Count the Stars - Scholarly Article

Abram is Abraham’s original name in Genesis. God later changes it to Abraham to reflect his future role. Episode 4 uses the earlier name because it fits that stage of the story.

In Genesis, Abraham is first called Abram, and only later does God change his name to Abraham (Genesis 17:5). This name change marks a turning point, where God gives him the promise of becoming “the father of many nations.”

Episode 4 uses the name “Abram” because it reflects the earlier phase of his life, before this covenant and renaming take place. It is therefore historically and narratively accurate within the biblical framework.

The meanings of the names are debated, but they are often understood along these lines:
 – Abram may mean something like “exalted father” or “beloved father.”
 – Abraham is linked to the idea of being a father of many, aligning with God’s promise.

In the Qur’an, he is consistently called Ibrahim, and the name change is not mentioned. This means the biblical detail is neither confirmed nor denied in Islamic tradition.

Later on in the book of Genesis, God changes Abram’s name to Abraham: “No longer shall your name be called Abram, but your name shall be Abraham, for I have made you the father of a multitude of nations.” (Genesis 17:5, ESV.) The meaning of both names is much debated. Christopher Eames of the Armstrong Institute of Biblical Archaeology argues that: “Abram as an East Semitic, Akkadian-Babylonian name meaning ‘Beloved Father’” while Abraham is “a West Semitic, Aramaic-inclined name meaning ‘Exalted Father.’”[42]

Islamic writer Imam Mufti comments that:

In the Qur’an, the only name given to Abraham is “Ibraheem” and “Ibrahaam”, all sharing the original root, b-r-h-m. Although in the Bible Abraham is known as Abram at first, and then God is said to change his name to Abraham, the Qur’an has kept silent on this subject, neither affirming nor negating it.[43]

The meaning of the names “Abram” and “Abraham” is a much debated issue. In a 2022 paper, Christopher Eames of the Armstrong Institute of Biblical Archaeology argues that:

Abraham’s family was a West (or Northwest) Semitic family, essentially falling under the “Amorite” umbrella (at least linguistically and geographically), in native association. They were native speakers of a West Semitic language, from which was derived Aramaic, Hebrew, Arabic, etc. Abraham’s family was - as with many other “Amorites” during this specific period [2000–1600 B.C.E.] - living in the East Semitic, Akkadian-speaking Babylonian Empire initially. And Abraham’s original name, Abram, was an Akkadian name meaning something like “Beloved Father.” Following Abram’s migration west, part of the family stayed put in or around Haran . . . among fellow Aramaic-speaking, West Semitic countrymen. . . . Then, following Abram’s commanded further migration south into Canaan . . . and following his obedience to God and fulfilment of certain tests and trials, he was renamed with the West Semitic, more Aramaic-oriented name Abraham, meaning “Exalted Father,” with the promise that this patriarch would become exalted as a “father of a multitude of nations” (Genesis 17:5).[44]

There is no direct archaeological proof of Abraham. But the biblical account fits well with what we know of the ancient Near East. Most scholars see it as rooted in real second-millennium traditions.

There is no direct archaeological evidence that explicitly confirms Abraham as an individual. However, this is not surprising, since he is described as a semi-nomadic figure living nearly 3800 years ago, a type of person unlikely to leave clear archaeological traces. Instead, historians evaluate the credibility of the narrative by comparing it with what we know about the ancient Near East. In this regard, the Genesis account aligns well with its supposed time period.

For example, social customs in the Abraham stories, such as treaties, family structures, and the value of slaves, match what is known from the early second millennium B.C. This suggests the material reflects authentic historical context, not a later invention. Another point is the absence of later religious elements, such as the dominance of the god Baal, which became prominent after 1500 B.C. This absence supports the idea that the traditions may preserve older material.

Scholars also believe that Genesis likely draws on earlier oral and written traditions, rather than being created from scratch at a later date.

So while Abraham cannot be directly proven archaeologically, the surrounding evidence suggests that the biblical account is historically plausible and grounded in its time.

While there’s no direct ancient evidence for Abraham, its unreasonable to expect the existence of such evidence from c. 3800 years ago. However, the traditions about Abraham do appear to date from the second millennium B.C., and our evidence about the ancient Near-East suggests that the Bible’s account about Abram/Abraham is historically credible.

There’s no direct ancient evidence for Abraham, but its unreasonable to expect commoners living an intermittently nomadic lifestyle some 3800 years ago to have left any archaeological evidence we should expect to have discovered (although Egyptologist K.A. Kitchen mentions a possible reference to “The Enclosure of Abram” in an Egyptian topographical list of Shoshenq I of Egypt in 925 B.C.).[45] The biblical narrative is itself historical evidence that can be critically assessed.

Theologian Gordon Wenham argues that the absence of references to the god known as “Baal” from the patriarchal tradition suggests its antiquity:

In the second half of the second millennium BC Baal took over from El as the leading god in the west Semitic pantheon, yet he is never mentioned in Genesis. This is intelligible if the patriarchal tradition originated before about 1500 BC, but not if it comes from later times.[46]

Moreover, as historian Paul L. Maier observes:

details in the biblical account regarding Abraham, such as the treaties he made with neighboring rulers and even the price of slaves, mesh well with what is known elsewhere in the history of the ancient Near East.[47]

The symbolic rather than numerological use of numbers in the patriarchal narratives also indicates their ancient origin.[48]

Kitchen concludes that “the patriarchal narratives do retain much data faithfully preserved from the early second millennium.”[49] According to theologian Clare Amos: “it is almost certain that the final author(s) of this part of Genesis made use of earlier oral and written sources in compiling their work . . .”[50]

Yes, Ur and Haran were real ancient places. They are well attested in archaeology and historical records. The Qur’an simply does not mention them.

Yes, both Ur and Haran were real locations in the ancient Near East.

Ur is widely identified with a major Sumerian city in southern Mesopotamia (modern Iraq), known from extensive archaeological discoveries. However, some scholars suggest there may have been other places named “Ur,” possibly closer to Haran, so the exact identification is debated.

Haran, on the other hand, is well established. It was an important city in northern Mesopotamia (near today’s Turkey-Syria border) and is mentioned in multiple ancient sources, including Akkadian texts going back to the 3rd millennium B.C.

The phrase “Ur of the Chaldees” in Genesis may reflect a later editorial clarification, helping later readers identify which “Ur” is meant. This kind of updating of place names is common in ancient texts.

So while the Qur’an does not mention these locations, the biblical references fit well within what we know from archaeology and ancient history.

Ur and Harran were real places in the ancient Near East of the second millennium B.C.

The Qur’an doesn’t mention Ur or Haran, but these were real places in the ancient Near East of the second millennium B.C.E. However, as theologian Jospeh Coleson explains:

The issue here is whether this Ur where [Abram’s brother] Haran died is the famous Sumerian Ur of southern Mesopotamia or a lesser-known Ur in northern Mesopotamia, not far from the city of [Harran].[51]

According to archaeologist Alan R. Millard:

the case for identifying the Ur (of the Chaldees) in Genesis 11:28, 31 (compare Nehemiah 9:7) with Ur, now Tell el-Muqayyar, in southern Babylonia, remains strong, although available information precludes certainty. . . . A number of cuneiform texts mention several places named Ur, or something like it, but most can be dismissed so far as Genesis is concerned.[52]

If the Sumerian Ur of southern Mesopotamia is indeed intended, the designation “of the Chaldees” is a later editorial addition to the text specifying, in (then) contemporary terms, which “Ur” was being talked about.[53] As Coleson explains:

Insertions of place names or gentilic designations from later times (anachronistic names) into the biblical text are quite common., for the sake of later readers who would not recognize or know the locations by their earlier names.[54]

Ḥarran, a city 16 kilometers north of what is now the Turkish-Syrian border, is still know by that name today: “The city is well known from cuneiform sources, in both Eblaite and Akkadian, reaching back to the 3rd millennium B.C.E., and continuing through the 2nd and 1st millennia B.C.E. as well.”[55]

Abram likely grew up in a polytheistic family. His culture probably included worship of the moon-god. According to the Bible, he later turned to worship one God.

According to the Bible, Abram came from a polytheistic background. Joshua 24:2 states that his father Terah and his family “served other gods,” suggesting they were part of the common religious culture of their time.

Historically, this fits well. Abram is linked to places like Ur and Haran, which were major centers for worship of the moon-god Sin (also called Nanna). Some scholars even suggest that names in his family may reflect connections to this cult. This means Abram likely grew up in an environment shaped by pagan religious practices, not in a purely monotheistic setting.

The Qur’an, however, presents Abraham as a consistent monotheist who did not worship idols (Surah 16:120–123). This aligns with later Jewish traditions that portray him as rejecting idolatry early on.

The Bible does not describe exactly how Abram came to know God, but Genesis 12 presents God’s call as a turning point, where Abram leaves his old life and begins to follow one God.

So historically and biblically, Abram appears as someone who was called out of a polytheistic culture into a new relationship with God, rather than starting there from the beginning.

Abram’s family were originally pagan polytheists, and likely worshipped the Moon-god “Sin” (also called “Nanna”).

According to the Qur’an, “Abraham was indeed an exemplary vanguard in his submission to GOD, a monotheist who never worshiped idols.” (see 16:120–123.) This portrait of Abraham is similar to that found in extra-biblical Jewish midrash.[56] Although one might think from Episode 4 that Abraham’s family were not amongst “most people” who “had forgotten about God,” according to the Old Testament book of Joshua 24:2:

Joshua said to all the people, “Thus says the LORD, the God of Israel, ‘Your fathers lived of old time beyond the River, even Terah, the father of Abraham, and the father of Nahor: and they served other gods.’” (New Heart English Bible)[57]

In his commentary on the book of Joshua, Dale Ralph Davis writes that: “We should not run around the plain implication of the text – that Abraham was plunged into pagan worship just as the rest . . .”[58] As theologian David G. Firth comments:

even though Abraham and his family were worshippers of other gods, Yahweh still chose to work with them . . . he and his family were entirely typical of the culture of which they were a part.[59]

Moreover, as Firth observes, “The Old Testament never tells us how it was that Abraham came to know Yahweh and so to worship him rather than other gods.”[60]

As archaeologist Alan R. Millard explains:

Ur and Harran were the two main centers for worship of the Moon-god, Sin [also called Nanna]. The names Terah (Abraham’s father) and Laban, and possibly Milcah and Sarah, may be linked to the moon cult. Terah may well have been associated with the worship of the moon (see Joshua 24:2).[61]

Historically speaking:

Ur of the Chaldees was an ancient city that flourished until about 300 BC. The great ziggurat of Ur was built by Ur-Nammu around 2100 BC and was dedicated to Nanna, the moon god. The moon was worshiped as the power that controlled the heavens and the life cycle on earth. To the Chaldeans, the phases of the moon represented the natural cycle of birth, growth, decay, and death and also set the measurement of their yearly calendar. Among the pantheon of Mesopotamian gods, Nanna was supreme, because he was the source of fertility for crops, herds, and families.[62]

We don’t know what Abraham knew about God before he and his family followed God’s call to leave Ur.[63] As Zachary Garris writes:

Abraham was a polytheist prior to Genesis 12, and he likely was aware of Yahweh. But it is not clear if Abraham worshipped Yahweh along with other false gods prior to his conversion. What is clear is that Yahweh’s call of Abraham in Genesis 12 was a conversion story, as Abraham . . . came to reject other gods and worship Yahweh alone.[64]

The sacrifice symbolizes a covenant, a binding agreement. In ancient culture, animals were cut to confirm such promises. It shows that God commits Himself to Abram.

Abram’s animal sacrifice reflects an ancient Near Eastern covenant ritual. In Genesis 15, God makes a covenant with Abram, and the word used literally means “to cut,” referring to the cutting of animals. In this type of ceremony, animals were divided, and the parties would pass between them as a way of saying: “May this happen to me if I break this agreement.” It was a serious and binding form of commitment. What is striking in Genesis is that God alone passes between the pieces, not Abram. This shows that the covenant is not based on Abram’s performance, but on God’s promise and faithfulness. So the sacrifice is not about payment for sin in this moment, but about confirming a relationship and promise. In Episode 4, this scene visually communicates that God is entering into a binding agreement with Abram, using a form that people of that time would clearly understand. It highlights a key idea: the covenant depends on God’s initiative, not human effort.

The animal sacrifice is part of a traditional ancient near eastern ceremony symbolizing the  making of a binding agreement or “covenant.”

According to Genesis 15:18 “the LORD made a covenant with Abram . . .” The literal sense of the term translated here as “made” is “cut”. In the words of the Jamieson-Fausset-Brown Bible Commentary:

On occasions of great importance, when two or more parties join in a compact, they either observe precisely the same rites as Abram did, or, where they do not, they invoke the lamp as their witness. According to these ideas, which have been from time immemorial engraven on the minds of Eastern people, the Lord Himself condescended to enter into covenant with Abram. The patriarch did not pass between the sacrifice and the reason was that in this transaction he was bound to nothing. He asked a sign, and God was pleased to give him a sign, by which, according to Eastern ideas, He bound Himself.[65]

Some take Abraham’s age literally, others see it as symbolic. Ancient cultures often used numbers figuratively. So the ages may reflect meaning, not exact years.

Christians differ on whether Abraham’s age should be read literally or symbolically. While some take the numbers at face value, many scholars argue that they reflect ancient literary conventions, not precise chronology.

In the ancient Near East, numbers were often used symbolically or rhetorically, especially in stories about important figures. Other ancient texts, like the Sumerian King List, also use exaggerated or structured numbers to convey honor and significance rather than exact data.

Archaeological evidence suggests that typical lifespans were much shorter, often around 60–70 years. This creates tension if the biblical ages are read strictly literally.

There are also internal challenges. For example, if all ages are taken at face value, some biblical figures would have lived at the same time without any mention of interaction, which seems unlikely.

Because of this, many scholars believe these numbers function as schematic or symbolic, fitting the storytelling style and worldview of the time. However, others still maintain a literal reading, so this remains a debated issue.

In Episode 4, the focus is not on the exact number of years, but on the role and significance of Abraham within the story.

While many Christians take what the Bible says about Abraham’s age literally, given the  cultural context of the ancient near east, it is likely that “the ancient audiences all understood these to be schematic, not arithmetic numbers.”[66] In other words, the numbers used for character ages in the patriarchal stories are figurative rather than literal.

As Egyptologist Kenneth Kitchen notes:

External evidence from burials of all periods all over the biblical world and beyond would indicate that most people died in their sixties or seventies at the latest (and most often, much younger).[67]

Theologian Craig Olsen observes that:

Not only do the lifespans themselves and a chronology based those lifespans create conflicts [with archaeological evidence] outside the Bible, but they create conflicts inside the Bible as well. . . . the face value interpretation of the patriarchal lifespans cannot be maintained consistently. . . . Isaac’s birth is not much of a miracle if both Abraham’s father and grandson fathered children older than 100. It seems unlikely that Abimelech would have taken Sarah for his harem if she were 89 or 90 years old as the face value reading implies. And Jacob volunteering to work for seven years for Rachel’s hand in marriage is ludicrous if he really was 77 years old.[68]

As Carol A. Hill points out:

If the genealogies in Genesis 5 and 11 are both literal and complete, then the death of Adam has to be dated to the generation of Noah’s father Lamech. Shem, Arphaxad, Shelah, and Eber would have outlived all of the generations following as far and including Terah. Noah would have been the contemporary of Abraham for 58 years and Shem (Noah’s son) would have survived Abraham by 35 years. But where does the Bible indicate that any of these men were coeval? They are spoken of as respected ancestors, not as contemporaries that interacted with them or who were to be cared for in their old age.[69]

However, as Olsen also observes:

There is also no evidence of any ancient culture recording lifespans or reigns of ancient ancestors as accurate face value numbers. All the evidence discovered to date shows that ancient cultures either did not record the lifespans of their ancestors, or they exaggerated their lifespan or reign using symbolic numbers as a way to bestow honor. . . . Ancient texts, like the Sumerian King List, the Gilgamesh Epic, the Lagaš King List, and Egyptian writings use numbers for rhetorical effect. They do exhibit use of multiplication and fractions; not for accurate record keeping, but hyperbolically to exaggerate and glorify their gods, kings or ancestors. They also use round numbers (10, 20, 30, 40, 60, 100, 200), sacred numbers (e.g., repeated use of the number seven), and graded numbers. All of these are also common biblical rhetorical devices . . .[70]

Likewise, Hill explains that:

the purpose of numbers in ancient religious texts could be numerological rather than numerical. Numerologically, a number’s symbolic value was the basis and purpose for its use, not its secular value in a system of counting. One of the religious considerations of the ancients involved in numbers was to make certain that any numbering scheme worked out numerologically; i.e., that it used, and added up to, the right numbers symbolically. This is distinctively different from a secular use of numbers in which the overriding concern is that numbers add up to the correct total arithmetically. Another way of looking at it is that the sacred numbers used by the Mesopotamians gave a type of religious dignity or respect to important persons or to a literary text. . . . Figurative numbers are used throughout the Old Testament, and also (but less frequently) in the New Testament.[71]

Olsen adds that: “A symbolic understanding of the patriarchal lifespans supports the antiquity of their origin, and it allows them to speak in the idiom of their day.”[72]