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Noah Named the Plain Overthrow and Then Canaan Took It

God's wind destroyed the tower. Noah named the rubble Overthrow and divided the earth. Then Canaan marched north into Shem's portion and refused every warning.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Wind That Finished What the Languages Had Started
  2. The Dispersion That Moved Like Water
  3. The Warning That Came From His Own Family
  4. What Noah Called the Ruins

The Wind That Finished What the Languages Had Started

The Lord sent a mighty wind against the tower and overthrew it upon the earth. Not a flood this time. Not fire. A wind. The people had already scattered when the languages split, but the structure itself stood until the wind came and brought it down across the land between Asshur and Babylon, in the land of Shinar. When it fell, the people who came to look at the wreckage had a word ready. They called the place Overthrow.

Not Babel. Not Confusion. Overthrow. The tower that was to have reached heaven had been thrown over onto the earth by the same God it was trying to escape. Every subsequent generation that lived in Shinar would live in a land whose most prominent landmark was named for a divine act of demolition. The name was a permanent record of what ambition without consent from heaven produced.

The Dispersion That Moved Like Water

In the thirty-fourth jubilee, in the fourth week, in the first year, the people dispersed from the land of Shinar. Ham and his sons went south into the land of heat that Noah's lots had assigned them. The dispersion was not random. People moved toward their inheritance, the territories the lots had already named and the angels had already recorded in the heavenly tablets on the mountain of Ararat.

Canaan, Ham's son, looked north. He looked at the land of Lebanon, from the river of Egypt to Hamath, and he saw that it was very good. He was standing in the south, in his assigned territory, and looking at Shem's portion. And he made the same calculation that had been made and was wrong and had been sworn against on the mountain when the lots fell: the good land is better than the right land, and I will take the good land.

The Warning That Came From His Own Family

His brothers stood in front of him. Not strangers, not enemies. His own brothers, Cush and Mizraim and Put, who knew exactly what the oath on the mountain had cost them all. They told him what would happen. They named the curse. They cited the covenant and the angels who had witnessed it and Noah their father who had administered it. They gave him every reason to stay south and not one reason to go north.

Canaan said nothing and went north anyway. The land of Lebanon. Hamath to the entering of Egypt. He settled it and he would not leave. His father Ham's transgression in the tent had already marked the family. Now his own transgression in the land deepened the mark. Two sins, two generations, one name carrying both.

What Noah Called the Ruins

The name Noah gave the plain, Overthrow, sits in the Book of Jubilees just before the account of Canaan's land seizure, and the juxtaposition is not accidental. The great human project that tried to make itself unreachable by God ended in a pile of rubble named for what God had done to it. And then Canaan, from the generation just after the dispersion, marched into someone else's land and proved that the lesson of the tower had not been learned. The attempt to take what was not assigned had not ended at Babel. It had moved north into the holy land.

The plain of Shinar lay overthrown behind him. Ahead of him was the land of Lebanon, which was good. He chose the good land over the sworn boundary and built his household in it, and the curse that had been spoken on the mountain followed him across the border and settled into the soil of every city he founded there.


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The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Book of Jubilees 10:41Book of Jubilees

The familiar story is this: humanity, once united in language and purpose, dared to build a tower reaching for the heavens. God, seeing their hubris, scattered them across the earth, confusing their tongues and halting their ambitious project. But what happened after the scattering?

The Book of Jubilees, a fascinating text considered canonical by some but excluded from the Hebrew Bible, gives us a glimpse. It paints a vivid picture of the aftermath, a world reshaped by divine intervention and the choices of Noah’s descendants.

In Jubilees, it was a "mighty wind" sent by the Lord that brought the tower crashing down. A divine demolition, you might say. And where did this monumental collapse occur? Right there between Asshur and Babylon, in the land of Shinar – a location steeped in ancient history and significance. It's a place name, Shinar, that echoes even today. Because of this event the place was forever known as "Overthrow." It’s a powerful image, isn't it? A evidence of the consequences of unchecked ambition.

The Book of Jubilees places this pivotal moment in the 34th jubilee, specifically the first year of the fourth week of that jubilee cycle. That's a very specific date! From the land of Shinar, they were dispersed. Families scattered, languages fractured, destinies diverging.

But what about Noah's sons? Where did Ham and his descendants go? The Book of Jubilees details their movements, dividing the world according to God's plan. Ham and his sons, we're told, ventured into the "land of the south," the territory destined for them. A vast and varied land, full of promise and challenge.

And then there’s Canaan, one of Ham's sons. Here's where the story gets particularly interesting. Canaan, rather than settling in his designated inheritance, sets his sights on the land from Lebanon to the river of Egypt. The text emphasizes his attraction to this land, noting that he saw "that it was very good." He didn't go west towards the sea, to the land that was meant for him. What does it say about free will, about the choices we make, even when a path is seemingly laid out for us? Canaan had a designated territory, but he chose another. Was it ambition? Was it simply a preference for the landscape? Whatever the reason, his decision would have far-reaching consequences, shaping the future of the land and its people.

The Book of Jubilees offers a unique perspective on this crucial period in biblical history, filling in the gaps and expanding on the familiar narrative. It reminds us that even in the wake of divine intervention, human choices continue to shape our world. It makes you wonder: are we living in the land we were "meant" to, or have we, like Canaan, chosen a different path? And what will be the consequences of our choices?

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Book of Jubilees 10:50Book of Jubilees

Sometimes, stories – powerful, ancient stories – are woven right into the very fabric of the land.

We find one such story in the Book of Jubilees, a fascinating text that expands on the narratives we find in Genesis. It’s considered apocryphal by some, meaning it's not included in the canonical Hebrew Bible, but it offers a unique perspective on early biblical history. And it’s full of drama!

This particular passage focuses on the aftermath of the flood and the division of the world among Noah's sons: Shem, Ham, and Japheth. Each was given a territory, a destiny. But one of them, well, he didn’t quite stick to the plan.

That would be Canaan, son of Ham. The Book of Jubilees tells us that Canaan was cursed. Not by Noah directly in this version, but by Noah's grandsons. And it was a serious curse. "Cursed art thou, and cursed shalt thou be beyond all the sons of Noah, by the curse by which we bound ourselves by an oath in the presence of the holy judge, and in the presence of Noah our father." Strong words. Why such a harsh condemnation? Because Canaan, according to Jubilees, didn’t settle in the land allotted to him. He had been given a territory, but "he did not hearken unto them, and dwelt in the land of Lebanon from Hamath to the entering of Egypt, he and his sons until this day. And for this reason that land is named Canaan." for a second. The very name of the land, Canaan, is tied to this act of disobedience. It’s a geographical marker, sure, but it’s also a constant reminder of a broken agreement, a defied boundary.

Meanwhile, Japheth and his sons were more obedient. "And Japheth and his sons went towards the sea and dwelt in the land of their portion." They accepted their designated territory and settled there. No drama, just following the divine plan.

But even among the more compliant sons, there was some negotiation. We are told "Madai saw the land of the sea and it did not please him, and he begged a (portion) from Elam and Asshur and Arpachshad, his wife's brother..." So, even within the divinely ordained plan, there was room for some adjustment, some personal preference. Madai wasn’t happy with his initial lot, so he sought permission to settle elsewhere, obtaining it from his relatives.

What does this story tell us? It's not just about ancient geography. It highlights the importance of respecting boundaries, both physical and spiritual. It's about the consequences of defying divine will (or, at least, what was perceived as divine will). The story also touches on the complexities of human nature – the desire for autonomy, the willingness to negotiate, and the potential for both obedience and disobedience.

And the name Canaan? It echoes through the ages, a constant reminder of a choice made long ago, a story etched into the very landscape. Food for thought, isn't it? How do our choices shape not only our own lives but also the world around us? How do the stories we tell ourselves – and the stories told about us – shape our identities and our destinies?

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Jasher 11Book of Jasher

What about the generations that followed? What were they up to? The Book of Jasher, an ancient text referenced in the Bible itself (Joshua 10:13 and (2 Samuel 1:1)8), offers some fascinating, and sometimes startling, answers.

The story picks up with Nimrod, that mighty hunter we meet in Genesis. According to Jasher, Nimrod wasn't just hunting animals. He was building an empire. He constructs cities in the land of Shinar (that's Mesopotamia, modern-day Iraq). And get this: the names of the cities themselves are a commentary on the Tower of Babel incident!

First, there's Babel, of course, named "because the Lord there confounded the language of the whole earth." Then Erech, because from there God dispersed the people. Eched, a memorial to a great battle. And finally, Calnah, where Nimrod's princes and mighty men were "consumed" because they rebelled against God. Ouch.

Nimrod settles in Babel and, despite the whole tower debacle, doubles down on wickedness. He's even given a new name, Amraphel, because "at the tower his princes and men fell through his means." His son, Mardon, is even worse! The verse reads, "From the wicked goeth forth wickedness." It's a harsh assessment, but it sets the stage for what's to come.

We also hear about a war between the families of Ham, one of Noah's sons. Chedorlaomer, king of Elam, subdues five cities and makes them pay tribute for twelve years. This detail might sound random, but it actually connects to a later biblical narrative involving Abraham and his rescue of Lot (Genesis 14).

But the real heart of this chapter centers on a young Abram. We learn that in the fiftieth year of his life, Abram leaves Noah's house and returns to his father Terah. And here's where things get really interesting. Abram, already knowing the Lord, is appalled by the idolatry he finds in his father's home. Terah, you see, is not just a regular guy. He’s "captain of the host of king Nimrod," and he's deeply involved in serving "strange gods."

The text paints a vivid picture: twelve gods standing in their temples. Abram, filled with righteous anger, vows to destroy them. And he doesn't waste any time.

He confronts his father, asking about the Creator. Terah proudly presents his idols. Abram pretends to be interested in making offerings, even tricking his mother into preparing savory meat for the idols. But of course, the idols do nothing. They can't eat, they can't speak, they can't even move.

Then, the pivotal moment: Abram is "clothed with the spirit of God." He denounces the idols and, in a dramatic act of defiance, he grabs a hatchet and smashes them all! He then cleverly places the hatchet in the hand of the largest idol, setting the stage for a hilarious (and tense) confrontation with his father.

Terah, understandably furious, confronts Abram. Abram, with remarkable audacity, claims the largest idol destroyed the others in a fit of jealousy. Terah, of course, doesn't buy it. "Are they not wood and stone, and have I not myself made them?" he demands.

Abram then turns the question back on his father: "And how canst thou then serve these idols in whom there is no power to do anything? Can those idols in which thou trustest deliver thee?"

The argument escalates, culminating in Abram snatching the hatchet and running away. Terah, enraged, runs to Nimrod, demanding justice.

The scene shifts to a royal court. Nimrod, surrounded by his princes, interrogates Abram. Abram repeats his story about the large idol. When Nimrod scoffs, Abram turns his fire on the king himself, condemning his idolatry and warning him of divine judgment, even referencing the Flood as a consequence of similar wickedness.

Abram concludes with a powerful call to repentance: "Now therefore put away this evil deed which thou doest, and serve the God of the universe, as thy soul is in his hands, and then it will be well with thee." And if not? "Then wilt thou die in shame in the latter days."

The chapter ends with Abram lifting his eyes to heaven, declaring that the Lord sees all the wicked and will judge them. It's a powerful image of faith and defiance in the face of overwhelming opposition.

So, what do we take away from this? The story of Abram's iconoclasm, his smashing of idols, isn't just a tale of youthful rebellion. It’s a foundational narrative about challenging false gods, about speaking truth to power, and about choosing faith over conformity. It sets the stage for the entire Abrahamic tradition, reminding us that sometimes, the most faithful thing we can do is to break the idols in our own lives and in the world around us. And that takes courage, doesn’t it?

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