Reading the Genesis
3 text in light of Jesus’ confrontations
with people who thought he was “out of his mind,” focuses our attention on our
expectations about the relationships between God and humans, and humans and
creation.
From the beginning
of this scene –– before we
arrive at the articulated differences between God and the humans –– we hear an
astonishing aspect of their relationship. The first sentence tells us that the
Lord God walks in the garden. God has come to the place where people are
living. It is a pleasant scene in which God strolls in the evening breeze
without a hint of the bitter denunciation to come. God seeking-out-creation
governs the action.
The story then gives
us a number of pithy theological questions to ponder. Since God seems not to
know where the humans are, does this mean God is not omniscient? When the human
explains he was afraid because of his nakedness, does he not know that God will
find this strange? How did the human even know there is something to fear in
being naked?
God asks the
sensible question: How did you know you should hide? Not waiting for an answer,
God drives immediately to the suspicion that the knowledge of good and evil has
come into the human: “Have
you eaten from the tree...?”
This story is hard
to hear without centuries of built-up prejudices ruling the interpretation. In
order to let the gospel rise to the surface, we have to expunge the idea that
this story tells us the woman is inferior and that the snake is despicable. How
can we do that?
Rather than seeing
this story as depicting necessary dualism between human and divine, human and
nature, good and evil, knowledge (bad) and ignorance (bliss), we might notice
the harm that comes from such simplistic readings. Seeing the story only
through the structures of oppositions leads to divisive and untrue views of
creation.
1)
Pointedly, the story does not say the woman is a vixen for suggesting
that the fruit should be eaten nor is she inferior to the man. If we wrongly
see the woman in Genesis 3 through the view of her creation as the “helper”
(Gen. 2:18), and we define “helper” as a subordinate creature (i.e., he initiates;
she obeys or follows), we ignore the more generous interpretation offered by
the word “helper” when it is used to refer to God. [Cf. Hosea 13:9; Exod. 18:4; Deut 33:26; Pss. 146:5; 33:20; 115:9-11; 70:5.]
2) This story shows
us that truth does not come only from the divine but also from what God has
created: the snake, the tree, and the initiative––the daring––of the woman in taking a risk. [See Robert Saler, “The Transformation of Reason in Genesis 2-3,” in Currents in Theology and Mission 36:4 (Aug 2009), 283-284.]
3) Try shedding the
notion that the “fall” story
is about sin––especially sexual sin––and the shame of the naked body. Imagine that
gaining the knowledge given by the forbidden tree allows the humans to
differentiate themselves from the rest of nature. This self-image is necessary
for stewardship and care of creation. It also opens the opportunity to know God’s goodness in clothing them (Gen.
3:21-22).
“Once the human beings have shown
themselves willing to transgress the boundaries of God, nakedness becomes
frightening, since even the boundaries of their bodies no longer seem secure.” Blame is their response to fear of
vulnerability rather than shame. [See R.A. Oden, “Grace or Status, Yahweh’s Clothing of the First Humans,” in The Bible Without Theology (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1987), 102-103; Scott Bayder-Saye, “Fear in the Garden: The State of Emergency and the Politics of Blessing,” in Ex Auditu 24 (2008), 5.]
4) See what
difference it makes to reinterpret the snake’s qualities. The Hebrew word for what
NRSV calls “cunning” is arum which can also be crafty and prudent (Prov.
12:16) and clever (Prov. 12:23; 13:16; 14:8; and 22:3). We speak of “cunning”
in negative terms while to be “clever” is positive. The snake did not simply
cause disobedience but put an end to uncritical obeisance. Consider whether
asking a question is evidence of evil, for that is what the snake, in fact,
does. Asking what God really said is not the symbol of demonic powers but,
rather, using one’s intelligence. [
5) This Genesis
story sets the stage for the vocation of the faithful. In the garden, when confronted with their fear [of
nakedness, of vulnerability, of non-differentiation from animals because they
are not yet clothed], the humans seek to place blame on someone other than
themselves. The adam (creature of dust) blames the
woman, and the woman blames the snake. As a story depicting human reaction to
threats, this scene is perfect. What, if not blame of others, do humans
exercise when attacked? What, if not oppression of the foreigner, do nations
initiate when scared? We have come a long distance from the beginning of this
scene. No longer is creation simply a garden in which the creator walks with
the humans. Trouble has appeared.
Jesus’ way is markedly different from that of
the humans in Genesis 3. Jesus re-defines kinship, saying that his family is
neither based in biology nor comprised of people like himself: fellow rabbis
and theologians. His family are those who do “the will of God.” He challenges
the expected structures of family and of power, creating community out of
relationships centered in God. The Old
Adam and the New Adam stand in stark contrast. Jesus “refuses the idolatry of
security." [Bayder-Saye, "Fear in the Garden," 11]
It remains for us
humans to acknowledge our fear and, clothed with the garments of God’s care for us, to see how we might
respond with our weaknesses rather than by asserting power over others.
How might such a posture alter our relationships with Earth (and even snakes!)?
Reprinted with permission from WorkingPreacher.org, this commentary by Melinda Quivik was first published in 2012. Please see http://www.workingpreacher.org for the original essay.
–– Melinda Quivik is the Editor-in-Chief of The Liturgical Conference journal, Liturgy.
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