The image of God weighing a person's life ("soul") as if on scales has its roots in deep, pre-biblical antiquity. This image became central for describing what in the pagan world was called the judgment of the gods, and in some biblical books it appears as an element in the description of the Last Judgment.

It is entirely natural that such weighing becomes a moment of truth for a person. Each of us is inclined in one way or another to justify ourselves and our actions; for a truly sober spiritual analysis of one's own life, a special revelation is needed, and not everyone receives it. But for God all the movements of our heart, all our motives and intentions, are transparent. He understands at first glance "how much we weigh," or, using images more familiar to us, what we are worth.

It would seem that sufficient life experience and elementary honesty with oneself should free anyone from illusions about oneself. But things are not so simple: the real causes of one's actions, those very motives and intentions that determine them, usually are indeed hidden from the inner sight of a fallen person. Life experience alone is not enough here, just as the ordinary honesty available to a person who does not wish to deceive himself is not enough.

It is no accident that both Jewish and Christian prayer practices know special kinds of appeals to God asking Him to show the one who prays the true state of his soul, to let him understand the real causes of his actions, and to see the sins that obstruct normal relationship with God. It is surely better to be freed now from everything that prevents full spiritual life than to learn about it at the Last Judgment.

What is the meaning of the union-covenant God made with Abraham? Of course, when answering this question, we usually immediately remember the promises God gave Abraham about the future of his tribe, which was to grow, become a people, and create its own state in the land through which Abraham had to wander. But is that the main thing? When Abraham meets God, he hears astonishing words: I am my covenant with you, God says to Abraham. Not the promised land, not the Torah, not the commandments, but God Himself becomes the pledge of the covenant that has been made.

And this is not surprising, because everything else depends on Him and is determined by Him. A covenant is, above all, a relationship, and no promises can guarantee relationships, even promises fulfilled to the end. Receiving the land and creating a state do not ensure closeness with God; they can be a consequence, but not a cause. Even the Torah, the commandments that centuries later would be given to the people through Moses, guarantee nothing by themselves. After all, the Torah too can be emptied out, reduced to formalism and legalism that brings no one closer to God and does not foster a living relationship with Him. Only God Himself can guarantee that the union-covenant between Him and His people will remain unshakable.

Of course, much also depends here on the people themselves, since a covenant involves at least two parties. But if anyone can repair what appears beyond repair, restore relationships that seem irretrievably destroyed, it is only the One who initiated the union-covenant. And in this is hope. Hope for the Kingdom, for the Messiah, and for salvation.

Today's passage contains the story of another meeting with God, one very important for Abraham. Here God for the first time reveals to Abraham the name by which He will be called for several centuries, up to the period of the Exodus. This name is El-Shaddai, "God of power" (v. 1). The translation "God Almighty" can formally be considered correct, but it does not reflect the full depth of the meaning of the name revealed to Abraham. For the point here is not only that the God of Abraham can do everything. The point is power, the power everyone in antiquity knew about, the supernatural power that lies at the foundation of the universe, hidden behind nature and manifesting itself in the most varied natural phenomena, from a lightning strike to a spring bursting forth in a dry steppe. The ancients believed that gods, spirits, and even some people, such as leaders, priests, sorcerers, and magicians, possessed this power. But no one ever claimed to be its only source and bearer. Meanwhile God, turning to Abraham, speaks of Himself precisely as "God of power," the God who is its only source and steward. Such a God, of course, cannot fail to be the Creator of the world and its only Sovereign.

But in this meeting there was something else, no less important. It is no accident that precisely now Abram becomes Abraham, and Sarai becomes Sarah; their former names were different (vv. 5, 15). A change of name always, among all peoples, meant a serious inner change. It meant that the former person who bore the old name no longer existed; in his place another, new person had appeared, and this new person bore a new name. Evidently, together with the name of his God, Abraham learns something else, perhaps something more important. But this "something" apparently belongs among those inner changes that cannot be expressed in words, and the sacred author only hints at the change that took place in Abraham by mentioning his new name.

Only now does God fulfill His promise about an heir (vv. 6-8, 16-21). It could not have been otherwise, for Abraham's heir had to be not simply the leader of his tribe, but also the leader of God's people. Among nomadic peoples in those times, a leader usually also fulfilled the role of chief priest; responsibility for relations with the higher powers rested on him. Abraham's heir therefore had to become, like Abraham himself, a man of God, a leader not only military and political, but also spiritual. And for this, both Abraham himself and Sarah had to live through a meeting with God and spiritual renewal, becoming different people.

One cannot enter into covenant with God and remain the same. He will unfailingly transform and renew spiritually those whom He has called after Himself, so as to make them worthy of the covenant that has been made.