Abraham: Our Exclusive Interview (Part I)
The father of ethical monotheism finally opens up.
We know him as a Biblical patriarch… as the spiritual father of more than four billion Jews, Christians, and Muslims… and as the man who long ago planted the seed for a radical new idea: Hope.
Hope that tomorrow can be better than today… that human progress is possible… and that the world and all its people will one day be redeemed.
Yet despite Abraham’s historic importance and global impact, we know precious little about the man himself… until now.
An Out of Babel exclusive…
Out of Babel: Thank you so much for taking time to come on the show. I’m beyond thrilled that you’re here.
Abe: My pleasure.
OoB: First things first: After roughly 3,000 years, you’ve finally decided to break your silence. Why now?
Abe: Mostly because your Substack subscription numbers are pathetically low, so I thought I’d give you a little boost! [huge, Santa-like belly laugh]
OoB [smiling]: Yeah, yeah, very funny. But seriously… Why now?
Abe: Brother, do you see what’s happening in the world these days? The conflict, the hatred, the killing, especially among the so-called “children of Abraham”?
OoB: Indeed. It’s crazy.
Abe: Totally insane, so I figured I should speak up. I mean, if not me, who? If not now, when? After all, I got the whole monotheism ball rolling a long time ago, so… Here I am.
OoB: Let’s get right into it… Take us back a few millennia…. The Tower of Babel project had recently failed. You’re living in Ur of the Chaldees with your Dad, Terah; your Mom, Amathlai; and your brothers, Haran and Nahor. When the…
Abe: And Diane. You didn’t mention my sister, Diane. Everyone always forgets her, which is sad. She was the best of us, believe me.
OoB: Diane. Sorry. My mistake. … So, what was your childhood like?
(Images courtesy of Abraham and his wife, Sarah, with special thanks to Hagar and Ishmael.)
Abe: It was pretty normal. Dad was an idol maker. He had a small workshop and storefront where he made and sold statues, icons, figurines, knick-knacks, and such. Terah’s Top Quality Idols. That was the name of his shop. Or as Dad liked to say to his customers: The Best Gods At The Lowest Prices — Guaranteed! … [Abe laughs]
OoB: Where was the store located?
Abe: About a ten-minute walk from the big ziggurat downtown, which was good for business. Dad got to know many of the palace bureaucrats, and once in a while, they’d give him a commission to create one of the huge idols they’d use during weekly public worship services and during the annual tent revival meetings on the banks of the Euphrates River.
OoB: Where exactly did you live?
Abe: Right above the store in a two-bedroom apartment.
OoB: Tell me about your mom.
Abe: Mom had worked as a legal secretary, and Dad says she was great at it. Sharp as a claw chisel. She was funny, too. But when us kids were born, she quit her job at the firm and became a full-time homemaker. Which meant we were a single-income family. Not rich or poor. More like middle of the middle class.
Life in the big city
OoB: What was Ur of the Chaldees like?
Abe: Everyone wanted to live in Ur. It was the biggest, most beautiful city in the world. A cultural and technological mecca. But it wasn’t perfect. Parking was impossible, especially during the monthly King Nebuchadnezzar Parade. Also, rent in the city was too damn high. And there was no place to get a decent Reuben sandwich after 10 pm.
OoB: Who did you hang out with as a kid? Who were your friends?
Abe: I didn’t have many friends, to be honest. Except for Sam. He was my best bud. We did everything together. Classes, homework, stickball, card games, ping pong, drinking, nights running around downtown. I could tell you some stories!
OoB: I hope you will! But first, why did you have trouble making friends?
Abe: I was an introspective kid. A daydreamer. I read a lot and spent most afternoons at the library. Mom says I was always a seeker, wrestling with lots of unanswered and maybe unanswerable questions. The guys at my high school were mainly interested in sports, girls, and video games. They thought I was a freak.
OoB: What kinds of questions were troubling you?
Abe: Questions that no one else seemed to be asking. Or care about.
OoB: Such as?
The direction of human history
Abe: Hmmm, let’s see…. I remember asking one of my teachers why we study history. He said we study the past so we can predict the future. History is like the seasons, he told us. The same basic things happen year after year. He also said stuff like: Time is like a wheel, spinning around forever, but going nowhere in particular.
OoB: How did you respond?
Abe: I didn’t, at first. But then, about a week later, my friend Sam raised the question again, and our teacher doubled down: History is not a line, but a circle… Remember what happened yesterday because sooner or later it’s gonna happen again… and again… and again. There’s no such thing as “progress.” The way things are is the way they will always be. Hope is a mirage…. “Wrong!” I yelled. “WRONG!!…” … and then I jumped up on my chair, pointed directly at him, and screamed: “YOU’RE FULL OF WHAT MAKES THE GRASS GROW GREEN!!!”
OoB: You said what??!!
Abe: Yeah, I wasn’t thinking clearly. Or at all. I don’t know what got into me.
OoB: What happened next?
Abe: Everyone laughed… except my teacher, who sent me to the school principal, who called my Dad, who came to pick me up.
OoB: How did your Dad react?
Abe: Oooohh… he was pissed! He was always telling me: Do your work, get good grades, follow the rules, keep your head down and your mouth shut, and stay out of trouble. But I couldn’t. Too much was happening.
OoB: What do you mean?
A wrinkle in time
Abe: I felt like something was changing. Something big. But I couldn’t tell if the change was happening to the world or just to me. I was 15 years old, so maybe it was just hormones. I dunno. But life kept getting… weird.
OoB: Weird how?
Abe: Well, one afternoon I was walking home from school and feeling cranky. I had too much homework and not enough time to do it. I’m on the sidewalk, outside the hardware store at the corner of Sixth and Nebuchadnezzar, when an old guy comes up to me — out of the blue, a stranger. He’s got long grey hair, dirty overalls, and a pork pie hat, and he steps toward me — and I can smell the liquor on him — and he leans in real close, his face maybe 10 inches from mine, and he says, “Your time in this town is over, padre! You’re toast! Finished! History! No one wants you here anymore! Best if you pack your bags tonight and drag your sorry ass out of…”
[Abe’s iPhone buzzes. He stops talking, pulls the phone from his pocket, reads the message, then sighs.]
Abe: Aaggghhh… I’m so sorry. I gotta go. I forgot I have a Zoom call in 15 minutes.
OoB: Zoom call?? Who with?
Abe: With my Mastermind group. Friends who were once in leadership positions, and who are now trying to give back to the community by sharing some of their wisdom with the world. We Zoom once a month to compare notes, network, talk sports, and drink bourbon.
OoB: Any names you can share?
Abe: It varies from month to month. Jesus is scheduled to join us this time. And Simone Weil. Do you know Simone?
OoB: I know of her.
Abe: Great gal. Sooo much good in that one.
OoB: Do me a favor?
Abe: Sure.
OoB: Would you take a picture of the Zoom call and send it to me? I’d love to share it with our Substack subscribers.
Abe: Of course.
OoB: One more thing: May we continue this interview at a later date? I feel like we have a lot more to explore.
Abe: Yes, yes, I’d love to. Just give Barbara a call at the office to get on my schedule.
OoB: Will do. Talk again soon. And thanks.
Postscript
