Making a Better Name

Humanity's Pursuit of Our Own Great Name

The Cultural Obsession with Greatness

One of the phrases that I hear a lot among the younger generations is the term "GOATed." Maybe you've heard it before. For those of you who don't know—and I can promise you there are some, because I told my family about this last night and they asked, "What in the world are you talking about?"—to be a GOAT is to be the Greatest Of All Time.

What's interesting isn't the phrase itself, but what it reveals: we love greatness.

In fact, there are tons of debates about who various GOATs are, right? We have the GOAT of football. Lots of people nowadays say it's Tom Brady; I would disagree.

There's the GOAT of basketball—it's Michael Jordan, it just is. We talk about who's the greatest president, who's the greatest inventor. We always want to say who is the best and who is the greatest. There seems to be something inside of us that doesn't just want to witness something great, but rather wants to be great—we want our name to be remembered.

Ancient Echoes and Modern Babels

This isn't a modern obsession. Across history, humanity has chased greatness in remarkably similar ways.

In the Iliad, an ancient Greek poem, the great warrior Achilles tells us the story of his fate. He says his mother, Thetis, the silver-footed goddess, told him that two fates bore him on to the day of his death. If he remained in Troy and fought around the city, his return home would be gone, but his glory would be imperishable. If he returned home to his dear native land, his noble glory would be lost, but his life would be long. If you know the story, he chooses to stay and fight. He dies a very quick death, but his reputation remains today, as we still read the Iliad and talk about Achilles.

During the Enlightenment in the 1600s and 1700s, a number of philosophers pointed us toward the idea that humanity, at one point or another, would be able to know all that there is to know. One of those philosophers, a guy by the name of René Descartes, described the benefits of science by saying that we can become "masters and possessors of nature"—that we will know it and own it.

Today, we see movements like transhumanism. The idea of transhumanism is that we are seeking, essentially, without saying it, to overcome the Fall. Some of those ideas include reversing aging so that we can stay young for as long as humanly possible, using prosthetics or cybernetics to enhance our abilities to make us "more than human," and actively changing our human genetics to make ourselves greater and different than we've ever been. Many of them would say they want to bring human evolution to a new place where humanity is greater than we could ever imagine.

Twisted Good Desires

What's interesting about these examples is they all reflect something true about us as humans, because the fact is, we all bear God's image. We were created for significance, for creativity, for dominion. We were made to accomplish meaningful and wonderful things.

But sin twists that good desire, and it creates a darker reality. Notice how all three examples are done at best apart from God, and at worst, trying to take the place of God.

We, too, can build little towers for ourselves. Maybe it's when we go around saying we'd like to be known as the best church: "Hey, come visit my church, we're the best." Or when we want others to see our family as having it all together: "Kids, come on, gotta sit in a row, gotta be quiet during service, don't make noises during the sermon. We don't want people to think we don't have it together." Perhaps it's what we want to be known for in the ways that we're influencing others for Christ. In fact, even our ministries here at the church can sometimes become another attempt to make a name for ourselves.

There's nothing wrong with the desire to do things well. Again, I think that's part of the image of God. But the temptation—and one so easy to fall into—is to make greatness the goal.

Our text today confronts this desire head-on. The story of Babel isn't just a story about towers and bricks. It's about names: ours and God's. It's about glory: ours or God's.

Because we seek to make our names great, God calls us instead to bring glory to his great name.

We're going to look at this through three lenses:

1. Humanity's pursuit of our own great name.
2. God alone possesses and graciously shares a truly great name.
3. God's graciousness gathers a people together who will share His name.

Contextualizing Genesis 11

The story of the Tower of Babel sits at the end of Genesis 1 through 11. Sometimes we refer to this as the primeval history. It's deep history, the kind of stuff we have no other ancient texts about. But it plays a very important role in our understanding of how the whole arc of the Bible plays itself out—how the story works from start to finish.

Genesis 1 and 2 show us that God created the world and created it good. He created humanity as the capstone of that, and we are His image-bearers. We were called in Genesis 1 and 2 to fill the earth, to take God's image to the ends of the earth, and to subdue it.

But Genesis 3 shows us how humanity's goodness was broken with the entrance of sin into our world. In Genesis 4 through 7, we see this recurring theme of sin and death, culminating in the story of Noah and the Flood, where God saves one family but destroys the rest of humanity because all of humanity was always evil all the time.

In Genesis 9:7, right before God makes a covenant with Noah, He gives a command to Noah, reiterating His command to Adam: "Be fruitful and increase in number; multiply on the earth and increase upon it." This is really important because it sets us up for what happens in our story.

Settling in Shinar

As we look at verse 1, it tells us that the whole world had one language and a common speech. This means these people could communicate everything they wanted to communicate. They could have common goals and common tasks. That would be a wonderful thing if the hope was to serve God together.

Verse 2 gives us the setting for our story: the people moved eastward, found a plain in Shinar, and settled there. This is pretty important because we don't really know how much time has passed from the Flood to the story of the Tower of Babel. We do know that the ark landed somewhere in Turkey, and when we get to the plain of Shinar, we're looking somewhere in modern Iraq. There's a lot of travel going on, probably over a number of generations. It would seem there is enough time that a solid repopulation of the world has occurred.

The text tells us that they settled at this place called Shinar. It's most likely what we would consider today ancient Mesopotamia, near where the city of Babylon would be planted and become great. It's a city situated among the Tigris and Euphrates rivers, a place we call the Fertile Crescent. It is well-watered, and history has shown that it was a great place to grow a civilization. When the people land here, they think, This is the place.

The Symbolism of Brick and Tar

Once they settle, verse 3 tells us that they say to one another, "Come, let us make bricks and bake them thoroughly." It goes on to tell us how they used brick instead of stone, and tar for mortar.

In some ways, this feels like a throwaway line. Why should I care what they used? It is helpful for us to understand the context of the original hearers of Genesis, who were most likely the Israelites who were recently freed from slavery in Egypt. One of the realities for those Israelites was the hardship of making bricks for Pharaoh.

In fact, one of the two other places in the Old Testament where we see the same word for "tar" used in this text is in Exodus 2:3, where Moses' mother makes a basket for him and coats it with tar and pitch. The language of tar and mortar is a horrible reminder to the first readers of a great civilization—Egypt—using human slaves to reach its glorious ends.

When verse 3 speaks about making bricks, it isn't just a neutral statement. The language of brick and tar later becomes deeply connected to the oppressive labor Israel experienced in Egypt. This shows us from the start that whatever these people are doing, it is not a good thing.

Scaling the Heavens

Verse 4 tells us more: "Come, let us build for ourselves a city, with a tower that reaches to the heavens, so that we may make a name for ourselves; otherwise we will be scattered over the face of the whole earth." There's a lot packed into this verse. Let's start with their purpose: to make a name for themselves. Their desire was their own greatness. We use this phrase sometimes today, right? Someone says, "I want to go make a name for myself. I've worked with this business, I'm pretty good, but it's time for me to break out and start my own business." When we say that, we're saying, "I want to be great." They wanted to be known. They wanted to do something that would bring others to them.

In order to do so, they build a city. As I mentioned before, the city is located where Babylon would later rise. Babylon itself is a name connected to this tower; Babel is the namesake for the great enemy of God's people for nearly the rest of the Scriptures. Not only that, but there's still a large city not too far away from that very place today: Baghdad. On one level, these people succeeded. There was a great empire for a large portion of human history, and a city of sorts still remains.

The second thing to see is that they desire to build a tower that "reaches to the heavens." At first glance, why is building a tower a problem? Should we be opposed to the size of skyscrapers? (Maybe here in Bozeman I like to see the mountains, but are skyscrapers inherently bad?)

Let's not miss the symbolism of the phrase "reaches to the heavens." They weren't just saying they wanted to build a tower as big as the One World Trade Center; they were saying they wanted to build a tower that reaches into the realm of God.

We have examples of these towers in the ancient world, particularly in this area, and they were called ziggurats. They could be anywhere from 60 feet to 200 feet tall, which in the ancient world was a massive building. These particular buildings were connected to the worship of gods. They were seen as the stairway from which the gods would come down from heaven to earth and into their temples.

Imagine being a group of people who wanted to be known as great. What's greater than saying, "We can literally storm the heavens and bring the gods down"? That's the kind of thing that makes people say, "Come and join us, we've got something going on here."

The Path of Oppression

What really is Babel? It would seem that they represent a people who are oppressive in the building of their city, seeking to make a great name for themselves in rebellion against God.

This pattern isn't just true for ancient Mesopotamia; the annals of history are full of stories just like this. Rome was one of the great empires in world history. They boasted of the Pax Romana—the Peace of Rome—as their empire moved further and further out. The idea was that whenever they took over, they brought peace. But that peace came with a sword. One of the German leaders they conquered was quoted by a Roman historian as saying of the Romans, "Where they make a desert, they call it peace." It was great to be a Roman in the Pax Romana; it wasn't necessarily great to be someone they conquered.

In modern history, we see the way the Soviet Union made itself into a great nation on the backs of millions of people whom they subjugated. Even our own modern Western history shows that part of our greatness was historically connected to the enslavement of millions of people.

When human greatness becomes ultimate greatness, history shows it tends toward oppression.

This, of course, is not what God intended. We see this individually as well. Anytime we attempt to secure an identity, a unity, or meaning apart from God's command and God's presence, we are building our own little towers. We do this all the time.

God Alone Possesses and Graciously Shares a Truly Great Name

The Divine Irony

But the tower is not the final word in the story. God responds—not only to the tower in the text, but ultimately to our own attempts at making our names great.

Verse 5 is the turning point in this story, and it is full of irony. The people of Babylon said, "We are going to build a tower so that we can reach the heavens." But the text tells us something different: it says that God, sitting in the heavens, had to look down at their tower and "come down" to see it. It was so small to Him that He had to stoop just to look at it.

The first thing we see here is the futility of trying to make our names great apart from God. We can't do it. God has to come down and check our futility.

The other thing to notice is that God is responsive. He didn't simply scoff at humanity's attempt to enter the heavens or their idolatry. He didn't say, "Oh well, that's just stupid people being stupid." He responded, He engaged them, and He continues to engage us when we do that.

Verse 6 tells us the Lord's perspective: "If as one people speaking the same language they have begun to do this, then nothing they plan to do will be impossible for them." A surface reading might make us think that humanity with one language could accomplish absolutely anything and that that is the problem. But I don't think that's what the text is saying. Another reading could be: if this is where these people who are speaking the same language have started, then there is no evil or idolatry they conceive that will be impossible for them. It is a condemnation of the heart of a people who seek a greatness other than God's, because He knows what that greatness entails—the same death and destruction we see throughout Genesis 3 through 10, but on a much larger scale.

Finally, verse 7 gives us God's solution: "Come, let us go down and confuse their language." As we've seen all throughout Genesis up until now, the Lord will not stand for humanity seeking its own greatness.

The Incomparable Name of God

The Scriptures tell us a very different story about who God is, about His name, and about His greatness. The Scriptures tell us that God's greatness is incomparable. Psalm 8:1 cries out, "O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth! You have set your glory in the heavens." Psalm 113:4–6 says that the Lord is exalted over all the nations, His glory is above the heavens, and asks, "Who is like the Lord our God, the One who sits enthroned on high, who stoops down to look on the heavens and the earth?" It tells us that His name is beyond our grasp. In Judges 13:18, Manoah asks the angel of the Lord what his name is, and the angel responds, "Why do you ask my name? It is beyond understanding."

The beauty of this is the difference between God and humanity apart from God: God shares His greatness. In the very next chapter of Genesis, God speaks to Abraham and says in Genesis 12:2, "I will make you into a great nation, and I will bless you; I will make your name great." Don't miss the connection here. At Babel, humanity seeks to make their own name great. But with Abraham, it is God who bestows it. In Numbers 6:27, God says of the priests of Israel working on His behalf, "So they will put my name on the Israelites, and I will bless them." God doesn't have to share anything that He has, and yet He grants greatness as He desires.

God's greatness puts ours to shame. When humanity tries to take greatness for itself, it sounds a little bit like the original Frankenstein movie from 1931. When Dr. Frankenstein makes the creature, he screams out, "Now I know what it's like to be God!" But if you watch the rest of the story, his creation brings only pain. When we say that we can master or possess nature itself, we end up doing things like creating bombs that can destroy cities.

But God responds because He alone possesses a truly great name. Just like He did to Abraham, He offers to share His greatness and glory with His people because we share in Him.

God's Graciousness Gathers a People Together Who Will Share His Name

From Scattering to Gathering

If the story ended here, it would still only be a story of judgment. But instead, what we see is that even in His judgment, God is moving toward mercy.

Verses 8 and 9 repeat for us that the Lord scattered them over the whole earth. Don't miss the significance here. This isn't simply a statement of Him transporting people across the earth like a Star Trek "beam me up" moment. It is a fulfillment of the command that God gave to Adam and again to Noah: Fill the earth. Left to their own devices, humanity has shown all throughout Genesis 1 through 11 that it will only rebel against God. So God graciously takes care of the problem and fulfills the command they chose not to fulfill.

Looking at the very next chapter, out of all those nations, God chooses one family to create a people for Himself. In Deuteronomy 7:7–8, it makes it clear that it wasn't the greatness of the Israelites that made God choose them, but rather His gracious love: "The Lord did not set his affection on you and choose you because you were more numerous than the other peoples, for you were the fewest of all peoples. But it was because the Lord loved you and kept the oath he swore to your ancestors..." It was God's desire.

The Undoing of Babel

The place where we see God's grace in gathering a people to Himself most clearly is in Acts chapter 2. Some have called Acts 2 the day the church began. The church can be quickly described as the assembly of God's people.

Look at the wonderful connections we see in Acts 2. First, the Holy Spirit comes down. When He does, the disciples go out and start speaking. Even though they speak in their own native tongue, the text tells us that everyone heard them in their own language. The crowds ask, "Aren't all these who are speaking Galileans? Then how is it that each of us hears them in our native language?" Listen to all the different places and languages represented there: Parthians, Medes, and Elamites; residents of Mesopotamia, Judea, and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya near Cyrene; visitors from Rome (both Jews and converts to Judaism); Cretans and Arabs—we hear them declaring the wonders of God in our own tongues!

Acts 2 is the undoing of Babel.

Instead of a people gathering to build a tower so that they won't scatter, the people of God—who now speak many languages—are gathered together in the worship of God. They are about to hear of God's great work in Christ.

Second, we have a reference to name-making here because Peter isn't declaring his own glory as he gives his speech. In Acts 2, Peter is declaring the name of Christ, the name of God Himself. In his sermon, Peter declares that the crowd is responsible for Jesus' death—something they deserved judgment for. But that's not what God intends to do. Instead, they hear God's mercy.

In verses 23 and 24, Peter declares, "You put Jesus to death, but God raised him up." Verse 36 says that God has made Him both Lord and Messiah. The people who are there respond and ask, "What should we do?" Peter tells them in verse 38: "Repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins."

At Pentecost, we see the reverse of Babel. At Babel, the people had one language, were one people, and were united under their own perceived greatness—and they ended up scattered. At Pentecost, the people had many languages, but were united in Christ under one gospel—and instead of being scattered, they were gathered together into a new people.

Whose Name is Great?

We spend a lot of time asking who the GOAT is, but Genesis is asking a very different question. It’s not asking who the greatest human or the greatest people is, but rather: Whose name is truly great? The answer isn't Achilles, it isn't America, it isn't our great science, and it isn't even our great church. The answer is our great God, who has come down in the person of Jesus to gather a people to Himself—a people who are called not to make themselves great, but to proclaim His greatness to the nations.

That is our final hope. Therefore, we can all sing with the psalmist: "O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth."

transcribed by Sermonspark.ai