The Call of Abraham: Leave Everything

Abram is seventy-five years old and childless when the word of God comes to him in Haran: Go from your land, from your birthplace, from your father's house, to the land that I will show you. The command is structured to maximize its cost — not just homeland but birthplace, not just birthplace but father's house — each circle tighter and more intimate than the last.

The promise that follows is extravagant: a great nation, a great name, a blessing that will spread to all the families of the earth. But there is no map. There is no prior relationship described in the text, no preparation, no lengthy conversation. God speaks; Abram goes. He takes Sarai his wife, his nephew Lot, all their possessions, and the souls they have acquired in Haran — servants, dependents, an entire household economy — and sets out for the land of Canaan.

He passes through the land to the oak of Moreh at Shechem, and God appears again: To your offspring I will give this land. Abram builds an altar. He moves to the hill country east of Bethel and builds another. Then he moves again, continuing south. He is a pilgrim in a promised land he does not yet possess.

Later — perhaps years later — God comes to Abram in a vision: Do not fear, Abram. I am your shield; your reward will be very great. Abram finally speaks, and what he says is not praise but grief: What can you give me, Lord? I am childless. My heir is a servant of my household. God takes him outside and tells him to count the stars. So shall your offspring be.

And then the extraordinary scene: God commands a covenant ritual, the cutting of animals and the laying of their pieces in rows. Abram waits beside the carcasses all day, driving away birds of prey. As the sun sets, a deep sleep falls on him — a tardemah, the same sleep that fell on Adam before Eve was made — and dread and great darkness come upon him. Then, like a torch moving through fire, something divine passes between the pieces. The covenant is ratified. The promise holds.