Genesis 23: Part of a Larger Portrait

Genesis 23 begins with the death of Sarah in Hebron. Abraham gets word of her death and goes to weep over her. The language implies that they are separated when she passes away. 

When Abraham breaks from his mourning, he rises to find a place worthy of Sarah’s burial. “His wife is to rest in a place that will be her permanent, everlasting burial site, and for this purpose Abraham seeks to acquire a piece of land in perpetuity. For many years he has dwelt in Canaan as a stranger; despite all his wealth, he has never sought to acquire even a square foot of land. After all, his calling is to be a wanderer. But now the necessity to bury his wife forces him, for the first time, to make a permanent acquisition of land. His wife’s grave is to be the first bond that will tie him to the land; it is to be the place that will draw him and hold him” (The Hirsch Chumash, Bereshis, pg. 503).

He goes to the Hittites in Hebron and there, at the city gates, he negotiates a real estate deal. Abraham has a certain cave in mind so he speaks directly to the property owner. The owner prices the property at 400 shekels. A high price according to all commentators, but without complaint Abraham pays the 400 shekels in full. Having acquired the property, he buries his wife in the cave at the end of the field. In time, this cave will become the burial site of Abraham himself, as well as that of Isaac and Rebekah and even Jacob and Leah. Today the cave––a very holy site––can be visited in Hebron. 

Examining the whole of Genesis 23, we’ll find that the chapter is characterized by ongoing repetitions. Every point is repeated and reiterated. Verse 17 enumerates literally every article of the property: “So the field of Ephron in Machpelah, east of Mamre––the field with the cave in it and all the trees in the field, throughout its whole area––was made over to Abraham as a possession in the presence of the Hittites, before all who went in at the gate of his city.” The narrative adds further: “…the cave of Machpelah, before Mamre, that is Hebron in the land of Canaan . . . the field and the cave deeded to Abraham by the sons of Heth as a property for a burial place” (23:19-20). The Torah leaves no room for ambiguity as it itemizes the conditions, the details, and the witnesses involved. In this way Genesis 23 constitutes a kind of legal document, a contract or a deed with all of its stipulations. After all, this chapter marks one of the most historic transactions ever made: the first piece of Holy Land ever procured by a Hebrew. If for nothing else, Genesis 23 is significant for this reason alone.

It is significant for other reasons, though. Let’s stand back and behold the wider panorama into which Genesis 23 fits. In Genesis 23 Abraham procures a field. In Genesis 24 Abraham procures a bride for his son Isaac. I love that a field and a bride are procured in back-to-back chapters. Permit me to elaborate. 

A theme we find in Scripture is that the field and the bride are connected. The two go together. The story of Ruth is our classic example. In the last chapter (Ruth 4), a man named Boaz tries to sell a parcel of land (4:3-4). The potential buyer offers to buy it. Boaz says, “The day you buy the field you also acquire Ruth the Moabite” (4:5). It’s like: You want the field? Then you have to take the bride as well. But now the buyer declines. He wants the field but he doesn’t want to marry Ruth the Moabite. So he tells Boaz, “You buy it for yourself” (4:8). So Boaz does. Boaz himself redeems the field and the bride. 

In the New Testament Jesus says that “the field” represents the world (Matthew 13:38). Jesus then tells two short parables that run like this: 

(#1) “The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and covered up. Then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.” 

(#2) “Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls. Upon finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.”

In both parables, a man gives up all that he has in order to acquire that which he truly desires. But in the first illustration, the man buys the field to get the treasure. In the second illustration, the man buys only the treasure itself. And what is the treasure? One pearl of great value. Now interestingly, Proverbs 31:10 (CJB) associates the pearl with the great value of an excellent wife. Making the connection, we see this theme of the field and the bride sneaking up through the cracks. Jesus will give up all that He has to purchase the field and the treasure, the pearl of great value––the excellent wife. 

In Romans 8:19, 22-23, Paul writes that the world is longing for redemption just as we––the Bride of Messiah––are longing for redemption. The world and the Bride are in this together: both fallen, both groaning, both eagerly awaiting the return of our Redeemer. Our need for redemption traces back to when man sinned and the earth was cursed “because of you” (Genesis 3:17). Everything comes full circle when the earth is made new and the Bride is presented at the end of the story. All of this to say simply, the field and the bride are connected. It is quite lovely that they are procured in back-to-back chapters in Genesis. 

We return to the panorama into which Genesis 23 fits. In sight now are chapters 22, 23 & 24.

Looks a lot like the New Testament, doesn’t it? The Father gives up His only begotten Son, Jesus. What follows is the death of His beloved Jerusalem. Jerusalem’s tent goes vacant as her people go into hiding, or “underground” so to speak. The Father sends His Holy Spirit into the world to seek a Bride for His Son from among the nations. The Holy Spirit returns the Bride to His Son. The Son brings his Bride into the New Jerusalem where He is with her. The whole earth is theirs because the field has been purchased at no small price. 

This deserves a little unpacking. First, a look at Jerusalem. We see Jerusalem through Sarah: Sarah passes away and her tent is vacated, though Isaac and his bride will, in time, inhabit his mother’s tent (Genesis 24:67). Sarah is a mother, and note how Jesus personifies Jerusalem as a mother:

“And when Jesus drew near and saw the city, he wept over it, saying, ‘Would that you, even you, had known on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes. For the days will come upon you, when your enemies will set up a barricade around you and surround you and hem you in on every side and tear you down to the ground, you and your children within you...’” (Luke 19:41-44).

“O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing! See, your house is left to you desolate. For I tell you, you will not see me again, until you say, ‘Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord’” (Matthew 23:37-39).

Following the tragic events in 70 AD, God’s beloved Jerusalem passes away, the Father mourns, and her tent becomes desolate. But the story is not over. God sends His Spirit to return a Bride to the land. And here, in this special place, His Son and the Bride take up residence. From that day on, they never depart from the land just like Isaac and his bride never left the land.  

What an amazing thing to consider: that the whole of the New Testament is hinted at here in Genesis 22, 23 & 24!

Let’s part with one last note about Genesis 23. It is a detail revealed only in the Hebrew. The high price that Abraham paid to secure the field in perpetuity was 400 shekels. 400 is the value of the last letter in the Hebrew alphabet, the letter tav (ת). The letter tav represents a cross. And that is perfect, because it is with the cross that God paid in full to acquire the title deed of the earth (see Revelation 5:9), thus securing a place in which His family can spend their future together at rest––not dead but forever alive.

Genesis 24: Eliezer and the Holy Spirit

Weighing in at 67 verses, Genesis 24 is the most heavyweight chapter in all of Genesis. 

In a book of stories so epic that each story could, by itself, fill up shelves and shelves of books, it’s extraordinary that this particular story about a servant’s mission to find a bride and bring her back to the master’s son occupies more space than any other story. Why is this? Does it really deserve so much real estate?

Genesis 24 reminds me of a scene where two guys are flying over the Pacific Ocean in a commercial airliner. Hours and hours go by, and one guy keeps looking out the window. Finally he turns to the other guy and says, “Man, the ocean is big.” The other guy says, “Yeah and that’s just the top of it.” This chapter, the biggest in Genesis, is just like that: broad but very deep. Half-jokingly, I like to say that Genesis 24 is where God sits down and says, “I’d like to tell you a little bit about the Holy Spirit.”

Who is Eliezer?

Eliezer is Abraham’s #1 servant. We learn of him back when Abraham says that if he should remain childless, the heir of his house would fall to Eliezer of Damascus (Genesis 15:2). From this comment we gather that Eliezer of Damascus is Abraham’s chief steward, a servant so esteemed that he could have inherited Abraham’s estate. Well, rolling the clock forward, it is the same guy who scores the leading role in Genesis 24. Abraham commissions his lead servant to find a bride for his beloved son Isaac. But interestingly, Eliezer is named not even once in Genesis 24. Instead, the chapter refers to him as “Abraham’s servant” or as “the servant,” the man who “had charge of all that Abraham had” (24:2). It is by design that Eliezer is not named as an individual separate from Abraham. He is to be seen as an extension of Abraham in this chapter. And we will see why that is important. 

To summarize the longest chapter in Genesis, grant me two paragraphs. (And note: I am going to call Eliezer by name, but remember he is never called by name in the text.) To begin, Abraham tells his head servant (Eliezer) to go and find a bride for his son Isaac. Eliezer swears to do so and departs on a long journey. He eventually comes upon a well where he sits down and prays. An attractive woman named Rebekah approaches the well. Eliezer runs over to her and requests a small drink. She gives him a drink and then she says, “I will draw water for your camels also.” Eliezer watches in amazement as she draws water for his ten camels. When she finishes watering the camels, Eliezer gives her a golden nose ring weighing one half-shekel and two bracelets weighing ten shekels (that is, one shekel’s weight for each camel she watered). He says to her, “Please tell me whose daughter you are. Is there room in your father’s house for us to spend the night?” When she invites him to her house, Eliezer bows and worships God.

Arriving at Rebekah’s house, we meet her brother: Laban. Laban invites Eliezer inside and Eliezer tells the family who he is, what mission he is on, and what took place earlier at the well. Laban listens to the story and realizes that this pairing is a match made in Heaven. Laban says, “Take her and go, and let her be the wife of your master’s son, as the Lord has spoken.” Again Eliezer bows. He brings out garments and jewelry of gold and silver, and gives those to Rebekah. He then gives precious things to Rebekah’s brother and mother. They all eat and drink together, and Eliezer spends the night. In the morning, Rebekah and Eliezer set out together. A journey ensues, a journey in which Eliezer is returning to his home alongside Abraham and Isaac, while Rebekah is venturing toward her new home, a home she has never seen, as she follows Eliezer wherever he takes her. [Spoiler alert: you are on this journey! This is the journey you take as a Christian being led by the Holy Spirit! Even though you have not laid eyes on the Son yet, already you are His Bride.] Soon enough, Eliezer and Isaac’s bride-to-be reach their destination. Rebekah sees Isaac in the distance. She asks Eliezer, “Who is that man walking in the field to meet us?” Eliezer says, “That is my master [Isaac].” She dismounts the camel and veils herself. Eliezer greets Isaac first, telling him everything that he has done. Isaac then takes Rebekah into the tent of Sarah and there Rebekah becomes his wife. “He loved her,” we are told by the very last verse.

Zooming out, we look at the characters more broadly to hear a story more profound: Abraham is the Father. Isaac is the Son. The father’s servant, Eliezer, is the Holy Spirit. Rebekah is, well, you––the Son’s Bride.

Since Eliezer scores the starring role in this chapter, we will keep the focus on him. Here are 16 ways to answer this question: What does Eliezer teach us about the Holy Spirit?

1. The Holy Spirit goes into the world to seek and retrieve a Bride for the Son.
2. The Holy Spirit is sent by the Father on the Son’s behalf. 
3. Eliezer works to fulfill God’s covenant with Abraham. So, too, the Holy Spirit works to fulfill God’s covenant with Abraham. 
4. Eliezer is not mentioned by name in Genesis 24 because he is an extension of Abraham himself. Eliezer’s identity is connected to the master. The two characters are intertwined. So, too, the Holy Spirit’s character is intertwined with the Father.  
5. Three times in one chapter we see Eliezer bowing and worshipping the Lord. The Holy Spirit finds expression in humility, worship, and prayer. 
6. Eliezer is a war hero, one who goes into battle to rescue the lost. Although this detail comes from a separate story in Genesis 14, still it serves as a picture of the Holy Spirit.
7. In Genesis 24, Eliezer does not act according to human logic. If Eliezer had acted logically, he would have entered the city and asked for the whereabouts of Abraham’s extended family. Then he would have knocked on their door, introduced himself, and asked to meet their daughters. Of course, this is not what Eliezer does at all! Instead, he visits a well from which the entire community draws water. He then prays that the first girl to give him water would be the one for Isaac. Is this what you would have done? No! Because it’s a strange strategy, isn’t it? It doesn’t make a lot of sense on paper. And yet, it works. And it teaches us something about the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit isn’t too concerned with making sense on paper. The Holy Spirit defies formulas, defies description, defies the boundaries of common human logic. His ways are higher than our ways. 
8. In the story, Eliezer runs to Rebekah (24:17). With eagerness he initiates their interaction. Likewise, the Holy Spirit eagerly runs to you. But you must respond. 
9. If you are unwillingly to respond, God does not hold the Holy Spirit responsible. (See 24:8.)
10. Eliezer gives Rebekah a ring for her nose (not for her ear or her finger). The nose is where life is breathed in. God breathed into man’s nostrils the breath of life. All to say, the Holy Spirit adorns those areas where God has entered your being and given you life. 
11. Eliezer doesn’t pass out applications and select the most qualified applicant. He doesn’t look for the richest girl. He doesn’t stage a beauty contest. Instead he looks for a girl with kindness and compassion in her heart. Notice, his test involves two aspects: Part 1 is a spoken request: “I am thirsty.” Part 2 is an unspoken request, a need that is not verbalized: my camels are thirsty too! Rebekah not only meets the spoken need, she also satsifies the unspoken need. She sees beyond the obvious; she discerns something more. This is the kind of person that the Holy Spirit gets excited about. 
12. Eliezer may manage Abraham’s estate, but Isaac is the owner of Abraham’s estate. There is a similar dynamic between the Holy Spirit and Jesus. The Holy Spirit may manage certain affairs, but everything ultimately belongs to the Son. Reference John 16:13-15 where the Son says, “When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth, for he will not speak on his own authority . . . He will glorify me, for he will take what is mine and declare it to you. All that the Father has is mine; therefore I said that he will take what is mine and declare it to you.” The authority belongs to the Son and the Spirit serves His purposes. 
13. In Genesis 24, Eliezer and Rebekah meet at a well and then go to her house. At her house, their special encounter at the well is relayed to her family. This is an important moment for Rebekah. As she listens to Eliezer retell the story, she comes to understand more about herself. Think about it: back when she was drawing water for the camels, she was focused only on the task at hand. She had no idea what would come of her actions. She doesn’t put it all together until she hears it through Eliezer’s voice as he recounts the events later on. Then something special takes place. It works the same way with our own testimony. Any time we reflect on our past and consider how God brought us to Him, we recount certain moments that, at the time, may have seemed mundane or commonplace. But later we perceive them differently. Those moments become special to us once we hear them through the voice of the Spirit. 
14. Eliezer gives gifts, garments, and precious things. Some translations say costly ornaments but mine says precious things. Note, though, “This term rendered precious things, as found in Songs 4:13, is used to express exquisite fruits or delicacies” (Source). Rashi concurs: he translates Genesis 24:53 to say delicious fruits. In other words, Eliezer gives gifts, garments, and delicious fruits (Source). I like this translation best because it yields an insight. Eliezer gives gifts to the bride, but the delicious fruits he gives to Rebekah’s family. The fruits are not for Rebekah, after all. The fruits are because of Rebekah, yes, but they are for the others. In like manner, the Holy Spirit gives us gifts (1 Corinthians 12). Meanwhile, the fruit of the Spirit are for everyone around us. 
15. Eliezer doesn’t like delay. When Laban wants Rebekah to stay another ten days before leaving, Eliezer tells him, “Do not delay me” (24:56). Eliezer doesn’t want to wait around. He wants to act. This is indicative of the Holy Spirit. 
16. On her journey to meet Isaac, Rebekah is carried by the camel that she watered the night before. It’s like her good deeds service the thing that bring her to the son, while Eliezer leads the way. During her journey with Eliezer, Rebekah does not see Isaac. She merely anticipates meeting him in person. Finally, at the end, she lays eyes on him. She asks Eliezer, “Who is that man walking toward us?” And Eliezer says, “That is my master.” I love this so much because we journey toward a Messiah whom we have never met in person. But we come to know Him in advance through what the Spirit reveals to us as we walk together. In time, the Spirit will introduce us to one another in person. 

What's So Interesting about Genesis 5?

Genesis 5 is a connect-the-dots chapter where God draws a line from Adam to Noah. What we have at the surface level is a list of descendants spanning 10 generations. If we look just beneath the surface, the meaning of each name preaches the Gospel message:

Man (is) appointed mortal, sorrow, (but) blessed God shall come down, teaching. His death shall bring, the despairing, rest. As Chuck Missler says, “You will never convince me that a group of Jewish rabbis conspired to hide the Christian Gospel right here in a genealogy within their venerated Torah!”

Just as the Gospel message relates to every man on earth, it’s interesting to think that these ten men are related to every person on earth. These guys are the fathers––the great(x) grandparents––of the beggar in rural India and the Queen of England, of Napoleon Bonaparte and Napoleon Dynamite. It’s very possible that when God looked upon these ten men, in them He saw you and me. He saw every person we will ever meet. For seeded within these ten men was God’s vision for all of humanity. This is a legitimate concept especially in light of the previous chapter. In that chapter, Genesis 4, Cain kills his younger brother Abel, and after the murder takes place, God says to Cain, “What have you done? Listen! Your brother’s bloods cry out to me from the ground” (Genesis 4:10). That’s no typo! In Hebrew, the word “blood” is plural! Abel’s bloods cried out to God.

The commentators have puzzled over this for many years. Its plural form must have implications. One thought is that, when Cain killed Abel, he didn’t just end the existence of one man. He ended the life of Abel’s entire lineage! Here’s how Matthew Poole’s Commentary puts it: “In the Hebrew it is bloods to charge Cain with the murder of all those that might naturally have come out of Abel’s loins” (Source). To lean into this idea, the murder of Abel was actually a mass murder. And the victims of Cain––that is, Abel’s unborn descendants––cried out to God. 

Maybe we can think of it this way: imagine that God has carefully arranged a long line of dominoes. He touched the first one and set the whole line into motion. Well, if you interrupt the sequence––if you remove a single domino from the line––every domino afterward is affected. The kinetic energy is lost, and the rest of the line is wasted. And so it is when a person is murdered: the person is prematurely removed from the sequence, and those intended to come afterward are forever imprisoned in a state of lost potential. Of course, you and I don’t sense that lost potential, but this verse from Genesis 4 suggests that God does see it for what it is. That missing potential cries out to God like forgotten prisoners pleading for attention from inside their jail cell. They cried out from the ground, the ground being the clay God uses to form man. In other words, Abel’s bloods soaked into the raw physical material of a human, as it were, but since there was a break in the order, the ground could no longer bear God’s image. The life in Abel’s bloods would go forever unformed by the ground. 

This notion may sound far-fetched but look at how Jesus associates unforgiveness with murder. In Matthew 18, we read, “Then Peter said to Jesus, ‘Lord, how often will my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? As many as seven times?’ Jesus said to him, ‘I do not say to you seven times, but seventy-seven times.’” Jesus, a master at the Torah, is borrowing the language from Genesis 4. 

In Genesis 4, we read about Cain’s descendant, Lamech. Lamech kills a young man for wounding him. He doesn’t forgive the young man. No, he kills him. And then he says,   “...if Cain is avenged seven times, then Lamech will be avenged 77 times.” With this in mind, can you hear the parallel? Lamech used this language in the context of murder, but Jesus uses it in the context of forgiveness. Jesus wants to lay them side by side so he borrows the same language. His underlying message is that unforgiveness is akin to murder. If I do not forgive you, then I essentially cut you out of my life. Your place in my world ceases to exist. This is murder, in a spiritual sense. And when I do this––when I choose the path of unforgiveness––the relationship between us dies, and the fruit of that relationship never takes life. Like the lost lineage of Abel, the potential between us goes unrealized. But not in God’s purview, for He sees what is lost. He sees what could have been. 

Thinking back on Abel’s bloods crying out to God from the ground, I think it goes to show how appalled God is by murder and unforgiveness. Cain’s murder wasn’t just a murder; it was a mass murder. Unforgiveness isn’t just a one-time violation; it’s an ongoing violation that you and I will never understand. 

I said earlier that Abel’s descendants were “jailed” in a state of lost potential, crying out behind bars so to speak. Well, in keeping with that analogy, God heard their cries and saw fit to bail them out. By God’s gracious intervention, Abel’s descendants escaped the violence of Cain even though Abel did not. At least, this is how I see it, and I believe this is how Eve saw it, too. Here is why I say that. 

Genesis 4:25: “And Adam knew his wife again, and she bore a son and called his name Seth, for she said, ‘God has appointed for me another offspring instead of Abel, for Cain killed him.’” This amazing verse holds the key. For context, there is an article posted by Creation Ministries that is relevant to Genesis 4:25. The following is an except from that article: “Seeing as Adam and Eve were commanded to reproduce, it might be assumed that Cain was born pretty early, perhaps a year or two after Creation Week. Abel was born after that, but not necessarily next. His name appears next, but this is because he is an important part of the story. Yet even if Abel was the second child, it is unlikely that Seth was the third. 

“Since Seth was prophetically named by his mother (his name sounds like “he appointed” in Hebrew), it is reasonable to suspect that he was the first son born after Abel died. This means there may have been sons born between Abel and Seth.”

It is not important whether or not Seth is the third son. More importantly, Seth is the son born after Abel’s death, because that would explain Eve’s peculiar connection as she links her lost son Abel to her newborn son Seth. In her eyes, it is like God had predestined one to replace the other. No matter what, Eve saw in Seth something special: he wasn’t just another child; he was an in place of child. 

This will take some Hebraic understanding. And stay with me, because I promise to return to the subject at hand. In Greek thought, a substitute is different than the thing being substituted. (A substitute teacher is not the real teacher, for instance.) But in Hebraic thought, a substitute for something becomes the something! So the substitute teacher is acting as the teacher. The two are one in the same. If this concept remains unclear, I am going to have to press the language. Examples from Scripture will be helpful. Genesis 22: When the ram became a substitute for Isaac, the ram was sacrificed as Isaac. Understand: Isaac died that day! And yet, he didn’t. Because the ram died in his place. Isaac’s substitute died on Isaac’s behalf; it died as Isaac. Take and apply this idea to Jesus’ death on the cross. Jesus died in your place. He took the punishment of sin instead of you. But that’s you on the cross! Then again, it’s not. Because He died in your place. He died as you, even though it was Him. You now continue on, a living sacrifice, dead to your sins. 

The Hebrew word is tachat (תחת): it means instead of. I am about to give you a chunk of information condensed into a few paragraphs, so I encourage you to study it out for yourself. All of this can be second and third verified through other sources online. But tachat is the word used in Genesis 22:13b: “Abraham went over and took the ram and sacrificed it as a burnt offering instead of his son.” It’s the word used in Exodus 21:23-24: “If there is harm, then you shall pay life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, wound for wound, stripe for stripe.” The principle here is restitution, and the word translated “for” is the word tachat. You might say, “eye instead of eye, tooth instead of tooth...” Here’s what it means: if I damage your eye, then I must pay you what is equivalent to the value of an eye. The money will be in place of your eye. If I damage your hand, then I must pay you what is equivalent to the value of a hand. The money will be in place of your hand. Again, the idea is restitution. If I do you harm, how can I substitute something for your loss and make it right? The money will stand in place of what was damaged. The word tachat is the word used in Genesis 30, when Rachel offers her husband to Leah in exchange for Rueben’s mandrakes. Genesis 30:15 reads: “But Leah said to Rachel, ‘Is it a small matter that you have taken away my husband? Would you take away my son’s mandrakes also?’ Rachel said, ‘Then he may lie with you tonight in exchange for your son’s mandrakes.’” In the past, mandrake was often thought to cure sterility, and Rachel, at the time, was sterile. So mandrake represents Rachel’s greatest hope (which was to have children). Rachel was willing to give her husband to Leah in exchange for mandrake. In other words, Rachel would give the life of the father (Jacob) in exchange for the hope of the life of the father. She would give the reality in exchange for the hope. This is heavy stuff. We’ll come back to it.

Look at the word tachat in Hebrew, and a meaningful picture is revealed: 

All Hebrew letters have a meaning, and all Hebrew letters are a number. In Hebrew, the letter chet is the number 8, and the number 8 represents new beginnings, or new life (click here to see that connection made). In Hebrew, the letter tav represents a cross (online reference). This is so even in the grammar textbooks of Orthodox Jews (The Hebrew Teacher, Hyman E. Goldin, Hebrew Publishing Company, New York, 1923). So get the picture: to the left and to the right, we have a cross. And between them, in the middle, we have the number 8 representing new life. The word tachat is a picture of Calvary, where Jesus died instead of you. Where He made restitution for what was lost in the Garden. Where He exchanged the life of the Father for your hope for the life of the Father. A picture of Calvary is hidden right there in the very letters of the ancient Hebrew word. What an amazing thing!

Returning to our subject at hand: Genesis 4:25, “And Adam knew his wife again, and she bore a son and called his name Seth, for she said, ‘God has appointed for me another offspring instead of Abel, for Cain killed him.’”

It’s our word: tachat! You see, as far as Eve was concerned, every child that Abel was supposed to have, Seth had instead. For Seth was appointed to be in Abel’s place. The Messiah would have come through Abel’s bloodline. But Satan murdered the Messiah when Cain murdered Abel. But God is the Ultimate Restorer. He appointed a man named Seth to take the place of Abel. And so Seth, in Abel’s place, had children who had children who had children who gave birth to the Messiah. We might say that Genesis 5 lists Abel’s descendants, those born to Seth instead. The bloods that cried out to God in Genesis 4 are the very people born to Seth in Genesis 5. We see that God answered their plea. He used a substitute to reach them. And in Abel’s bloods was the very voice of Messiah! Messiah Himself was calling out to God! What an interesting thought to think, that God used a substitute to save the Messiah, so that Messiah, through the act of substitution, could save the whole world, and bring the despairing rest. 

The Tower of Babel

The camera pans across an open plain and mankind says, “Come, let us make bricks...” And then, “Come, let us build a city and a tower into the heavens . . . let us make a name for ourselves...” To which God tells His army of angels, “Come, let us go down and confuse their language...” 

When Babel calls together humanity saying let’s go up!, God calls together His legions and says let’s go down! It’s like a battle scene where the two sides rush the field toward one another. Except in this case, the battlefield is vertical. It’s heaven versus earth. Earth is advancing on heaven, looking to annex new territory for itself. But God, with his army of angels, organizes a counter-offense. His army falls upon the city, infiltrates their tower, and confuses the frequency of their communications. The people  scatter. The defeat is swift! God and His angels return to Heaven, victorious. The credits roll and Psalm 89 plays...

Let the heavens praise your wonders, O Lord,

    your faithfulness in the assembly of the holy ones!

For who in the skies can be compared to the Lord?

    Who among the heavenly beings is like the Lord,

God greatly to be feared in the council of the holy ones,

    and awesome above all who are around him?

O Lord God of hosts,

    who is mighty as you are, O Lord,

    with your faithfulness all around you?

The heavens are yours; the earth also is yours;

    the world and all that is in it, you have founded them.

I must say though, mankind has come up with a clever idea in Genesis 11. They have devised a plan in which they would effectively recreate Adam. With all of humanity concentrated in a single structure under one aim, one ruler, and one language, in theory mankind would wield as much power as Adam had. Nothing would be impossible for them. Unfortunately their aim was not “Let us glorify God as Adam did; let us serve God with our united energies.” Their first thought was, instead, “Let us make a name for ourselves.” 

With this phrase, we as readers comes to realize that we are standing at the threshold of world history. Commenting on the passage, Rabbi Hirsch writes, “Mankind gathered in a plain where they sought to manufacture the needed materials by their own strength and ingenuity. They came to recognize the great power of a community: If all join forces and work together, man can overcome and master nature. They decided to create a structure that would be an everlasting monument to the power of the community and its preeminence over the individual. 

“Here lies the danger. An individual will ultimately realize by himself that his powers are limited. Not so the community. For the community is indeed strong, and so it may easily come to regard itself as the highest goal––as though the individual has value only through the community. The individual is thus nullified by the collective. 

“If the community declares: We want to join forces so that we may establish ourselves; if the individual is called upon to be a servant of the community but not to serve God; if the community presents itself as an end, instead of a means to an end––then mankind’s whole moral future is lost. The result is that man discovers his own power and becomes proud of the artificial means at his disposal. The idol of hollow aims is created, aims that bring about no blessing. For the sake of these aims, the individual is expected to sacrifice his life, and the community renounces its allegiance to the individual. Individuals, of course, weep at the loss of a loved one, but when the community builds its edifice of glory the toll in human life is of no importance. The community says: “Let us burn whatever there is, never mind what we destroy, as long as it will aid in building the edifice of our fame, renown, and glory.” Millions may die, yet the community is easily comforted and adds new layers onto the edifice of glory. Thus, the community becomes an end in itself. The community no longer exists for the sake of the individual. Instead, individual members are compelled, or enticed by artificial means, to submit and to sacrifice themselves for the whole.

“Tradition has it that this project was undertaken under the leadership of Nimrod. [The Torah supports this idea, as it says in Genesis 10:8-10: Cush fathered Nimrod. Nimrod was the first on earth to be a mighty man . . . The beginning of his kingdom was Babel . . . in the land of Shinar.] Indeed, only a mighty man like Nimrod can sway people to make such a sacrifice. Not even he will succeed if he doesn’t know how to kindle their enthusiasm for his aims, if he does not know how to identify his own glory with that of the masses who sacrifice themselves for him. A Napoleon or an Alexander knows how to charm the masses and win their devotion not with promises of gold and riches, but merely with a bit of ribbon in the lapel of a jacket.

“The event in Genesis 11 is not the only instance in history where lust for glory prompted the building of a “tower” and the indiscriminate consumption of all else. This event is a reoccurring phenomenon in world history. History, for the most part, tells only about towers of imaginary glory, which Nimrod and his successors enticed, or forced, their nations to build. But simple human values, a person’s conduct in the privacy of his own home––about such things history books do not tell. Such things are recorded only by Elijah and the Messiah, the heralds and agents of mankind’s ultimate redemption, and signed by God as witness.” (Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, The Hirsch Chumash, Bereshis, pg. 266-269.)

Suffice to say, Genesis 11 is an ancient warning given to all citizens throughout history. The tower represents the State and its suppression of the individual. But God values the individual more than He does the State. After all, with the exception of Israel, no State is saved. There will be no Rome in Heaven. The flag of Greece will not fly behind the Pearly Gates. The United States Congress will not convene in God’s Kingdom. God is not interested in spending eternity with a global superpower. Rather, He wants to spend eternity with you, an individual. 1 Peter 2:5 tells us what God is accomplishing with individuals: “You also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house...” Stones, like people, are each unique; there are no two exactly alike. God––a master stone mason––skillfully handles our differences and patiently works with them. Using love as His mortar, He brings us together to accomplish His great work. But the State would seek to accomplish something else: to turn stones into bricks. Bricks are manufactured to be exactly the same. They are interchangeable, easily stacked, and easily replaced. The State, if given absolute power, would margin off our differences and mold us into a thing that can be used to prop itself up. It would do this to you, your son, your grandson, and his son, because you see the State is never big enough. Construction seemingly goes on and on and on. The Tower of Babel went unfinished in Genesis 11 because the State is always unfinished. It requires more and more bricks to satisfy its endless desire to rise. And what does the State use for mortar? What is the slime holding the bricks in place? Materialism. Materialism is the tar that entraps the bricks. At least that is the case in 21st Century America.

It seems like Americans are being made into bricks, set to the form of political correctness. Notice, we are increasingly limited in what we’re allowed to talk about publicly. What is deemed “acceptable social dialogue” is a packaged language, uniform in many ways. Tolerance and diversity are proclaimed in the streets, but only if you agree with the terms of those declaring it. You see, if your beliefs differ from popular science and secularism, then you best keep quiet. Leave your religion at church––don’t bring it to the voting booth! Don’t talk about it in public. Don’t express it in writing. “Fit into this shape and be part of what we’re building here, understand? If you find it hard to accept, here’s a new house, a new car, a new trip, a new TV, a new TV show. Whatever it takes to get you quiet and get you comfortable.” Certainly the materialistic hold on us makes for a sticky situation. But it’s the kind of thing Christians are up against today in our country. Indeed, the spirit of the tower remains alive and well. It was never finished.

Again, the tower represents the State and its suppression of the individual. As we think about this, I want to compare two structures that are not far apart in the Bible: the tower constructed by the people in the plain of Shinar and the altar constructed by Noah in the mountains of Ararat. Both of these structures were built (banah, בנה) by man, and in both cases, a large portion of humanity was involved. (Noah was an eighth of the world’s population when he built that altar.) However, there are some key differences: Babel’s structure was made of bricks; Noah’s was made of stone. Babel’s was a collective work; Noah’s was a personal work. Babel’s was dedicated to man’s glory; Noah’s was dedicated to God’s glory. Babel’s elevated Babel; Noah’s elevated all the earth (as it is said, his altar of stone was a continuum of the earth, lifting it heavenward). Babel’s sent up a spirit of pride; Noah’s sent up a spirit of humility. Babel’s tower rose high into the sky; Noah’s “tower” was only a few feet tall, and yet, his ascended far higher. Babel’s tower merely wanted to reach the heavens, but Noah’s actually did! For we read that Noah’s made it all the way up to the Lord as a pleasing aroma. But for Babel, God had to go down and see it. He had to step down from Heaven. So we can infer that Noah’s efforts ascended higher than Babel’s. Meaning: the efforts of a single man devoted to God will surpass the efforts of an entire nation devoted to itself.

Let’s conclude with one last comparison. Genesis 11:6-7 reads: “And the Lord said, ‘Behold, they are one people, and they have all one language, and this is only the beginning of what they will do. And nothing that they propose to do will now be impossible for them. Come, let us go down and there confuse their language, so that they may not understand one another’s speech.’”

We compare this to an earlier passage from Genesis: “Then the Lord God said, ‘Behold, the man has become like one of us in knowing good and evil. Now, lest he reach out his hand and take also of the tree of life and eat, and live forever—’ therefore the Lord God sent him out from the garden of Eden to work the ground from which he was taken” (Genesis 3:22-24). 

In both passages, God reaches into the course of history and intervenes directly. If God hadn’t intervened, man would have lived forever and anything we proposed would have been possible. Now these may seem like good things at first... Living forever? Doing the impossible? Why would God intervene and prevent such things from happening?

Well, the context is important. In the context of Genesis 3, to live forever is to be separated from God perpetually. In the context of Genesis 11, to accomplish anything we propose is to accomplish nothing that you propose. God separates us from the Tree of Life (temporarily) so that we may break free from our fallen state. God separates us from one language (temporarily) so that we may break free from a fallen State.