isaac.
And watching over this family is the Angel of the Lord.
I deliberately designed the relationships within the image. Sarah looks toward Ishmael. Hagar looks toward Isaac.
Each mother is looking beyond her own biological child. That matters. Because reconciliation begins when we can see someone else’s child as precious, too.
Abraham stands with the family that came from him.
Isaac and Ishmael occupy the same image.
Nobody has been erased.
Nobody has been replaced.
Nobody has been asked to surrender his identity.
And above them is the presence of heaven.
As far as I have been able to discover, this may be the only image depicting Abraham, Sarah, Hagar, Ishmael, Isaac, and the Angel of the Lord together specifically in the spirit of reconciliation.
To me, this image is the Abraham Accords.
The Accords speak about descendants of Abraham learning to live beside one another. The picture allows us to see that idea. The Abraham Accords say that peace is possible. The picture asks us to imagine what that peace looks like when it becomes personal.
Not countries.
Not governments.
Not politicians.
A family.
Until then, almost everything I had been creating was centered on Iran, Israel, and the women fighting for freedom. Suddenly, I was thinking about Abraham.
The Mural Inside the Mural
But then something unexpected happened.
The image didn’t immediately become a stand-alone mural. Instead, I hid it inside another mural. My 18th mural in Israel.
In October of 2024, at the First Station in Jerusalem, I completed the mural that represented the culmination of the number 18 I had been carrying throughout this journey.
The larger mural was dedicated to Iran.
Faces of Iranian women surrounded it.
And quietly, almost secretly, I placed Abraham’s reunited family among them. Most people looking at the enormous mural probably had no idea what they were seeing.
There was no major unveiling of the Abraham image.
There was no campaign announcing it.
There was no explanation of where it would eventually go.
It simply existed.
And it waited.
Looking back now, I believe something beautiful happened. The Abraham Accords image entered the womb of the 18th mural.
It was surrounded by women.
It was carried in Jerusalem.
And for almost two years, it waited to be born.
Think about that.
An image about reconciliation between the descendants of Abraham was hidden inside a mural dedicated to the women of Iran. A Persian story carrying an Abrahamic story.
Iran.
Israel.
Abraham.
Sarah.
Hagar.
Ishmael.
Isaac.
All occupying the same wall.
I could never have planned what would eventually happen to this image.
I simply knew I needed to put it there.
Two Years in the Womb
There are times when something God gives us appears to be dormant. Nothing seems to be happening.
The promise exists, but we cannot see where it is going. The seed has been planted, but nothing has broken through the ground. The child exists, but it has not yet been born.
That is how I now see these two years.
The image wasn’t dead.
It was gestating.
The Abraham Accords mural was waiting.
And eventually, a church in Minnesota said “yes.”
A Courageous Church
That church is Yesuah’s Love Heals Ministry in Minneapolis, Minnesota.
It is overseen by Pastors Max and Quinn. And I believe what they did required courage. Because reconciliation is beautiful when it remains an abstract idea. It becomes much more difficult when reconciliation has faces.
Sarah and Hagar.
Isaac and Ishmael.
Jews and Arabs.
Different histories.
Different wounds.
Different narratives.
One family.
Max and Quinn were willing to put that image on their wall.
They were willing to say: “We believe reconciliation is possible.” They were willing to give the Abraham Accords image a home.
And, on September 27, 2026, almost two years after I had hidden this image inside my 18th mural in Jerusalem, we gathered in Minneapolis for its unveiling.
The Unveiling
The program itself felt more like worship than an art exhibition.
Pastors Max and Quinn welcomed everyone.
Hashivenu Adonai was part of the gathering—a phrase meaning, “Return us, O Lord,” language drawn from the Hebrew Scriptures.
Nancy Santiago participated. Max and Quinn introduced me and allowed me to tell the extraordinary story of how this image had traveled from an idea to Jerusalem and ultimately to their church.
We were also joined by honored speaker Dr. Billye Brim.
Then came “Oceans.” A closing song.
Prayer.
Worship.
And finally, everyone was invited into Fellowship Hall.
It was time.
After almost two years inside another mural, Abraham’s family was about to emerge.
The image that had been hidden was uncovered.
The mural was born.
This is the Abraham Accords
Standing before the completed mural, something became even clearer to me. This image tells the story of the Abraham Accords in a way words sometimes cannot.
What are the Abraham Accords ultimately asking humanity to believe? That history does not have to dictate destiny. That yesterday’s enemies do not have to remain tomorrow’s enemies.
That coexistence is possible.
That peace is possible.
That the descendants of Abraham can recognize something in one another that existed before all of our divisions.
A shared father. Abraham. That is why I believe this image can become a symbol for the Abraham Accords.
The Abraham Accords need more than signatures.
They need stories.
They need music.
They need conversations.
They need art.
They need images that ordinary people can understand without reading pages of diplomatic language.
And what could be simpler than this?
Abraham’s family reunited.
Sarah Looks at Ishmael
There is one detail of this mural that may be the most important.
Sarah is not simply looking at Isaac.
She looks toward Ishmael.
And Hagar does not simply look at Ishmael.
She looks toward Isaac.
Why?
Because reconciliation requires us to look across the divide. It requires us to see the other person’s child.
The other person’s pain.
The other person’s history.
The other person’s humanity.
Sarah sees Ishmael.
Hagar sees Isaac.
And suddenly the picture changes.
It is no longer:
My son versus your son.
It becomes:
Our family.
That is the Abraham Accords.
What is a Mural?
After creating 32 murals, I no longer believe murals are simply paint on walls. I believe murals can become banners. They can become shields. They can become altars.
And I believe they can become portals—physical places that invite people to stop, remember, pray and encounter a story larger than themselves.
A mural claims physical territory for an idea.
It says:
Remember this.
When I put the faces of murdered Iranian women on walls, those murals declare:
Remember her.
Say her name.
Do not let her disappear.
But this mural makes another declaration:
Remember the family.
Remember Abraham.
Remember Sarah.
Remember Hagar.
Remember Ishmael.
Remember Isaac.
Remember that before thousands of years of conflict, there was a family.
And imagine what could happen if the family could see itself as family again.
Could This Become a Symbol?
I have a dream for this image. I would love to see it adopted and shared as an artistic symbol of the Abraham Accords.
Not replacing any official emblem.
Not belonging to a political party.
Not belonging to one nation.
But becoming a visual representation of the idea at the heart of the Accords. Imagine this picture displayed wherever the Abraham Accords are discussed.
Imagine it in churches.
Synagogues.
Schools.
Cultural institutions.
Public spaces.
Peace gatherings.
Imagine Jewish children looking at Ishmael.
Imagine Arab children looking at Isaac.
Imagine people who have inherited generations of distrust standing before one picture and realizing:
We are looking at the same family.
Perhaps art can go somewhere politics cannot.
Perhaps an image can enter a heart before an argument begins.
Perhaps Abraham’s family can remind Abraham’s descendants that peace is not betrayal.
Reconciliation is not weakness.
Seeing the humanity of the other does not require surrendering your own identity. That is why nobody disappears from this mural.
Isaac remains Isaac.
Ishmael remains Ishmael.
Sarah remains Sarah.
Hagar remains Hagar.
Reconciliation doesn’t erase identity.
It changes the relationship.
The Women Who Carried the Image
There is one final part of this story about which I cannot stop thinking. For almost two years, this image of Abraham’s family was surrounded by the women of Iran.
Women who stood against tyranny.
Women who risked everything for freedom.
Women who refused to accept that the world had to remain as it was.
Maybe that is why the Abraham image belonged inside that mural for a season.
Because both stories make essentially the same declaration:
The future does not have to look like the past.
The women of Iran are declaring that oppression does not have to be permanent.
The Abraham Accords declare that hostility does not have to be permanent.
And this image declares that separation does not have to be permanent.
All three require courage.
All three require faith.
All three require someone willing to imagine something that does not yet exist.
From Jerusalem to Minnesota
When I stood in front of my 18th mural at Jerusalem’s First Station in October of 2024, I did not know what would happen to the small Abraham image I had placed inside it.
I didn’t know where it would eventually go.
I didn’t know whether anyone would ever understand why it was there.
Maybe I wasn’t supposed to know.
Sometimes we want God to show us the entire story before we agree to take the first step.
But sometimes our responsibility is simply to be faithful with the piece we have been given.
Paint the picture.
Put it on the wall.
Let it wait.
For almost two years, Abraham, Sarah, Hagar, Ishmael and Isaac waited together inside my 18th mural.
Then a courageous church in Minnesota opened its doors.
The womb opened.
And the picture was born. Now the First Family has a wall of its own. But I do not believe Minnesota is the end of this image’s journey. I believe it may only be the beginning.
My prayer is that one day people around the world will look at this image and immediately recognize what it represents:
The Abraham Accords.
Not simply an agreement between governments.
A declaration that reconciliation is possible.
A reminder that the Arab and Jewish peoples trace their histories back to Abraham. And a picture of what could happen when a divided family begins moving toward one another again.
Abraham.
Sarah.
Hagar.
Ishmael.
Isaac.
The Angel of the Lord.
One image.
One family.
Thousands of years of separation.
And perhaps a new chapter.
Reconciliation.
