The Rise of Nations and the Founding of Salem

The scattering of Babel reshaped the early world. The unity of the pre-scattering generations dissolved into a mosaic of tribes, tongues, and territories (Genesis 11:8–9). The seventy nations listed in the Table of Nations went forth to their appointed inheritances, and from these families arose the civilizations that would define the next era of sacred history (Genesis 10:1–32; Jubilees 10:22–34; Josephus, Antiquities 1.6.1–4). Yet amidst this dispersion, one man remained fixed, immovable, and steadfast: Shem, the firstborn of the new earth, whom ancient sources identify as Melchizedek, the priest-king who preserved the Ancient Order (Genesis Rabbah 46:7; Targum Jonathan on Genesis 14:18; Book of the Bee 21).

As the nations settled in distant lands, they took with them fragments of memory—some recalling Noah, others the Flood, others the tower, and still others the names of the patriarchs. But these memories became distorted as the tribes developed their own customs, rituals, and gods. In Mesopotamia, the Sumerian priesthood elevated the city-temple and its divine patrons above all else, shaping the complex interplay of king, god, and temple that defined Early Dynastic and Ur III culture (ED III royal inscriptions; Steinkeller, City-State Development; Samuel Noah Kramer, History Begins at Sumer). In Egypt, the ideology of divine kingship matured during the Fourth and Fifth Dynasties, culminating in the pyramid temples and sun-worship of the Old Kingdom (Genesis 10:6,13–14; Wilkinson, Early Dynastic Egypt; Lichtheim, Ancient Egyptian Literature).

The world Abraham would one day inherit was forming. Shinar grew into competing city-states. Egypt entered its classical consolidation. The highlands of Anatolia birthed the kings of the Hatti. Canaan’s cities multiplied—Jericho, Hazor, Megiddo, and Shechem—each becoming small fortified kingdoms (Early Bronze III–IV strata; Amarna proto-urban sites; Albright, Archaeology of Palestine). And the regions around Ararat and the upper Tigris continued to house agrarian, kin-based clans whose way of life reflected the covenant traditions of Noah and Shem (Upper Tigris EB II–III settlements; Sagona, Archaeology of the Caucasus; Wilkinson, Northern Mesopotamian Survey).

But as these kingdoms rose, idolatry rose with them. The cults of the sun, moon, stars, and elements spread across the earth—each culture shaping myths to replace the covenant truths received from Adam, Seth, and Noah. In Shinar the priests read the heavens and consulted omens (Akkadian celestial texts; Oppenheim, Ancient Mesopotamia). In Egypt the dead were prepared for an afterlife in which the king reigned among the gods (Pyramid Texts; Coffin Texts). In the Levant the cults of fertility and the high places began to flourish (EB II–III Canaanite cultic sites; Dever, Canaanite Religion).

In these generations of cultural flowering and spiritual decline, Shem remained a solitary beacon of righteousness. He carried the garment of Adam, the tablets of the fathers, and the unbroken priesthood lineage that had passed from Adam to Seth, through Enoch and Noah, and now through him to the coming generations (Book of the Bee 21; Jubilees 8:19; Cave of Treasures 14–16). He remained the guardian of the covenant even as darkness spread across the nations.

It was in these days that Shem established a sanctuary—a high place set apart for worship, instruction, and covenant renewal. Ancient tradition identifies this sanctuary as the earliest form of Salem, later known as the city of the Great King (Genesis 14:18; Psalm 76:2). Situated in the hill country of Canaan, Salem was not built as a fortress or palace like the cities of Ham’s descendants, but as a gathering place for those who sought the Most High God (Genesis Rabbah 46:7; Targum Jonathan on Genesis 14:18).

Salem was founded not on domination but on peace; not on brick and bitumen but on covenant and sacrifice. Its altar was of unhewn stone. Its priest-king was Shem. Its laws reflected the Ancient Order: stewardship of land, consecration of substance, the offering of firstlings, and the teaching of the patriarchal order to all who sought righteousness (Jubilees 7:20–29; Book of the Bee 21; Testament of Levi 18:2–4).

While the nations built empires, Shem built a sanctuary. While kings of Shinar sought dominion, Shem sought renewal. While Egypt exalted its Pharaohs, Shem exalted the Most High. Thus Salem became the spiritual heart of the scattered world—a place where the faithful remnant gathered to hear the teachings of the Ancient Order, preserved since Adam and renewed through Noah.

The Scriptures speak briefly but powerfully of Melchizedek, “king of Salem, priest of the Most High God” (Genesis 14:18). But the ancient writings preserve far more: that this Melchizedek was Shem, the holy patriarch whose ministry stretched across centuries and whose influence shaped the course of sacred history (Genesis Rabbah 46:7; Targum Jonathan; Book of the Bee 21). As the world fell into idolatry, Shem stood alone as the great priest-prophet of his age.

From Salem, Shem taught the scattered remnant the original doctrines of the fathers. He taught that God is not worshiped through images, nor honored by temples of brick, nor represented by kings who claim divinity—teachings that directly contradicted the rising ideologies of Egypt, Shinar, and Canaan (Exodus 20:4 echoes this ancient ban; Wisdom of Solomon 13:1–9; Jubilees 12:1–5). He taught the patriarchal pattern of governance: that families were to be ruled by righteous fathers under the authority of the Most High, not by tyrants who exalted themselves over nations (Genesis 18:19; Jubilees 7:20–29; Testament of Levi 18:2–4).

Shem’s authority was not political but spiritual. His priesthood was older than the cities, older than the nations, older even than the Flood. It was the priesthood of Adam, passed through Seth, preserved by Enoch, guarded by Methuselah, stored in the ark through Noah, and now renewed by Shem (Book of the Bee 21; Jubilees 8:19; Cave of Treasures 14–16). His influence reached far beyond the borders of Salem. Tribes from the north, east, and west made pilgrimage to learn from him—Arameans from the upper Euphrates, Amorites from the hill country, and wandering pastoralists who still remembered the ways of the patriarchs (Genesis 14:13; Mari Amorite tablets; Sagona, Caucasus Pastoralist Cultures).

Yet even as Shem taught light, darkness continued to spread. The rise of idolatry in the Mesopotamian heartland intensified under the priest-kings of the Ur III dynasty. Ur-Nammu and Shulgi codified ritual systems that merged political power with divine kingship, creating a fusion of statecraft and religious authority that violated the Ancient Order at its core (Ur-Nammu Law Code; Shulgi Hymns; Steinkeller, Third Dynasty of Ur). Shulgi even proclaimed himself a god, receiving offerings and constructing temples in his own name—an abomination in the eyes of the patriarchal covenant (Shulgi Deification Texts; Kramer, Sumerian Mythology).

Meanwhile, in Canaan, the early Amorite tribes began establishing fortified settlements across the hill country, carrying with them a mixture of ancestral memory and idolatrous custom. Their villages, shrines, and high places show a religious world increasingly divorced from the covenant given through Noah and Shem (EB III–IV cultic remains at Megiddo, Hazor, and Ai; Dever, Did God Have a Wife?). In the north, the Hatti kings shaped Anatolia into a confederation of temple-states, with priests and rulers sharing authority in ways that mirrored the false unions of Shinar and Egypt (Bryce, Kingdom of the Hittites; Gurney, The Hittites).

But Salem remained pure. Its foundation was covenant, not conquest. Its priesthood was eternal, not inherited by birth alone. Its laws reflected the order of heaven, not the ambitions of kings. It stood as a silent rebuke to the nations rising around it, and a witness that God had not abandoned the world to idolatry.

It was during these centuries that many of the great early kingdoms of the world reached their formative heights. Egypt developed the height of its Old Kingdom splendor under the Fourth and Fifth Dynasties, building pyramids and establishing a powerful priestly caste (Wilkinson, Early Dynastic Egypt; Lichtheim, Egyptian Literature). Mesopotamia saw the rise of the great Sumerian and pre-Akkadian cities—Ur, Lagash, Umma, Kish—each with its own dynasties and temple complexes (ED III–Ur III urban strata; Kramer, History Begins at Sumer). The Levant experienced the growth of fortified towns and proto-urban centers. Even the distant lands of Indo-Iranian migration and early Anatolian polities show movements and settlements traceable to Japheth’s lines (Kura–Araxes sites; Mellink, AJA 1965; Kohl, Bronze Age Eurasia).

But the greatest figure of this era was not a king of Egypt, nor a ruler of Sumer, nor a lord of the Hatti. The greatest was Shem—Melchizedek—the priest of the Most High God. His life spanned centuries, his influence touched nations, and his ministry upheld the covenant in a world rapidly losing its memory of the beginning (Genesis 11:10–11; Jubilees 10:12–17; Genesis Rabbah 46:7).

He taught righteousness in a world drowning in idolatry. He preserved truth in an age of spiritual confusion. And he prepared a holy city for the time when God would call forth a chosen man from among the nations. That man would be Abraham, descendant of Shem, seeker of the Ancient Order, and heir to the promises made before the world was divided.

As Shem ministered from Salem, the nations continued to drift into the shadows cast by their own ambition. The power of Nimrod’s empire did not vanish with Babel’s collapse; it reassembled itself in new forms. Survivors of Shinar’s dispersion regrouped in Babylon, Nippur, and Erech, shaping the cultic and political identity of southern Mesopotamia for centuries (Oates, Babylon; Postgate, Early Mesopotamia). From these centers flowed the ideology of the “four corners of the earth,” a royal theology that taught kings to rule by conquest rather than stewardship (Stele of Naram-Sin; ANET 268–270).

The same spirit rose in Egypt as the priest-kings of the Old Kingdom identified the Pharaoh as the “son of Ra,” a divine intermediary between heaven and earth. Pyramid Texts from Saqqara record invocations claiming that the king “ascends to heaven and takes his place among the gods”—a doctrine utterly foreign to the Ancient Order preserved by Shem (Pyramid Texts 570–590; Lichtheim, Ancient Egyptian Literature vol. I).

In Canaan, the Amorite clans filled the central highlands with fortified towns and hilltop shrines. Archaeological evidence from EB III–IV layers reveals altars, standing stones, and cultic installations dedicated to Baal, El, and Asherah—idolatrous forms of worship that distorted echoes of patriarchal truth (Dever, Did God Have a Wife?; Albright, Archaeology of Palestine). The children of Shem who joined these settlements gradually abandoned the agrarian covenant-life of Noah for the urban practices of tribute, hierarchy, and enforced rule.

Yet through all this spread of empire and idolatry, the influence of Salem endured. Travelers returning from the ancient sanctuary spoke of a man whose wisdom surpassed that of kings, whose age defied mortality, and whose priesthood bore the authority of heaven itself. They told of altars without images, sacrifices without idols, and a city without walls—a place ruled not by a crown, but by a covenant (Genesis 14:18; Genesis Rabbah 46:7; Targum Jonathan on Genesis 14:18).

Shem’s reputation extended far beyond the land of Canaan. Amorite merchants traveling between Mari and Ebla spoke of “the Priest of the Most High” who taught that the Creator was not many but One (Mari Letters ARM II; Gordon, Ebla Tablets). Hittite scribes in the north recorded the presence of “holy men of the old law” dwelling in the west (Hittite religious texts, CTH 372). Even Egyptian texts hint at foreign sages whose wisdom rivaled their own priests—echoes, perhaps, of Salem’s influence (Instruction of Ptahhotep; Amenemope traditions).

But Salem was not simply a refuge; it was a preparatory center. The covenant could not remain forever hidden in the mountains. A man had to be called to carry it into the nations themselves—a chosen vessel who would restore the Ancient Order to a world divided by language, scattered across lands, and enslaved by idolatry.

For centuries Shem waited for that man. Prophecies preserved from the days of Noah foretold that a child would arise in the tenth generation after the Flood—a son of promise who would overthrow idolatry, renew the covenant, and reconnect the scattered threads of the patriarchal order (Jubilees 10:12–14; Genesis Rabbah 38:13; Jasher 7:25–29). Salem’s priest knew the signs, and he watched the nations with patient expectation.

Meanwhile, the geopolitical landscape shifted again. The Gutian tribes who once overthrew Akkad were driven out by the Sumerian kings of Uruk, clearing the way for the rise of Ur-Nammu and the Third Dynasty of Ur (Steinkeller, Third Dynasty of Ur; Kramer, History Begins at Sumer). Their empire reestablished order across Mesopotamia but also deepened the union of religion and state—binding the people to ziggurats, priesthoods of idols, and labor systems foreign to the covenant given to Adam.

At the same time, early Middle Bronze migrations began flowing down the Levantine corridor. These movements introduced new tribal networks, trade routes, and cultural forms into the region—some of which carried echoes of the ancient patriarchal traditions, while others intensified syncretism and idolatry (MB I–II migration studies; Dever, Israel's History and Tradition).

Through all these changes, Salem remained unchanged. Its priesthood did not depend on empire. Its altar did not depend on temples. Its authority did not depend on kings. And its light was not extinguished by the darkness of the nations.

Thus Abram came into the presence of the two greatest men of the age—Noah, the preacher of righteousness, and Shem, the priest of the Most High. Here he would remain for thirty-nine years, learning the laws, ordinances, and mysteries of the Ancient Order (Jubilees 12:9–14; Jasher 8:39–41; Book of the Bee 21). He studied the creation, the records of Adam, the genealogies of the fathers, the principles of sacrifice, the stewardship of land, and the covenant of the firstborn.

He learned the true history of the pre-Flood world—how Adam had received the garment and covenant from God; how Seth and his sons preserved the priesthood; how the Watchers fell; and how Enoch was translated with a company of the righteous (Genesis 5:24; Jubilees 4:15–26; Cave of Treasures 18–23). He learned how Noah survived the corruption of giants, how the ark was built, and how the covenant was renewed after the Deluge (Genesis 6–9; Jubilees 5–7).

And from Shem—Melchizedek Abram learned the deepest truths: the law of the altar, the order of consecration, the governance of patriarchal households, and the stewardship that linked heaven and earth. From him Abram received the revelation that priesthood is not merely a rite, but a way of life: a divine pattern of family order, labor, worship, and sacrifice (Jubilees 7:20–29; Testament of Levi 18:1–4).

These years correspond exactly with what archaeology shows of the northern highlands during the late Early Bronze and early Middle Bronze periods—isolated agrarian sanctuaries, terraced farming communities, and pastoral enclaves far removed from the urban systems of Shinar, Kish, and Ur (Upper Tigris EB II–III highland sites; Sagona, Caucasus and the Northern Highland Cultures; Kura–Araxes pastoral settlements).

Meanwhile, the world around them churned with upheaval. The Gutians were expelled from Mesopotamia, and the Third Dynasty of Ur rose in splendor and idolatry under Ur-Nammu and Shulgi (Ur-Nammu Law Code; Shulgi Hymns; Kramer, History Begins at Sumer). Egypt continued its Old and Middle Kingdom developments with expanding temples, priestly orders, and divine kingship ideology (Pyramid Texts; Coffin Texts; Wilkinson, Ancient Egypt). Canaan’s Amorites spread across the Levant, founding fortified towns and central shrines that would later confront Abraham himself (EB III–IV strata at Hazor, Ai, and Megiddo; Albright, Archaeology of Palestine).

Yet none of these kingdoms carried the true covenant. Their temples were built by force; their priesthoods were corrupted by idols; their kings ruled through violence rather than stewardship. Only in the mountains where Shem ministered did the Ancient Order endure in its purity.

When Abram reached his fiftieth year, God spoke to Noah and Shem, saying, “It is time. The child who was hidden shall now be revealed. He shall receive the covenant of the fathers and restore righteousness to the nations” (Jubilees 12:12–14; Genesis Rabbah 46:7).

Shem laid his hands upon Abram and blessed him in the name of the Most High, appointing him as heir of the promises made to Adam, to Seth, to Enoch, and to Noah. The garment of Adam remained with Shem, but Abram received the spiritual commission to go forth as the covenant-bearer to the world (Book of the Bee 21; Jubilees 12:15–16).

With his training completed and his testimony sure, Abram descended from the sanctuary of the mountains—leaving behind the tents of Noah and Shem and setting his face toward the plains of Shinar, where his father Terah lived in the glittering yet idolatrous city of Ur.

Thus the two lines of the Ancient Order came together: Shem, the preserver of the priesthood; and Abram, the destined restorer who would carry it into the nations.

Before Abraham could begin the ministry appointed to him, the world into which he was born must be understood. For the nations of the earth no longer remembered the truth as it had been given to Adam, preserved by Seth, taught by Enoch, and renewed through Noah and Shem. What remained among them were fragments—echoes of a far older order, distorted by time, empire, and ambition.

The earliest patriarchs taught that heaven and earth were governed by a single pattern: the Ancient Order, the divine household from which the first family of mankind descended. In this order, God was not conceived as an isolated being but as the Head of a sacred lineage, surrounded by ministers, messengers, and sons of God who executed His will (Genesis 6:1–4; Deuteronomy 32:8–9 LXX; Psalm 82:1; Job 1:6; Jubilees 2:2; Testament of Levi 3:8). The family order of Adam on earth reflected the heavenly order he had known.

But as generations multiplied and righteousness diminished, this holy knowledge fractured. The writings preserved in the tents of Shem remained pure, but the memories carried into the cities of Shinar, Egypt, and Canaan diverged. Some exalted their kings as gods. Others imagined councils of deities without understanding the unity that bound them. Still others collapsed the entire order into a single solitary being, severed from the household of heaven known by the patriarchs.

Thus polytheism and monotheism—seemingly opposite—are both broken mirrors reflecting the same ancient truth. Polytheism preserved the memory of the divine family, but stripped it of covenant, righteousness, and order. Monotheism preserved the supremacy of the Most High, but lost the family structure, the council, and the generational pattern known to Adam and Enoch. Neither held the fullness of the Ancient Order as it was taught in the beginning.

Archaeology preserves this fragmentation with startling clarity. The Sumerians remembered a divine genealogy—An, Enlil, and Ninurta—structures echoing the patriarchal council but filled with mythic violence (Sumerian King List; Enlil-Ninurta traditions). The Egyptians preserved father–son triads—Atum, Shu, and Geb—yet their theology devolved into ritual magic and royal deification (Pyramid Texts; Coffin Texts). The Ugaritic tablets describe El surrounded by divine sons, a council astonishingly close to the Hebrew tradition (KTU 1.1–1.4), though corrupted by Canaanite fertility rites. The Indo-European world spoke of Dyaus, Indra, and heavenly sons contending—a distant echo of the earliest celestial households.

Even the early Christian fathers preserved the memory of the ancient council before doctrinal disputes obscured it. Irenaeus taught that God worked through a divine household (Against Heresies 4.20), and Clement of Alexandria spoke of “the blessed ranks of the sons of God” (Stromata 6). But later controversies buried the patriarchal cosmology beneath philosophical definitions.

Yet through all the confusion and corruption, one lineage alone preserved the truth undefiled. The priesthood of Adam, transmitted through Seth, Enoch, Methuselah, Noah, and Shem, remained the single unbroken witness of the original order. In the mountains of Ararat and the sanctuary of Salem, the records, ordinances, genealogies, and covenants were kept exactly as they had been delivered in the beginning (Jubilees 10:12–17; Genesis Rabbah 46:7; Book of the Bee 21).

Outside this lineage, the nations possessed only memories. Inside this lineage, the fullness endured. The world had legends of gods; Shem had the knowledge of the Most High. The world had temples of stone; Shem had the altar of Adam. The world had kings who claimed divine right; Shem was the true priest of the Ancient Order.

It was into this divided world—filled with shattered fragments of the original faith—that Abram was born. His mission would not be to invent a new religion, but to restore the one that had existed from the foundation of the world. He would call the nations back to the order they once knew dimly, and lead them toward the covenant they had forgotten.

For the promises given to Adam did not die in Eden, nor did the covenant perish in the Flood. It lay preserved in the tents of Shem, waiting for a man chosen before his birth to carry it forward. That man was Abram.