A Flood, A Tower, & A Promise
As we continue our investigation, we arrive at the story of the flood. This account is particularly fascinating because it feels closely connected to the expulsion from the Garden of Eden. Though 1,500 to 1,600 years have passed, in the grand scope of history—especially when considering a God unbound by time—this span is quite brief. In this relatively short period after God chose to create a helper for humanity rather than start over, He now faces a devastating decision: to destroy His creation due to humanity’s pervasive inclination toward evil.
This narrative provides one of our earliest glimpses into the emotional depths of God. Many of us have heard the common parental phrase, “I brought you into this world, and I can take you out”—whether from our own parents or on television. Personally, as a particularly obstinate child, I pushed my mother to the point where she came close to saying it to me, though I fully own my responsibility in that. Here, however, God faces a true crossroads: allow humanity’s evil behavior to persist or start anew with a clean slate. In unmistakable terms, He communicates, “I placed you here; I can remove you.”
When we carefully read and consider the language of this passage, we can sense the heartbreak in God’s “voice” that events have reached this point. Taking a life is never easy, as any soldier would attest, and for those with rational minds and self-awareness, ending the life of a loved one brings profound emotional turmoil. Here, God—after whom we are modeled, including our capacity for emotion—faces the sorrowful act of not only ending a single life but all of creation. While some may interpret this passage as an expression of God’s anger, I am inclined to see it as a moment of deep sadness.
In the midst of impending destruction, there is a family whom God considers pure. They were far from perfect, yet they resisted the depravity that had consumed the rest of humanity, choosing instead to remain close to God. Here, we glimpse more of God’s perspective. Given His omnipotence and omniscience, it might seem natural that He would spare a few lives amidst widespread destruction. However, this family offered God something more profound: hope.
Hope is not a strategy; it cannot be passively relied upon to resolve situations. But hope serves as a powerful balm to the troubled mind, providing the strength to carry on. It may not follow the original plan; it might even inspire the creation of an entirely new path. Yet, hope sustains us, even through moments of profound mental strain. This resilience—this ability to find hope in darkness—seems to be a crucial part of the human psyche, one we inherited from God Himself. It’s a trait we can turn to when facing personal struggles, not as a solution in itself, but as the motivation to press forward.
Psychologist Carl Jung viewed the story of the flood as an archetypal narrative within the collective unconscious, serving not only as a story but as a psychological metaphor for renewal and cleansing. Ancient narratives like this lend credibility to Jung’s ideas about transformation and rebirth in the psyche. In a world that often feels increasingly detached from moral or spiritual foundations, this story reminds us of the potential for rebirth and renewal of the mind. Scripture, from beginning to end, supports this possibility of transformation, highlighting the ever-present opportunity for rejuvenation in the face of adversity.
In concluding this section on the flood, it is important to note that many cultures and religions across the world share narratives of a divine flood sent to cleanse humanity because of its moral failings. As I mentioned, I am a Christian and believe the Hebrew account of the flood is historically accurate, though historical evidence is a subject for another time, as this discussion focuses on broader themes. It is intriguing how different cultures, spanning various continents and belief systems, echo this common narrative.
Two explanations—one psychological and one theological—can account for this phenomenon, and I do not believe these perspectives are mutually exclusive. From a psychological standpoint, I think this universal theme reflects a fundamental human need to connect with something greater than ourselves. Just as Christians seek answers through a higher power, other cultures and religions also turn to a greater force for understanding. At our psychological core, humanity seems to have an intrinsic need to believe in God, which I believe stems from the fact that we are created by God and that, on a subconscious level, every individual knows this.
Theologically, the prevalence of the flood narrative across cultures could reflect that these stories all refer to the same event. I believe the memory of this event became deeply embedded in various cultures and religions, tracing back to the story of the Tower of Babel and humanity’s subsequent dispersal, which we will examine next.
The story of Babel is a fascinating and brief account within the Bible, particularly within the Pentateuch. In the city of Babel, the people set out to build a tower, intending to reach God. However, their motivation was not to restore a harmonious relationship with God, as seen in the Garden of Eden, but rather to assert themselves as equals or even to challenge His authority. They sought to share in God’s glory—not in the manner He intended, but in the way they believed they deserved.
This raises an important question: Why do we, on one hand, seek guidance and comfort from God, yet on the other, strive to elevate ourselves to His level? This tension seems to reveal opposing aspects of human nature. In the beginning, Adam walked with God and could seek His wisdom directly, but after the Fall, humanity inherited a sinful nature. These opposing drives still appear within us: one part yearns to walk with God and seek answers, while another part rebels against anything that challenges our autonomy.
In response to the people’s actions, God intervened by dividing them into groups, each speaking a different language. This dispersion forced them to scatter across the earth and halted the tower’s construction, as communication became impossible, and without it, collaboration and greatness were beyond reach. But why would God choose this form of punishment instead of simply stopping the construction directly? As with many biblical narratives, there is a lesson to be learned—both about God and about ourselves.
This account also reveals deeper insights. The Babel builders’ intent to construct a tower that would elevate them to God’s level reflects a spirit of pride and hubris. This theme resonates with psychological theories that suggest excessive pride can drive individuals or groups to pursue unrealistic goals, disregard risks, and overlook their limitations. The story thus serves as a reminder of the importance of humility and setting realistic goals in human endeavors.
The narrative also illustrates the power of a unified purpose, as well as the consequences when unity unravels. The Tower of Babel began as a collaborative project, but the division of language led to a breakdown in cooperation. Psychologically, this emphasizes the necessity of shared goals and a common understanding for team success; cohesion is only sustained through alignment of objectives. Additionally, this story parallels the concept of collective overreach, where a group's shared ambitions can lead them to overextend beyond what is realistically achievable. Such overreach often results in setbacks or failures when the group’s limitations are ignored or underestimated.
Theologically, this story serves to remind us that we are not equals with God and that He will act in ways that fulfill His purposes, even when we do not understand them. Additionally, we learn that without clear communication, even the most ambitious projects fail. This is a lesson for everyone, myself included, on the vital role of communication in achieving any meaningful goal.
Finally, this story offers insight into the mind of God. Throughout the Bible, God’s responses to humanity’s actions vary. For instance, He was willing to bring destruction upon a depraved world in the flood, yet He chose not to destroy the people of Babel. This suggests that the tower was built not out of sheer depravity but possibly out of curiosity or folly. God’s response—scattering the people rather than punishing them harshly—reflects both His wisdom and His role as a Father. Like a parent, He administers discipline appropriate to the situation, as seen in the distinct punishments of Cain and the sons of Aaron. Through these actions, we see the complexity of God's judgment and mercy.
When God establishes His covenant with Abraham, the dialogue is rich with promises, faith, and symbolic acts. In Genesis 15, God speaks to a childless Abraham, reassuring him that he will indeed have descendants as countless as the stars. Here begins a recurring theme in the overarching narrative of the Bible, which is that great, almost incomprehensible blessings often come through faithful barren women. This theme appears consistently in the Bible, culminating with Mary, the mother of Christ. Keep this in mind during your study, as stories involving faithful barren women often foreshadow profound developments and blessings.
Despite his doubts due to old age, Abraham believes God, and his faith is “credited to him as righteousness.” God then promises Abraham and his descendants the land of Canaan.
To formalize this covenant, God instructs Abraham to prepare a sacrificial ceremony with specific animals. Abraham arranges the sacrifices, and when night falls, God, symbolized by a smoking firepot and blazing torch, passes between the pieces, signifying His commitment to the covenant.
In Genesis 17, God reaffirms and expands the covenant, changing Abram’s name to Abraham, meaning “father of many nations.” God promises that Abraham will be the ancestor of kings and nations. As a sign of this everlasting covenant, God commands circumcision for Abraham and his descendants, solidifying the covenant through acts of faith, obedience, and divine assurance.
The dialogue between God and Abraham offers deep insights into both human nature and divine perspective. For instance, God says, “Look now toward heaven, and count the stars if you are able to number them. So shall your descendants be.” The vastness of the heavens symbolizes the incomprehensibility of Abraham’s future legacy. This serves as a reminder to us that, although we cannot fully grasp the effects of our actions on future generations, our present actions carry weight. Though we lack the cognitive ability to understand what lies ahead, we can control our actions in the here and now.
“And he believed in the Lord, and He accounted it to him for righteousness.” At its core, belief is a defining aspect of human nature—whether it’s religious, political, or moral. Beliefs drive human motivation and influence the moral quality of our decisions. God recognized that while Abraham’s belief may not have been flawless, it was righteous, as he sought to do what was right. Theodore Roosevelt once said, “The best thing you can do is the right thing; the next best thing is the wrong thing, and the worst thing you can do is nothing.” Abraham’s actions, driven by his beliefs, illustrate that when our beliefs align with moral convictions, they inspire God’s guidance and favor. God, therefore, took a barren family and transformed it, demonstrating His inclination toward righteousness and His power to elevate faithfulness beyond comprehension.
Finally, regarding the name change: Transformation often requires a distinct marker. For Christians, this is the turning point where they commit their lives to Christ and become baptized members of the Church. Abraham, already considered righteous by God, was called to focus his life on God with renewed purpose and obedience. The name change from Abram to Abraham signified his transition from a childless man to the “father of many nations.” Without Abram’s righteousness and dedication, Christianity would not have its foundational roots, as his faith and actions became the cornerstone for generations of believers.