Folly plunges men into the abyss of despair, while wisdom guides them toward the right path.
Abram trusted in Yahweh's wisdom, and his wife, nephew, and servants believed in his wisdom as well. Thus, they pressed onward along this path without complaint or regret, moving forward in silent determination.
Yet a journey begun solely in faith proved far from comfortable. For the people of Ur, accustomed to a life of ease, it felt more like an endless wandering. They had brought few possessions with them, and the dust and hardships of the road made them look like outright beggars. But what exhausted them most wasn't the long and arduous journey itself, but the despair of not knowing where it would end.
Fortunately, after enduring the hardships, when they left the plains that had sustained them and arrived at the highlands they had never seen before, they finally seemed to see a glimmer of hope. They stopped to carefully survey this unfamiliar land.
"Abram, why does this place feel so familiar?" Sarai asked her husband.
Few people passed by, but both the streets and houses seemed strikingly familiar. The woman felt as if she had suddenly found herself back in distant Ur, a feeling that even Haran, where they had lived for over a decade, had never evoked.
Abram clearly shared her sentiment, but he couldn't explain it either. Fortunately, his intuition was more concrete than Sarai's. After listening carefully for a while, he declared with certainty:
"I think the way these people speak is similar to Eliezer."
Hearing Abram's words, everyone turned to look at Eliezer, and indeed, the young man from Damascus had a different expression on his face.
Haniya, seeing the group gathered around, grew curious. However, he didn't join them to listen, knowing he had the most accurate answer machine beside him.
He could obtain the perfect answer from Yahweh.
"For the Urites of the plains, their world was defined by the east-west and north-south directions..." God explained to the angels.
Their known world stretched from Ur and Babel in the lower Euphrates to Haran, Mount Ararat, Nineveh, and Assyria in the upper Euphrates. Yet, the truly dramatic twist was that Abram's lineage didn't originate from Ur. When Noah divided the lands among his sons, the eldest, Shem, received most of the territories around Mount Ararat and later divided them among his five sons.
The land of Aram, southwest of Assyria, was ruled by Shem's fifth son. The other Shemites, Lud and Arpachshad, also resided nearby.
In contrast, Elam and Terah, who followed Nimrod in expanding his empire, were the true outliers and 'rebels' from the Shemite perspective. Yet, being social creatures by nature, even these rebels subconsciously built their new territories in accordance with Shemite customs.
This is why they felt a sense of kinship.
"You could say this is the true gathering place of the Semites," God said. "Though human relationships are now so tangled, with no clear boundaries between groups, if we consider the territorial divisions after the Great Flood, even Abram, who has traveled so far, has only just reached the border of the Semite lands."
Haniya glanced sideways. Eliezer was still struggling to explain things to his master, his eloquence and clarity clearly inferior to Yahweh's. The human family listened with difficulty.
While admiring Yahweh's intimate knowledge of human affairs, the angel couldn't help but wonder, "I thought humans could all recite their family trees from memory, like the archangels of Mercury Heaven."
This was the Semite gathering place, yet Abram didn't know it. This showed how little he knew about his ancestral branches.
"So that's not how it is," he realized.
God simply smiled at Haniya's misunderstanding. In truth, Enoch was the anomaly. As humanity had developed so rapidly, the five branches of the Semites had branched out like the roots of a banyan tree. Remembering all the branches wasn't easy; tracing back three generations was already considered exceptional.
"Will they stay here?" Haniya asked again, noticing that Abram, under Eliezer's explanation, had learned the land was called Aram. Though he might not know where Damascus was in the world, he at least knew of Aram.
He could see they were exhausted. From Haran to Aram, Abram's family had endured much, and their resolve was likely not as strong as it had been at the start. He feared they might not continue their journey. After all, to the angels, this place—with its mountains, rivers, and the presence of Abram's kin—seemed like the perfect place to put down roots.
If that were the case, what would become of the covenant?
As if unaware of Haniya's concerns, the divine gaze remained fixed on the distant horizon.
In God's eyes, the dust raised by galloping horses was approaching.
Aram was far from peaceful. Small kingdoms dotted this land, their borders constantly shifting in conflict.
Between the two rivers lay Aram, Zobah, Hamath, Paddan-Aram, Maacah, Geshur, Beth-rehob... The wars between these nations raged as fiercely as entwined roots. The tree with a single trunk merely facilitated the plundering of nutrients.
"I love this place," Sarai said, as they traveled along the Abana, the great river of Aram. The riverbanks were lined with wild poplars and apricot trees, sparking her enthusiasm.
"We could build a nut orchard here!" she exclaimed, gesturing to indicate a massive orchard.
The young man's eyes shone with the same longing.
Abram recognized their desire for him to settle in Aram, but before he could respond, Eliezer spoke up.
"Mistress, this place isn't as good as you think."
A flicker of unease crossed the servant's face. Abram asked what was wrong, but before Eliezer could answer, a violent tremor shook the ground. Years of traveling as a merchant, Abram knew this was the sound of many horses galloping simultaneously.
Pedestrians screamed and scattered. Abram reacted swiftly, grabbing his family and their belongings and ducking into a rock cave.
Soon, a group of cavalrymen thundered past—about a dozen of them. Abram's sharp eyes caught one of the riders holding a child captive.
"Good thing we hid so quickly," he breathed, relief washing over him as he turned to his wife and nephew. "Are you both alright?"
"Uncle, Eliezer isn't with us," Lot said. "He seems to have chased after those cavalrymen."
Lot had always been wary of Eliezer, this Damascene who was only slightly older than him. He suspected the man harbored ill intentions and was constantly vying for a more favored position in his uncle's eyes.
I'm clearly Uncle Abram's most beloved nephew, yet he doesn't rely on me as much as he does on Eliezer. Even when we left Haran, if I hadn't begged him, he would have only taken Aunt Sarai and Eliezer.
Lot knew that servants were essentially property and posed no real threat. But Eliezer was simply too exceptional. Abram treated him with a warmth that seemed beyond the usual master-servant relationship.
That's why he was the first to notice Eliezer's odd behavior. From the moment they set foot on this land, the Damascene's expression had been changing. Of course, now he understood it was because he had returned home...
"Eliezer doesn't have a home here anymore!" Abram frowned, watching the direction the cavalry had disappeared. He was a cautious man, and the servant's unauthorized actions angered him. Yet he couldn't simply ignore it.
"Wait here. I'll go investigate," he said. But Sarai refused to be separated from her husband.
So Abram had no choice but to pack up his family and follow.
As they ventured deeper into the territory, its true state gradually revealed itself: fallen banners and scorched earth made Abram hesitate to continue.
Fortunately, Eliezer returned at that moment, covered in blood but cradling a little girl in his arms. Abram recognized her as the one the cavalry had taken hostage.
Eliezer had gone to rescue her.
Abram glanced at her clothes and noticed they resembled the servant's attire he had worn when he first purchased Eliezer.
It turned out the girl, like Eliezer, was from Damascus. Through her account, they learned that Damascus and the nearby Zobah were at war.
This land belonged to Damascus, but the cavalry were Zobahites.
"When I was a child, Damascus and Maacah were at war," Eliezer said softly. He had once lived here too, but the conflict had forced him to wander to Ur. It wasn't until Abram bought him that he found stability. Seeing the captured child, he couldn't help but rush to her aid.
He knew all too well what happened to captives.
"Don't be afraid, I'm from Damascus too," he said in their native tongue. The girl, feeling his comfort, finally stopped trembling so violently.
Eliezer looked at his master again and asked for Abram's permission to return the girl to Damascus.
Abram pondered for a moment. Eliezer was an Aramean, a descendant of Shem. Abram had always favored him, but now he considered him completely one of his own.
"We'll go with you," Abram said.
Eliezer nodded gratefully. The group followed the two Damascenes toward the other side of the Golan Heights. After about half a day, Eliezer, who was leading the way, pointed ahead.
"That's Damascus," he said.
The fact that the city still retained its name proved it was a conservative place, but it also showed a lack of bold and capable leaders.
Lot quietly shared his thoughts with his uncle, and Abram reprimanded him.
However, his nephew was right. The lord of Damascus was an elderly man, older even than Terah, and had no reliable young men around him.
Abram's heart grew heavy. Even with the foundation for a great empire...
"Lot said he'd take care of you in your old age," his wife said nervously in his ear.
Abram chased them both out.
Haniya watched with keen interest, offering his own commentary to Yahweh.
"Human emotions are so complicated. How can their little minds hold so many feelings at once?"
God said he was easily surprised.
That night, Eliezer came to visit Abram. Abram had already prepared himself for the worst, mentally bracing for disappointment. The old city lord had treated them as honored guests for rescuing the girl, but all eyes were still on Eliezer.
The old man's admiration for the young and strong Eliezer was almost overflowing. Perhaps it was time for them to part ways.
As Abram had expected, the old city lord had kept Eliezer behind hoping he would help Damascus drive out the invading Zobahites.
"If you succeed, you could become the king of Aram," Abram said, studying his expression. "This is a great honor. Why do you look so troubled?"
"I am your servant. How could I dare aspire to become king over you?" Eliezer shook his head. "But I truly want to help them overcome this crisis."
"But I don't know what to do."
Eliezer explained that the situation was dire. war could break out at any moment, yet the enemy forces vastly outnumbered their own. The Zobahites had around six thousand soldiers, while Damascus could muster fewer than a thousand fighters in total.
"I could rescue a girl from a group of fifteen cavalrymen, but how can I defeat an army of thousands with my own strength?"
"Even with the opportunity to become king, it's useless without the necessary ability," Abram thought to himself. Eliezer clearly lacked the qualities of a king, and Abram's feelings were complex, a mix of regret and relief.
"Of course, unless you're a god," Abram continued, "it's not impossible to achieve victory. You could lure the Zobahites into the canyon and strike with a single decisive blow."
Eliezer looked bewildered, unable to grasp his master's meaning.
"On the way here, I noticed a deep, long canyon in the northern suburbs—I believe they call it Burudan."
God watched Abram, who appeared to be speaking casually, and found this human's hypocrisy rather endearing.
He looked like someone who had been planning how to win this war even before entering the city. He was like a general without troops, lacking real power or influence, yet brimming with strategies and seeking the perfect opportunity to test them.
This was a disposition that God normally disliked, but Abram had subtly struck a balance between divine disapproval and grudging acceptance.
His initial motive for advising Damascus wasn't noble; it was purely self-serving. He merely wanted to use this war to see if he possessed the ability to become a king.
He was hypocritical and full of schemes, yet his faith remained unshakably firm.
Under his guidance, Eliezer helped Damascus achieve victory, winning a brilliant battle against superior numbers. The loyal servant didn't claim sole credit, and had the Abram family stayed, they would have gained unprecedented glory and respect.
Sarai and Lot were satisfied with their life in Aram, but Abram still felt this wasn't his final destination.
"To leave my clan, my homeland, and my father's house—these are the conditions God has granted me. This place still belongs to my clan, so I cannot remain here."
Even Haniya, who was eager to settle, couldn't help but grumble inwardly at these words.
"I'm starting to regret this," he said to Yahweh.
Seeing his master's noble ambition, Eliezer immediately refused Damascus's entreaties to stay and declared he would accompany Abram.
"You are truly a loyal servant," Lot said with a strange expression, his heart hardening in his conviction that this treacherous Aramean would one day covet the family's wealth.
After all, his uncle was the "King of All Nations," and Abram's family trusted him with the same inexplicable and unwavering faith that Abram had in Jehovah God.
The four of them set out south again, but this time, their journey was far more comfortable than when they had left Haran.
The Arameans gave them many valuables and supplies, though these were less than what they had originally possessed. Still, Abram looked at these "spoils of war" with a full heart, seeing it as a good beginning and growing more convinced than ever that leaving Haran had been the right decision.
After walking southwest from Damascus for about two hours, Abram and his group arrived at the Golan Heights. The highlands were strewn with rocks, and flocks of storks gathered near the water and grass.
Here stood Mount Hermon, a peak a thousand feet high. Though it didn't appear particularly imposing from the plateau, when they climbed to its summit and looked down, the colors of the sunken land below exceeded their wildest imaginations.
Abram gazed at it, feeling as if it stretched infinitely before his eyes.
"That's the Sea of Galilee," their guide said, leading them up Mount Hermon. "We call the people living on the other side of the lake Canaanites. The 'Southern Lands' mentioned by people to the north and east usually refer to them."
The Arameans from Mount Hermon stopped there and didn't venture any further.
"We don't usually go there," they said, as if Mount Hermon were a boundary. The Arameans told them that the Canaanites were a different people, descendants of Ham, and unfriendly to those from beyond the mountains.
"I wouldn't really recommend you go either."
Abram thanked him, but nothing could deter his resolve to press onward.
Following the headwaters of the Jordan River down Mount Hermon, Abram descended the mountain smoothly. Before long, they arrived at a small fishing village.
Those Arameans must have never come down to see this land for themselves, Abram thought. Mount Hermon seemed to keep the world's clamor at bay. Unlike the war-torn world outside, the villagers here lived in peaceful seclusion.
The fishing village was built along the shore of the Sea of Galilee, on its northern coast. The scenery here was the complete opposite of the highlands. The Ur people, having just experienced the towering, rugged slopes of Mount Hermon, found the contrast particularly striking. The Sea of Galilee lay in a low-lying basin, surrounded on all sides by mountains.
The rolling hills, though not particularly majestic, were lush with trees. Combined with the azure water shimmering in the sunlight, the lake appeared crystal clear, as if it could cleanse the soul.
Blue sky, white clouds, green grass, blue water, seagulls, and a gentle breeze—every element seemed to be a masterpiece of nature's artistry. Even angels would have been struck by the beauty of the Sea of Galilee.
Haniya first learned of Canaan from his aide, but he had only heard that it was a land of endless sandstorms. When they had descended from the western slopes of Mount Hermon and entered Human Jerusalem through the outer sea, his initial impressions had been confirmed: the landscape was exactly as he had imagined, including a lifeless salt lake.
The salt concentration was so high that even when he stomped with all his might, he couldn't sink.
"I never expected such a beautiful place to exist in this arid land," he said, then instinctively searched for Yahweh's figure.
Yahweh stood by the lake, as if rooted between heaven and earth. His gaze swept over the familiar yet strange lake, and a ripple of emotion stirred in His eyes.
The entire world had been created by God, but the land of Canaan had been meticulously painted.
Nourished by the Jordan River, this land boasted abundant rainfall, lush vegetation, and a rich tapestry of landscapes—deserts, mountains, rivers, valleys, seas, and streams.
The angels had been born later and knew nothing of how this land had once been even more beautiful. In those ancient times, it had been covered in dense forests and teeming with life, even attracting the elves to make their homes here.
It was here that God had gazed at the moon and painted, and it was here that He had gifted the golden brush to the elf Elen, sparking a conflict that would embroil the three realms.
"Yahweh! Using my angelic eyes, I've discovered this lake is the largest water source in the area. Its vast reservoir is like an unexpected miracle in this arid land!"
Of course, he never described any other place in such terms again.
It's no wonder the people who lived there called this lake "the pearl God left behind in the human world."
The Sea of Galilee, where beauty and tranquility coexisted, instantly dispelled Lot and Sarai's reluctance to leave Aram.
"Uncle's decision was indeed the right one!" Lot said. "Aram may be good, but it's constantly at war. How could it compare to the peace and quiet here?"
Abram was finishing carving the outline of the Sea of Galilee onto a thin wooden panel—a habit of his. Wherever he went, he would carve a picture, then blow away the wood shavings and toss the wooden painting to Eliezer.
"Are you rested? If so, let's get up. We need to leave."
Sarai's hands, which had been braiding her hair, froze mid-motion. She turned to look at her husband in disbelief. "We're leaving already?"
"Of course," Abram replied, walking over to smooth her long hair, which had been ruffled by the lake breeze. He rarely showed such tenderness these days. Sarai wanted to get angry, but she felt dazed and dizzy. In the end, she said nothing.
Several rivers flowed into the Sea of Galilee, but only the Jordan River flowed out from its southern end. Abram continued south along the western shore of the lake, soon leaving the mountainous terrain behind to enter a vast plain.
This landscape felt more familiar to the Ur people, accustomed to the plains of Mesopotamia. The population here was noticeably denser than around the Sea of Galilee, and the roadsides were lined with countless food crops.
Sarai nodded in agreement as she observed the scene. The lake views were beautiful, but being surrounded by mountains had its drawbacks. She was glad she hadn't questioned Abram's decision. After walking for a while, they encountered a mountain.
This mountain was peculiar. Without any warning or gradual ridge, a hill over a hundred zhang high rose abruptly from the flat ground.
"Doesn't it look like an overturned bowl?" Sarai exclaimed excitedly. Following her suggestion, they climbed the mountain and soon stood at its summit, surveying the panoramic view of the plain below.
Beyond Mount Tabor, they passed successively Mount Moreh and Mount Gilboa, reaching Beth-Shean at the southern edge of the plain. Beyond that, the terrain began to rise into rolling hills again, and Sarai's patience wore thin.
"Abram, how much farther do we have to go?"
She found every place they passed along the way beautiful. The Sea of Galilee was lovely, and Mount Tabor was fascinating. Yet Abram kept moving, never stopping. She could sense that her husband was searching for something, trying to confirm something, but what could he possibly be looking for in this land they had never set foot in before?
In truth, Abram had long been captivated by Canaan's fertile abundance, but he dared not settle too quickly.
He was far more perceptive than his wife. While she saw only the beauty of Canaan, he noticed the complexity in the eyes of its inhabitants.
While his wife and nephew indulged in fantasies of joy, Abram simultaneously observed the wariness and hostility in the Canaanites' eyes. He recalled the Aramean's warnings about their unfriendliness.
Thus, this shrewd man from Ur did not act rashly. He lingered only briefly in these lands, refraining from immediately revealing his intention to claim them as his own.
As he traveled, he witnessed the dangerous territorial disputes beyond Canaan. Though he firmly believed in his divinely favored destiny, he was no longer young and reckless. They were only four people, while the Canaanites numbered in the thousands. Even with ten times his courage, he could not in good conscience claim this land as his own.
But he couldn't bring himself to give up. He remembered Yahweh's words: He needs courage to bear the inheritance.
Clearly, the wise one foresaw my predicament. If God truly intends to grant me this land, He will leave some sign for me.
"I'm searching for a sign of the covenant," Abram said. "If this is the place, God will make me stop."
Haniya watched in exasperation. They had already reached Canaan, yet they were still wandering around in a bewildered state. It was truly pitiful.
"Why don't we give him a little hint?" he tugged on Yahweh's sleeve. "Give him some hope."
God glanced at the soft-hearted angel. All-knowing and all-powerful, He had already foreseen everything. The location of the covenant had long been set; when the time came, the humans would naturally understand.
But Haniya remained completely unaware of Abram's ambition.
Galilee, the Jezreel Valley...
Why would anyone meticulously map out every place they pass through? Just for artistic mementos?
Of course not. In this man's heart, he was envisioning a future where all these lands would belong to him.
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