The Bread and the Wine

Last Sunday, we learned that Abram has what it takes to be a hero. When war between villains skirted around the edges of the land, when an invasion caught up his hapless nephew, Abram held nothing back. He called on his covenanted allies, he emptied out the soldiers he'd been training for an emergency, and he rode hard for weeks to catch up to the withdrawing winners; he lent all his craft to an attack by night from all sides, and he set the powers of the world to flight – all so he could be a savior to those who needed one. Against the most impossible odds, Abram prevailed, snatching the captives from their captor and the plunder from its plunderer.

What now? “After his return,” Abram and his returning army, laden with treasures and leading the redeemed in procession, reached a point called “the Valley of Shaveh, which is the Valley of the King” – and that was where “the king of Sodom,” who had survived the tar pit and escaped the battle, “went out to meet him” (Genesis 14:17). Bera is back on stage. But what are his motives here? 'Meet' is an ambiguous verb. It could mean Bera is en route to greet Abram and his men, a gesture of grateful welcome with open arms. But the same verb could mean Bera is coming to intercept Abram and his men, to challenge and confront Abram; that would be a much more hostile move. So what does Bera have in mind: hostility or hospitality?¹ Only the next action will tell. But before it can, an intruder appears on stage, interrupting everything, distracting us from the question.

This chapter has been packed with kings. We've met nine of them: Chedorlaomer of Elam, Amraphel of Shinar, Arioch of Ellasar, Tidal of the nations, Bera of Sodom, Birsha of Gomorrah, Shinab of Admah, Shemeber of Zeboiim, and the unnamed king of Bela. Count 'em up, that's nine. And now we're standing in the Valley of the King. But which king? None of the nine can call it theirs. Out of seemingly nowhere, another king – a king who wasn't in the war, hasn't been an invader or a defender; a king whose presence isn't mandated by the story, and so is acting in perfect freedom – bursts in and rounds out their number. He's the tenth king this chapter.²

His name is longer than any but the Elamite's; his name is Melchizedek (Genesis 14:18). It's not such a weird name to have in these parts; a few centuries from now, we'll meet a coalition of local kings led by Adonizedek (Joshua 10:3-5). This could even be a title. More than one king in the Middle East back then used a similar-sounding phrase to designate themselves 'rightful king.'³ But it just as likely could be a personal name, meaning “my king is righteous.”⁴ In time, it became common, as early Jews read this text, to focus on this name as a significant fact about his character and role: “For he is entitled 'the righteous king,'”⁵ “called in the native tongue 'righteous king,' for such indeed he was.”⁶ The New Testament agrees: “He is first, by translation of his name, 'king of righteousness'” (Hebrews 7:2). That's what Melchizedek could mean: 'king of righteousness.'

But that raises another question. Up to now, the Bible's been pretty sparse on king-talk. The first use of the word was for Nimrod's 'kingdom' (Genesis 10:10); Abram has a rough time with Pharaoh (Genesis 12:15-20), who will be called a 'king' later on (Genesis 41:46); and in this chapter, we have local kings of wicked cities pitted against invading tyrants who smash and steal everything and everyone in view (Genesis 14:1-11). So at this point, it seems that 'king' is a dirty word. And doesn't that fit a lot of our suspicions these days – that political power always means corruption, due to the special temptations it brings for moral compromise to grab and keep coveted position? I mean, ask yourself: who was the last American political leader widely recognized as honest and fair-minded toward supports and opponents alike, as both wise and a virtuous person, as an uncompromised steward of power and public trust? Who among the politicians doesn't reveal an inner darkness once in office or else seem to corrode their character through the grimy realities of navigating the system? And then the obvious question is: Could there be such a thing as a righteous political leader, one who stands up for justice?

And by his very name, Melchizedek steps into this morass to stake a claim that, despite everything we've read in the Bible so far and despite everything we see and hear in the news each day, there can and has been such a thing as a king who governs justly, a king whose rule unveils virtue, a righteous king. For Melchizedek, as the Bible presents him, is “a figure of outstanding personal character,” all while wielding political power.⁷

So where's he do it? Well, the Bible introduces him as “Melchizedek, king of Salem” (Genesis 14:18). Where is that? Well, this valley we're in now shows up once later, just outside Jerusalem (2 Samuel 8:18).⁸ Those names sound pretty similar, although even back in these early days, surviving records call the city Rushalimum or Urushalim.⁹ Jerusalem is also where the similar-named king Adonizedek ruled (Joshua 10:1). And later psalm parallels Salem with Zion as the place on earth where God lives (Psalm 76:2). Add it all up, and most scholars today agree Jerusalem is in view.¹⁰ Ancient readers thought so, too, that this was “Salem, which is Jerusalem.”¹¹ So Melchizedek is reigning from Jerusalem; this is our first biblical glimpse of that vital place.

But Salem is a name, Shalem, that's also a Hebrew word on its own: shalom, 'peace.' So, as the New Testament reads it, Melchizedek “is also king of Salem, that is, king of peace” (Hebrews 7:2), an understanding shared by other Jews of the time.¹² Can this be a city called Peace? If kings have gotten a bad rap up to now, cities fare worse still, from their invention by Cain (Genesis 4:17) to their prominence in Nimrod's kingdom (Genesis 10:10-12) and the building of the city of Babel (Genesis 11:3). No city we've met so far has been a wholesome place, and though Lot dares to move toward cities, Abram sticks to the open country (Genesis 13:12). Enoch, Babel, Ur, Harran, Sodom and Gomorrah – “the city full of injustice” (Ezekiel 9:9), “the bloody city all full of lies” (Nahum 3:1). It's seemed cities can be no good – until now, when we hear of a city called Peace?¹³

The next thing we learn is that Melchizedek worships El 'Elyon, “God Most High” (Genesis 14:18).¹⁴ The Canaanites worshipped many gods, but their neglected figurehead was “Kind El the Compassionate,”¹⁵ “the Gentle and Holy One,”¹⁶ “Father of Years,”¹⁷ “Creator of Creatures,”¹⁸ “Father of Man.”¹⁹ Archaeologists aren't sure there were temples to this El, though Canaanites seem to have worshipped all the gods together under the collective name Ilu.²⁰ As far as 'elyon, that was a nickname other gods might bear,²¹ though some Canaanites believed in a pair of original gods, El and Elyon.²² But when Melchizedek uses the phrase El Elyon, he's likely referring generically, not to one or both of those particular pagan gods, but to “the deity most high.”²³ His god is godhood itself, abstracted from silly myths, exalted above the heaven and the earth he created and owns.²⁴

The Canaanites told many awful and scurrilous myths about their gods, but Melchizedek doesn't come across in our Bibles as the same kind of Canaanite pagan we'll meet everywhere else, whose gods weren't even to be mentioned by name by Israelites (Joshua 23:7).²⁵ In just a few verses, Abram will make his own reference to “the LORD, God Most High, Possessor of heaven and earth” (Genesis 14:22). And I don't want you to miss what just happened. Abram is saying that his God, Yahweh, 'the LORD,' the one who called him out of pagan Ur, is the same Godhead that Melchizedek has known and loved as El Elyon!²⁶ Abram “recognizes Melchizedek as one who shares his faith in the same God,”²⁷ that “all his thoughts of God are high and sublime.”²⁸ Melchizedek has the true religion, just in Canaanite clothes. What's more, Abram immediately takes up Melchizedek's way of titling the Creator and adds it to his own way, enriching his own language of the soul.²⁹ From here on out, the poets of Abram's people would “sing praise to the name of the LORD, the Most High” (Psalm 7:17). They'd confess what Abram and Melchizedek taught them: that “the LORD, the Most High, is... a great king over all the earth” (Psalm 47:2); and in days of crisis, “God was their rock, the Most High God their redeemer” (Psalm 78:35).

But Melchizedek doesn't just believe in this El Elyon, this God Most High. He's the “priest of God Most High” (Genesis 14:19). This is, believe it or not, the first time in the Bible we run into the word 'priest.'³⁰ Jewish writers in the first century credited Melchizedek as “the first to officiate as priest of God,”³¹ or even “the head of priests reigning over a royal people who serve you, O LORD.”³² Jews praised the God “who appointed Melchizedek a high priest in your service.”³³ Among the Jewish people, priests and kings were kept separate, they were different positions with incompatible requirements, and the priesthood was older than the monarchy.³⁴ Canaanite kings seem to have had leading roles in many sacrifices and rituals,³⁵ but what's happening here goes even beyond that: “this Melchizedek was at the same time both priest and king.”³⁶ How unusual!

So “Melchizedek, king of Salem, brought out bread and wine, and he was priest of God Most High” (Genesis 14:18). What does it mean? Many ancient readers took this as ordinary food and drink: Melchizedek just “brought out food and drink for Abram and for all the men who were with him.”³⁷ “Melchizedek hospitably entertained Abraham's army, providing abundantly for all their needs” as they were battle-weary.³⁸ On that reading, this is merely “a festive meal,”³⁹ “a full dinner, a royal banquet,”⁴⁰ but can that really be all?

See, that might be a good first reading. But then it had to go and clarify that Melchizedek's a priest. And as a priest, “Melchizedek's bringing bread and wine” carries “a religious import.”⁴¹ “Every high priest,” after all, “is appointed to offer gifts and sacrifices; thus it is necessary for this priest also to have something to offer” (Hebrews 8:3). So this is “more than a display of hospitality,” it's “a religious ritual.”⁴² Melchizedek “offered sacrifices of thanksgiving for the victory” Abram had won.⁴³ But he doesn't haul out a lamb or goat or a fatted calf. The only gift mentioned in connection with Melchizedek's priesthood is this bread and this wine.⁴⁴ Rabbis linked Melchizedek's bread and wine to “the laws of the priesthood,”⁴⁵ while early Christians labeled it “a simple and pure sacrifice” to God Most High,⁴⁶ suggesting Melchizedek then shared with Abram and his men “part of the sacrifice which he had offered to the Lord in bread and wine.”⁴⁷ And of course he did, because the inevitable end to an ancient war was a religious celebration of victory,⁴⁸ and a major theme in Canaanite religion was that gods invite humans to feast together on sacrificial food in the open country, in places just like this valley.⁴⁹ For if “Melchizedek offered bread and wine in sacrifice,”⁵⁰ then they here become holy gifts, “symbols of the priesthood,”⁵¹ “those things which Abraham venerated and received.”⁵²

And so “Melchizedek... brought out bread and wine, and he was priest of God Most High, and he blessed him” (Genesis 14:18-19). This offering of bread and wine “cannot be separated from the blessing by Melchizedek that follows.”⁵³ First, “Melchizedek blessed him in a great mystery,”⁵⁴ with the words, “Blessed be Abram by God Most High, Creator of heaven and earth!” (Genesis 14:19). Melchizedek “pours a heavenly blessing on the conqueror who had put himself in danger for the sake of his brother's hardships.”⁵⁵ Melchizedek recognizes his God Most High as active in this foreigner Abram's life. Melchizedek is asking the Creator of Creatures to keep being so kind and compassionate, to enrich all of Abram's relationships, to enhance Abram's well-being, to lift Abram up higher in life.⁵⁶ Melchizedek leads the way for others to bless Abram (Genesis 12:3).

Then, Melchizedek adds a further praise: “And blessed be God Most High, who has delivered your enemies into your hand” (Genesis 14:20). Melchizedek is already priest of El Elyon, but now he calls attention to El Elyon's praiseworthiness for protecting Abram on a great errand of mercy. Melchizedek “praises the Divine Majesty as the only and supreme God, who has everything in his hand and controls it with power and dispatch,” as Luther put it.⁵⁷ By these praises, Melchizedek is teaching Abram's men, reminding him and them that “without grace from above, he could not have prevailed over such might.”⁵⁸ That's the essence of Melchizedek's sermon here.

And that's just about the last we hear of Melchizedek. He's been a bolt out of the blue. The Bible is concerned with where kings and priests come from, but Melchizedek appears abruptly without a precedent and vanishes suddenly without a trace. Melchizedek doesn't do explanations; he moves in mysterious ways. He comes across as if “without father, without mother, without genealogy, having neither beginning of days nor end of life” (Hebrews 7:3), “on account of there being no mention” of these in the text of Genesis⁵⁹ – which is extra weird, since Genesis is literally built on genealogies.⁶⁰ Yet in the stark absence of these customary credentials, Melchizedek shows up and exercises spiritual authority over Abram, one of the Bible's main characters! How can somebody who flies across the stage be so important and yet so seldom mentioned?

From that question began ages of confused people wrestling with this odd character. Already by the fourth century, one bishop lamented “how many other fancies” people “have about this Melchizedek.”⁶¹ Many Jewish readers filled in the blanks by saying we'd really met Melchizedek before – that “he is Shem the Great,” Noah's son, a distant ancestor of Abram.⁶² Others dreamt up a story where Melchizedek was a local prince who reasoned his way to belief in the true God, escaped his dad's attempt to make him a human sacrifice, and saw his society destroyed in judgment.⁶³ Others, maybe trying to rebut the argument in Hebrews, came up with a still more fanciful legend where Melchizedek was Noah's nephew, born miraculously and then ordained a priest as a child before the Flood but hidden away by an angel in the Garden of Eden.⁶⁴ Some Jewish readers got even more adventurous with their guesses, treating Melchizedek as a heavenly figure who'll come someday to “carry out the vengeance of God's judgments,” defeat the forces of darkness, and set captives free “from the debt of all their iniquities.”⁶⁵ In the early church, “some did not know whether he was a man or an angel.”⁶⁶ There were a few who speculated about Melchizedek as a heavenly “power above all,”⁶⁷ or even that Melchizedek was the Holy Spirit walking around in human form!⁶⁸

Of course, none of these speculations hold any water. One old bishop complained that “certain people rave wildly in their different opinions” of Melchizedek, but he judged that they've “foolishly fallen into meaningless nonsense.”⁶⁹ The Christian consensus over centuries, as another observed back then, was that “Melchizedek was a Canaanite man,” a “human” who “reigned in an earthly city.”⁷⁰ At least, that's true for the Melchizedek of history. But what about the literary Melchizedek of mystery; where does he point, where is he leading us?

Although the shadow of Melchizedek falls heavily over people like Jethro, who played a similar role in the life of his son-in-law Moses,⁷¹ the only other mention of Melchizedek in the Old Testament is in a psalm of David where the LORD, the God of all things, invites the singer's lord to be enthroned at the right hand of God (Psalm 110:1), but more than that royal hope, “the LORD has sworn, and will not change his mind: You are a priest forever after the order of Melchizedek” (Psalm 110:4). On the surface level, the psalm works to make Melchizedek “a prototype of the ideal king of Israel,”⁷² and makes each king in David's line sort of a “successor to Melchizedek.”⁷³ But while David dancing in an ephod before the ark, offering sacrifices, and blessing the people (2 Samuel 6:14-18) gives us a glimpse of what priestly kingship could be, and the Bible even hints that “David's sons were priests” (2 Samuel 8:18),⁷⁴ they later learned the hard way that they couldn't fully cross over (2 Chronicles 26:16-21). Nor could any of them have been “a priest forever” (Psalm 110:4). This royal-priestly order of Melchizedek had to be something more, pointing to something new in the last days.⁷⁵

So it's no wonder that, as the early Christians read Genesis, they marveled at “Melchizedek as a similitude and pattern of Christ.”⁷⁶ Wasn't it hinted from the start of the New Testament? What did the angel Gabriel say to the Virgin Mary? “Behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son..., called the Son of the Most High; and the Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end” (Luke 1:31-33). During his ministry, even foul spirits acknowledged Jesus as “the Son of the Most High God,” of El Elyon (Mark 5:7). Of him did the prophets promise that “a king will reign in righteousness” (Isaiah 32:1), for “righteous and having salvation is he” (Zechariah 9:9).

Jesus himself says that the psalm we mentioned is David's address to the Messiah (Mark 12:35-36); and when the council of elders asked whether Jesus was that “Messiah, Son of the Blessed,” he answered them: “I am; and you will see the Son of Man seated at the right hand of Power and coming with the clouds of heaven” (Mark 14:61-62). Peter points out that David never inherited what the psalm promised, as “David did not ascend into the heavens” to be “exalted at the right hand of God” (Acts 2:33-34), but Paul says Jesus is the one – God “raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places” (Ephesians 1:20). There, Jesus is revealed as the true “King of Salem.”⁷⁷

But if the first royal verse of the psalm is for Jesus, then so is the fourth priestly verse. And that's why the New Testament confesses that Jesus was “designated by God a high priest after the order of Melchizedek” (Hebrews 5:10). All the other priests we'd meet in the Old Testament are Levitical priests, descended from Aaron the brother of Moses. But if that priesthood were good enough, why later on would the psalm look forward to a different kind of priest arriving (Hebrews 7:11)?⁷⁸ Those usual priests got their priesthood purely “on the basis of a legal requirement concerning bodily descent” (Hebrews 7:16), as was written of “Aaron and his sons” that “the priesthood shall be theirs by a statute” (Exodus 29:9). But Melchizedek was “marked not by a chrism prepared by human art, nor the hereditary succession that characterized the Hebrew priesthood.”⁷⁹ And Jesus “arises in the likeness of Melchizedek” (Hebrews 7:15). That's why Genesis shrouds the historical Melchizedek in such mystery: to lay down a precedent for Jesus, “without a mother according to divinity..., without a father according to the incarnation..., having neither beginning nor end, for he himself is the beginning and end of all things.”⁸⁰ Where these special things were said of Melchizedek for prophetic purpose, early Christians urge us, “Do not require [Melchizedek] to provide the reality in fact; instead, grasp the reality in the case of Christ.”⁸¹

Christ, fulfilling the psalm, “was made a priest with an oath” by God himself (Hebrews 7:21), a “direct divine appointment,”⁸² and “has become a priest... by the power of an indestructible life” (Hebrews 7:16). Where the Law of Moses “appoints men in their weakness as priests” who come and go, “the word of the oath, which came later than the Law, appoints a Son who has been made perfect forever” (Hebrews 7:28). “The priesthood of Christ endures forever in heaven.”⁸³ That's how he “lives to make intercession” for “those who draw near to God through him” (Hebrews 7:25). As a great bishop said of old, “we're not blessed in any other way except through Christ, the great and true priest.”⁸⁴

But we know that “it is necessary for this priest also to have something to offer” in sacrifice (Hebrews 8:3). To that end, he offered sacrifice “once for all when he offered up himself” on the cross (Hebrews 7:27). Jesus “offered himself as a sacrificial victim to his Father for us.”⁸⁵ Then, “when he had offered for all time a single sacrifice for sins,” a “unique sacrifice of which all the sacrifices of the Law and the Prophets were shadows,”⁸⁶ then “he sat down at the right hand of God, waiting from that time until his enemies should be made a footstool for his feet,” according to the promise (Hebrews 10:12-13). But this is the point where Christ seems least like Melchizedek, who offered a bloodless sacrifice in bread and wine.⁸⁷

Until we remember the Last Supper. There, “as they were eating, he took bread and, after blessing it, broke it and gave it to them, and said, 'Take; this is my body.' And he took a cup and, when he had given thanks, he gave it to them, and they all drank of it; and he said to them, 'This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many'” (Mark 14:22-24). What foods did Jesus use to give them his body and blood? Bread and wine. Later Christians looked back on the Last Supper, then, as a “mystical sacrifice of bread and wine” by “the King of Justice and the Begetter of Supreme Peace.”⁸⁸

And as early as the second century, Christians were linking this to the story of Melchizedek, saying that the king of earthly Salem was “furnishing consecrated food as a type for the Eucharist” Jesus had offered.⁸⁹ “In the priest Melchizedek,” they said, “we see the sacrament of the sacrifice of the Lord prefigured. … Melchizedek was priest of God Most High because he offered bread and wine” as a foreshadowing, of Jesus who “offered the very sacrifice that Melchizedek offered – namely, bread and wine, that is to say, his body and blood.”⁹⁰ In some way, they wondered if Melchizedek had actually “offered the sacrament of the Lord's table” in advance.⁹¹ But Melchizedek's offering was what Christ “completed and fulfilled” at the Last Supper.⁹² Where Melchizedek “offered bread and wine in prefiguration of him,” Jesus “would present it in the truth of his own body and blood,”⁹³ so that we “recognize in the bread what hung on the cross and in the cup what flowed from his side.”⁹⁴

And now, “the cup of blessing that we bless, is it not a communion in the blood of Christ; the bread that we break, is it not a communion in the body of Christ?” (1 Corinthians 10:16). The early Christians weren't just content to say that what Jesus did at the Last Supper fulfilled the priesthood of Melchiziedek; they called Jesus “our Melchizedek who gave us the divine sacrifice that we have,”⁹⁵ “the sacrifice of the Christians.”⁹⁶ To them, Jesus was still offering himself through the ministry of his members. “Our Savior... even now performs through his ministers even today sacrifices after the manner of Melchizedek's.”⁹⁷ And so “what Melchizedek offered God, we may see is now offered throughout the world in the Church of Christ.”⁹⁸

If Jesus is “the head of the priests of the future,”⁹⁹ then now “the priest who truly acts in place of Christ... imitates that which Christ did, and offers a true and full sacrifice in the Church to God the Father,”¹⁰⁰ “a sacrifice of praise... according to the order of Melchizedek.”¹⁰¹ For “our Lord and Savior himself first, and then all his priests among all nations, perform the spiritual sacrifice according to the customs of the Church and, with wine and bread, darkly express the mysteries of his body and saving blood. This by the Holy Spirit Melchizedek foresaw, and used the figures of what was to come,”¹⁰² so that Melchizedek “even then consecrated the mystery which Christians consecrate in the body and blood of our Savior.”¹⁰³

So the early church offered to God “daily on her altar, according to the order of Melchizedek,”¹⁰⁴ “a reasonable sacrifice, an unbloody victim, this holy bread and chalice of eternal life,”¹⁰⁵ praying for Christ to “sanctify this offering of ours after the prefiguration of Melchizedek.”¹⁰⁶ For the first Melchizedek had “foretold the holy communion of the new covenant by the unique nature of his sacrifice.”¹⁰⁷ This act of worship bears its fruit, they said, when “we receive the mysteries as the provisions of life,”¹⁰⁸ “the perfect refreshment.”¹⁰⁹

And along with that refreshment, in Christian worship we hear the truth of what God has done for us, we bless God for it, and we go forth with his blessing. Before Moses ever came along to give the Law and its ordinances of flesh, Melchizedek has already shown us the entire pattern of Christian worship, which is therefore older and greater!¹¹⁰ And this bread and wine we offer, this body and blood we receive, this blessing “celebrated in the Church throughout the world”¹¹¹ – they transform everything else in our lives, fitting them to be offered through Jesus. “Through him, then, let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God,” we read, and “don't neglect to do good and share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God” (Hebrews 13:15-16).

After having met Melchizedek, Abram now understood that there could be a righteous king and a peaceful city – a “city of righteousness, the faithful city” (Isaiah 1:26). And that's what he found he wanted. But where ancient Jews prayed for “the time for the year of grace of Melchizedek,”¹¹² a historical king in Canaan couldn't sustain their hopes. And this little Canaanite Salem, whose urban population was maybe no larger than Abram's household had become,¹¹³ could never accommodate Abram, nor support his band. Hence “he was looking forward to the city that has foundations, whose designer and builder is God” (Hebrews 11:10). Abram and his trained men, Sarai and the rest of the household, they “all died in faith,” never finding their City of Peace on earth. But God Most High, the LORD, “is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city” (Hebrews 11:16), “the city of God which God will establish forever” (Psalm 48:8). Like them, “here we have no lasting city, but we seek the city that is to come” (Hebrews 13:14), “the holy city, New Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband” (Revelation 21:2).

And in the Church's worship, Christians hear that they're already visiting. “You have come to Mount Zion and to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to innumerable angels in festal gathering, and to the assembly of the firstborn who are enrolled in heaven, and to God the Judge of all, and to the spirits of the righteous made perfect, and to Jesus, the mediator of a new covenant” (Hebrews 12:22-24), our great and true Melchizedek above, Son of the Most High God, Righteous King, Priest of the Feast. Thanks be to God! Amen.

Riding to the Rescue

Okay, this chapter might not quite sound like the others, does it? Genesis 14 is a bit of an oddball. Most of all we just read reads like an Assyrian or Babylonian chronicle, not at all the genre of literature we thought we'd been reading. Up until almost halfway through the chapter, we're wondering if somebody's pulled a fast one on us. For verse after verse is unrelated to anything around it. It comes across as a secular military history, which might be why Luther cautioned that “this chapter seems to be altogether barren.”¹ Early Christians chalked it up to “the precision of Scripture.”² Out of nowhere, this chapter has a “grandiose global scope” matched only by the Table of Nations.³ It's loaded with all sorts of names, and it seems like half the names have glosses to tell us how the names changed over time. And even if you ignore all the proper nouns, nearly one in every ten words in this chapter will be hard to find anywhere else in the whole Bible.⁴ It's like an alien record shuffled in among the pages of our Bibles. It's no wonder some scholars guess that it's a summary of the plot of an epic poem even older than Genesis.⁵ So this first half, read attentively, is still “a thrilling story in its own right.”⁶

We open with the mention of four foreign kings from out east, listed in alphabetical order (Genesis 14:1).⁷ Here comes Amraphel, a king in Shinar, which we know is Sumer. There's Arioch, king of a place called Ellasar. We don't know for sure where that is – some guess Assyria, more suggest Ilansura, a modest kingdom in southeast Turkey. As for his name, it's a solid and familiar one from the archives of the era; we meet an Arriyuk here, an Arriwuk there. Next is Chedorlaomer, king of Elam. Elam's a kingdom in south Iran, which during this time tended to have several leaders ruling. This one's got a solid Elamite name, Kutir-lagamal, which means 'servant of No-Mercy,' an underworld god. And finally there's Tidal, king of Goiim or 'king of nations.' Tidal is a Hittite royal name, Tudhaliya, and he's apparently leader of the Umman Manda, 'the horde from who-knows-where,' an obscure coalition of barbarians from the north.⁸ We haven't quite succeeded in pinning any of them down, but it isn't uncommon for the Bible's names for foreign leaders to be pretty different from what they liked to go by.⁹ The point is, this set of kings is from the distant east and north of Canaan; they're spread over large distances.

Next, we hear mention of five cities in the Jordan Valley plain: Sodom, Gomorrah, Admah, Zeboiim, and Bela or Zoar (Genesis 14:2). Genesis doesn't bother recording the name of the littlest town's king, but we do get names for the four city kings. Listed in close to alphabetical order, they form two alliterative pairs, the B-kings (starting with the second letter of the Hebrew alphabet) and the S-kings (starting with the second-to-last letter).¹⁰ The king of Sodom is Bera, and the king of Gomorrah is Birsha, which is a Hebrew joke, since Bera can mean 'In Evil' and Birsha can mean 'In Wickedness' – two words that fairly describe those cities!¹¹

So we've got this bunch of names, a collection of nine kings and their dominions. Only then do we start to get a story. “Twelve years they,” the Jordan Valley kings, “had served Chedorlaomer” (Genesis 14:4). The Elamites – all the way on the far side of Sumer – had gotten leverage over the Jordan Valley cities. This is about the only era in all of history when the Elamites meddled in anything this far west, or when big alliances between kings of the east were possible.¹² Their motive? The lower Jordan Valley was known for copper mines, and the folks out east craved metals.¹³ So the Elamites made the Jordan Valley cities their vassals, imposing tribute on them; it'd all be fine if they kept paying their dues. “But in the thirteenth year, they rebelled” (Genesis 14:4). They opted to stop their subscription to servitude. And when the tribute didn't show up, Chedorlaomer began to plan. He marched to Sumer, joining up with Amraphel; they went north, persuading Arioch and then Tidal to join in. There were glory and riches to win in combat. “In the fourteenth year, Chedorlaomer and the kings who were with him came” (Genesis 14:5). It's “the first biblical report of warfare.”¹⁴

Rounding the Fertile Crescent, they marched south through Syria, down past Damascus. And, east of the Jordan River, they began to attack the peoples they came across (Genesis 14:5-7). The first target were the Rephaim who lived in the land of Bashan, whose leading city was Ashtaroth near Karnaim, about twenty miles east of the Sea of Galilee. “All that portion of Bashan is called the land of Rephaim” (Deuteronomy 3:13). Moving about thirty-five miles south to Ham, they squared off with the Zuzim, elsewhere called the Zamzummim, and took them down. The eastern armies continued another seventy-two miles south, and when they were in the field outside Kiriathaim, about level with the north tip of the Dead Sea, the subdued a group called the Emim. Three for three. Continuing south, they skirted around their real targets and stuck to the hill country of Seir, where in the next 130 miles they fought and beat down the Horites. Veering west through the Negev to El-paran at the tip of the sea to secure trade route access, they then turned northwest to an oasis called En-mishpat, 'the Spring of Judgment.' There they fought a fifth foe, a semi-nomadic desert tribe called the Amalekites. Finally, turning northeast, at a place called Hazazon-tamar southwest of the Dead Sea, they fought some Amorites.¹⁵

What was the point of all this marching and fighting people who weren't even necessarily involved? Well, now they've looped back on the rebellious cities, and by beating down so many other peoples one by one, they've eliminated all the possible allies the Jordan Valley city-states could call on. “The invaders sought to secure their flanks, protect their supply lines, and ensure their retreat route by neutralizing the hostile forces in the area.”¹⁶ It's a sharp tactic, and probably pretty profitable, too. But what's the point in us having to hear about it?

Well, for one, it gives us an impression of how tough these invaders are. The enemies they're facing are very imposing adversaries. Canaanite legends tell of the Rephaim as a big royal family of flawless hero-warriors in chariots; the legends go so far as to label them mortal 'gods,' whom every noble of Canaan longed to join in the afterlife in the end.¹⁷ When later Jews translated this chapter into Greek, they rendered 'Rephaim' as 'giants.'¹⁸ Moses explains that the Zumim and Emim were Rephaim groups, and to both he applies the phrase “a people great and many, and tall as the Anakim” (Deuteronomy 2:10, 21), compared to whom the Israelites felt like bugs (Numbers 13:33). These three peoples were “the mighty ones..., the powerful ones..., the fearsome ones.”¹⁹ And so if these invaders could thrash all three and thirst for more, it'd take a miracle to stop them.²⁰

But the list would've also caught Israel's attention, because Israel would deal with many of them later on.²¹ The Israelites in the desert, before even reaching the mountain, fought off the Amalekites (Exodus 17:8-16), who “attacked you on the way when you were faint and weary,” Moses says, “and cut off your tail, those who were lagging behind you, and he did not fear God” (Deuteronomy 25:17-18). Eleven days' march on the other side of the mountain brought Israel to Kadesh-barnea (Deuteronomy 1:2), the same place as En-mishpat. From there they launched a frightening expedition into Canaan, after which Moses led them northeast along the King's Highway through the Transjordan (Numbers 20:17). The Horites, Emim, and Zumim were all gone, already destroyed by the LORD at the hands of other peoples (Deuteronomy 2:10-12, 21-22). But this northward course led Israel to face the Amorite king Sihon, whom they “defeated with the edge of the sword” (Numbers 21:24), after which they had one last combat with King Og of Bashan (Numbers 21:33-35), who (according to Moses) was “the last of the remnant of the Rephaim” (Deuteronomy 3:11). On their march to the Promised Land, the Israelites traced the same route the eastern kings took, only in reverse.²²

But for the eastern kings, their course now has them poised to crush their seventh and final foe: their real target, the Jordan Valley city-states. Maybe their hope was that this display of awesome force on every side would convince the Jordan Valley kings to get out of the rebellion business and back into the paying-tribute business.²³ But instead, now “the king of Sodom and the king of Gomorrah and the king of Admah and the king of Zeboiim and the king of Bela which is Zoar went out” to make their stand “in the Valley of Siddim” (Genesis 14:8). And “the Valley of Siddim is the Salt Sea” (Genesis 14:3), a little plain, now submerged, at the Dead Sea's south end.²⁴ The kings of the Jordan Valley “arrayed together in battle... with Chedorlaomer king of Elam, Tidal king of Goiim, Amraphel king of Shinar, and Arioch king of Ellasar – four kings against five” (Genesis 14:9).

That clues us in to what the Jordan Valley kings are thinking.²⁵ They're just counting the number of kings on each side. We've got five, and the easterners only have four; five's bigger than four, so we have the advantage! Well... that's like reasoning that New England's bigger than Alaska because New England has more states. The kings of the Jordan Valley rule a little cluster of city-states. Each one is basically a township supervisor; they don't even rise to the level of county commissioners. But the kings of the eastern coalition rule actual nations whose territory dwarfs the whole plain of the Jordan Valley. This is a case where five being greater than four is bad math, the kind of math that gets people dead.

At this point, we're told that “the Valley of Siddim was full of bitumen pits” (Genesis 14:10), familiar to the local kings because it's their backyard but also to Amraphel because bitumen was the glue holding the Tower of Babel together (Genesis 11:3).²⁶ And so here was battle joined, the petty princes against the armies of emperors. And it does not go well for the home team, who are “defeated quickly and decidedly,” so much so the Bible doesn't feel the need to even spell it out – it's just obvious.²⁷ “Terror-stricken at [the easterners'] boldness and the might of their power,”²⁸ Bera of Sodom and Birsha of Gomorrah both got scared, retreated, and fell into the bitumen pits. At this point, the Bible leaves us in suspense to think they fell in battle, dying. Only later, when the king of Sodom resurfaces, will we realize they dove into the bitumen pits to hide till the coast was clear.²⁹ As for their armies, well, “many fell with wounds in the valley of Siddim,”³⁰ so that “many of their number perished.”³¹ And those who didn't perish ran for the hills to the east (Genesis 14:10).

With the failure of the Jordan Valley kings and their little bitty armies, there was nothing to protect their cities. Chedorlaomer wanted to make it clear that resistance is futile, that refusing tribute doesn't pay. “Like a typical Mesopotamian king, he and his allies plundered the city after its conquest, taking booty and slaves.”³² “So they took all the possessions of Sodom and Gomorrah, and all their provisions, and they went on their way,” mission accomplished (Genesis 14:11). And lest we feel bad for the losers here, “the men of Sodom were wicked, great sinners before the LORD” (Genesis 13:13). Genesis doesn't say so, but it could well be that God had raised up Chedorlaomer to afflict the sinful cities, their harshness fulfilling the interests of divine justice.³³

Now, up to now, almost nothing we've read has any obvious ties to anything that came before it. Except there's one thing. Last Sunday, we heard how Lot's eye fancied the well-watered Jordan Valley as a nice place to be, almost an Eden reopened (Genesis 13:10). So he'd moved there, separating himself from his uncle (Genesis 13:11). The last we saw of Lot, “Lot settled among the cities of the plain and moved his tent as far as Sodom” (Genesis 13:12). There's our connection. Sodom being the northernmost of these cities, Lot was, stage by stage, falling closer to their orbit. So naturally, we can't help but wonder what this war would mean for Lot. But, we comfort ourselves, Lot's settled north of Sodom, and Chedorlaomer's conquerors are plundering the cities from the south. Whatever they do in the city, at least Lot is outside, just out of range.

Except... no, he wasn't. By the time this war unfolds, we're now shocked to hear that “Lot... was dwelling in Sodom” (Genesis 14:12). In? As in, inside the city limits? Having traded in his tent for a house fixed in place? Oh, Lot, what have you done? Don't you know what a risk these people are to live with? Why have you traded your life of freedom to settle in the confines of Sodom? What will happen to you now?

Now we see that Lot was “far from being better off for his choice of the better parts” of the land.³⁴ For when Chedorlaomer's men plundered the cities of the plain, “they also took Lot and his possessions..., and they went their way” (Genesis 14:12). Lot “had been taken captive” (Genesis 14:14), made a “captive along with the defeated Sodomites,”³⁵ who were “taken to be slaves as the spoils of war.”³⁶ Oh, Lot, what a horrid end for you!

But now we've heard something familiar, and it's not just Lot. Even in the midst of lamenting Lot's perilous plight, Genesis reminds us that Lot is “the son of the brother of Abram” (Genesis 14:12). That name, absent for far too many verses, comes roaring back. Where's Abram been? When we left him last week, he'd “moved his tent and came and settled by the oaks of Mamre” (Genesis 13:18), a stark contrast to the city-life Lot adopted.³⁷ Now we find out that Mamre is a fellow. “Abram the Hebrew... was living by the oaks of Mamre the Amorite, the brother of Eshcol and of Aner” (Genesis 14:13). This is the first time the word 'Hebrew' shows up. Abram isn't ethnically or culturally quite the same as Mamre or Eshcol or Aner. That could be a source of tension, but they live instead in peace, even friendship. In fact, Mamre, Eshcol, and Aner “owned a covenant with Abram” (Genesis 14:13). This is the first time the word 'covenant' crops up in Abram's life. Before his relationship with God becomes a covenant, he's got a covenant of equals with these three Amorite brothers.³⁸ And “the oaks of Mamre... are at Ḥebron” (Genesis 13:18), which sounds like the word for when the kings of the Jordan Valley 'unite,' ḥabar, in an alliance with each other (Genesis 14:3). Abram already has an alternative alliance.

Which is good, because his peace is about to be disturbed. “One who had escaped” from the catastrophe “came and told Abram the Hebrew” what had happened (Genesis 14:13). How did this guy know to go looking for Abram? Maybe Abram had gained a great reputation. Or maybe, as some Jews suggested, this man was one of Lot's herdsmen (Genesis 13:7).³⁹ Whoever he was, from this survivor, “Abram heard that his brother had been taken captive” (Genesis 14:13). Sorrowful news, but oh, how amazing to hear Lot still described, not just as Abram's nephew, but as his brother! He hasn't written off Lot as an ingrate who's merely reaping what he's sown. And Abram's response to Lot's tragedy is “an outstanding example of brotherly love.”⁴⁰

Two chapters ago, Abram had a different loved one 'taken' by a powerful foreign king – that was when his wife Sarai was taken by Pharaoh in Egypt (Genesis 12:15). On that occasion, Abram believed he could do nothing. Now, though, he seems to be a changed and wizened man. So as Abram's brother is 'taken' by four powerful foreign kings, Abram's response is, “Not again!”⁴¹ With a new boldness, love can triumph over caution.⁴²

Abram doesn't hesitate for a moment to begin riding to the rescue. As it turns out, Abram now has a group of people who can help him. These are men who were “born in his house” (Genesis 14:14), not the servants lately picked up in Egypt. But then whom do they all know? Lot! One ancient reader even describes these as “men raised by Lot,” men with a strong personal investment in Lot's welfare, ready to fight for Lot with dedication.⁴³ Nor are they amateurs who don't know how to help. These are “trained men,” armed and disciplined, prepared for such a time as this.⁴⁴ Out by the oaks of Mamre, they've been honing their skills in front of Abram's altar.⁴⁵

Like any truly great nomad chief, Abram has been training “his own private army.”⁴⁶ But what stands out is the number of it: three hundred and eighteen trained men. If this is just those who are in Abram's private army, then when you add in other men plus the women and children, Abram's household ought to number over a thousand; it's effectively its own minor city in the land already! So Abram is, to our surprise, a force to be reckoned with.

So now Abram “emptied out his trained men, born in his house, 318 of them” (Genesis 14:13). He doesn't take half and leave half; he empties them fully out, unsheathing his sword completely. Abram is the shepherd who'll forsake the ninety-nine in the open country to venture out in quest of the lost and lonely one (Luke 15:4).⁴⁷ This chief pours everything, everyone, into this quest, not willing to give anything less than his best, lest he find out in the hour of trial that he's done too little too late. Abram poured out his modest militia, and he draws on the similar strength of his three covenanted allies whose support is pledged.⁴⁸ And Abram “went in pursuit” of the eastern armies “as far as Dan” (Genesis 14:14), which back then was called Laish (Judges 18:29). The city gate that would've silently watched Abram's approach still stands there to this day, nearly four millennia later.⁴⁹

Now, from Hebron to Laish is no short trip; it's over a hundred miles, which means Abram is spending days on this intercept course of his, pushing as fast as they can go. But that long trip is itself a resolution. Remember last week that, to assert his ownership of Canaan, Abram was supposed to “arise, walk through the land to its length and its breadth” (Genesis 13:17). But we never heard for sure that Abram did that. We just heard that he moved south from Bethel to Hebron and settled there, stationary (Genesis 13:18). Now, though, Abram's got a new incentive to get moving. And so he pushes, he rides, he runs, he storms through the full length of the land; Laish, Dan, was at the northernmost edge of Canaan. So maybe this emergency has been providentially arranged to prod Abram to a fuller compliance with the generous will of God for his life.⁵⁰

But along with this, in going forth in chase of kings, Abram is being sucked into international politics, into great affairs of state that always seemed far above and far away before.⁵¹ But the fact is, this international politics would be irrelevant, and the preceding story wouldn't have been told, unless Abram were involved. So it's not that he's finally stepping out on the big stage. It's that the big geopolitical picture only matters because it's being caught up in something bigger: God's plan for Abram!⁵² National history, world history – these things loom large in newspapers and radio and TV and history textbooks someday. But as fascinating as they might be, they serve as a backdrop for the real story: salvation-history, the tale of God's chosen ones, like Abram.

Now, as the eastern kings march north on the King's Highway east of the Jordan, Abram marches his forces speedily northward on the parallel watershed route west of the Jordan.⁵³ And above the Sea of Galilee, whether Abram catches up at Laish or farther along, he finds the eastern army encamped. But was this a fool's errand? Even if Abram has a thousand men, what is that against four crushing armies? The captors are too strong for there to be any human chance of success against them. It's a dangerous situation now. Abram “risks his life in battle” if he really attacks this overwhelming foe, however tired or reduced they might be; and if Abram should fall before their swords or arrows, what hope would be left for the world?⁵⁴ But, “trusting in the power of God, he was not cowed by the force of the enemy,” but rather put all fears out of his mind.⁵⁵

Abram is crafty. He waits as night falls; armies don't march at night. Maybe some of Abram's men are past their bedtime, but so are the Elamites and Sumerians and whoever else is out there. An attack by night would afford Abram a chance of “surprising them before they had time to arm.”⁵⁶ It was a time-honored Middle Eastern battle tactic.⁵⁷ What's more, in the night, Abram divides up his forces. Why? To attack from multiple angles. Later Jews imagined Abram's men “swooped upon them at night from all four directions.”⁵⁸ Blinded by darkness, the eastern troops will think Abram's got more military manpower than he has. Once again we see Abram shrewd as a serpent (Matthew 10:16), equipped with “responsibility, courage, daring, and cunning.”⁵⁹ Abram may be a man of peace – he bent over backward to keep peace with Lot last chapter – and he didn't start this war; but Abram's got no qualms about finishing it and showing Gideon how it's done (Judges 7).

So what happened? “He attacked them,” “he defeated them” (Genesis 14:15) – it's the same verb for what the eastern armies did to the Rephaim and Zuzim and Emim and Horites and Amalekites and Amorites, only now the shoe's on the other foot. What they dished out, Abram gave 'em back! Soon he was in pursuit of them, not the other way around. But it wasn't by Abram's own craft and might that he got the upper hand. The truth was that “God... delivered [Abram's] foes into [Abram's] hand” (Genesis 14:20), a testimony to “how great the grace of the divine blessing is with which he was provided.”⁶⁰ “The patriarch prevailed against them, not by physical strength, but through faith in God, and achieved all this under the protection of help from on high.”⁶¹

Having gotten the upper hand, Abram “pursued them to Hobah, north of Damascus” (Genesis 14:15). Abram made sure that Chedorlaomer's and Amraphel's and Tidal's and Arioch's last steps out of Canaan weren't by their own free choice. Abram chased them, expelled the invaders – the leading powers, maybe, in the world.⁶² He didn't let up until they were past Mount Hermon, beyond even Damascus, and then a measure more. This is now probably sixty or seventy miles further north than Laish.⁶³ They'd best not even think about Canaan again. Abram's a preview here of Joshua reconquering the Promised Land, of the judges raised up to liberate their people, of King David subduing the neighbor nations. An early medieval retelling of Genesis for a warrior culture exults in this story and closes the episode with this perfect line: “Never did any one of all those living here achieve a more worthy war venture, who rushed against so great a force with such a small troop.”⁶⁴

But what has victory brought? What has it changed? Well, by the time Abram returned to the invaders' camp, now abandoned, Abram had retrieved plenty from enemy hands. “He brought back all the possessions” which had been stolen from Sodom, from Gomorrah, from the other cities, maybe even plunder from the Amorites and Amalekites and Horites and Emim and Zuzim and Rephaim (Genesis 14:16).⁶⁵ Abram “brought back the spoil and their goods,” without letting any be taken away out of the land.⁶⁶

But that's not the question we had. What about the one you came for, Abram? “He brought back... also Lot his brother” (Genesis 14:16). What a relief! For it was Lot he'd marched out to save, Lot who burdened his heart with cares. For all Lot's churlishness, Abram had been “willing to risk his own life in order to rescue” Lot.⁶⁷ This, and not the stuff, is what most mattered. Lot was safe and sound! Lot was no worse for wear! Abram “brought back... Lot his brother, with his possessions” (Genesis 14:16). Lot won't even have to file a claim with his insurance company! Saved from the wreckage without a scratch – it's a miracle indeed.

But as if that weren't great enough for God to do through Abram, “he brought back also the women and the people” (Genesis 14:16). Abram had “rescued the Sodomite prisoners,”⁶⁸ whose own king wasn't even coming to help them.⁶⁹ If Lot was earlier collateral damage in the easterner's vengeance on Sodom, now the people of the Jordan Valley city-states, including the residents of Sodom, are collaterally redeemed.⁷⁰ “All those whom they had taken captive, he brought back,”⁷¹ missing not a one, with a special focus on the women.⁷² Abram thus seals his new role: he's become “a liberator of captives held hostage by an aggressive force.”⁷³ He's a savior.

Which brings us to the rather obvious point. You knew where this story was really aimed, didn't you? Which of us hasn't been in Lot's shoes? For “before faith came, we were held captive under the law” (Galatians 3:23), and unhappily discovered “another law waging war against the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members” (Romans 7:23). “You were slaves of sin” (Romans 6:20). Those are the Apostle's words. An unbearable, unbeatable army of temptations descended on our city. Our best defenses, evil as they were, failed in the frailty of flesh. And we and all we had, we and all we prided ourselves in, were swept away along “futile ways” (1 Peter 1:18). The power of sin and shame were hauling us away from home, to a distant exile, there to be put on display. The demons mocked our impotence before their might – for had not great powers succumbed to their trickery and fear in times past?

But then there appeared for us a Savior. “The LORD is a man of war” (Exodus 15:3). “The LORD goes out like a mighty man, like a man of war he stirs up his zeal; he cries out, he shouts aloud, he shows himself mighty against his foes” (Isaiah 42:13). Though the powers of the world and beneath the world “make war on the Lamb,” yet “the Lamb will conquer them, for he is Lord of lords and King of kings” (Revelation 17:14). So it is written, and so it must be. For “in righteousness he judges and makes war. His eyes are like a flame of fire..., he is clothed in a robe dipped in blood..., from his mouth comes a sharp sword with which to strike down the nations, and he will rule them with a rod of iron” (Revelation 19:11-15).

This very Lord came to earth, was incarnate of the Virgin Mary and made man, “is not ashamed to call us brothers” (Hebrews 2:11), because his Father had sent him “to proclaim liberty to the captives” (Luke 4:18). So Jesus said himself! The whole reason for Abram's conquest was “so that he might mystically prefigure” the One who would come to “recall the world from death by the passion of the cross.”⁷⁴ Out of his unfathomable love, this Lord saw our need of saving – and he rode to the rescue, to snatch us from the jaws of all his foes.

Suddenly we have been born in Christ's house. We have a new role to play – no longer Lot, not the men and women of Sodom and Gomorrah, but the servants of the Lord. “Those with him are called and chosen and faithful” (Revelation 17:14). Called to what, chosen for what? To be trained men and women. To be made ready to embark with the Lord on his mission of mercy. To be filled with his blazing love for the stolen-away. To march forth in “the full armor of God,” knowing that we're called into combat with “the cosmic powers over this present darkness” (Ephesians 6:11-12). Therefore “the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh but have divine power to destroy strongholds” and set the captives free (2 Corinthians 10:4). As one medieval monk remarked, the story of Abram's 318 is but a preview of “our spiritual fight” for the redemption of souls and of the world.⁷⁵ So let us ride to their rescue behind our Savior-Brother, who has carried us into his light to conquer the dark. Amen.

Left or Right

Abram's detour to Egypt has reached its end. Last week, we watched as Abram bumbled his way out of Canaan, fleeing famine, and into Egypt, where his scheme to keep Egyptian lusts at bay by portraying himself as Sarai's brother was foiled by the interests of Pharaoh, the one man who couldn't be boxed in by bargaining, but also the one man who could fairly be judged for jumping to the wrong conclusion when he heard the word 'sister.' And so, for a time, Abram lost his wife to Pharaoh's unwitting captivity. All would have been lost if not for the timely intrusion of God, who sent forth plagues to set Sarai free. After a suitable dressing-down, Abram, Sarai, and their entourage were departed with their gifts, plundering Egypt and setting a precedent for the exodus.

So now Abram's returned to where he was before he let the famine re-route him: the same spot, the same altar (Genesis 13:3-4). Only this time, Abram's returned as a far wealthier man: “Abram was very heavy in livestock and in silver and in gold” (Genesis 13:2). But now, for the first time in a while, we hear mention of Lot, who's been a silent companion through all these misadventures. If Abram's rich, how is Lot doing? Well, “Lot, who went with Abram, also had flocks and herds and tents” (Genesis 13:5). He's not necessarily obscenely rich like his uncle, but he's no poor man. He's got his flocks of sheep, he's got his herds of cattle, he's got many tents to accommodate his own growing retinue of servants. It's less clear whether Lot has yet had kids (probably not) or even married (maybe he is). Abram's got plenty of property from Pharaoh on account of Sarai. How did Lot prosper? Genesis doesn't come out and say so, but it's maybe the result of Abram's helping and blessing him.¹

But before they even get back into the land, we can tell that something's changed. Earlier, when they left Harran in the first place, they were all one household: “Abram took Sarai his wife and Lot his brother's son, and all their possessions that they had gathered and the people they had acquired in Harran” (Genesis 12:5). First we hear the family members, then their belongings and attendants. But when they leave Egypt, listen to this: “Abram went up from Egypt, he and his wife and all that he had, and Lot with him, into the Negeb” (Genesis 13:1). There's one household of Abram and Sarai with their property, and Lot is now bracketed outside that household. He, and whatever's his, are now socially and economically distinguished. It hints toward a new “degree of estrangement” that wasn't there before.² They leave Egypt as two households, not one.

Before the trip to Egypt, we heard that “the Canaanite was in the land” (Genesis 12:6). Now, after the trip, we hear that “the Canaanite and the Perizzite was dwelling in the land” (Genesis 13:7). A few chapters from now, there'll be a list of ten nations in the land (Genesis 15:19-21). It's as if to give the impression that the more Abram doubts and dilly-dallies, the harder he makes things for himself. Now, Abram's come back with a lot of moveable property; we know it includes donkeys and camels and especially sheep and cattle (Genesis 12:16). What do all those animals need? They need access to water to drink, and they need grass to graze. But at any given time, a plot of land can only provide enough food for so many sheep, cattle, donkeys, and camels. Add more critters, and you need to add more land to grow more grass, or else they'll run out.

The first time Abram reached Canaan, he and Lot shared a modest flock they led down from Harran, and so this stretch between Bethel and Ai had enough grass and water to suit their flock for the season. But now Abram and Lot have multiple flocks each, multiple herds each, and plenty more people living with them – so many that the same stretch of land, now hemmed in by Canaanites and Perizzites, doesn't have as much to offer. In fact, anywhere they'd pitch their tents together would be a tight fit making for a short stay. And so “the land couldn't support both of them dwelling together, for their possessions were so great that they couldn't dwell together” (Genesis 13:6). It seems like this promised land just isn't big enough for the two of them – which is ironic, since entire nations seem to be managing to occupy the land without trouble.³

But it's not just that things got crowded. Trying to fit their respective teams together in the same space had an unfortunate consequence: “There was strife between the herdsmen of Abram's flock and the herdsmen of Lot's flock” (Genesis 13:7). Some of these people had come from Harran; others, from Egypt. They'd been divided into those attached to Abram and those attached to Lot, and they found themselves butting heads. We aren't told outright who started it, what it was about, or how long it went on.⁴ Probably, as ancient readers guessed, these shepherds “quarreled over grazing ground.”⁵ But the word for 'quarrel' here is the same one consistently used for what Israelites in the desert do every time they run out of water (Exodus 17:2; Numbers 20:2-3).⁶

To think, all this trouble was being stirred up precisely because things were going so well! Because Abram and Lot were so rich, there wasn't enough room to go around. Prosperity meant their houses had fallen to feuding, disturbed by strife arising from anger and resentment. “Their flocks grew bigger, great wealth accrued to them, and immediately harmony between them was disrupted; where there had been peace and the bonds of affection, now there was trouble and hostility” – that's how one great bishop summed it up.⁷ “The full stomach of the rich will not let him sleep” (Ecclesiastes 5:12). So the perils of prosperity are poised to prove Abram's next test. Wealth might be what chained Abram's dad, Lot's grandpa, to Harran and derailed his destiny; what will Abram and Lot do? It's no wonder that, when their substance is said to be 'great' (Genesis 13:6), the Hebrew word used (rab) sounds midway between the word for 'famine' (ra'ab) and the word for 'strife' (rib).⁸

And if this strife isn't cured, well, it's just between the employees now, but if it continues, won't Abram feel a sense of loyalty and obligation to his herdsmen, and won't Lot feel the same loyalty and obligation to his? And won't that mean Abram and Lot will be pulled into the conflict on opposing sides? What's worse, angry quarrels over scarce resources usually don't stay verbal. And when it comes to immovable resources like grazing land or water wells, escalation can only mean violence.⁹ There have been plenty of cases where herdsmen have gotten into devastating conflicts over pasture access; in modern Africa, bullets have flown and bodies have fallen.

So something's got to be done “to forestall this evil.”¹⁰ One imagines that Abram and Lot each tried to rein in their herdsmen, encouraged them to find ways of co-existing, but thus far to no avail against stubborn human hearts and their growing hostility.¹¹ So Abram speaks up, reaching out to Lot. They need a solution together. “Let there please be no strife between you and me,” says Abram – which would surely be the nasty outcome of this “strife between your herdsmen and my herdsmen” (Genesis 13:8). And why would strife between Abram and Lot be so wrong? “Because we are men, brothers!” (Genesis 13:8). As one old bishop reads it, the moral lesson here is, Abram is urging us “never to settle our differences with our relatives by feuding.”¹²

“Is not the whole land before you?” asks Abram. Lot can go anywhere he wants. He isn't constrained to follow his uncle around. Abram places no artificial constraints on where in the land Lot may be. In fact, Abram is here offering Lot a share in the land which was promised already to Abram's seed (Genesis 12:6). Abram “is prepared to sacrifice what has been promised him” for a greater good.¹³ That's not the same as the postmodern dream of ending fights by making nothing worth fighting for, of course.¹⁴ Abram doesn't cease to value the land or the promise. But he's willing to compromise his privileges, not his principles, for peace.

So, Abram concludes, “separate, please, from me” (Genesis 13:9). It's a firm request, curtly but politely stated. Abram's double 'please' in his speech to Lot echo the double 'please' he used in cajoling Sarai to cover for him in Egypt (Genesis 12:11-13).¹⁵ What he's asking for is, at one level, unnatural – as hard as it was to ask a wife to hide her wifeliness behind sisterhood, so hard is it to ask a nephew, a 'brother,' to say goodbye. It's inevitable, though, by the customs of the time. The only feasible way to defuse tension and make enough room in the land is to occupy more of the land, which means spreading out, which means increasing distance. The only way to prevent conflict between feuding herdsmen is to keep them from overlapping or interacting. And so there must be a parting of the ways; but in all of it, one monk remarked, “Abram never separated Lot from the profound love of his heart.”¹⁶ Abram's suggestion of separation is a tragic concession to reality, not a loss of love.

Abram continues by making Lot an offer. People in their world defined their directions by facing east and calling the north 'left' and the south 'right'; in fact, we know of a division of tribal confederations between a northern group of Amorites who called themselves 'sons of the left hand' and a southern group who were thus 'sons of the right hand.'¹⁷ So Abram, standing facing the east, stretches out his hands toward north and south, and he says, “If you take the left, then I'll go to the right; or if you take the right, I'll go to the left” (Genesis 13:9). Either way, Abram's offer is “to share the land with Lot,” to subdivide the promised land between them.¹⁸

Pause here to think what a radical move this is for Abram. He doesn't have to do any of this. He could've just evicted Lot from the land. Or, if he's going to split the land and maybe jeopardize his own future, he could have assigned Lot whichever portion Abram chose, invoking his own seniority, his own dignity, his own authority as the basis for making such a decision. But Abram takes a different path. In astonishing humility, Abram “retains no special distinction for himself.”¹⁹ “Those who are considered rulers of the nations lord it over them..., but it shall not be so among you. But whoever would be great among you must be your servant” (Mark 10:42-43). Dividing the promised land in half, Abram surrenders the choice to Lot, deferring courteously to the nephew who has no claim to any of it by right.²⁰ Whichever half Lot claims, Abram will take the leftovers without complaint or argument, to stop this contention over resources. His aim isn't to protect himself or benefit himself at Lot's expense; he wants a simple solution that nourishes peace among brethren, even at high personal cost.²¹

Now, the expected thing at this point is that Lot will be a man of honor. And if Lot is a man of honor, then he'll insist on deferring to his uncle – asking Abram, who is both his senior and God's chosen one, to be the one to choose a portion of the land.²² To accept Abram's offer without demurring at taking first place would be quite rude, for their culture. But Lot doesn't defer to Uncle Abram. Saying nothing, he accepts the power of choice.

And if that weren't enough, he changes the terms Abram set out. Abram gave Lot two choices: left or right, that is, the north half of Canaan or the south half of Canaan. But Lot picks neither. He picks east, an option that wasn't on the menu (Genesis 13:11).²³ And why does he pick the east? Because he notices the Jordan river valley that way. Unlike the Canaanite highlands which depend so much on weather patterns, “the Jordan valley was well-watered everywhere” (Genesis 13:10). And by Middle Eastern standards, it always has been a pretty delightful valley, vibrant and green.²⁴ In fact, so rich is this valley that it reminds Lot of two places: Egypt, which also had a river-based irrigation system that made the Nile Delta amazingly fertile, and “the garden of the LORD,” by which he means Eden itself, also enriched by powerful rivers (Genesis 2:10-14).

And so what does Lot do? “Lot chose for himself all the Jordan Valley” (Genesis 13:11). Lot doesn't take part of the valley and its broad plain; he grabs it all. That's why he doesn't go north or south. Under Abram's terms, this north-to-south river valley would have to be split between them. So Lot revises the terms precisely so he can hoard all the best land to himself. Maybe – I'm guessing – maybe Lot resents the fact that Abram got them kicked out of Egypt, and so, like Israel in the desert, he wants to rewind his own exodus (Exodus 16:3).²⁵ He sees no place in his Eden for his Uncle Abram: “You stay out of my Paradise; the fruit on every tree is mine, mine, all mine.” And so Lot leaves Abram nothing but “the dry and rocky hill country.”²⁶ If Abram asked Lot to split a pizza down the middle with him, Lot would claim the inside and leave Abram a box of mainly crusts.

Lot lifted his eyes, and he saw a well-watered valley, perceiving it as a new Eden and a stand-in for lost Egypt. So Lot had no further questions; see, take. But hasn't he overlooked something, in looking over that land? The Garden of the LORD was lovely, but sin was born there. Egypt's Nile Delta is lush and beautiful, but we'll later meet the Egyptians again as oppressors.²⁷ The physical environment avails little if the spiritual environment is poor. So what company will Lot keep in the green plain beside the Jordan? He inches his tents closer and closer to the Cities of the Plain, all the way to Sodom's doorstep (Genesis 13:12). And lest we not know, the narrator pops by to inform us in no uncertain terms that “the man of Sodom were wicked, great sinners before the LORD” (Genesis 13:13), and that this Eden-like land is beauty slated for destruction (Genesis 13:10). The fruit Lot chooses is rotten and perishable; but he can't help but bite what he sees, imitating Mother Eve.²⁸

But Lot has made his choice. “Lot chose for himself all the Jordan Valley, and Lot journeyed east; thus a man separated from his brother” (Genesis 13:11). “By mutual consent, they separated,” and so averted the dangers that could have arisen.²⁹ And in that, they reveal an answer to the story of Cain and Abel, which is written just below the surface of this one.³⁰ Cain and Abel, like Lot and Abram, deals with the prospect of angry strife between brothers living together in a limited land (Genesis 4:6; 13:7). Both episodes unfold on the doorstep of a garden paradise (Genesis 3:23; 13:10). Abram's suggestion for Lot to choose left or right even echoes the very grammar God used when counseling Cain about choosing good or not good (Genesis 4:7; 13:9). There, God urges Cain that, if he chooses the right path regarding Abel, there will be a 'lifting up' (Genesis 4:7) – and that's actually a perfect answer to Abram and Lot's problem, which is that the land can't 'lift up' both of them at once (Genesis 13:6). By Abram's choice of the path of humility and peace, first Lot and then Abram himself get to 'lift up' their eyes to see (Genesis 13:10, 14). Humility, generosity, self-sacrifice – these are Abram's keys to unlock the chains Cain refused to let go. And although Lot ventures eastward toward the cities in an echo of Cain who fled eastward to build a city (Genesis 4:16; 13:11-12), nobody's had to die for it this time. The strife has successfully been checked by their peaceable separation.

So goodbyes have been said. And now “the LORD spoke to Abram after Lot had separated from him” (Genesis 13:14). Some scholars wonder if Abram was supposed to bring Lot with him in the first place, given God's direction to forsake his father's household, of which Lot had been a part (Genesis 12:1).³¹ But either way, it's as though God had been “waiting for Lot's absence” before expounding and expanding Abram's blessing now.³² In fact, since “the territory chosen by Lot lies outside the borders of Canaan,”³³ Lot implicitly “excludes himself from any claim to Canaan” by his move eastward (Genesis 13:12),³⁴ as if “leaving the clan.”³⁵ These things all happened to reveal that “God had not made Lot a joint heir” with Abram.³⁶

In his place, God pledges to Abram, “I will make your seed as the dust of the land: that if a man could count the dust of the land, then could your seed also be counted” (Genesis 13:16). Losing Lot doesn't mean chopping off Abram's own inheritance. In fact, Abram's family is promised to become incredibly large in the future, beyond his days. So, suffice it to say, this promise means Abram's seed will need a whole lot of land to occupy. Abram was willing to forsake his claim on half of the land of Canaan, so God urges him to “lift up your eyes” (Genesis 13:14), just like Lot lifted his (Genesis 13:10); only, unlike his nephew, Abram's eyes move as his Lord bids.³⁷

And now, at the invitation of God, Abram has more to see than just one valley; where Lot looked one way, Abram must look every way, “northward and southward and eastward and westward” (Genesis 13:14).³⁸ The land Abram must see is whole and entire, the same land Moses would fully survey from the mountain height (Deuteronomy 34:1-3).³⁹ What's even more remarkable is that God says, “Look, please!” (Genesis 13:14). This is one of only four times in the whole Old Testament where God says 'please.'⁴⁰ Here, God's 'please' is an echo of Abram's double 'please' to Lot, clueing Abram in that God's reasons for asking Abram to look around are no less generous than what Abram has just modeled.⁴¹ And so “Abram was granted as much as he had conceded,” and then some.⁴² “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God” (Matthew 5:9).

Why does God call Abram's attention to this land all around? “All the land that you see,” God says, “I will give to you and to your seed forever” (Genesis 13:15). Now, God had already told Abram, back when Abram was outside Shechem, that “to your seed I will give this land” (Genesis 12:7). But three things are clarified here. First, God's earlier promise didn't say how much land was 'this land.' Now Abram learns that it's as far as eye can see from the mountaintop in all directions, at least. Second, God's earlier promise didn't say how long Abram's seed could have the land. Now, Abram hears the word 'forever.' The earthly seed of Abram, multiplied like the dust of the land, will own that land indefinitely until the gift has reached its perfect fulfillment and the age has run its course.⁴³ And third, God's earlier promise mentioned Abram's seed but left Abram wondering where he himself belonged, hence his excursion to Egypt. Now, Abram hears, “I will give it to you” (Genesis 13:17). And that's made possible because he was willing to give it up. “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the land and delight themselves in abundant peace” (Matthew 5:5; Psalm 37:11).

So what does Abram have to do? Just get up and go exploring! “Arise, walk through the land to its length and to its breadth, for I will give it to you” (Genesis 13:17). That's how real estate transactions often worked, that's how ownership was asserted: by treading down the boundaries of the land.⁴⁴ That's what God summons Abram to do: go stake out an advance claim on what God will give, securing title to the land under heaven's law.

And we aren't directly told whether Abram did so, though readers have usually assumed that he did.⁴⁵ What we're told is that “Abram moved his tent and came and settled by the oaks of Mamre which are at Hebron” (Genesis 13:18). Not counting any other travels through the land as God commanded, that alone would be more than a short jaunt; from one straight to the other is a minimum of seventeen hours of southward walking. When Lot moved his tent toward Sodom, he went east to the valley and then moved south. Abram's relocation to near Hebron has moved him parallel to Lot – still keeping his distance, but choosing a spot in Canaan's highlands where, if Lot chooses to reconnect, Abram will always be close by.⁴⁶ Spurning the way of Cain, Abram will be on hand to be his brother's keeper after all (cf. Genesis 4:9).⁴⁷ And “there,” for the last time for a long time, Abram “built an altar to the LORD” (Genesis 13:18), finishing the story in symmetry with the altar that began it.

Abram's humility, Abram's love of peace, Abram's reverence – they were all a signpost of what was to come. Far outdoing Abram, the eternal Son of God didn't count his divine privileges “something to be grasped, but he emptied himself, taking the form of a servant” (Philippians 2:6-7). Once born in human vesture as the true Seed of Abraham, he urged his first disciples to imitate their forefather's generous heart: “Love your enemies, do good, and lend expecting nothing in return, and your reward will be great” (Luke 6:35); for “everyone who has left... lands for my sake will receive a hundredfold and will inherit eternal life” (Matthew 19:29).

When this Lord gathered his disciples 'round his paschal altar, he assured them there was a land that could lift them all up: “In my Father's house are many rooms..., and if I go to prepare a place for you, I will come again and take you to myself, that where I am, you may be also” (John 14:2-3). Against their tendency to strive with their fellow shepherds, Christ assured them that “my peace I give to you” (John 14:27). Christ “lifted up his eyes,” not to survey hills and valleys of this world, but “to heaven,” to his Father's glory (John 17:1). And he prayed for these apostles and their future disciples, “that they may become perfectly one” (John 17:23). Though the separation of Abram and Lot was forced on them by their place in salvation-history, it wasn't the end goal.

Like Abram, Christ stretched out his hands toward the left and toward the right – to receive piercing nails. “In him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and, through him, to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross” (Colossians 1:19-20). For once we, like Lot self-satisfied in his valley, “were at that time separated from Christ..., strangers to the... promise...; but now, in Christ Jesus, you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ, for he himself is our peace,” that he “might reconcile us both to God in one Body through the cross, thereby killing the hostility” that separated striving shepherds in the old carnal Canaan.

Now there is one Body of Christ indwelt by one Holy Spirit; this Body is headed by one Lord, this Body teaches one Faith, is washed by one Baptism, and looks to one Hope (Ephesians 4:4-5). The Apostle therefore bids us “walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called” (Ephesians 4:1). That means acting in “all humility and gentleness, with patience,” just as Abram treated Lot, not clinging to what we see as our own (Ephesians 4:2; Luke 6:30). Better even than that is “bearing with one another in love,” as the shepherds found no power to do (Ephesians 4:2), for “love binds everything together in perfect harmony” (Colossians 3:4).

And it looks like “being eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace” (Ephesians 4:3). That wasn't possible for Abram and Lot, whose peace could be secured only by separation. But the Christian bond of peace mandates the Church be one Church, “one body in Christ” (Romans 12:5) who “all partake of the one bread” (1 Corinthians 10:7), “that there may be no division in the body” (1 Corinthians 12:25). “Can it be that there is no one among you wise enough to settle a dispute between the brothers?... Why not rather suffer wrong” before disrupting the peace of the body, asks the Apostle (1 Corinthians 6:5-7)? “Behold, how good and pleasant it is when brothers dwell in unity” (Psalm 133:1)! So, he urges, “in humility count others more significant than yourselves” (Philippians 2:3), and “let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one Body; and be thankful,” as Abram was (Colossians 3:15). And so we are. Amen.