This sense of covenant with God, a binding relationship enduring through all the ups and downs of Jewish history, is the central dynamic of the biblical narrative. Abram falls into the altered state of a deep sleep, and then God seems to pass between the cloven animals in the form of a smoking fire pot and a flaming torch, anticipating the pillar of fire and the pillar of cloud which will one day lead the Israelites out of Egypt. If one of the parties is human and the other is divine, we should not be surprised to find an uncanny dimension to the ritual, as there is in this story. The two parties making a covenant would walk between the cloven parts of animals, as if to say, if either party severs the covenant binding us together, there will be blood. Now we may find their covenant ritual pretty weird: cutting three large animals in half––a heifer, a goat, and a ram––but that was a common practice in the ancient Near East. So God makes a covenant with Abram––a promise binding Abram’s story to God’s story, a promise to be with Abram’s people through the long journey of time. God makes a barren marriage the seed of countless generations.

This kind of thing happens a lot in the Bible. How on earth will my story continue?”Īnd God says, “Step outside, and look at the stars––more than you could ever count. So shall your descendants be.” Your story is not over.īut Abram can’t believe this. The word of the Lord came to Abram in a vision: Barnabas Episcopal Church, Bainbridge Island, WA (Texts: Genesis 15:1-12, 17-18 / Luke 13:31-35) Stanley Spencer, Christ in the Wilderness––The Hen (1939)Ī homily preached on the Second Sunday of Lent at St.

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