Have
you ever felt called to go forth? I
have.
There
are times when something stirs inside me, and I am moved to strike out into a
wilderness, across which there are no trails, the other side of which I cannot see. For example, this happened when I—and then my
wife Channa after me—when we were moved to strike out from Judaism, which we
had loved during the past twenty-five years, into a desert of spiritual
dryness. For what purpose were we
going? What should we find?
Biblically,
I turn my attention to another striking-out, described in Genesis 12:1-2a. This is the
incident known as “The Call of Abraham,” although Abraham was still known only
as Abram when the call arrived for him.
Here
are the circumstances. Abram’s father, Terah,
had three sons, the other two being Nahor and Haran. The whole family dwelt in Ur of the
Chaldeans, which was a rich and sophisticated center of pagan worship near the
headwaters of the Euphrates River, where a famous ziggurat had been
erected. When Terah’s sons grew to be
men, all three took wives. Abram married
Sarai (later to be called Sarah). Sarai
bore no sons for Abram because she was barren.
Nahor married his brother Haran’s daughter, his own niece, who was named
Milcah. We do not learn the name of
Haran’s wife—the mother of Milcah—but she bore Haran two children, Milcah and
also Lot.
In time, Terah decided to migrate with parts of his
family to the land of Canaan, which was a strenuous 1,500 mile journey, first traveling
westward, to skirt the northern edge of the desert, and then following easier
terrain southward—with more water for the sheep. Scripture provides us with no explanation for
this decision on Terah’s part, other than the simple statement that Terah decided
to enter Canaan. As regards Terah’s
decision, there is no hint that the Lord instructed him to go forth. Terah took
Abram and Sarai along, as well as his grandson Lot, and, presumably, their
households and herds as well.
The first part of the journey was short. There was a settling place for the extended Terah
family, called Haran—in this case, Haran was a place name. The family settled in Haran for a time,
perhaps because Terah was infirm. Terah
died at Haran, having reached the venerable age of two hundred five years. At that time, Abram was seventy-five.
Then comes the Scripture passage about which I am curious,
referenced above. Settled at Haran,
after his father’s death, Abram may have been perplexed what to do. His father had initiated this journey. Now that his father was no longer there, what
was Abram’s responsibility? Here’s how Scripture
reads.
Now the Lord said to Abram,
Go forth from your country,
And from your relatives
and from your father’s house
To the land which I will
show you;
And I will make you a
great nation,
And I will bless you,
and make your name great.
In Hebrew, the words I bolded above—Go forth—are the two words Lekh
Lekha. Even if you do not read Hebrew,
you can still intuit that these two words are very similar to one another. Lekh, that
word by itself, provides us with the
entire sense of the passage—go—and it
would have sufficed by itself. My Jewish
friend Steve, a Hebrew scholar, introduced me to this linguistic
conundrum. Why does Scripture use the double
form, when the single form would have been enough to convey the meaning? Lekh Lekha
literally means either “go to you”
or “go for you.”
Many readers will know that this passage, after all, is a
key passage in Judaism. It is one of the
clear statements legitimizing the People Israel’s patrimony and promising its
destiny. Given the centrality of the
passage, textual subtleties are important for us to study so we may determine,
if we are able, what they have to tell us.
What
did the Lord mean? Perhaps He was saying
to Abram, “GO TO YOU.” Perhaps He was
saying, “GO FOR YOU.”
Scripture
does not give us assurance that, before the Lord spoke to Abram in this manner,
Abram had any particular relationship with the Lord. This call may have been Abram’s initial experience
of the peremptory voice of the Lord. There
seems, though, to have been great knowledge on the part of the Lord regarding Abram’s
character, even if the knowledge was one-sided at the time He called to
Abram.
“Go
to you.” “Go for you.” What is meant by “you?”
After
Genesis is done, and after Abraham—as
then called—is dead, we can look back and see that Abraham is the sole patriarch
who is identified as a “friend of God” in the Old Testament. For example, we see Ezra identify him that
way in 2 Chronicles 20:7 and the
voice of the Lord Himself speak of Abraham that way in Isaiah 41:8. So…the Lord knew
Abram’s nature and his future before Abram knew much—or anything—of the
Lord. The “you” toward whom the Lord
instructs Abram to proceed is not his own personal “you.” It is the corporate “you,” who will come to
embody all of the People Israel and their backstory of religious and cultural
justification, along with their righteousness in following the Lord’s will and
covenant. The Lord is calling Abram to become what the Lord already knows Abram will
become…the man who may therefore be named “friend.”
Abram
did not have a conversion experience. Simply,
Abram did what he was instructed to do. He
did not know why, except that the Lord promised he would make of Abram a great
nation, which must have seemed unlikely on the face of it, since Sarai was
barren.
Abram
did not change from being something
beforehand to being something else
afterwards. He was who he was to become
all along.
I
am thinking about this because of the “go forth” which Channa and I experienced
in our migration from Judaism to evangelical Christianity. We were called to begin a spiritual journey
with no knowledge of our belief destination.
Many have spoken of our event as a conversion; I have done so, too. However, the truth is not that we changed
from a settled beforehand to a new afterwards.
The truth is that we were called to become who we already were, but who
we had not yet known we were.
The
great conversion model of Christianity has always been the experience of Saul,
when he became Paul…even his name changed!
(Saul’s/Paul’s experience is described in Acts 9.) Christians ever afterwards have studied this event and
concluded that the man was one thing before his Damascus Road vision, and
another thing after it. He was a Jew,
then he was a Christian.
At
least for Channa and for me, the model does not hold up; nor—in my opinion—does
it hold up for Paul either. Our
experience was a little like Paul’s (though by no means as important). Paul was a Roman citizen who was raised and
was educated as a Jew, and he fought against the new “Way,” the local term for Jews
who believed Jesus was the promised Messiah. Shortly, though, Paul experienced Jesus
appearing before him and striking him blind.
Paul changed his mind about the Way, but…he was still a Jew. There was not anything else he could have been. The term “Christian” had not yet been coined,
nor, more importantly, was there any theology, any creed, any piety, or any
orthodoxy of sanctified governance established to support doctrinal dogmatics
and corporate identity. It was too
early.
Paul
was a Jew who believed in the Way. That
is, Paul believed that Jesus—a Jew—was the Messiah, and that Jesus would save Paul
and other Jews from sin, against which they all struggled incessantly, if they
would only believe in Him. Gentiles could get in on the salvation, too; all
that was required was belief. Paul preached
mostly to gentiles when he was on his journeys because he infuriated his fellow
Jews, who were content, for the most part, with their present way. During his journeys, Paul continued to live
and to act as a Jew (albeit as a Jew of the Way), but also as a Jew who had
become whom he personally was supposed to become…called forth to become so by a
theophanic event, rather as Abram, centuries before, had been called forth to
become Abraham. Paul was supposed to
become a Jew who believed in the Way and who preached it. So, that’s who he became.
Some
people are puzzled when Channa and I state that we are Jews and Christians. The accepted conversion model for change
negates this as a possibility. However,
as one who has experienced the event, I negate the conversion model. Being called forth is more subtle than the
model allows. The Lord knows Channa and
me, as who He knows us to be, for His purposes.
We
did not change; we became more so.
*******
Reach me directly, if you like, at dikkon@dikkoneberhart.com
*******
Reach me directly, if you like, at dikkon@dikkoneberhart.com
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