by Brian Godawa
“Sarai, please leave,” he said. “And close the door.”
She closed the door, and hesitated before leaving. She heard Abram pound his axe away on the idols with chops and pummelings. She ran to her bedroom.
An hour later, Terah arrived home and made his way to the shrine room. When he entered, a ghastly sight met him. All the idols save one were demolished; broke or chopped into pieces. The plates of savory meat were still arrayed on the floor, and the one largest stone idol had a hatchet in its hand. Terah could see it was Abram’s hatchet.
He ran out of the room and stomped around the house until he found Abram sitting peacefully in the courtyard.
His voice trembled with anger, “What is this you have done with my images, Abram?”
“Nothing,” he replied. “I merely made an offering of savory meat that I placed before them all. But when all of the idols reached out before the largest one to eat, his anger was kindled and he went and took my axe and smote the other idols for their lack of etiquette. It was horrible.”
Terah stared at Abram with incredulity.
“You speak such lies to me? I made those idols with my own hands. I carved them and I know full well they have no spirit or power to do what you have claimed.”
Abram looked up at his father. “Then why do you serve such idols in whom there is no power to do anything? Why do you trust them to deliver you? Why do you pray to ears that cannot hear you, to eyes that cannot see you, and to arms and legs that cannot move? Why do you serve wood and stone, when you are their maker and they are not yours? This is the very reason El Shaddai brought the Great Flood on our ancestors.”
Terah’s jaw clenched in fury. He thought, How could this be my son? How could I lay claim to this depraved and arrogant atheist who mocks my gods with such contempt?
He turned to Abram and blurted out, “You are not my son,” and he pounded out of the house.
Abram knew this was the end. He had gone too far. He had pushed too much. He should have wooed his father into persuasion, but instead, he pummeled him into humiliation. He had ruined his chances of ever restoring a relationship let alone converting him to El Shaddai’s path.
He quietly walked back to his bedroom and told Sarai it was time for them to leave. They began to pack their things and say goodbye to family members. It was a time of great sadness. The family would miss Sarai’s sacrificial giving, and Abram’s hearty self-confidence. Abram and Sarai would miss Eliana’s and Milcah’s supportiveness, Haran and Nahor’s competitive natures, Iscah’s precious smile, and Lot’s eager playfulness.
They had not finished packing yet, but were with everyone in the courtyard, when Abram noticed someone missing.
“Where is Lot?” he asked.
Everyone looked around, not knowing the answer.
Lot came barging into the courtyard with a reed basket on his back loaded with his belongings.
“Here I am!” said Lot. “I am going with you.”
“You will do no such thing,” said Haran. “You are staying right here with your family.”
“But Abram is family,” countered Lot.
Abram said, “Lot, listen to your father.”
“No!” Lot cried out. “I am tired of being cooped up here making stupid idols. I want to see the world. I want to experience the world.”
Eliana began to cry.
“Mother,” Lot whined.
“Do you not love us anymore?” Eliana cried.
“Of course. I will always love you,” Lot replied. “I just feel like I was made for more than this.”
“So we are just wasting our lives, is that what you think?” said Haran.
“No! I mean, it is okay for you, but I want more.”
Haran protested, “Uruk is one of the largest cities and the most cosmopolitan in the entire land. What more do you think you will find anywhere else?”
“You just do not understand,” complained Lot.
“Oh, right, we are just parents,” countered Haran. “We do not know anything. We were never your age.”
“I am not saying that,” said Lot.
“Then what are you saying, Mr. Know It All?” said Haran.
Lot blurted out, “I want to follow Abram’s god, El Shaddai.”
And suddenly everyone went quiet. It was a nervous quiet that they all wanted to escape.
But there would be no escaping this evening. At least not for Abram. Because at that very moment, a contingent of royal guards came bursting through the front door and right into the courtyard. They grabbed Abram.
Sarai screamed. Lot held her back for her safety.
The main guard pronounced to the surprise of all, “Abram ben Terah, you are arrested in the name of Mighty Nimrod, king of Sumer and of Akkad.”
They shackled Abram and carried him away, past an angry Terah at the front door.
Chapter 26
Abram was chained to a brick wall in the house of confinement. He had only been there for an hour or so before he heard the sounds of approaching footsteps. Many of them.
When the door opened, Terah entered, followed by wise men, princes, sages, and astrologers. And lastly, Nimrod and his son Mardon, surrounded by guards.
Nimrod stared at Abram with narrow eyes. Terah stood next to Nimrod but he could not look at Abram.
This is not my son, Terah told himself again. He had to keep telling himself, or everything he knew would come crashing down to Sheol.
Nimrod mused out loud with a sarcastic bite, “So this is the one ‘whose seed will slay great kings, possess their land, and inherit the earth.’”
Nimrod continued to gaze down upon him as a cobra would its prey.
“What have you to say for yourself, king slayer?”
Abram coughed and spit some blood because he was beaten when he was first chained up. Then he said, “I am a servant of El Shaddai. He raises up kings and overthrows them. He owns all the earth, and gives it to whom he wishes.”
Nimrod’s eyes widened with humor. “Oh, he does, does he? Well, I am Nimrod the Mighty Hunter. Show me the face of this ‘El Shaddai.’”
“He is the unseen Creator of all things. He serves no man’s bidding.”
“And this is why you attacked Terah’s images and blasphemed the gods of the land?”
Abram remained silent.
Mardon leaned in and whispered to Nimrod, “Father, can I flay him alive?” Flaying was the peeling of a man’s skin from his body with surgical instruments, and it was one of Mardon’s favorites.
Another sage said, “The sentence for blasphemy is hanging.”
Nimrod ignored them. He kept staring at Abram as he spoke to Terah, “Terah, I am going to ask you a question, and I want you to know that your answer will determine the fate of not only your son, but of you.”
“Yes, my lord,” said Terah, who was already shaking.
“When I asked for the infant Abram fifty years ago, why did you give me another baby in his place?”
Terah spoke with withered humility. He could hide nothing.
“He was my son, as Mardon is your son. My heart welled up inside of me.”
Nimrod could easily kill his despicable son Mardon, but he remembered when he was first born, how he too was moved by the frailty and hope of his little baby boy.
“Whose idea was it to give your maidservant’s son?”
Terah hesitated. He did not want to say. Nimrod saw his hesitation.
“Whose idea was it,” he repeated, more as a command than a question.
“Your highness, it was my son Haran who came up with the idea. He was only a child at the time.”
Nimrod said, “And evidently a very cunning child.”
Nimrod turned to Terah. He could not kill the prince of his host without losing his army of Stone Ones. But he had to punish him. And the punishment he planned would be enough.
“Guards,” ordered Nimrod. “Go arrest Haran ben Terah, and prepare the brick fire kilns for these sons of Terah.”
> “Your grace,” pleaded Terah, “Haran has changed since then. He has become a devoted follower of yours in this city.”
Nimrod barked, “You should have thought of that when you were taking his advice.”
Terah’s knees felt weak.
Nimrod softened and spoke to Terah in a reasonable voice. “Terah, you have been faithful in discharging your duty to me. But remember the parable of you and the horse you told me all those years ago? You wanted to get me to see your own love and duty to your son. Well, I have a higher duty to justice.”
He paused thoughtfully, then spoke with calculated seriousness, “Tell me, Terah. If you were king, how would you address such defiance?”
Terah sighed with defeat. “I would punish all defiance in order to assert the authority of the throne.”
Nimrod whispered to him, “It breaks my heart to have to do this. But you agree, it is justice.”
It was a complete and total lie. Nimrod did not care one whit for Terah and his sons or for “justice.” But it was perfect diplomacy. Nimrod had to enforce his authority and punish all defiance, yet he had to keep Terah alive in order to maintain his army of Stone Ones. He had to maintain Terah’s fear and respect, along with his obedience and loyalty. It was a tricky balance of conflicting interests. But Nimrod had done it.
For his part, Mardon could not wait until he had the throne. He would kill them all, Terah and his entire family. After he raped the women and girls in front of the men.
The royal guard arrested Haran and ripped him away from his weeping family to imprison him with Abram.
Nimrod then called upon the entire city to meet at the brick kilns that evening to witness a burning.
• • • • •
There was a huge central kiln that was large enough to load thousands of bricks at one time to fire them for building materials. They stoked the flames extra white hot for the execution.
Tens of thousands surrounded the area with the hopes of seeing enough of the execution to make their time worthwhile.
Nimrod came out in full regal display, followed by Mardon and Terah, his prince.
Abram and Haran were brought out before the crowd, bound and beaten. Their clothes were ripped off leaving only their undergarments. It was not enough to execute them; they had to be humiliated. They were, after all, rebels against the Emperor, the sole ruler over all the earth in his splendor and majesty.
The crowds cheered with blood lust.
Nimrod quieted them down and announced, “People of Uruk, people of my empire, we have before you two men who sought to create an uprising against my majesty and against the majesty of the gods!”
Nimrod turned to Abram and said, “Renounce your claim to future kingship, bend your knee to me now, and plead for mercy.”
But Abram would not.
The crowd broke out in chanting, “Kill them! Kill them! Kill them!”
Nimrod waited for the chanting to die down.
A lone woman broke out of the crowd and ran toward Abram.
“Abram!” she screamed.
It was Sarai.
Abram jerked around to see her.
“Sarai!” Abram yelled. “Go back!”
A guard scooped her up and was about to take her back, when Nimrod ordered him.
“Halt! Bring that wench here!”
The guard obeyed. Nimrod looked her over with hunger.
He said, “And who might you be, fetching little damsel?”
She jerked her arms away from the guards.
“Or, shall I say, sassy little spitfire?” He was becoming aroused with the thought of violating her.
Mardon was scheming how he might get the leftovers and what sexual delights he would do to her corpse.
“I am Sarai, Abram’s wife, my lord,” she said.
Even better, thought both Nimrod and Mardon.
Mardon licked his lips.
Nimrod said, “And you have come to plead for your husband’s life?”
“No, your majesty,” she said, surprising him.
And surprising Abram.
“I know justice requires the payment of the penalty. I am here to offer myself in his place.”
Nimrod’s eyes opened with understanding.
Abram yelled, “Sarai, No!”
“Offer me to the flames as payment for Abram’s crime.”
Abram yelled again, “Sarai, NO!”
Nimrod smirked, “What a precious picture of eternal love and self sacrifice. Whatsoever shall I do with them, my son?”
Mardon grinned like an alligator. “Cook him and eat him. But can I have the woman when you are done with her?”
Nimrod turned back to Abram. “It is a pity she was not merely your sister, Abram. She might have survived.”
“What if I survive?” said Abram.
Nimrod looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”
“What if I survive the flames? What will you do then?”
Nimrod looked at the flames, being stoked ever hotter.
He said, “You are a confident one.” Then he said for fun, “If you survive the flames, then you can have her back. How’s that?”
Mardon could not hold in the laugh. He could not stop. He had to walk away for a moment.
Haran had been watching it all. He saw the challenge, an impossible one on Abram’s part. But then again, it was typical of Abram’s confidence. But Haran did believe Abram had special protection. And he was a righteous man. Haran thought to himself that if Abram survived this, Haran would serve El Shaddai, who would then most likely save him as well. But of course, if Nimrod prevailed and Abram perished, then Haran would renounce, bend the knee, and serve Nimrod and his god. That was the safest bet. Surely, his family would understand.
Unfortunately for Haran, Nimrod said to the guards, “Cast them both into the fire!”
The crowd chanted, “Kill them! Kill them! Kill them!”
“No, no, wait,” said Haran.
Terah looked away. He could not bear to see the consequences of his rash actions. He wished now that he had never had Abram arrested.
I started this, thought Terah. It was my own selfish depraved guilt over my own cowardice. And now my two sons will die. What have I wrought?
Nimrod grabbed Sarai firmly so she could not escape. His giant nine-foot frame dwarfed her. He whispered to her, “You would give yourself up for this man and his god?”
She nodded nervously.
“Well, then,” said Nimrod, “I will give you a front row seat to his execution. You will appreciate it more than most.”
Sarai squirmed and tried to get loose, but it was impossible. Nimrod was a Naphil with a grip like iron shackles.
The guards dragged Abram and Haran to the opening of the kiln.
Haran continued to plead more desperately, “King Nimrod, I renounce! I renounce! Please let me go.”
They put them on the large sliders that were used to slide hundreds of bricks at a time into the flames for hardening.
Abram looked sadly at Haran as the two were then rolled into the flames by the mechanism controlled by the guards.
Sarai, screamed, “Abram!”
But a strange thing happened when they were wheeled into the flames. First, a large burst of flames leapt out and killed the dozen guards who had cast them into the fire.
Then, Haran screamed in torment as the fire consumed his flesh and seared it from his body. But it only lasted a few seconds because the heat was so hot, it would burn his bones into ashes in minutes.
But Abram did not burn.
His rope bindings did. They burnt into ashes on his hands and feet. But his loincloth remained, and his flesh was unsinged. He was being supernaturally protected from the flames.
Outside, Nimrod, Mardon, Terah, and Sarai could see Abram walking around in the fire unscathed.
Nimrod’s heart fainted within him. For he knew that the god who protected Abram was not to be trifled with. His only chance was to hope he could be bargained w
ith.
Inside the flames, Abram thought he heard his name announced. He looked around and saw a figure in the flames. It was not Haran; Haran had been burned up. It was one like a son of man. The flames obscured him. He could not see much more than a dark figure.
It spoke with a voice he could almost hear inside his head, “Abram.”
Abram stepped back in shock.
He heard it again, “Abram, I am El Shaddai, your creator and God.”
Abram went down to his knees in awe, and whispered, “My Lord. You have met me in the fire. Have you finally come to tell me my destiny?”
The figure said, “Go out from your land and from your kindred and go into the land that I will show you.”
“Yes, my Lord. What land is that?” asked Abram
“I will show you,” El Shaddai repeated. And then the figure disappeared.
Abram looked around. Nothing but fire surrounded him.
Well, that was brief, he thought, and rather anti-climactic, to be honest.
He spoke out to the flames, “Lord, what land? Will you tell me later? Where shall I go in the mean time?”
But he heard no answer. He only remembered the words in his head, “I will show you.”
He thought, Well, until you do, I guess I will just do the best I can.
He saw the bones of Haran almost turned completely to ashes and his heart broke for his brother. He knew Terah was double minded and had hoped for the future, but he had made his decision or lack of one and paid the consequences. Nevertheless, his eyes teared up with his loss.
And then the strange thought came to him, There is a city up north called Haran, with the same name as my brother. He did not know why he remembered that or why he would think it at such a moment as this, but he turned away and tried to think of something else.
Nimrod called out to his guards to roll the flat back out of the fire with Abram on it.
But when another eight guards approached the mechanism to roll it out, the fire was so hot that another burst of heat scorched the eight guards to death. They screamed in pain as their flesh bubbled and melted from their bodies.
Nimrod could care less. He was concentrating on Abram in the fire.
Nimrod called out to Abram, “Abram, come forth from the fire and stand before me!”