The Book of Jubilees, a text bubbling with detail about the early days of humankind and covenants with God, offers a fascinating glimpse. In the 15th chapter, we find Abraham – still called Abram at this point – engaging in a profound act of offering.
Imagine the scene: Abram, having just received divine instructions, is at the altar. He’s not just going through the motions. This is a moment of profound connection. He offers “new offerings…the first-fruits of the produce, unto the Lord.” These aren't stale leftovers; they're the best of the best, a tangible expression of gratitude and devotion. He offers a heifer, a goat, and a sheep, each a korban olah, a burnt offering, completely consumed by fire as a sacrifice to God.
The text continues: “their fruit-offerings and their drink-offerings he offered upon the altar with frankincense.” frankincense. The aroma filling the air, the smoke rising towards the heavens. It's a multi-sensory experience, a full-bodied act of worship. The Book of Jubilees paints a picture of Abram not just following instructions, but pouring his heart and soul into this sacred act.
And then, the pivotal moment: “And the Lord appeared to Abram…”
This isn’t just a voice from the sky. This is a direct encounter, a divine presence. And what does God say? “I am God Almighty; approve thyself before Me and be thou perfect.”
El Shaddai – God Almighty – makes a powerful declaration. But it's that next phrase that really grabs you: "approve thyself before Me and be thou perfect." What does it mean to be "perfect" before God? Is it about flawless behavior? Or is it about striving, about the intention behind our actions, about continually refining ourselves?
God continues, “And I will make My covenant between Me and thee, and I will multiply thee exceedingly.”
This is it. The core of the covenant. A promise of abundance, a promise of descendants beyond counting. This covenant is the bedrock of the Jewish people.
Abram’s response is immediate and visceral: “And Abram fell on his face…”
Humility. Awe. Recognition of the sheer immensity of the moment. In that posture of submission, God begins to speak again.
What follows are further details of the covenant. But it all begins with that scene at the altar, with Abram's offerings, with his willingness to engage in a physical act that creates a pathway for divine communication. It makes you wonder about the rituals in our own lives. What offerings – of time, of energy, of ourselves – do we bring to the metaphorical altar? What covenants are we forging, and how can we, like Abram, strive to be "perfect" – whole, complete, and fully present – in the eyes of the Divine?