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.
Imagine this: 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" – 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.
But here's another layer to the story. We often think of the Promised Land as, well, promised and ready for Abraham. But the Legends of the Jews, drawing on various Midrashic 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. It's a reminder that even the holiest of journeys often begin in the most complicated of places.