Baal: The Lord Who Sells Rain
Baal means lord. In Canaan he was not one quiet statue in a back room. He was the storm, the rider of the clouds, the god who each year went down to struggle with Mot, death itself, and, if the rites worked, came back with the rain. Without him, the story ran, the fields died. With him, grain, wine, oil, flocks, and children followed. His places were the high hills, open to the sky he was supposed to rule: a stone pillar for the god, a wooden Asherah pole for the goddess beside him, an altar, incense, sometimes a grove. Worship was imitative. Sexual acts at the shrine were meant to wake Baal so the earth would conceive. When the rain came, he received the praise. When it failed, the priests cut themselves, shouted louder, and limped about the altar, which is exactly what Elijah watched from morning until the time of the evening sacrifice (1 Kings 18:26–29). Israel’s besetting sin was not a clean exchange of Yahweh for Baal. It was the blend. Keep the feasts. Keep the name of the ...
