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Abraham Built Altars After the Furnace That Took His Brother Haran

Terah was caught lying to the king and gave up a son to save himself. He named Haran. The king had both his sons stripped and thrown into the fire.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. Terah Gave Up a Son to Save Himself
  2. Three Days Inside the Fire
  3. The Tent He Pitched for Sarah First
  4. A Stranger in the Land He Had Been Promised
  5. The Ten Years That Broke the Theory
Abraham Built Altars After the Furnace That Took His Brother Haran Click for full size

Terah Gave Up a Son to Save Himself

Terah had lied to the king and the king had found out, and standing in front of him with the charge read out, Terah folded. He admitted the deception.

"Tell me who advised you to do this," the king said. "Hide nothing, and you will not die."

Terah had two sons in reach. Haran, the older one, had been thirty-two years old on the day Abraham was born. Terah said Haran had put him up to it.

It was not true. It bought him nothing either. The king ordered both sons taken.

Three Days Inside the Fire

They stripped the two men down to their underclothes and tied their hands and their feet with linen cord and carried them to the mouth of the furnace.

Haran went in and burned, because his heart was not whole with the Lord. The flames came up out of the opening and took the men who had thrown them in, standing there with the rope still warm in their hands.

Abraham did not burn.

The cords on his wrists and ankles went to ash and dropped off him and nothing else did. For three days and three nights he walked back and forth inside the fire, and the king's servants ran to the palace to report what they had seen.

"We have seen Abraham walking about in the middle of the fire."

The Tent He Pitched for Sarah First

A man who has walked out of a furnace can go anywhere and be listened to. What Abraham did with it was pitch tents and argue.

The order never changed. He would come into a place where he meant to stay a while and set up a tent for Sarah before he set up one for himself. Then he would start on the people. He wanted them under the wings of the Shekhinah (שכינה), the divine presence, and he would not stop working a town until they were.

Every altar he stacked was a base of operations. The stones went up, the fire went on them, and the crowd that came to see what the stranger was doing was the whole point of the stones. He was after one thing everywhere he went, which was to get every man alive saying the Name out loud.

He had left a brother in a furnace and a father who had named that brother to a king. He was building a household out of strangers.

A Stranger in the Land He Had Been Promised

The country he was walking into was already occupied, and not lawfully.

After the flood, when the earth was divided out among the sons of Noah by lot, Canaan looked at the ground running from the Lebanon down to the River of Egypt and decided he wanted it. His own share lay westward, along the sea. He refused to go there. He settled on the good land instead, east and west of the Jordan.

His father Ham came to him about it, and his brothers Cush and Mizraim came with him.

"You are living in a land that is not yours," they told him. "It was not assigned to us when the lots were drawn. Do not do this. If you stay, you and your children will fall in this land, cursed, in a rebellion, and your seed will be cut down forever. Do not settle in the land of Shem. It was given to Shem and to Shem's children. We swore an oath before the holy Judge and before our father Noah."

Canaan stayed. Generations later Abraham walked in over that same border with his tents and his converts, holding a promise about ground that a cursed man was farming.

The Ten Years That Broke the Theory

The one thing he could not gather was a child.

He and Sarah had an explanation for it while they were still outside the country. They were being kept childless because they were living in the wrong place, and once they stood on the land itself the block would lift. It was a bearable answer. It had a remedy in it.

They lived ten years in the land. Nothing came.

Somewhere in the tenth year Sarah stopped blaming the map and worked out that the fault was in her body. She did not fight it and she did not turn on her husband. She went and got Hagar.

Hagar belonged to Sarah, not to Abraham. Pharaoh had handed her over, and Pharaoh was her father. Sarah had raised her and taught her and walked her along the same road she walked herself, which was the only reason Sarah considered her fit for this at all. Before she brought the girl to her husband, Sarah made her a free woman.

Then she offered her, and Abraham took the proposal, moved by the holy spirit to say yes to it.

The covenant of the pieces, where the entire future of his descendants was laid out in front of him in the dark, was cut while he still had no descendants at all.


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The texts behind this telling. Some cards carry a translation of the source; others are our own retelling of it, and each card says which. Every card links out to the original.

Legends of the Jews 5:83Legends of the Jews

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Legends of the Jews by Louis Ginzberg (1909) · Public Domain

It's human, unfortunately, and as we explore the story of Abraham, we find his father, Terah, doing just that.

Terah, was in a bit of a pickle. He had, shall we say, misled the king. And the king, understandably, was not pleased. Terah was afraid of the king's wrath, and so in his terror, he confessed to deceiving the king. The king pressed him: "Tell me who advised thee to do this. Hide naught, and thou shalt not die."

In Ginzberg's retelling in, Legends of the Jews, Terah, in an act of self-preservation, falsely accused his own son, Haran, of being the mastermind behind the deception. Haran,

The king, enraged, ordered both Abraham and Haran to be thrown into a fiery furnace. Stripped bare, save for their hosen – their undergarments – and bound with linen cords, they faced a terrifying fate.

Now, here’s where the narrative diverges into faith and divine intervention. Haran, the story tells us, perished in the flames because "his heart was not perfect with the Lord." And tragically, the very men who cast Abraham and Haran into the furnace were also consumed by the leaping flames.

But what about Abraham? Here's where the story takes a turn toward the miraculous. Abraham, the text emphasizes, was saved by the Lord. He remained unharmed, the cords that bound him turned to ash. Imagine the scene: for three days and three nights, Abraham walked unharmed within the inferno.

The king's servants, witnessing this impossible sight, rushed to their ruler, exclaiming, "Behold, we have seen Abraham walking about in the midst of the fire." Think about the power of that image.

This passage highlights not only the perilous times Abraham faced early in his life, but also the unwavering faith and divine protection that would come to define his journey. It’s a story of betrayal, sacrifice, and ultimately, salvation. What does it say about the choices we make when facing difficult situations? And how much do our inner convictions shape our destinies?

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Legends of the Jews 5:127Legends of the Jews

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Legends of the Jews by Louis Ginzberg (1909) · Public Domain

Abraham knew that feeling well. Before he was Avraham Avinu, our father Abraham, before the brit bein ha-betarim, the covenant of the pieces, he was just a man with a promise and a problem: no children.

The story goes that this momentous covenant, where God revealed the future of Abraham's descendants, happened when Abraham and Sarah were still childless. It's a powerful scene, full of symbolism and divine weight. But before all that, there was just a couple confronting infertility and trying to understand God's plan.

In Legends of the Jews, Ginzberg retells a fascinating detail: Abraham and Sarah believed their inability to conceive was linked to their location. They thought living outside the Holy Land was somehow holding them back, a sort of divine consequence for not being in the place God intended.

That pressure! You're already dealing with the emotional toll of childlessness, and now you're wondering if your geographical location is the problem. It's like blaming your tools instead of your skill, but with cosmic implications.

They waited ten years in Palestine, but still no child. That's when Sarah, in a moment of incredible selflessness, realized the "fault," as Ginzberg puts it, lay with her. And here's where the story gets really interesting. Sarah didn't succumb to jealousy or resentment. Instead, she offered her slave, Hagar, to Abraham as a wife.

But there's a crucial detail that often gets overlooked. Hagar wasn't just handed over. Sarah first freed her. As the text points out, Hagar was Sarah's property, not Abraham's. This act of freeing her is so important. It speaks volumes about Sarah's character and her commitment to righteousness.

And Pharaoh was Hagar’s father! What a story.

Think about the implications! Sarah took responsibility, and created a chance for Abraham to continue his lineage. She took Hagar, instructed her, and walked with her on the path of righteousness to be a suitable companion for Abraham.

The narrative continues by explaining that Abraham, guided by the ruach (spirit) hakodesh, the holy spirit, accepted Sarah's proposal. This wasn't just a pragmatic decision. It was a divinely guided one.

What does this all tell us? It's about active participation, even when it's painful. It's about making difficult choices, trusting in God's plan, and sometimes, taking matters into our own hands, with the purest of intentions, of course. Sometimes the biggest blessings come from the most unexpected places, and through the most unconventional means.

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Legends of the Jews 5:91Legends of the Jews

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Legends of the Jews by Louis Ginzberg (1909) · Public Domain

It wasn't just about building altars, though he certainly did that. According to the legends, each altar he raised was the center of his missionary work.

Abraham arrives at a new place, a spot where he feels called to stay for a while. First, he sets up a tent for Sarah, then one for himself. But he doesn't stop there. Immediately, he gets to work making proselytes, inviting people to come "under the wings of the Shekhinah (the Divine Presence)" – that is, to find shelter and protection in the Divine Presence. The goal? To get everyone, everyone, to proclaim the Name of God. That was Abraham's mission, his driving force.

Here's another layer to the story. the Promised Land is often remembered as, well, promised and ready for Abraham. But the Legends of the Jews, drawing on various Midrashic (rabbinic interpretive commentary) traditions, paints a picture of Abraham as something of a newcomer, an outsider in a land already claimed.

See, after the great flood, when Noah's sons divided up the earth, things got a little…complicated. Canaan, son of Ham, saw this beautiful stretch of land – from Lebanon to the River of Egypt – and decided he wanted it. He refused his own assigned territory westward by the sea and just…settled there.

Now, Ham, Canaan's father, along with his brothers Cush and Mizraim, weren't exactly thrilled. They told Canaan, "This land isn't yours! It wasn't allotted to us. If you stay, you and your children will fall, accursed, in rebellion. Your settling here was rebellion, and rebellion will be the downfall of your descendants for all eternity. Don't sojourn in the land of Shem, because it was given to Shem and his children."

They even invoked an oath! "Accursed are you, and accursed will you be before all the children of Noah because of this curse, for we took an oath before the holy Judge and before our father Noah."

So, Abraham arrives in this land with this history hanging over it. It's not just a matter of divine promise; it's navigating existing claims, curses, and ancient oaths. According to Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, Abraham wasn't just building altars; he was stepping into a complex, contested space, and his actions had profound implications, not just for him, but for the future of his descendants and the very land itself.

What does this tell us? Perhaps that even divine promises come with complexities, with histories, and with responsibilities that extend far beyond ourselves.

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