Romans 4:1-5, 13-17

Romans 4:1-5, 13-17 (NRSV)

 What then are we to say was gained by Abraham, our ancestor according to the flesh? ² For if Abraham was justified by works, he has something to boast about, but not before God. ³ For what does the scripture say? “Abraham believed God, and it was reckoned to him as righteousness.”[Genesis 15:6] ⁴ Now to one who works, wages are not reckoned as a gift but as something due. ⁵ But to one who without works trusts him who justifies the ungodly, such faith is reckoned as righteousness.

¹³ For the promise that he would inherit the world did not come to Abraham or to his descendants through the law but through the righteousness of faith. ¹⁴ If it is the adherents of the law who are to be the heirs, faith is null and the promise is void. ¹⁵ For the law brings wrath; but where there is no law, neither is there violation.

¹⁶ For this reason it depends on faith, in order that the promise may rest on grace and be guaranteed to all his descendants, not only to the adherents of the law but also to those who share the faith of Abraham (for he is the father of all of us, ¹⁷ as it is written, “I have made you the father of many nations” [Genesis 17:5])—in the presence of the God in whom he believed, who gives life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist.

            Romans 4:1-5, 13-17 shows that justification by faith is the fulfillment of the Old Covenant by using Abraham as the example. What I want to do is offer a thoughtful and theologically rich exposition that faithfully captures the argument of Paul for justification by faith, using Abraham as the paradigmatic example. I point to the Pauline celebration of Abraham as “father of us all” through shared faith, rooting the gospel in the gracious initiative of God. I hope it bridges exegesis, theology, and pastoral application, even while addressing tensions like Paul vs James and the dangers of misapplying imputed righteousness. I think it aligns well with mainstream Protestant interpretations, emphasizing grace over merit, faith's continuity with the OT covenant, and the universal scope of the gospel (Gentile inclusion rooted in Abraham's faith).

Introduction

The example of Abraham becomes an illustration of what he said in 3:21-31. It becomes the basis for the universalistic thrust of the preaching of Paul, for faith rather than Law justified Abraham. In that sense, the Gentile mission of Paul has its root in the Israelite covenant. Paul will have to persuade his Jewish interlocutor at this point, or he will remain unconvinced. Paul offers a Midrash on Genesis 15:6, “Abraham believed God, and it was credited to him as righteousness.” Abraham experienced rightness with God through faith, and not through either Law or circumcision. Granted, his interpretation of Abraham sees more than the text says since he is now looking at Abraham through the lens of the significance of the new event, that of Jesus Christ. However, his emphasis on humble trust as a theme in the story of Abraham is in line with the best elements of Jewish interpretation of Abraham as well. The wealth of religion is its danger, for instead of viewing itself as a sign that points beyond itself to the God who establishes humanity, it erects a great pyramid at which it hopes people will gaze (Barth). This passage will make one go to the letter of James in the New Testament and wrestle with the quite differing ways in which these two letters refer to Abraham. The point Paul is making is that the faith of Abraham, rather than circumcision or his anticipatory fulfillment of the Law, was the basis of his rightness before God. In the passage we again see that Father Abraham giving up his son is a reminder that in the cross the Father acted to reconcile the world. The Father was at work in this event to divinely direct the course of human history. Faith makes us righteous before God only because it appropriates the saving work of God in Christ, and especially the forgiveness of sins based on his atoning death, just as once Abraham accepted in faith the promise that God had given him.[1]

              Paul’s Use of Abraham.

What Paul is doing is showing that righteousness by faith is not alien to the Jewish tradition. He refers to the example of Abraham, whose faith in the promise God reckons to him as righteousness. In Romans 4:1-5, Paul makes the point that God justified Abraham by his faith. Paul is telling his audience that when it comes to God’s promises it is not what we do to earn them, but what God does graciously to bestow them. Paul invites us to place our deepest trust not in what we do for God but in what God does for us. The example is important for Judaism looks upon Abraham with such veneration. Through faith, Abraham becomes the patriarch of us all. ¹What then are we to say was gained by Abraham, our ancestor according to the flesh? ² For if Abraham was justified by works, he has something to boast about, but (ἀλλ’ forceful use of the adversative conjunction) not before God. I will be pointing out the forceful use of the adversative conjunction throughout this text as Paul shows Paul’s determination to draw an unequivocal distinction between divine standards of grace and earthly standards of quid pro quo, between faith that trusts in God and works that trust in human accomplishment. We are to imagine his Jewish interlocutor pursuing this line of thought. Paul has rejected boasting in 3:27 because of the “law of faith.” Paul now aligns Abraham with that rejection of boasting. Not even the highly venerated Abraham can boast, because his upright status before God comes from divine grace and favor. If Abraham had no reason to boast in God’s sight, neither does any other human being.

Imputed Righteousness. ³ For what does the scripture say? In Genesis 15:6, it says, “Abraham believed God, and it was reckoned (in the books that God keeps) to him as righteousness (δικαιοσύνην).”[2]  Here is the basis for the notion of imputed righteousness, due in part to the translation Erasmus made and Luther followed. Adam Clark considers the doctrine of imputed righteousness “dangerous.”  He thought Christ did not fulfill the moral law, but he did fulfill the sacrificial law.  It is our duty to fulfill the moral law.  This view runs contrary to Paul’s whole argument, as we have already shown.  Paul never distinguishes between the moral and sacrificial law.  Christ has fulfilled both.  In addition, Paul’s point is that no one can fulfill the moral law, witness his whole argument since 1:18. However, the warning is one we need to heed. When we look upon the whole argument of Romans, Paul in Chapters 1-11 will be urging upon us to turn toward the revelation of God in Christ and embrace this truth by faith but then urge us to also embrace the transformation of our lives in accord with the will of God in Chapters 12-15. Paul will also tie justification to union with Christ (Rom 5–8) for transformation. Much of the transformation to which Paul will direct us is consistent with the Old Testament moral law and the Ten Commandments. The teaching of imputed righteousness often turns the truth revealed in Christ into an abstraction that turns out to have nothing to do with the way we live our lives. Making of grace and faith such an effect is far from what Paul teaches. Rather, the reconciling and redeeming work of God through Christ and in the power of the Spirit begin in our lives as we embrace the truth by faith, live our lives out of love for God and others, and live with the hope that God will redeem creation. Thus, Paul points out that God grants this righteousness through faith, not self-righteousness that one might earn through works. This is to say that God’s gracious initiative is at the center. Authentic human righteousness can only come from God, who alone is completely righteous. Abraham, in receiving justification before he became a Jew, verifies the point Paul is making. To take one’s stand under the Law of Israel means to stand in the sphere of the divine wrath.[3] Paul conceives of the God of Christians as already the God who chose Abraham and called him to faith that he might become such a model or paradigm.  There is, indeed, continuity between Abraham and Christian believers in a divine plan that embraces human history.[4]

Faith vs Works

⁴ Now to one who works, wages are not reckoned as a gift but (ἀλλὰ forceful use of the adversative conjunction)as something due. The language of calculating payment due is inappropriate to describe God’s dealings with human beings where the initiative lays with God. Paul presses the meaning of “credit,” making it mean one receives credit for something for which one has not paid.  Thus, one has not earned that for which one has received credit. ⁵ But (δὲ forceful use of the adversative conjunction) to one who without works trusts (πιστεύοντι) him who justifies (δικαιοῦντα) the ungodly, or “him who deems the ungodly to be righteous,” such faith (πίστις) is reckoned as righteousness (δικαιοσύνην). Any righteousness we experience is because God chooses to justify us, chooses to deem us to be righteous — chooses to set us right in relationship to God and humankind — by passing over our sinfulness (see 3:25-26 again). This is a creative, redemptive, and sustaining activity, most fully fulfilled in the reconciling work of Christ (Romans 5-7) and the ongoing sanctification of the Holy Spirit (Romans 8). We can only come to terms with the grace of such righteousness by humbly receiving it through a faith like Abraham’s. Paradigmatic for the close relation between faith and hope is the description of the faith of Abraham. If one works, one receives the wages due. However, if one trusts God, who justifies the ungodly, then such reckoning or counting as righteousness is a gift. Faith in God is more important for our righteousness before God than works of the law. The circumcision of Abraham comes later. For Paul, the true children of Abraham are those who live by faith.[5]

Paul continues his teaching concerning justification by faith from 3:21. When printers “justify” margins, the point is to set the type in such a way that all full lines are of equal length and are flush both left and right. They put printed lines in the right relationship with the page on which they intend to print and with each other. Paul writes of justification in a comparable way. Receiving the gift of justification is a matter of God bringing humanity into right relation.[6] Paul recognizes the broken quality of humanity. Humanity lives by mending the brokenness. He saw the grace of God as the glue.[7] Paul has shown in the first three chapters that he is deeply aware of the human tendency toward exaggerating the depth of character we possess while treating leniently our flaws. Let us call this our tendency toward hypocrisy. We consciously and unconsciously put forward a better image of ourselves than we are. The outward appearance and the inner reality, which God knows fully and self and family know partially, simply do not match.[8]

 

Paul vs. James: Complementary Witnesses

Paul and James do, in fact, even use the same passage of Scripture, Genesis 15:6, to prove their respective but opposing points.  However, there is harmony in that Paul views Genesis 15:6 forward, while James views Genesis 15:6 from Gen 22 backward, works fulfilling faith. The difference lies in their conception of faith.  For James, faith is assent to the belief in God, and so he wants to prove that intellectual assent is not enough.  James’ use is more strictly life.  The point is that intellectual assent must bear itself out in one’s life.  For Paul, however, faith was of such a nature that the question of works would not even arise, for works was a natural outgrowth of faith.  Thus, Paul might have considered the argument of James trite.  Yet James may have written to counteract distortion of Paul’s teaching.  Faith in Paul’s sense was a complete casting of oneself upon God and God’s mercy.  Then God gave the individual the Spirit, and thus strength to live a life worthy of God.  This would negate the need for James’ argument, if one properly understands Paul’s conception of faith.  According to faith, Abraham is the Patriarch not only of Israel, but of Gentiles as well. Paul will explain this more fully in 4:6-12 vis-à-vis the timing of Abraham first trusting God and then receiving the seal of circumcision. Likewise, according to faith, one does not receive God’s promises through the palpable earthly purposes of the flesh — even religious obedience — but through thoroughly sight unseen trust in the grace of divine purposes.

Then, in Romans 4:13-25, Paul begins a discussion of the priority of promise, faith, and hope. Paul is continuing his argument concerning the centrality of faith by pointing to the example of Abraham. He is showing that his teaching is a fulfillment of the Old Testament at its basic level, going behind the Torah to Abraham. The promise comes only to the people of faith. He now shifts to the part in Genesis 15 where it refers to the belief in God. The emphasis of Paul on humble trust is in line with the best elements of Judaism. The point of the passage before us is that Abraham was right with God because of his faith, not the Law or circumcision. Thus, it is faith that justifies, and therefore, when God promises that Abraham will be a father, it means his descendants are through faith not circumcision or Law.  Finally, he shows that Christ is the revelation of this plan, or shall we say the clear setting forth of the plan, and it is through him that we receive justification. Such considerations might lead us toward a practical application. Whenever people suppose themselves consciousness of the emotion of nearness to God, whenever they speak and write of divine things, whenever we think of sermon making and temple-building as an ultimate human occupation, whenever people are aware of divine appointment and of being entrusted with a divine mission, sin abounds. Being an heir of the promise, then, must depend on faith, so that the promise rests on grace toward those who share the faith of Abraham, who is father of us all, even as the promise finds its fulfillment.[9]

In Romans 4: 13-17, Paul sets forth the priority of promise and grace over Law, works, and merit. The justification of the godless and the life that comes of the raising of the dead belong together. In an analogous way, the righteousness of faith and the validation of the promise in the raising of Christ belong together. If the promise is set in force by God, then it confers righteousness by faith. It is of faith so that it might be by grace, to the end that the promise sure to all the seed, defined as those of the faith of Abraham. The point is that promise would no longer be the promise of God if it had anything to do with the law.[10] ¹³ For the promise (ἐπαγγελία) that he would inherit the world did not come to Abraham or to his descendants through the Mosaic law but (ἀλλὰ forceful use of the adversative conjunction)through the righteousness of faith. Paul is implicitly assailing the Jewish view that all blessings came to Abraham because of his merit in keeping the Law, which he was supposed to have known in advance.  For Paul the heirs of the promise of inheriting the world are not the observers of the Mosaic Law, but the people of faith. ¹⁴ If it is the adherents of the Mosaic law who are to be the heirs, faith is null and the promise (ἐπαγγελία) is void. The Law succeeds only in producing sin. Paul creates a dichotomy: promise, faith, and grace opposed to law, transgression, and wrath. ¹⁵ For the Mosaic law brings wrath (Romans 1:18-3:20); but (δὲ forceful use of the adversative conjunction) where there is no law, neither is there violation. Law means transgression of the law. Where one has no Law, one has no condemnation. Where most of his Jewish contemporaries would prefer to say, “The law brings about righteousness,” Paul has argued resolutely that righteousness comes about through faith. The role of the Law shifts to the production of wrath. The Law has more to do with the situation described in 1:18-3:20 than with its solution in 3:21ff. The Law is more a tool of the wrath of God than of righteousness. Verses 16-17 underscore what Paul has been saying about the gracious divine initiative and the faithful response of Abraham. ¹⁶ For this reason (Διὰ τοῦτο), which can also have the translation of “therefore,” “on this account,” and “for this cause.” The phrase signifies that what follows will address the underlying cause or reason something is or ought to be, is done or ought to be done. The promise depends on faith, in order that the promise (ἐπαγγελίαν) may rest on grace (χάριν). Faith is trust in the gracious purpose of God, not trust in our own capacity to accrue divine benevolence by being obedient. The promise does not rest on some quid quo pro arrangement that has God owing Abraham for being dutiful. God will guarantee the promise to all his descendants, not only to the adherents of the law but (ἀλλὰ forceful use of the adversative conjunction) also to those who share the faith of Abraham. The promise of God to Abraham is a complete act of grace, which means openly extending kindness and mercy to those who do not deserve it. Grace is no longer grace when earning it appears. Abraham does not earn the promise of God for descendants. God grants this promise and Abraham receives it through trusting — having faith — that God will do what God promises. Paul then offers his biblical support by reminding his readers (for he is the father of all of us, ¹⁷ as it stands written in Genesis 17:5, “I have made you the father of many nations.”  Abraham could believe the promise because he was in the presence of the God in whom he believed. Abraham knew that this God gives life to the dead, referring to the childlessness of Sarah, and calls into existence the things that do not exist, connecting childlessness with creation. In the second of the Eighteen Benedictions, Paul would have prayed something like “Remember us unto life, O king, who delights in life. Who resembles You, O King, who orders death and restores life, and causes salvation (Yeshua) to spring forth? You are faithful to revive the dead. Blessed art thou, O L-rd, who revives the dead.” When we think theologically here, in a sense, the essence of God is not available to us apart from this revelation, that God raised Jesus from the dead. We again see the significance of the moment or event in Christian teaching. Here is an area in which neither individuals nor communities can co-operate. Giving life to the dead is an act of God alone.[11] Paul puts the resurrection of the dead alongside creation out of nothing. Paul is suggesting that the Easter event and the resurrection on which sets Christian hope is as limitless as creation. Only the Creator can awaken the dead, and resurrection from the dead shows what it means to be Creator. The act of creation finds consummation in the resurrection. Resurrection is the supreme enactment of the will of the Creator that wills the existence of creatures. Indeed, by using this imagery, Paul makes a connection between God overcoming the childlessness of Abraham and Sarah (“gives life to the dead”) with creation (“calls into existence the things that do not exist”).[12] The dynamic of God’s grace and Abraham’s faith operating in 4:16-17 helps substantiate what goes before in the passage. God is present where we wait upon this promise in hope and transformation. The things that are not yet, the things that are future, become thinkable because we can yearn for them.[13] In simplest terms, Paul is telling his audience that when it comes to the promises of God, it is not what we do to earn them, but what God does graciously to bestow them.

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[1] Pannenberg, Jesus God and Man, 72; Systematic Theology, Volume III, 225.

[2] The NT Greek text of Erasmus used the Latin word “imputatum” which Luther then used in his translation, and which Melanchthon and Lutheran Orthodoxy eventually derived their idea of the forensic understanding of δικαιοσύν or imputed justification.

[3] Barth, Church Dogmatics, II.2 [34.2], 215-16.

[4] Wilckens

[5] Pannenberg, Systematic Theology, Volume III, 63.

[6] Here is how writer Friedrich Buechner put it:

In printers' language to "justify" means to set type in such a way that all full lines are of equal length and are flush both left and right; in other words, to put the printed lines in the right relationship with the page they are printed on and with each other. The religious sense of the word is remarkably close to that. Being justified means being brought into right relation. --Frederick Buechner, Wishful Thinking (Harper & Row, 1973), 48.

[7] Eugene O’Neill, in a play written in 1926 called The Great God Brown, has a wonderful little line:

Man is born broken. He lives by mending. The grace of God is glue.  --Eugene O'Neill, The Great God Brown

[8] CS Lewis identified the human problem we in the church face.

Anyone who has ever taught or attempted to lead others knows the tendency in all of us toward exaggerating our depth of character while treating leniently our flaws. The Bible calls this tendency hypocrisy. We consciously or subconsciously put forward a better image of ourselves than really exists. The outward appearance of our character and the inner reality (that only God, we and perhaps our family members know) do not match. —C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves

[9] Barth, Romans, 136.

[10] Moltmann, Theology of Hope, 146.

[11] Pannenberg, Jesus God and Man, 130.

[12] Pannenberg, Systematic Theology Volume I, 417.

[13] Moltmann, Theology of Hope, 30.

Genesis 12:1-4a

Genesis 12:1-4a (NRSV)

 Now the Lord said to Abram, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. ² I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. ³ I will bless those who bless you, and the one who curses you I will curse; and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.”

^4a So Abram went, as the Lord had told him.

In Genesis 12:1-4a we find the J account of the call of Abram.  I will discuss context and narrative shift in the biblical narrative, the radical nature of the call of Abram, divine promises and grace, covenant as a central theme, the tension between obedience and imperfection, and conclude with practical and devotional application. I blend historical-critical insight, detailed exegesis, and contemporary application. I invite readers to see the call of Abram as both a theological turning point and a practical model for living a “called life.” I want to bridge ancient narrative and modern experience, while encouraging reflection, risk-taking, and spiritual growth.

Introduction

I will begin with a summary of the story to this point highlighting the failures of humanity and the shift to a new divine initiative through Abram. I explore the significance of Abram’s call, the radical nature of leaving his family and homeland, and the theological implications of God’s promises. I want to bring out the text's themes of grace, obedience, covenant, and blessing. I highlight “lech lecha” (“Go, you!”) as a unique and significant divine command, appearing only twice in the Bible (Genesis 12:1 and 22:2). I present the promises to Abram as acts of grace, not based on merit. I emphasize the concept of covenant as central to Hebrew faith and identity. I encourage readers to make the practical application to embrace their own calling, drawing on Abram’s example. The call of Abram marks a turning point from universal history to a focus on a single family chosen to bless all nations. In application, I draw parallels between Abram’s journey and the spiritual journey of believers, offering practical applications and reflections on vocation, faith, and the challenges of living out one’s calling. I conclude with illustrative anecdotes and advice for personal growth and spiritual maturity. This text has transformative power: from the fractured story of humanity to the gracious election of God for redemption. I hope you find it theologically insightful and pastorally engaging. I hope to bridge historical-critical insights, exegetical depth, and contemporary application, in a way that will make the ancient text feel alive and relevant. I will move logically from universal human failure to divine initiative, textual analysis, theological implications, and practical/devotional takeaways. I trust that the sources for this study will add scholarly weight while keeping the tone accessible and devotional.

Up to this point in the Bible, J has painted history in the broadest possible strokes. He has taken a universal view, showing humanity has failed in relation to the Lord and to each other. Adam and Eve were unable to obey one simple command. They experienced exile, the woman would have pain in childbirth and produce from the land would be difficult. Humanity would continue its course of wickedness to which the Lord will respond with judgment. Most recently, the expression of arrogance in building the tower of Babel resulted in the judgment of the confusion of human language and separation into nations. Was such judgment the final word from the Lord? The story of human origins to this point in J wants to present us with the urgency of this question.[1]  From this point on, J will view and interpret history through the slim opening of a single social line, the seed of Abram, chosen by the Lord to be a blessing to all the families of the earth. 

The point of the call of Abram is to heal the breach between the Lord and the nations. In a mere four verses, we have described the creation of an entire people and the establishment of a radically new kind of relationship between humanity and divinity. The “call of Abram” does more than separate a lone herdsman from his ancestral family. This “call” separates the old animistic, anthropocentric notions of the universe from a remarkably new way of viewing the divine/human or creator/creation relationship. Abram’s family was from Ur, a large city and a major center for the worship of the moon-god Sin. The Lord promises to Abram that which we all seek: a place, family, and fullness of life. In the promise that a nation shall arise out of him, a nation not named in the previous list of the nations, we find the Lord willing to do something new. The text does not yet suggest the reason for the choice of Abram. The Lord has decided by grace to work with a family that will be the beginning of a people and eventually a nation. What would have happened if Abram had stayed home? That would have been natural in his culture. Typically, one stayed with the clan and the religion of the clan. Abram, in letting go of his home, liberated himself to create a new home. He became free to worship and serve the Lord in his own way.

Verse-by-verse study

 ¹Now the Lord said to Abram (Ab [or the Divine Father] is lofty, exalted)[2], “Go (lech lecha, literally "Go, you!").[3] In this powerful word from the Lord, the Lord is creating something new. It is a dramatic divine summons upon the life of Abram. Direct divine-human communication is presented matter-of-factly throughout much of the Hebrew Bible, with dreams, visions and similar accoutrements of divine-human interaction being depicted as common but not necessary. There are only two instances in the entire Bible where the Lord addresses anyone with direct personal command. The second occurrence of lech lecha, "Go, you!" is also spoken to Abraham -- this time in Genesis 22:2. Although English translation almost invariably fails to reflect this parallelism, both the initial call to Abram in Genesis 12:1 and the Lord’s shocking command to Abraham that he offer his son Isaac as a sacrifice are phrased with this lech lecha, "Go, you!" directive. This parallelism is significant. It is the only occurrence of this exact emphatic form addressed personally by God. In both cases, the Lord is asking Abram/Abraham to give up his own identity as a symbol of his commitment to the Lord Yahweh. In Genesis 12:1, the Lord asks Abram to give up his entire past; in Genesis 22, Abraham is asked to give up his future. "Go, you!" severs Abram/Abraham from everything human he would cling to for security and identity. In both cases the lech lecha order leaves Abram/Abraham solely with the Lord -- no past, no future, no family, no land, no people. Just the Lord.  

Abram is to go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house (bet `ab) decisively and deliberately.The Lord calls him to leave the home of his father. While it is unclear exactly what prompted the initial move of Terah from Ur to Haran, there is no ambiguity about what inspired the move of Abram. The Lord’s directive to Abram is straightforward, both in its demand and in its promises. Genesis 12:1 does not try to sugarcoat or soft-pedal the things Abram is asked to give up. In fact, the text itemizes them.

We need to reflect upon the significance of this call. One way we can do this is to consider the ancient household. It was the basic domestic unit of the agricultural and nomadic economy. It was a cooperative unit of uncles, aunts, nephews, slaves, and their families. The large group was the primary way they could provide enough food and money for each other. Thus, we can see the dramatic nature of this call to leave the home of the father.[4] This call suggests that to establish his identity and find his place in the plan of the Lord, he had to leave his familiar surroundings. He must deliberately “Go” to fulfill the call of the Lord upon his life.[5]  Abram awakens to the call of the Lord. He must pass from a well-known past to a future that is only just opening to him. We can properly look upon this text as analogous to the spiritual journey from the old self to the new self. ^[6] He is to go to the land that I will show you, land being one of the recurring themes of Torah. None of us knows precisely what following the call of the Lord will mean or what places that call may take us. The call of the Lord demands with increasing urgency detachment from strong ties to land as well as from kinship and the family.[7]

 ² I will make of you a great nation, one not yet listed in the J narrative, progeny being another of the themes of Torah, and I will bless you, and make your name great. These promises come unexpectedly as an act of grace. Abram has no merit that we know of that would be a reason for this divine choice. In 11:4, the people want to make a name for themselves by building a tower to challenge God. Here, the Lord will give him a name as he fulfills his calling. Other texts related to David and the sacral kingship seem to have similar language. In II Samuel 7:9, the Lord says David will have a great name. Psalm 71:17 refers to the name of the king enduring forever. The elect community is an anticipation of the future of human fellowship with God and with each other. The full significance of the passing notation of Sarai's barrenness in 11:31 now becomes clear, as Abram is promised not only land, but descendants to fill it, a theme that runs not only through Genesis, but also throughout the patriarchal literature of ancient Israel's near neighbors in northwest Syria-Palestine, the people of Ugarit. The Ugaritic stories of King Kirta and the patriarch Dan'el (mentioned in Ezekiel 14:14) turn on the same problem, and their stories, like Abram's, are filled with irony, tension, surprising turns, and sophisticated suggestions. Two significant differences between the Ugaritic stories and Abram's story, however, stand out. One difference is that in Hebrew narratives of childlessness, it is always the wife who is barren, never a sterile husband (see, for example, the stories of Rachel [Genesis 29:31], Hannah [I Samuel 1:2] and Samson's mother [Judges 13:2]). The divine purpose in blessing Abram is so that you will be a blessing (wahyeh berakah). Abram is to become a formula of blessing with which people in the future will wish blessings upon each other.[8]  Abram becomes a witness to the Lord as he moves toward the goal. He bears this witness, not only to the people of his hometown and to the inhabitants of Canaan, but also to the estranged Sarah, to the unsuspecting Isaac, and to all those implicated in his history. He is this quite simply by doing what the Lord tells him to do in strict obedience and blind trust. He emerges as one who is called by the Lord to represent and reveal by way of anticipation what the Lord wills to do and will do, even though the Lord begins to do it in great concealment.^[9] In spite of the dramatic effect of the call, the call itself comes naturally, as if Abram has known the Lord throughout his life. The call relies upon what Abram already knew of the Lord.^[10] 3 I will bless those who bless you, and the one who curses you I will curse; and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.” This blessing formula is debated as "shall be blessed" (passive, universal salvation) vs. "will bless themselves" (reflexive, Abram as blessing exemplar). Galatians 3:8 refers to this verse as foreseeing that God would justify the Gentiles by faith. A second difference within Hebrew narratives of childlessness is that Abram's need for a son (a daughter would not be acceptable, socially or literarily) stems not from personal deprivation or desire (although it would certainly be present), but from his divine call: Abram's offspring is for the benefit of "all the families of the earth." Although it is true that the Ugaritic texts depict the domestic and the political under the concept of the patriarchal, the enlargement of the domestic to the scope of the national and beyond - without losing the essential connection to the domestic - is made more explicit in the Hebrew patriarchal narrative. Here is the etiology of Israel itself, bridging the gulf between the Lord and humanity as the distant goal of the judgment just given toward humanity at the Tower of Babel.[11]

^4a So Abram went, as the Lord had told him. Significantly, Abram obeys this word from the Lord. Abram is consistent with Noah, but different from many other people in the Bible who either objected or went the other way. The narrator dismisses as unimportant any struggle of soul that might have occurred. He portrays the fact of mute obedience in simplicity. The overarching story has a tension here, as Abram, without being commanded to do so, take Lot, and he later falter in Egypt. This reminds us of human imperfection, even as Abram remains an example of faith. With this emigration begins his great alien existence and that of his descendants.[12] Despite his willingness to go where the Lord told him to go, fight whom he had to fight; despite his faithful altar-building activities and his sacrificial devotion to the Lord, whom he was only beginning to know, Abram could not help but notice that his life lacked a crucial component necessary for him to become the father of this promised "great nation." He had no son, no heir, no one to whom to pass on any inheritance. 

At the heart of Hebrew faith stands the covenant commitment that forever binds together the Lord and the people of Israel. The concept of covenant -- which J presents in several different forms, established, and reestablished at several different points in biblical history -- is not unique to Israel. However, it is in Israel that "covenant" takes on a new life and moves far beyond its legal contractual roots. Covenant theology gives power and identity to an entire nation, and eternal vitality to Old and New Testament faith. 

Practical application: Living the Called Life

The Lord says to Abram, “If you go … I will show.” This is the reward of faith. When we step out in faith, the Lord draws the curtain back. When we go on the unknown path, the Lord lights the way before us. When we follow where faith leads us, the Lord shows us what we need to see. Where our eyes fail us, the Lord gives us sight.

It may not be quite so simple in our lives as it was for Abram but responding to the divine call in our lives will involve risk.

 

Twenty years from now, you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So, throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.[13]

Life is a journey, not a guided tour.[14]

 

We are in the process of becoming who God wants us to be. We become that person by heeding the call of God upon us today. Today, our first calling is to become a follower of Jesus in every part of our lives. Regardless of what we do with our lives, we are followers of Jesus first. After that, we are witness for Jesus in our families and places of work.

The example of Abram and our stories can lead people to see our need to live a called life. We will need to travel. Life with God is a journey. 

 

The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only one page.[15]

If you wish to travel far and fast, travel light. Take off all your envies, jealousies, unforgiveness, selfishness and fears.[16]

 

The most important journey we make is from the childishness of concern primarily for self to the maturity of concern for what God wants. Based upon the calling of Abram, let us consider “calling” itself. 

In my life as clergy, which extends back to 1978 as a student pastor, we still have some major work to do here. We still have many people who think that God calls clergy to ministry and laity simply does secular work. You might be a lawyer, doctor, farmer, assembly-line worker, office manager, or teacher. You may be a stay-at-home parent. Your first calling is to become Christian where you are. Your primary witness is in that place.  God calls every Christian to a vocation. We have the DNA of Abram’s call: We follow God, God blesses us, and we bless others.

 

Lord,

Take me where you want me to go;

Let me meet who you want me to meet;

Tell me what you want me to say

And keep me out of your way.[17]

 

Then the Holy Spirit gifts each of us individually, empowering us to live out our own calling. This makes sacred work of being an architect, violinist, mother or electrician. Our calling is sacred because we respond to and engage God in our daily activity. In The Practice of the Presence of God, Brother Lawrence famously said, 

 

“Our sanctification does not depend as much on changing our activities as it does on doing them for God rather than for ourselves.”[18]

 

That is where “work” and “calling” collide.

Nevertheless, let us not be naïve about this. We still live out our calling through some deeply challenging experiences. Those who believe do so with passion in the heart, anguish of mind, uncertainty, doubt, and even despair at times. If one does not have these things, one still believes in the idea of God, but not in God.[19]

 We might learn something from trapeze artists. There is an incredibly special relationship between the person called the "flier" and the one called the "catcher."  The flier, of course, is the one who lets go, and the catcher is the one who hangs by the knees from the other trapeze and catches the flier. When the flier reaches the top of his arc, his one task is to let go, arms reaching out into space, and then to remain as still as possible while the catcher grabs hold of him. It is a skill not easily learned, for it goes against every human survival instinct. "The flier must never try to catch the catcher. The flier must wait in absolute trust. The catcher will catch him, but he must wait."[20]

Abram had his own crises to deal with. We have ours. 

• The teacher must deal with increasing classroom size, low pay, parental complaints and pressure to produce high test scores.

• The businessperson must lay off two more people. Cost-cutting measures trump her or his passion for innovation. The office worker who labors in a cubicle feels stale and lifeless.

• The stay-at-home mom never feels ahead of the slave-driving to-do list and must battle a tantrum-throwing toddler. She is always a mom and a wife but does not have time to be her own woman.

• Dad feels suffocated when kids and chaos greet him at the front door. The lawn needs mowing. The church needs volunteers. The daughter hates her body, and the son is scared to ask a girl to go to the prom. 

 

These do not stack up to Abram’s crises: circumcision, childlessness and then the call to sacrifice the one child he finally has. Nevertheless, whatever our crises, they belong to us, and no one gets to tell us they are insignificant. Truth is that we feel deep experiential opposition to our calling. Like Abram and like our response to our vocation, life is not roses just because God calls us to something. 

Moreover, if we are not careful, we will die in the details. We will hit the wall. We will burn out on what we do because we have lost sight of why we do it.

Everybody has a calling that we need to take the initiative to recall. We can keep focused on the reason God has placed us here, in this time and this place. Without recalling that call, we are begging for burnout. Do not let that happen to you.

 

---

[1] (von Rad, Biblical Interpretation in Preaching 1973, 1977), 23.

[2] Abram’s name means “Ab [or the Divine Father] is lofty, exalted,” a type of name found extensively throughout the Hebrew Bible and the ancient Near East in general. These theophorous kinship proper names consist of a kinship element — father, brother, uncle, etc. — combined with a verbal (and sometimes nonverbal) element, as here. The kinship term refers to a deity understood as the divine patron of the person bearing the name. In Abram’s case, a subsequent name change will be explained by the Priestly writer of that event as referring to Abraham himself — “ancestor of a multitude” (17:4) — rather than to Abraham’s divine kin. In fact, like many biblical etymologies, the Priestly explanation of Abraham’s name is a Volksetymologie pressed into theological service; both Abram and Abraham were originally simply dialectical variants, with the longer form with the internal -h- being especially common in Aramaic names.

[3] a Hebrew grammatical construction sometimes referred to as the reflexive or centripetal dative -- "take yourself" (KJV, "get thee"). 

[4] (For one of the most complete discussions of the Israelite family to date, see L.E. Stager, "The archaeology of the family in ancient Israel," Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 260 (1985), 18-23.) We have here a technical term in Hebrew denoting not only a patriarch's immediate family -- his wife (or wives), unmarried sons and daughters and surviving parent(s) -- but potentially many collateral relatives and dependents as well: cousins, nieces, nephews, in-laws, servants and clients. The, "father's house," rather than the nuclear family, was the basic domestic unit in ancient Israel, as a single heterosexual reproductive pair and their offspring could not support themselves in the pastoral-agrarian lifestyle of the Hebrews. The subsistence agrarian and nomadic economy of the early Israelites in the hill country of Canaan required more labor than a single nuclear family could provide, and only through the cooperative arrangement of the bet `ab could its members find sufficient economic and social security.

[5] According to T. Muraoka, it "[S]erves to convey the impression on the part of the speaker or author that the subject establishes his own identity, recovering or finding his own place by determinedly dissociating himself from his familiar surrounding." (quoted in B.K. Waltke and M. O'Connor, Introduction to Biblical Hebrew Syntax [Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 1990], 208, and note their example, 34).

[6] (Barth, Church Dogmatics 2004, 1932-67) IV.2 [66.4] 578)

[7] (von Rad, Biblical Interpretation in Preaching 1973, 1977), 24.

[8] (von Rad, Biblical Interpretation in Preaching 1973, 1977), 24.

[9] (Barth, Church Dogmatics 2004, 1932-67) (IV.3 [71.4] 577)

[10] (Pannenberg, Systematic Theology 1998, 1991) Volume 1, 204)

[11] (von Rad, Biblical Interpretation in Preaching 1973, 1977), 24.

[12] (von Rad, Biblical Interpretation in Preaching 1973, 1977) 25.

[13] H. Jackson Brown’s mother. See page 13 in Brown’s 1991 book: P.S. I Love You: When Mom Wrote, She Always Saved the Best for Last.

[14] Unknown.

[15] Attributed to St. Augustine, but only the first part, in Letter 43. 

[16] Often attributed to Cesare Pavese, but see Glenn Clark (1882-1956), The Secret Power in Business, http://self-improvement-ebooks.com/books/tsopib.php

[17] —Prayer of the Rev. Mychal Judge, O.F.M., Fire Department of New York chaplain who died on 9/11 in the World Trade Center collapse.

[18] –Brother Lawrence

[19] Spanish novelist Miguel de Unamuno

[20] Nouwen, Henri. Cited by Ian Pitt-Watson, A Kind of Folly: Toward a Practical Theology of Preaching. St. Andrew Press, 1976, 36.

Psalm 121

Psalm 121 (NRSV)

¹ I lift up my eyes to the hills—

from where will my help come?

² My help comes from the Lord,

who made heaven and earth. 

³ He will not let your foot be moved;

he who keeps you will not slumber.

⁴ He who keeps Israel

will neither slumber nor sleep. 

⁵ The Lord is your keeper;

the Lord is your shade at your right hand.

⁶ The sun shall not strike you by day,

nor the moon by night. 

⁷ The Lord will keep you from all evil;

he will keep your life.

⁸ The Lord will keep

your going out and your coming in

from this time on and forevermore.

Psalm 121 is a pilgrim song. The psalm stands out as a concise yet profound expression of trust in God’s care, blending theological depth in exploring providential guardianship and imagery of protection, literary artistry, in its use of repetition, parallelism, and contrast, and practical relevance. Its structure, language, and imagery offer comfort and assurance, making it a lasting treasure for personal and communal faith.

Introduction

The psalm has simplicity and directness of thought. It expresses great confidence in the Lord as guardian, the Hebrew root (sh-m-r) occurring six times. Jewish communities recite it in times of trouble to give comfort and assurance. It is possible that Psalm 121 was originally used in a leave-taking ceremony at a local shrine (or even a private home), from which pilgrims departed for Jerusalem with a “liturgy of blessing.”[1] This reflection will provide a theological and literary analysis that explore its structure, language and historical context. 

The theological core is the providential guardianship of God rooted in creation (v. 2) and Israel's saving history (v. 4), providing a firm foundation against life's perils: stumbling feet, sunstroke by day, moon's supposed harmful influence by night (a nod to ancient superstitions, reflected in terms like "lunatic" from "moonstruck"), and evil in all forms. The "shade at your right hand" (v. 5) evokes intimate, near protection—like a traveler finding relief in the desert—while "going out and coming in" encompasses the entirety of daily life and beyond.

Verse-by-verse study

Regarding its superscription, in common with the rest of the Songs of Ascent in 120-134, this superscription says it is a song for ascents.

The psalm begins with the anxious question of the pilgrim, arising from insecurity. ¹ I lift up my eyes; the phrase is a periphrasis found more than 30 times in the Bible that ordinarily means simply to look in a specific direction without having any particular purpose in mind or reason for doing so. He lifts his eyes to the hills, referring to the celestial abode of the Lord.[2] The psalmist’s gazing on the hills leads to a meditative reflection on providential care that opens with a rhetorical question: from where will my help come? Yet, the question receives a quick reply that provides a proper balance to the opening of the psalm. [3] ² My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth, a phrase used three times in the Songs of Ascent and twice outside them in 115:5 and 146:6 and becoming popular in post-exilic times. This psalm is remarkable for recounting the inner dialogue of the poet. The poet answers himself confidently. The Lord will be his help, removing all doubt and places the individual on a firm foundation of trust in God. If the Lord is the maker of all things, it gives additional meaning to the poet looking to the hills in appreciation for what the Lord has made. The basis for the trust is creation. It has the tone of a brief creedal affirmation, and the entire Q&A sequence of the psalm’s opening verses is reminiscent of the Q&A form of catechetical instruction. The liturgy may have required pilgrims to recite the opening pilgrim’s verses of Psalm 121 before admission to the temple court.

Verses 3-8 are a priestly response, the priest pronouncing the divine blessing. It assures the pilgrims on the way to and from Zion of the constant protection provided by God. It offers quiet assurance of the presence and unconditional protection of God. The rest of the psalm offers a position of trust that responds to the anxious question at the beginning. It does so with the priest or choir answering from within the sacred space elaborated upon the pilgrim’s answer with a series of reassurances that proceed in stair-like parallelism, “in which successive verses repeat words or ideas expressed in preceding lines.”[4] Thus, 

·      “my help” in verse 2a repeats/echoes “my help” of verse 1b. 

·      “Keeps Israel” of verse 4a echoes “keeps you” of verse 3b, 

·      and “slumber” of verse 4b repeats “slumber” of verse 3b, 

·      and so on. 

 

This progressive construction will move the thought of the psalm from the smallest and most personal (represented by “foot,” v. 3) to the most expansive expression for the individual in time and beyond time (“your life” and “for evermore,” vv. 7, 8). The writer accomplishes this imagistic and theological journey in eight brief verses, attesting to the inspiration, skill, and dedication of the psalmist. Verses 3-4 polemicize against the notion often expressed in the psalms that the Lord must awake to deliver aid. Here, the Lord does not sleep. ³ He will not let your foot, functioning here as elsewhere in wisdom teaching, functions pars pro toto for the individual (cf. 91:12; Proverbs 1:15; 3:23, 26; 4:27; 25:17). The Lord shall not allow the individual to be moved,[5] a thought that finds parallel in other psalms. Those who do what is right shall never be moved (15:5). The Lord surrounds the psalmist, so he shall not be moved (16:8). Through the steadfast love of the Lord, the king shall not be moved (21:7). The Lord will sustain the righteous and not allow them to be moved (55:22). The Lord is his rock, salvation, and fortress, he shall not be moved (62:2, 6).  He who keeps you (shamar), meaning to take care of, to keep watch over and to guard/protect, as in the sense of one who has an obligation to do so. In the Bible, when Abel does not show up for work one morning, and God asks Cain about it, he says, "What? Am I my brother's keeper?" We also use the word to describe someone who manages a menagerie of animals, often exotic ones. We call this person a "zookeeper." Once again, there is an unspoken sense that the zookeeper is someone who has a responsibility to provide for and to protect. This sense carries over to all such words with "keeper" embedded in them: scorekeeper, timekeeper, peacekeeper, bookkeeper, housekeeper, beekeeper, shopkeeper, innkeeper, and greens keeper. The word is used in the priestly blessing of Numbers 6:24-26 (“The Lord bless you and keep you … ”). The Lord accepts responsibility for the people of the Lord. The one who keeps them will not slumber, such an image of the vigilance of the Lord found only here. It Reminds the reader of the Old Testament of I Kings 18:27, where Elijah taunted the prophets of Baal with the notion that Baal was asleep, so that must have to yell louder. Moving to the saving history of Israel, the psalmist affirms that ⁴ He who keeps (shamar) Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.  Based upon creation and the saving history of Israel, one can have child-like trust: ⁵ The Lord is your keeper (shamar or guardian); the Lord is your shade (tzel, protection), remembering the desert is a place where one can die of heat stroke, where finding shade was important. Yet, if life is like making a way through the desert, the Lord is that shade at your right hand, expressing proximity to the Lord. ⁶ The sun shall not strike you with sunstroke by day, nor the ancient-held belief in the harmful powers of themoon[6] by night.  ⁷ The Lord will keep (shamar) you from all evil; he will keep (shamar) your life. ⁸ The Lord will keep(shamar) your going out and your coming in, meaning “in all times and places” of your daily work, from this time on and forevermore, a common phrase among the Songs of Ascent. The Lord will guide the pilgrim back home, giving a grand vision to the psalm. This all-encompassing protection is the point toward which the entire psalm has been moving. The temporal reference says the Lord always guards the individual everywhere. 

Personal Application to contemporary faith and personal experience

I hope these reflections help make the psalm relevant for modern readers. I trust the references to hymns and musical settings inspired by Psalm 121 will enrich this discussion and demonstrate its cultural impact. I will also encourage readers not to rely on false idols or personal strength, but to trust in the continual protection and strength of God. 

Psalm 121 is one of the Bible’s most beloved expressions of deep trust in God’s care. The inspiration for numerous hymns — “I to the Hills Will Lift Mine Eyes” (the Scottish Psalter’s metrical setting of 1650), “Unto the Hills Around Do I Lift Up My Longing Eyes” (the Duke of Argyll’s setting of 1877), “Upward I Lift My Eyes” (from the prolific Dr. Isaac Watts), as well as for Felix Mendelssohn’s sublime angel trio, “Lift Thine Eyes” (from his oratorio Elijah, with libretto by his childhood friend, pastor Julius Schubring, translated into English by William Bartholomew), the psalm may have begun life as a cultic blessing or temple liturgy, but it remains a treasure of the personal piety of millions of people of faith.

What 'hills' are you tempted to look to today?

In the journey of life, I could look to the hills for help.  They can look so attractive.  What is there?  One finds there only the false idols and gods which litter human experience.  Will my help come from there?  No.  My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.  Lord, you are the one who keeps me in the hollow of your hand.  When life gets so trying that I feel as if I may stumble and fall, you are the one who holds me up.  You provide the shade I need from the heat of the day.  You provide light even when everything seems so dark around me.

I cannot look to myself as the sole source of strength for my journey in life.  When I do, my own resources fail.  It is so tempting for me to rely upon me, or the people around me.  Those resources eventually become empty and fail. What I need is that continual reminder: “Be strong ... in the Lord.”  It is God’s strength which provides the refreshment and comfort and power that I need today.  This week will be fruitless if I rely upon any other source of strength than you, O Lord.

In the shadow of your wings, I sing for joy.  In the times of refreshing that you give this day, and each day, I sing for joy.  I do not know what this day or what this week will bring to me.  I do know that you, O Lord, will keep my going out and coming in for this time forth and forever.  Amen.

---

[1] As Dahood describes this psalm (Mitchell Dahood, S. J., Psalms II: 51-100 [Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1970], 199).

[2] Dahood

[3] cf. also the comments on this verse of Psalm 121 in The New Oxford Annotated Bible with the Apocrypha, 1973). It could be a polemic against deities on the mountains. It could also express the attitude of the pilgrim moving toward the arresting site of Jerusalem in the Judean hills, the eagerly anticipated destination of the pilgrim. It could also be the natural look of who needs help to look up for rescue. It could be the familiar hills of everyday life. Hills have always figured prominently in human worship, and Israel was no exception to the human fascination with elevations as dwelling places for the divine (e.g., Psalm 99:9, “Extol the Lord our God, and worship at his holy mountain”). While hills were a constant factor of geography in ancient Israel, they were not always welcome topographical features. In addition to being difficult to farm and requiring hard labor to move goods through, the hills were sometimes hideouts for bandits or sanctuaries for those running from justice. Recall that as a young man, David had to spend time in the hills to escape the clutches of the jealous King Saul, who wanted to kill him. And while in those hills, other men joined him. The Bible describes those who rallied to him this way: “Everyone who was in distress, and everyone who was in debt, and everyone who was discontented gathered to him; and he became captain over them. Those who were with him numbered about four hundred” (I Samuel 22:2). It is unclear why the poet is looking to the mountains. Sinai and Zion were the two mountains of special importance in biblical religion (although the Samaritan tradition maintains Mount Gerizim as the central locus of authentic Mosaic Yahwism), and the hills scattered throughout the region of Syria-Palestine were regarded in the Deuteronomistic tradition as particularly enticing temptations for the Israelites to partake of pagan worship (e.g., I Kings 14:23; II Kings16:4; Jeremiah 2:20; 17:2.) Some biblical people had heavenly “mountaintop experiences,” such as Moses and later Elijah (on Mount Sinai/Horeb) and Jesus (with some disciples on the Mount of Transfiguration). But in the Old Testament, hills also had negative associations as sites of illicit pagan or improperly eclectic worship. In either case, the issue of where we can get help in our lives when we truly need it is an important one.

[4] (Dahood, 199)

[5] (v. 3a, literally, “he will not give your foot to Mot/Death,” translated “Quagmire” by Dahood, referencing the slimy character of the underworld, from Psalms 40:2; 69:14). This is speculative, and most translations remain with the traditional translation.

[6] The epileptics healed by Jesus (Matthew 4:24; 17:15) are described as seleniazetai, literally, “moonstruck” (or struck by Selene, the moon goddess; cf. the forbidden worship of others deities, “whether the sun or the moon or any of the host of heaven” in Deuteronomy 17:3; the idea of moon-illness remains embedded in the English word “lunatic”).