The Tower of Babel

No one has ascended into heaven, except he who descended from heaven (Jn 3:14).

Something is wrong with the world. Somewhere along the line, we seem to have turned a corner and lost our way. All of us know the situation is dire, but we seem unable to arrive at any kind of consensus to address our dilemma. In his 1988 song, “Everybody Knows,” Leonard Cohen put it this way:

Everybody knows that the boat is leaking
Everybody knows that the captain lied
Everybody got this broken feeling
Like their father or their dog just died
Everybody talking to their pockets
Everybody wants a box of chocolates
And a long-stem rose
Everybody knows¹

Of course, the way the story is told is often told, the trouble with the world is due to left-wing policies and programs, or on the other side of the political aisle, it’s the result of conservative inaction to address challenges such as inequity, social injustice, and/or climate change. As time marches on, however, each side continues to blame their opponents for all the world’s evils, and if we could just get rid of the people who are destroying the planet—or, at the very least, silence them and remove them from positions of power—everything would be “great again.”

But as we know, our challenges don’t simply stem from a single group of people. In fact, no human civilization has ever been able to create any form of utopia—nor will they ever be able to do so. This is why if you watch any news program or read any history book, you’ll see that conflict, war, and strife are universal constants. According to the book of Genesis, once human beings rebelled against their creator, mankind was permanently banished from paradise. “God drove the man out of the garden,” we’re told, “and at the east of Eden he placed the cherubim and a flaming sword that turned every way to guard the way to the tree of life” (Gn 3:24).

This is what’s wrong with the world. In Genesis 4 we quickly see the effects of human rebellion, with the murder of Abel at the hands of his own brother. Cain, of course, wasn’t the victim of failed government policies or corrupt social institutions, because none of those things had even been invented yet. No, the problem had to do with his desires and inclinations, which had become twisted and corrupted by sin. Later in Genesis 6 we’re told that “the wickedness of man was so great that every intention of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually” (Gn 6:5). This is what motivated God to destroy the world in the waters of the flood.

Unfortunately, this didn’t end up solving the world’s problems. As soon as the waters began to recede, sin began to express itself in the lives of Noah and his offspring. By the time we get to Genesis 11, those descendants began to multiply and spread out, and one particular group in the land of Shinar banded together and said, “Come, let us build ourselves a city and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves” (Gn 11:4).

Genesis 11 goes on to report that “the LORD came down to see the city and the tower, which the children of man had built. And the LORD said, ‘Behold, they are one people, and they have all one language, and this is only the beginning of what they will do. And nothing that they propose to do will now be impossible for them’” (Gn 11:5-6). And so, just as God had earlier cursed the ground so that it produced thorns and thistles in addition to the fruit-bearing plants and trees, here in Genesis 11 he curses the people themselves by confusing their language and frustrating their plans. 

If you’ve ever spent an afternoon pulling up weeds, you know how frustrating that kind of work can often be—particularly when you look at the same area a month or two later and you notice that the weeds have taken over your garden once more. Therefore, if you want to have a garden that looks nice—perhaps your own little version of paradise—all of us know that it requires hard work. The sweat of our brow is a continual reminder that we live east of Eden. 

In the same way, it also takes a lot of work to keep cities in a state of relative peace. Law enforcement officers are entrusted to “keep the peace” through the use of strong force when necessary. Nevertheless, theft, murder, and strife continue. Because of this, there are always a variety of political factions vying for this solution or that, some with proposals so outlandish and bizarre that they sometimes appear to be speaking an entirely different language to those on the other side of the political aisle. 

Sometimes people wonder out loud about the divisive nature of politics, but if you stop and think about it, the answer is right here in the book of Genesis. You see, a “polis” is just the ancient word for “city.” “Politics,” then, is the debate over the best way to run things in any given city or region. But according to the first eleven chapters of Genesis, we’ve all been expelled from paradise and we’re now forced to make the best of it in this land east of Eden—without God’s help. Autonomy is what we craved, and autonomy is what we were given. To borrow language from the book of Judges, once we were banished from the presence of the king of kings, “everyone did what was right in his own eyes” (Jdg 17:6). Let’s face it, politics is a divisive enterprise because we are a divisive people.

A few years ago I discovered a fascinating book by Chris Jennings titled, Paradise Now: The Story of American Utopianism. In his compelling survey, Jennings chronicles a variety of nineteenth-century communities here in the United States that attempted to create a kind of utopia. In the introduction of his book, he says that during this time in our nation’s history,

The new faith in limitless, human-driven progress merged with the old faith in an immanent golden age. Perhaps human genius—manifested in new ideas, buildings, machines, and social institutions—would be the lever by which the millennium of fraternity and abundance was activated. The New Jerusalem was coming, but it would not be winched down from above. It would be built from the ground up, by planners and engineers.²

Jennings went on to note, however, that “the failure of the nineteenth-century utopians to produce even one enduring society cannot be ignored…The cumulative moral is precise:  Anyone nuts enough to try building heaven on earth is bound for a hell of his own making.”³ Does this sound familiar?

One of the chapters in Jennings’s book tells the story of Robert Owen, who is quite likely one of the most influential thinkers you’ve never heard of. Owen was an advocate of industrial reform in the early 1800s, and as a result of his success at a factory town in New Lanark, Scotland, he became famous throughout Europe. In time, Owen would come to believe that his reforms could be applied, not merely to factories, but to entire societies all over the world, and the term he coined to describe his political philosophy, was “Socialism.”

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As indicated at the close of the above paragraph from Britannica, Robert Owen attempted to demonstrate his socialistic theories by building a community from the ground up in a place called New Harmony, Indiana. In his book, Jennings writes that Robert Owen had come to North America to initiate what he called “the New Moral World.” This was to be,

a new type of society founded upon total equality, brotherly love, and reason…The New Moral World was a secular New Jerusalem, a rationalist’s answer to the millenarian fervor that was already sweeping the United States. Owen believed that technology, new social structures, and mass educa­tion would soon create a perfected human society. ‘What ideas individuals may attach to the term Millennium, I know not,’ he told a group of Scottish millworkers in 1816, ‘but I know that society may be formed so as to exist without crime, without poverty, with health greatly improved…and with intelligence and happiness increased a hundred­ fold: and no obstacle whatsoever intervenes at this moment except igno­rance to prevent such a state of society from becoming universal.’⁴

As mentioned above, Owen’s particular form of utopianism was socialist. Private property in his view was one of the problems that caused otherwise good people to become bad. Man in Owen’s view was good by nature, and it was corrupt social structures that ended up corrupting men. Therefore, once this problem was solved, he would be the one to usher in the new millennium: “This light is now set upon a hill, for it will increase daily, more and more, until it shall be seen, felt, and understood, by all the nations of the earth.” He then concluded by saying in large capital letters, “THUS, IN THE FULLNESS OF TIME…IS THE GREAT WORK ACCOMPLISHED. THE CHANGE HAS COME UPON THE WORLD LIKE A THIEF IN THE NIGHT!”⁵ In short, Owen saw himself as a kind of messianic figure, and even went so far as to describe himself as the “SECOND COMING OF TRUTH.”⁶

During 1825 and 1826, Jennings notes that a total of ten Owenite communities were founded in the United States, and Owen’s views were widely influential. In fact, at one time Friedrich Engels worked as a reporter for Owen’s newspaper and later referred to him as “one of the few born leaders of men.”⁷ He also stated that, “Every social movement, every real advance in England on behalf of the workers links itself on to the name of Robert Owen.”⁸ And in their famous Communist Manifesto, Marx and Engels referred to Owen’s ideas as a “new gospel.”⁹

And yet, with all his fame and apparent success, trouble began to brew in New Harmony. According to Jennings, “an air of mutiny began to prevail in the village,”¹⁰ and Owen himself at one point referred to the divisiveness that began to take over the city that he had founded as a “Babel-like confusion.”¹¹ Could the parallels to Genesis 11 be any more striking? Less than four years after it was founded, Owen’s socialist community in New Harmony ended up being dissolved, which, according to Engels is one of the reasons he and Marx decided against writing a “Socialist Manifesto,” since by 1847, the term was too closely associated with Owenism which was “dying out.”¹²

C.S. Lewis once observed that the trouble that we encounter all around us—all the disease, conflict, and strife—is God’s megaphone reminding us that all is not right with the world. Because we’re created in God’s image, each of us has eternity written on our hearts. Though we all long for Paradise, we simply have no means of getting there—that is, apart from God’s gracious intervention.

Along those lines, there’s another fascinating story found in chapter 28 of Genesis. After Jacob has deceived his father and cheated his brother of his birthright, Esau is now threatening to kill him. So Jacob departs from Canaan and heads off to the land of Haran in Northern Syria. On one night of his journey, he camped for the night and dreamt of “a ladder set up on the earth, with the top reaching to heaven. And behold, the angels of God were ascending and descending on it!” (Gn 28:12).

Commenting on this passage, Richard Bauckham notes that,

the image Jacob seems in his dream is probably not, as most of the translations have it, a ladder, but a staircase…Probably it is a broad stone staircase running up the stepped side of one of the artificial mountains — known as ziggurats — that the people of ancient Mesopotamia built…What’s remarkable about Jacob’s dream is that he sees God not, as one would expect, at the top of the stairway but at the bottom.¹³

Bauckham argues that this is the most likely meaning of the words that are often translated, “the Lord stood above it” (referring to the staircase). That, for example, is the way the verse is rendered in the ESV, but according to Hebrew scholars, there are several other possible options. The wording could also indicate that the Lord stood “beside him” (referring to Jacob), or “upon it” (referring to the stairway).¹⁴

There are some obvious parallels here to Genesis 11. In both of these passages, we find a tower reaching to the heavens. In the first case the tower was never actually completed, but bridging the gap between heaven and earth was at least the stated goal. But according to Gen. 11:5, God came down to look at the tower, and then cursed the inhabitants of the city, with division and confusion. Yet in Gen. 28, a second bridge between heaven and earth comes into view. This time, the ziggurat isn’t man-made but is described as something provided for by God himself. It’s also clear that this stairway isn’t something that Jacob deserves in any way. As you read the story, he wasn’t even looking for God—much less trying to engineer some kind of perfect society. He was simply heading out of town, away from the land that God had promised to Abraham because of his own treachery and deceit.

When we compare the two stories, it becomes clear that there are essentially just two religions in the world. There’s the religion of Genesis 11, in which men attempt to bridge the gap between heaven and earth through their own efforts, and the religion of Genesis 28 in which God graciously descends to us from heaven in order to rescue fallen sinners like you and me.

Though Genesis 28 only refers to Yahweh’s appearance there at the bottom of the stairway, according to verse 11 of chapter 31, it was actually “the Angel of the Lord” who revealed himself to Jacob.¹⁵ Jesus is the messenger of Yahweh, who also happens to be Yahweh.¹⁶ He’s the Word made flesh (Jn 1:14) who, though he was with God, also happens to be God (Jn 1:1). He is the one who bridges the gulf between heaven and earth through his gracious descent.

This is precisely the point that Jesus made when he told Nicodemus, “No one has ascended into heaven except he who descended from heaven, the Son of Man” (Jn 3:13). It’s also the point of Psalm 24 which asks, “Who can ascend the hill of the Lord?” The answer to that question is more than a little disturbing: “He who has clean hands and a pure heart” (Ps 24:3-4). In other words, everyone is excluded.¹⁷

Now, think about the contrast we’ve been considering between Genesis 11 and 28. The residents of Babel were trying to ascend the hill by their own effort and technology. They wished to build a tower reaching to the heavens in order to make a name for themselves. They wanted to be the heroes of their own story. But rather than bridging the gap between heaven and earth, they ended up bringing down a curse that further divided mankind.

In the latter part of John chapter 1, Philip finds his friend Nathanael and tells him about Jesus. Starting at verse 45 he says,

We have found him of whom Moses in the Law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph.” 46 Nathanael said to him, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Philip said to him, “Come and see.” 47 Jesus saw Nathanael coming toward him and said of him, “Behold, an Israelite indeed, in whom there is no deceit!” 48 Nathanael said to him, “How do you know me?” Jesus answered him, “Before Philip called you, when you were under the fig tree, I saw you.” 49 Nathanael answered him,  “Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!” 50 Jesus answered him, “Because I said to you, ‘I saw you under the fig tree,’ do you believe? You will see greater things than these.” 51 And he said to him, “Truly, truly, I say to you, you will see heaven opened, and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man.” 

There is a remarkable similarity here in this passage to what we find in Genesis 28. And when one considers the way that Jesus ends up interpreting that older passage, one can’t help but notice that he is claiming to be the one who appeared to Israel’s patriarch on the grand stairway leading to heaven. In other words, Jesus was making clear to Nathaniel (and everyone who reads this section of John’s Gospel) that he is the one who bridges the gap between heaven and earth. He’s the only one for whom the gates of heaven will open. He doesn’t merely show us the way, he is “the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father but through [him].”

We need to make sure that our theology is rooted in the gracious promises of Genesis 28, rather than the curses of Genesis 11. We need a theology that declares to us that God is the one who graciously descends to us at the moment when we’re not even looking for him, while we’re asleep at the bottom of the staircase. We need to recover a theology that continually reminds us that “No one has ever ascended into heaven except he who descended from heaven.” We need to be continually redirected away from ourselves toward the God who came to fulfill all righteousness in our place.

In his amazing prophecy of the Suffering Servant, Isaiah foretold that “the ends of the earth shall see the salvation of our God” (Is 52:10). “Kings,” he says, “shall shut their mouths because of him” (Is 52:15). Typically, of course, kings would be the ones to commission the construction of great building projects—usually in their own honor. But here, in Isaiah’s prophecy, kings around the world are struck dumb by the startling announcement of God’s gracious descent in the form of a man who was despised and rejected (Is 53:3). Though all we like sheep have gone astray, the LORD lays on him the iniquity of us all (Is 53:6). Of course, at times we might be tempted to look around at the present state of the world, asking, “Who has believed this report?” But Isaiah anticipated this question as well, and responded with a question of his own: “To whom has the arm of the LORD been revealed?” (Is 53:1).

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Shane Rosenthal is the founder and host of The Humble Skeptic podcast. He is the author of Is Faith Blind? (available this Spring), and was one of the creators of the White Horse Inn radio broadcast which he also hosted from 2019-2021. Shane has written numerous articles for various sites and publications, including TableTalk, Core Christianity, Modern Reformation, Heidelblog, and others. He received an M.A. in Historical Theology from Westminster Seminary California, and he lives with his family in the greater St. Louis area.

RELATED BOOKS & ARTICLES
Paradise Now: The Story of American Utopianism, Chris Jennings
The Book of The New Moral World, Robert Owen
Finding Christ in All the Scriptures, Shane Rosenthal
Blessed Are The Pure in Heart?, Shane Rosenthal
The Story of Us, Shane Rosenthal
The Angel of the Lord, Matt Foreman & Doug Van Dorn

RELATED AUDIO
Shane’s interview with Matt Foreman & Doug Van Dorn (Part 1), (Part 2)
Shane’s discussion of Genesis 28 with Michael Horton
Shane’s discussion of Robert Owen with Michael McClymond
Shane’s interview with John Lennox on Evil & AI

1. Leonard Cohen and Sharon Robinson, “Everybody Knows,” I’m Your Man (Columbia Records, 1988). This song has been covered by Don Henley, Concrete Blonde, Rufus Wainwright, and numerous other artists. Additional lyrics from the song include the lines: “Everybody knows that the naked man and woman are just a shining artifact of the past.”

2. Chris Jennings, Paradise Now: The Story of American Utopianism (New York: Random House, 2016), p. 5

3. Ibid., pp. 14,18

4. Ibid., p. 82

5. Ibid., p. 101-102. This tract by Owen was originally titled “A Further Development of the Plan for the Relief of the Poor, and the Emancipation of Mankind,” and was first published in various London newspapers on Sept. 10, 1817.

6. Robert Owen, The Book of the New Moral World, (New York: Augustus M. Kelley Publishers, 1970), Seventh Part, pages 65 and 69. This book was first published in 1942.

7. Friedrich Engels, Socialism: Scientific & Utopian (1880) available online here: https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1880/soc-utop/ch01.htm. You’ll find this quote three quarters of the way down with the paragraph that begins with “At this juncture…”

8. Ibid. This quote can be found close to the end of Part One in the paragraph that begins with “He knew what confronted him…”

9. Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, The Communist Manifesto, 1848. You can find their reference to the “new gospel at the end of chapter 3 here: https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1848/communist-manifesto/ch03.htm

10. Jennings, p. 144

11. Ibid., p. 130

12. Engels says this in the preface to the 1890 edition of the Communist Manifesto: “When it first appeared, we could not have called it a socialist manifesto. In 1847, two kinds of people were considered socialists. On the one hand were the adherents of the various utopian systems, notably the Owenites in England and the Fourierists in France, both of whom, at that date, had already dwindled to mere sects gradually dying out.” https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/download/pdf/Manifesto.pdf

13. Richard Bauckham, Who Is God? (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2020).

14. Whereas Bauckham argues for the former, I think the latter option best explains Jesus’ comment to Nathaniel in John 1:50, “Truly, truly, I say to you, you will see heaven opened, and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man.” In other words, he’s claiming to be the true and ultimate bridge between heaven and earth. I explore this point further toward the conclusion.

15. This becomes particularly clear by reading verses 11 and 13. It’s the Angel of Yahweh who says, “I am the God of Bethel, where you anointed a pillar and made a vow to me.” For an excellent survey of this subject, I recommend Matt Foreman and Doug Van Dorn’s book, The Angel of the Lord.

16. One of the ways of seeing this is in the Fourth Gospel is by paying attention to Jesus’ language, particularly when he claims to be the one “sent by the Father” (Jn 5:23-24, 30, 36-37, 6:38-39, 44, 57, 7:16, 28-29, 33, 8:16, 18, 8:26, 29, 42, 9:4, 10:36, 11:42, 12:44-45, 49, 13:20, 14:24, 15:21, 16:5, 17:8, 18, 21, 23, 25, 20:21 This is the very description of an “angel” or “messenger” (Heb. מַלְאָךְ), which in Ezk 17:15 is rendered, “ambassador” by the ESV and a variety of other translations). In my humble opinion, references to “the Angel of the LORD” throughout the OT should be translated, “The Ambassador of Yahweh.”

17. Ps 143:2 makes this point clear: “Enter not into judgment with your servant, for no one living is righteous before you.”