Exalted Father: Abraham's Journey of Faith

By George Truett Moore

Exalted Father is the story of the life of a man treasured and honored as the father of the worlds three greatest religions, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. It is the story of Abraham, a human being struggling with the daily issues of life, searching for the meaning of life. Therefore, it is everyones story. As it is recorded, Abraham went out not knowing where he was to go, traveling from Ur of the Chaldeans to the land of promise. Abraham went out by faith, a reminder that we, too, walk, not by sight, but by faith.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 2, 2007
• ISBN: 9781462823925

George Truett Moore

THE REVEREND George Truett Moore, a native of South Carolina and a graduate of Clemson University’s School of Architecture, served in World War II as a Corps of Engineer Officer. He practiced Architecture until he entered the Lutheran Theological Seminary, graduating with “Highest Honors in New Testament Studies.” He was a Missionary Builder, Liberia, West Africa, and a Lutheran Pastor for over Fifty Years. He is an accomplished actor, having played the role of over twenty biblical characters. He is a well known writer. This book on the life of Mark, is his seventh.

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Copyright © 2007 by George Truett Moore.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Epilogue

This book is dedicated

with love and appreciation

to my dear wife, Elizabeth

Prologue

The lightning strike was explosive, frightening in its intensity. Reu

almost dropped the infant. It was a bad omen. Over the High Priest’s strong objection, the father had insisted midnight would be the hour. This newborn was destined for great things! The gods would be pleased and the priest would be well paid. Reu was not impressed, even with the assurance of three gold coins. The gods were unpredictable, sometimes fickle. For Reu, the lightning was more warning than promise.

No one expected the sudden storm. As the procession began its stately climb up the steps of the Ziggurat, winding back and forth toward the pinnacle, the sky was ablaze with stars. The father was confident. It was a good sign! His first son would be presented to and accepted by the gods. In the traditional words handed down through the generations, this child would be assured of immortality. As the stars spread their brilliance across the heavens, this son’s life would blaze for all posterity.

Yet, with the stars suddenly blacked out, the quiet calm of the night shattered by wind, rain, lightning, and thunder, Terah had to wonder. He shook the rain from his brow and shivered. This couldn’t be happening! He had waited so long for the birth of a son, one to carry on the family name. There were the three daughters, but they didn’t count. In his notable lineage going all the way back to Shem and Shem’s father, Noah, he must not be disappointed, even with this disturbing change in the weather.

He bowed his head in apprehension, but feeling a cooler breeze blowing in from the east, looked up. The clouds were moving rapidly toward the distant hills.

Look! he shouted, as Reu came to the end of the solemn ceremony. The storm is over! The clouds are drifting away and the stars are breaking out again. My son has been accepted. We have been blessed!

Surely, the signs could not be bad, not for the son of the maker of idols. His were the best, the finest in all the land. There were none equal. He felt better, much, much better. Now he could take his son home and assure the child’s mother the journey to the top of the temple had not been futile. Some things were difficult for women to understand, but this would help. Her son, their son, would make them proud! Someday he would be a great leader of men. He named him Abram, exalted father.

Chapter One

The mist was still rising from the courtyard when the birds erupted from

the shelter of the tamarisk tree, startled by a loud and emphatic voice.

Adah, come get this son of yours. I want him out of here!

Once Abram could walk he was into everything. His father was not impressed. He loved his son, but he did have work to do. His big commission was a carved god for the High Priest Reu. It had to be ready before the celebration of the first gathering of the crops. No one dared displease the gods of the harvest. Life depended on an adequate supply of grain. Last year the Amorites ravaged their fields. The priests blamed that on the city’s failure to properly appease the gods. New powerful idols were required. These had to come from the forest, not the river clay. Such was the decision of the Council. Torah was busy.

The dominant god for Ur was the moon-god, Nanna. His was the largest temple, the pride of the city. This Ziggurat had taken years to build. Thousands of sun-dried brick had been shaped and cured, replacing the ancient clay mound worn down by the ravages of time and enemy assaults. Brick for the interior walls, columns, and arches had been painted, glazed, and heated in the huge ovens located near the river.

Ur had grown to a tremendous size, pushing farther west and north. New walls had been erected in both directions, something never intended by the first settlers. Some called that area the new city. More and more structures, both homes and shops had been added. Many had been built much too close to each other. Although most of the buildings were made of clay or brick, fire was a problem. The roof framing was wood. Many of the two-story homes had balconies supported by wood posts. Ovens had to be near the river.

The temple of Nanna attracted travelers from all over the region, from the flat wetlands to the distant hills, from the coast to the arid wastelands to the west. Its height and size was far greater than any other, near or far. Travelers approaching the city late in the afternoon were impressed by the radiant glow produced by the setting sun. It had the appearance of gold!

There was a black stone altar, rough on the sides, but polished on top. It was a gift of the gods, having fallen from the heavens. It had taken years to smooth and polish. Only the priests had been permitted to touch it. The citizens of Ur believed their temple and god had no match between the sea and the far distant mountains.

Nanna had a consort, Ningal! She was a powerful goddess. She had her own temple. Threatening forces and evil spirits demanded gods of strength and power, in control of both night and day. Nanna and Ningal were to be feared and adored.

Most idols were formed of clay; painted, baked, then glazed. One had to be most attentive in handling these, but clay idols were preferred. The greater demand was for those created by Terah. He could mold figures with the thinnest of walls, yet sturdy and hard. If one dared tap one of his baked figures it would ring like a bell. As to the colors, none were richer or brighter. Terah was a craftsman.

Abram grew up playing with clay. Scraps of wood, wood shavings, soapstone, and clay were his toys. As soon as he could crawl, his father’s shop was his personal playpen. His sisters were quite happy with the arrangements until they were called on to baby-sit. As far as they were concerned, baby brothers, although tolerated, were to be ignored. Sure, some day all that would change. This favorite child would be lording it over them, but in the meantime they focused their attention on more important things. Even the youngest of the three sisters had her eyes on the young men of the city, not on baby brothers.

Early on in Abram’s life the routine included morning time with his father. While Terah was busy with his craft, Abram played. However, once he learned to walk, and before he learned obedience to his father’s orders, he was trouble. He didn’t see it that way, but his father did. Almost every day Adah or one of the girls was summoned.

This child is nothing but trouble. Come get him, now!

Adah, busy with housework, had little time for her husband’s demands and didn’t hesitate to tease her dear Terah about his son.

What’s the matter? Is your exalted father misbehaving? Surely, he could not be a problem!

Terah knew better than to engage his wife in any more conversation. Muttering to himself, he would tuck Abram under his arm and set him outside the shop. He was confident one of the girls would be called on for an unwanted duty.

It was not until the second brother came along that Abram began to respond to his father’s demands and rules. He would be an idol-maker, just like his father and grandfather.

Son, someday all this will be yours. I am confident your name will be known and honored throughout the kingdom!

Abram became a good pupil, anxious to please. He quickly learned the art of molding clay. Just as important was his ability to find the best clay, digging it out from the river’s bank. On these excursions, once he discovered the best spots, he went alone, moving far above the North Harbor. He had his own secret dig, one he could visit when the water had dropped to the proper level. It meant getting up before dawn, slipping away with his hoe and woven basket, but he loved the adventure.

In the pre-dawn mornings he enjoyed watching the stars sparkling overhead. If there was no mist or fog blocking his view, and the moon was down, it seemed he could almost reach up and touch the twinkling lights of the heavens. Then there were those stars that moved; the ones the priests called the wanderers. Reu and his cohorts saw these as bearing special messages needing their interpretation. Oftentimes they were seen as warnings. Abram saw them as the natural beauty of his world. If the gods had anything to do with it they would surely be bringing blessings in their journey across the sky.

Sometimes, if the rains held off, he would make daily trips up the river. It was essential to have a good supply of clay on hand. Weather could be a problem in the lower river basin. Floods were frequent.

He did have to be careful in watching out for the dreaded crocodiles. He had seen them many times, some longer than his father was tall. On an early summer excursion one surprised him, lunging forward with mouth open. Its huge cone-shaped teeth ripped open his basket, barely missing his leg. Abram was fortunate to be alive! Yet, even after saying the proper things, expressing his thanks to the gods, he wondered. How could man-made idols formed from clay he had dug out of the riverbank protect him from lunging crocodiles? He would have to ask his father. He could ask one of the priests, but he did not like priests. From a young boy’s point of view, high and mighty priests dressed in all their finery were to be feared more than hungry crocodiles. He never went through the towered entrance to Nanna’s temple unless he was with his father. Even then, he closed his mind to most of the temple activity. Worship rituals, especially the ones involving animal sacrifices, turned his stomach. How could the spilling of blood be of any help to anyone? He also wondered about the sensuous dancing before the altar, virgins trying to get the god’s attention. What good did that do? Statues and idols created and carved by his father were nothing more than wood or clay; clay he had dug up and carted home, and they could see no one.

During the winter months Terah made sure Abram attended the local school. He was determined this son would learn to read and write! For the writing Abram used some of the clay his father worked with in forming idols. It was the finest, shaped into thin tablets. His classmates kidded him about the clay and about his size. He was a tall and thin teenager; thin like the tablets he brought to school.

One of the younger priests was their teacher, instructing the boys in arithmetic and languages. There was a course in accounting, another in Sumerian literature. This included the history of their clans. Religion was the one subject distasteful to Abram. He had little interest in the gods of Ur. His clay had formed plenty. Many such figures sat silent in his father’s shop. However, in spite of that, and by the time Terah’s family added a second and third son, Abram had received a good education, an education few could afford.

As Abram approached manhood, he became the teacher and instructor for his two younger brothers. The oldest, Nahor, was a willing pupil. Although they were four years apart in age, they enjoyed doing things together. They worked well in their father’s shop. Nahor was slow in learning, but wanted to please both father and brother. In his own mind he was confident he could outdo his older brother. His idols would be the best! He had no interest in a formal education.

Abram was not intimidated. Patiently he would go over every little detail. He would show Nahor how to mold the figure and then have his brother try it. He did his best to praise him when their father was present. He knew his brother’s skills were limited and would never match his own, but he loved the younger one.

Look, father! Come see what a beautiful figure Nahor has formed. Surely, this one must be painted and fired!

Terah did his best to look impressed. He did commend Nahor for his work, but in Terah’s eyes he could not measure up to the skills of his Abram. Actually, he was more intent on his own efforts. After all, he was the master craftsman! To him, his sons were still children.

Terah’s third son, Abram’s youngest brother, was another story. He had absolutely no interest in his father’s shop. Named Haran, he seemed to fit the ancient meaning of the word, mountaineer. Abram tried his best to create an interest in their father’s work, but to no avail. Haran was different. Once he was old enough to get about on his own, he did just that. He wanted to explore, going far beyond the walls of the city by himself. Terah enrolled him in the local school, but Haran would have no part in it. He attended few classes.

He was fascinated by the round flat boats, intricately woven of marsh reeds. He loved to fish and the boats were the answer. On one outing he was caught in a sudden storm and surging flood, unable to control the boat. He was washed down the delta and through the lower lake, almost to the open sea. He had to swim for his life! Fortunately, he was a good swimmer and was able to make it back to a flat riverbank. Scolded for his terrible and dangerous adventure, he simply laughed.

Father, you are the builder of gods. If what you say is true, they have to take care of us!

That only made it worse for his parents. Both knew Haran held little regard for the gods of Ur, or for the rules of the community. He was a wanderer, trusting only in himself, and they feared he would not change. They did, on Reu’s insistence, offer a sacrifice. They prayed to Nanna for the protection of their son. Yet they, too, began to wonder. What could Nanna do for them or for their son?

Haran continued to go his own way. After a time he tired of boating and fishing. The far distant horizon beckoned him into days of wandering. Once he reached adulthood he would disappear. He would not be seen for weeks, and no one knew where he had been. His adventures were seldom shared with anyone. Questions went unanswered.

Such experiences seemed to calm his restlessness for a time. As he grew older he did talk about his adventures with his two brothers, hoping one or both would break away from family ties and go with him. He did his best to impress them with glowing pictures of distant places and people.

"The northern territory! The trade routes cross at Haran, a city bearing my name! The big caravans come and go, carrying cloth, skins, salt, and all sorts of seasonings. You have to see it, smell the spices, the leather goods, and the dried fish. Some caravans transport gold and silver! You never see any, but that’s what I’ve been told. Armed men protect all the caravans, whether or not they are transporting gold and silver. There are animals everywhere. Cattle, sheep, and goats provide milk and meat in abundance. Oxen pull heavy loads stacked on huge wagons. Up there those wagons have wheels made of spokes and iron rims, not the solid wood wheels you see around here.

"Men crossing the sandy wasteland to the west ride on tall camels. Some have horses. Where a little river meets the big river, the Euphrates, men catch large quantities of big fish. Some are dried in the sun and some are soaked in oil.

"They tell me there is another sea far to the west, greater than ours. Many tribes inhabit the land that touches that sea, a land with the richest of soils. Fig trees, grape vineyards, and fields of grain are everywhere. Sheep and goats are plentiful. Someday I will make that journey, see all that for myself.

Abram! Nahor! You have to go with me! Once you do, you won’t want to come back. Don’t you know there is nothing exciting happening here? Do you want to spend the rest of your lives carving those stupid, useless gods? Listen to what I’m telling you!

Over Abram’s response and protest, Haran held up his hand for silence.

"You two are grown men! I’ve lived over twenty years, and you are older, years older. By now you should realize how useless those carved figures are in protecting you. Gods don’t live in temples! You know that.

"Father sends you out to cut down a tree. When the wood has been properly dried, he shapes that into a figure, a god figure. Then, placed in the temple, wherever the priests want it, people come and bow down to it, offer sacrifices to it. That is stupid! Sure, there might be gods somewhere up there in the heavens, but not here! And you, Abram, what about the clay figures? You dig the clay out from the smelly riverbank. Then you bring it back for our father to shape it into the figure of a god. What can that clay do for you? Nothing!

"Also, you two need to be thinking of taking wives for yourselves. Our sisters are already married and have children. When are you going to exercise your manhood?

I’ve met the most beautiful girl in Haran. Just as soon as I get back we are going to start a family! Don’t look so shocked! We will do it the right way. Her parents are happy for us, and their priest will see that we are married properly. Once that is done I’ll bring her back here to meet everyone. Now, what do you say? Will you go north with me?

Abram and Nahor shook their heads. They had heard Haran’s talk before, more than once! However, they, too, had shared their doubts concerning their father’s work. It was the finest, the most colorful, but idols sitting on the shelves in the shop meant little to them. These were only works of art contracted by the priests. Agreement with Haran on that was easy.

They did ask about the girl.

How old is she? Describe her for us. When do you plan to bring her back with you? We want to meet her! Does she have any pretty sisters?

Haran disappeared again. His parents and brothers had to assume he had headed north. Perhaps when he returned he would bring with him a wife, a resident of the city of Haran. They could do nothing but wait. No one in the family saw any need to offer more sacrifices or pay for any more prayers. As far as they were concerned, the gods had no great powers in dealing with such human problems. Idol maker’s skills and knowledge could do just as well. After all, it was Terah who had created all the god figures. Reu would have called that blasphemy. Not only that, he would have called Terah and his family before the Council!

Chapter Two

She was the prettiest girl in the festal procession! Abram was certain of that. He would not be satisfied until he knew her name.