THIS IS THE account of the heavens and the earth when they were created.
When the LORD God made the earth and the heavens—5and no shrub of the field had yet appeared on the earth and no plant of the field had yet sprung up, for the LORD God had not sent rain on the earth and there was no man to work the ground, 6but streams came up from the earth and watered the whole surface of the ground—7the LORD God formed the man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being.
8Now the LORD God had planted a garden in the east, in Eden; and there he put the man he had formed. 9And the LORD God made all kinds of trees grow out of the ground—trees that were pleasing to the eye and good for food. In the middle of the garden were the tree of life and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.
10A river watering the garden flowed from Eden; from there it was separated into four headwaters. 11The name of the first is the Pishon; it winds through the entire land of Havilah, where there is gold. 12(The gold of that land is good; aromatic resin and onyx are also there.) 13The name of the second river is the Gihon; it winds through the entire land of Cush. 14The name of the third river is the Tigris; it runs along the east side of Asshur. And the fourth river is the Euphrates.
15The LORD God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to work it and take care of it. 16And the LORD God commanded the man, “You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; 17but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat of it you will surely die.”
18The LORD God said, “It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him.”
19Now the LORD God had formed out of the ground all the beasts of the field and all the birds of the air. He brought them to the man to see what he would name them; and whatever the man called each living creature, that was its name. 20So the man gave names to all the livestock, the birds of the air and all the beasts of the field.
But for Adam no suitable helper was found. 21So the LORD God caused the man to fall into a deep sleep; and while he was sleeping, he took one of the man’s ribs and closed up the place with flesh. 22Then the LORD God made a woman from the rib he had taken out of the man, and he brought her to the man.
23The man said,
“This is now bone of my bones
and flesh of my flesh;
she shall be called ‘woman,’
for she was taken out of man.”
24For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and they will become one flesh.
25The man and his wife were both naked, and they felt no shame.
Original Meaning
THE ACCOUNT OF Genesis 1 began by introducing the initial period of God’s work, which we suggested referred to the seven-day period. From this point on the text proceeds from section to section by tracing the toledot (“accounts”) that provide linkage and continuity from that initial period through the eras that lead eventually to Abraham.
The Formation of Adam (2:4–7)
TOLEDOT. There has been considerable discussion whether the toledot formulas in Genesis are introductions or conclusions. The decision must be made on the basis of literary logic and lexical data. These matters have been covered in the introduction (see pp. 35–36), where I concluded that the formulas are introductions that can be paraphrased “developments that arise out of. . . .”
There may also be a note of irony in the use of the word toledot in connection with “the heavens and the earth.” It will be remembered that this word usually introduces a genealogy. Combine this fact with the idea that ancient Near Eastern cosmogonies usually entailed the gods bringing forth other gods and the result is a polemic. In the biblical cosmogony, it is not the heavens and earth as gods that bring forth other gods and the other elements of the cosmos. What the heavens and earth bring forth are the provision of God for the people he created and the plan of God in history.
Shrub of the field . . . plant of the field. The word translated “shrub” is used in only two other passages (Gen. 21:15; Job 30:4, 7). It is generic of wild brush. The word translated “plant” is the same as that used in 1:11–12 for general vegetation and in 1:30 for the food of animals. It can be used to refer to crops that people have sown (Ps. 104:14; Amos 7:2), but in most instances it refers to general vegetation and often carries a contextual implication of that which grows wild and goes untended (cf. Deut. 29:23).
More important to the context than the words for vegetation is the qualification of each with regard to their habitat, “of the field” (śadeh). In this type of context, śadeh refers to land that is not claimed by any town or farmer. As such it is not cultivated but is a section where plants grow wild.1 We agree with D. Tsumura that verses 5–6 contain two distinct statements.
The first is concerned with wild uncultivated plants, i.e., “shrub” and “plant,” on the earth (ʾereṣ); the second with the man who tills the land (ʾadamah) and the ʾed-water which watered the land (ʾadamah). In other words, Gen 2:5–6 presents a twofold description of the earth: the first section [v. 5a–5c] speaks broadly about the unproductive and bare “earth” (ʾereṣ) in which even the wild plants were not yet growing because of the lack of rain; and the second [vv. 5d–6b], more specifically about the “land” (ʾadamah) which has “no man to till it” and is watered throughout by the ʾed-waters.2
The point made by these verses, then, is that there is no food growing in uncultivated areas, and there is no cultivation for the arable land.
Streams. This NIV translation represents what Tsumura above called the ʾed-waters, using the Hebrew term. The term has posed difficulties to translators on three counts: The context is obscure, the lexical base is small (only one other occurrence is Job 36:27), and the comparative Semitic data have been variously interpreted. Thus we find a variety of translations offered (e.g., “mist,” “flood,” “water,” “streams”). Lacking contextual, synchronic, and diachronic information, it is no surprise that our exegesis must be considered tentative. Contextually ʾed can be distinguished from rain in that rain comes down while ʾed comes up. Synchronic information (that which is derived from how contemporary authors used the word) draws from Job 36:27 only that the ʾed was the recipient of rain.
Diachronic information (that which is derived from the etymology, constituent parts, other uses of the root, or cognate usage of the word) is a generally unreliable source of information about a word but must suffice when synchronic information is lacking.3 Two connections have been suggested: one to the Sumerian ID, which refers to subterranean fresh waters (followed, e.g., by Westermann and Wenham); the second to Akkadian edu, which refers to waves or the swell of a body of water (followed, e.g., by Speiser and Hamilton).
Tsumura makes a case that ʾed refers (among other things) to the regular inundation of the major river systems.4 As such it stands in contrast to rain, so that both represent the two major ways that water fertilized the land in the ancient Near East. The inundations would be mentioned in relation to people working the ground because the annual inundations were only made useful by the digging of irrigation canals to channel the water profitably. It is also true that the inundation rises (to match the verb in v. 6). In Akkadian usage edu was believed to arise from the apsu, the subterranean waters.5
The thrust of verses 5–6 in an interpretive paraphrase is as follows: “No shrubs or plants were yet growing wild (for food) because God had not yet sent rain; and people were not yet around to work the ground (for irrigation) so the regular inundations saturated the ground indiscriminately (thus no food was being grown).” A creation text from Nippur sets the scene for creation in a similar way by saying that waters did not yet flow through the opening in the earth and that nothing was growing and no furrow had been made.6
Dust. The Hebrew word ʿapar most frequently refers to that which is of a loose, granular consistency—thus “dust” or “soil.” Hebrew has other words for clay or mud, and ʿapar occasionally overlaps with them (e.g., Job 10:9). Even when it refers to plaster or mortar, it likely refers to the dry, powdery form it takes on after it sets (Lev. 14:41–45). Akkadian texts speak of people being made out of clay, sometimes mixed with blood and the spittle of the gods.7 This concoction is believed to approximate the appearance of the placenta, which Babylonians considered the leftover raw materials after a baby was made in the womb.8 In Egyptian texts Khnum, or alternatively Ptah, the craftsman deity, fashions people out of potter’s clay.9 In Genesis 2:7 the significance of ʿapar is not that it represents the raw materials found in the womb or has any usefulness for sculpting (which would use clay rather than dust), but it represents what people return to when they die. If this is the emphasis, dust is not necessarily the only (or even the main?) ingredient (though we cannot begin to speculate what else would have been included).
Breath of life. This concept is found in Egyptian texts but not in Mesopotamian. In the Instructions of Merikare, the god Re “made the breath of life for their nostrils.”10 The next line in the work associates this with humans being in the divine image. One might thereby conclude that the breathing into Adam the breath of life is possibly the text’s description of the mechanism by which people were created in God’s image. But this is too facile, for animals also have the breath of life,11 yet they are not in God’s image.
The term translated “breath” is used in the Old Testament twenty-four times, though the combination with “life” is not found elsewhere. Elihu’s speeches in Job equate the breath of God with the spirit of God (Job 33:4; 34:14; see also Isa. 42:5), and a few passages equate God’s breath with destructive judgment (2 Sam. 22:16; Job 4:9; Isa. 30:33). Usually, however, the term refers to all who breathe. The usage makes it clear that all people have the breath of life, so God breathes it into every person who is born. It was not just a first-time thing with Adam.12
The Garden of Eden (2:8–17)
GARDEN . . . EDEN. First we need to address the words that are used, specifically, “garden” and “Eden.” The word for “garden” (gan) usually designates a parklike setting featuring trees and what we would call landscaping. This is in contrast to the American usage of garden, which generally refers to a small rectangular plot of ground with rows of vegetables or flowers. We should rather think of what we would call a “country garden” or of something like the Botanical Gardens or Busch Gardens. Gardens of this variety were a common feature in palace complexes in the ancient world (e.g., Nebuchadnezzar’s famous hanging gardens). They were planted with fruit trees and shade trees and generally contained watercourses, pools, and paths. Their arboretums contained many exotic trees and plants and sometimes included animals.
Kings boast of large parts of cities devoted to these parks, of the great irrigation works that feed them, and of the distant lands from which the plants and animals are gathered. Tiglath-pileser I (1114–1076 BCE) created a combined zoological park and arboretum of exotic animals and trees. Ashurnasirpal II (883–859 BCE) created a garden/park at Nimrud (Kalhu) by diverting water from the Upper Zab River through a rock-cut channel for his impressive collection of foreign plants and animals. Sennacherib (704–681 BCE) makes a similar claim for Nineveh. Parks are beautifully represented on the reliefs from Sargon II’s (721–705 BCE) palace at Khorsabad, in which a variety of trees and a small pavilion with proto-Doric columns are depicted. Other reliefs depict lion hunts and falconry in the parks. A clay tablet from Babylon names and locates vegetables and herbs in the garden of Merodach-Baladan II (721–710 BCE). In the palace reliefs of Ashurbanipal, the garden symbolizes the abundance and pleasures of peace after bravery in battle.13
Such gardens have also been excavated at Pasargadae, Cyrus the Great’s capital city. Temple complexes also sometimes featured gardens that symbolized the fertility provided for by the deity.14 The produce of these temple gardens was used in offerings to the deity, just as the temple flocks and herds were used for sacrificial purposes.
The term “Eden” (ʿeden) is more complicated. In its first mention, the Lord plants the garden in Eden, suggesting perhaps that the garden itself is not Eden but is within or in proximity to Eden. In all other places, however, Scripture speaks of the Garden of Eden, never using a definite article and suggesting “Eden” as a proper noun. Early comparative Semitic studies suggested that the Hebrew word should be considered a cognate to the Sumerian EDIN, “steppe country,” but more recent data attest a link to an Aramaic cognate that means “to enrich, make abundant.”15 This semantic range is confirmed in Ugaritic occurrences and yields the idea of “garden of abundance.” Tsumura’s study concludes that it refers specifically to an abundance of water supply (cf. Gen. 13:10).16
In ancient Near Eastern literature, it is not unusual to find creator gods with a watery abode. Mesopotamian Enki/Ea and Canaanite El are notable in this regard.17 El particularly is said to reside at the source of the rivers.18 The Old Testament reflects the same kind of concept: “In the pride of your heart you say ‘I am a god; I sit on the throne of a god in the heart of the seas’ ” (Ezek. 28:2). Because the garden in Genesis was planted in a well-watered place (Eden), it took Eden as its name. But technically speaking, the garden should be understood as adjoining Eden because the water flows from Eden and waters the garden (see Gen. 2:10). In the same way, therefore, that a garden of a palace adjoins the palace, Eden is the source of the waters and the residence of God, and the garden adjoins God’s residence.
The picture presented is of a mighty spring that gushes out from Eden and is channeled through the garden for irrigation purposes. All of these channels thus serve as headwaters, for the four rivers flow out in various directions as the waters exit the garden. This type of waterworks was known in the ancient world. For instance, Sennacherib had created an elaborate network of canals and sluice gates to control the waters of the Khosr River and to provide irrigation channels to the city of Nineveh and its surrounding farmland. 19 The point is that the text describes a situation that was well known in the ancient world: a sacred spot featuring a spring with an adjoining, well-watered park, stocked with specimens of trees and animals.
Location of the garden. The location of the garden, if the headwaters of the Tigris and Euphrates are located near it, immediately evokes in our minds the mountains of Armenia between the Black Sea and Lake Van, where the sources of those rivers are located. But before we jump to that conclusion, a couple of caveats must be considered. Just as the first chapter was not a modern scientific text, this is not a modern geographical text. It is true that the sources of the rivers were known in the ancient world. Shalmaneser III (ninth century B.C.) writes: “At the headwaters [reš]20 of the Tigris, on a cliff where its spring comes out, I fashioned a relief.”21 Interestingly, Naram-Sin, at the end of the third millennium reports reaching the spring (nagbu, singular!) of the Tigris and Euphrates.
But we have to be careful about the extent to which we read our scientific knowledge into the text. In the ancient world, they had words that we translate “sources,” “springs,” and “headwaters,” but they believed that the true source of all fresh water was the apsu, the subterranean waters they believed the earth floated on. The Israelites were not ignorant of these ideas nor had they been disabused of them (cf. Ps. 24:2). Yet we must be clear: The apsu waters were real, not a mythical construct. At the same time, it should be realized that the geography used here is not a topographical geography, but a cosmic geography.22 Though the four rivers were real bodies of water, their description here concerns their cosmic role. The river of Eden was the place of God’s abode and the source of life-giving water for the earth that flowed through the rivers.
The idea of four streams flowing from the temple or palace to water the four corners of the earth is represented graphically in a couple of places. In the eighteenth-century palace of Zimri-Lim at Mari, there is an investiture-scene fresco on the walls. In one of the panels two goddesses hold jars, and out of each flows four streams of water going off in different directions. Similarly, an ivory inlay from thirteenth-century Ashur features a god in the middle from whom four streams of water flow. He is flanked by two sacred trees, which in turn are flanked by winged bulls.23
Turning our attention to the names of the rivers, the Tigris and Euphrates are known to us, but Pishon and Gihon are not. Some have attempted to identify them with canals, with other rivers of Mesopotamia (Balikh, Diyala, Zab, etc.), with other rivers outside of Mesopotamia (e.g., Nile, Indus, Ganges), or with larger bodies such as the Persian Gulf or the Red Sea. It is not impossible that the Pishon and Gihon are major rivers that dried up in antiquity. Analysis of sand patterns in Saudi Arabia and satellite photography have helped identify an old riverbed running northeast through Saudi Arabia from the Hijaz mountains near Medina to the Persian Gulf in Kuwait near the mouth of the Tigris and Euphrates. This would correlate with the information given for the Pishon River.24 The river is believed to have dried up between 3500–2000 B.C.25 The Hijaz Mountains area is also home to the famous “Cradle of Gold” (Mahd edh-Dhahab), one of the richest gold mines in the region of Medina.26 This area along the Red Sea produces spices and precious stones as well. Another alternative is that the Pishon and Gihon are cosmic waters.27 But until more information is discovered, they must remain mysterious.
In English we can use the word “location” in several ways. One way is in the sentence, “What is your location?” which carries the implication that directions can be given. But a second way is in a sentence such as, “The most important quality of a house is its location.” Here the issue is not getting directions but how strategically the house is situated. It is this element that the text is concerned with when it describes the location of the Garden of Eden.
It was said that “All roads lead to Rome.” That statement did not describe what you would find out from a map (though many roads did lead to Rome). It was an affirmation about its cultural and political centrality. Locating Eden in reference to the Tigris and Euphrates is the same kind of statement. Its location is not given so that it can be found but so that its strategic role can be appreciated. All fertility emanates from the presence of God.
Specific trees. Two specific trees are mentioned as holding a prominent place in the garden. The tree of life is well known in the Bible and the ancient Near East, while the tree of the knowledge of good and evil is known only from this text.
We should view the tree of life as having fruit that extends life rather than instantly grants immortality. The tree was not forbidden to Adam and Eve, and there is no reason to argue (either here or in 3:22) that they did not eat from it. But when they were cast from the garden, they were forbidden access to the tree.
We must understand the statement in 3:22 that they might “live forever” in light of two caveats. (1) If the fruit effectively extended life, then regular access to the tree could extend life indefinitely, thus eventuating in virtual immortality. That is different from thinking that one bite of the fruit would bring instant immortality. (2) Careful study of the term that the NIV translates “forever” has demonstrated that it is not an abstract term, suggesting infinity or eternity per se, but characterizes something as being open-ended, with no anticipated ending built in.28 It is better translated “perpetual life,” suggesting that the fruit constantly counteracts any aging.
Extension of life is the issue in the four references to this tree in Proverbs. In 3:16–18, the tree is parallel to “long life” as one of the benefits wisdom has to offer. In 13:12 and 15:4, it stands in contrast to behavior that would demoralize and thereby take its toll on a person. We conclude, therefore, that the Israelites viewed the tree of life as a tree of youth rather than as a tree of immortality.
Understanding the second tree depends heavily on our ability to identify the meaning of the phrase “knowledge of good and evil.” Note first that “good and evil” is consistently used as a merism and therefore indicates a whole range of knowledge, not knowledge of two isolated things (“good” and “evil”). Yet as a merism, it should not be thought of as referring to all knowledge. Instead, it applies to the range within a specific category of knowledge (“good and evil”). Like words, rhetorical devices such as merism can be understood only as we explore their usage. In the Old Testament we will find the usage falling into categories differentiated by the associated verbs.
1. When it is used with the verb “to speak” (e.g., Gen. 24:50; 31:24, 29), “good and evil” suggest that the speaker pass judgment or issue a decision (or not, when negated).
2. When it is used with the verb “to hear” (e.g., 2 Sam. 14:17), it means to listen with discernment to the details of a case so as to judge the legitimacy of a claim.
3. When it is used with the verb “to know” or its synonyms coupled with prepositions before good and evil (2 Sam. 19:35; 1 Kings 3:9; Isa. 7:15–16), it refers to a human capability to be discriminating. This capability is lacking in children and in the elderly Barzillai. The statements do not suggest that the subjects do not know anything or that they are morally destitute, only that their ability to discern what is in their best interests is lacking.
4. Besides the two passages in Genesis 2–3, the only other passage that uses the merism without prepositions and collocated with the verb “to know” is Deuteronomy 1:39. Here, as in category 3, the reference is to children before they have reached the age where they can make decisions for themselves or live independently.
Those interpreters who point to the use of the verb “to know” as referring to sexual intercourse will find no help here, because the verb does not mean that when connected to the merism “good and evil”; such a meaning is, additionally, inappropriate to the context of 3:22. Those who contend, on the basis of 3:22, that the phrase should be understood as omniscience or universal knowledge will have trouble finding that meaning in the passages listed above. Those who think that moral judgment is involved likewise have difficulty with the occurrences cited above, in that none of them can easily be attached clearly or exclusively to the realm of morality. The context also works against this in that it is difficult to hold people responsible for moral choices if they have been given no moral judgment. The common denominator of these references is “discerning or discriminating wisdom.”
Knowing good and evil is characteristic of God (3:22) but not of children (Deut. 1:39; Isa. 7:15–16), the elderly (2 Sam. 19:35), or the inexperienced (1 Kings 3:9). It is something that people are inclined to desire and can use to gain wisdom (see Gen. 3:6). Even though Adam and Eve lacked this knowledge, they could still be held responsible for obedience; and when people gain the knowledge by eating the fruit, they can legitimately be described as being like God. The only potential problem comes when we wonder why God would have forbidden Adam and Eve to eat of a fruit that bestowed such positive qualities. We will probe this question in chapter 3.
Work and care. In 2:15, the role of Adam is identified: God puts him in the garden “to work it and take care of it.” The verbs and the grammatical forms are intriguing here. The grammatical problem is that the pronominal suffix connected to each of the verbs is feminine, though the word for garden is masculine. The alternative is to view the forms as infinitive long forms.29 None of the choices is easy to accept, and the suggestions of alternate antecedents have not been persuasive. With most interpreters, I accept that the object of these two verbs is the garden, but further research may yield a different conclusion.
More useful information can be derived from semantic study of these words. The verbs ʿbd (“work”) and šmr (“take care of”) are terms most frequently encountered in discussions of human service to God rather than descriptions of agricultural tasks. The verb ʿbd certainly can refer to farming activity (e.g., 2:5; 3:23), but in those contexts the nuance of the verb is conditioned by its direct object (“the ground”). When the verb does not take a direct object, it often refers to the work connected with one’s vocation (e.g., Ex. 20:9). This broader sense of the word is often connected to religious service deemed as worship (e.g., Ex. 3:12) or of priestly functionaries serving in the sanctuary precinct (e.g., Num. 3:7–10). In these cases, the object of the verb usually refers to what or whom is being worshiped (e.g., Ex. 4:23; 23:33).
Here then is a succinct statement of the problem when we try to decide whether ʿbd is referring to agricultural tasks or sacred service. If the object of the verb is the garden (and we cannot be certain that it is), we have a bit of an anomaly. The verb usually takes dirt/soil/ground objects when it refers to agricultural work and usually takes personal objects (God, Baal, Egypt) when sacred service or servitude is the point. “Garden” can be in either category, depending on whether it is understood as a place where things grow or a place where God dwells.
There is one pertinent exception in each category. Numbers 8:15 has the Tent of Meeting, a sacred place, as the object of the verb ʿbd to refer to sacred service, while Deuteronomy 28:39 has vineyards as the object of the verb to refer to cultivation as an agricultural activity. This means that neither direction enjoys strong support in the semantic range, but each can be set forth as a possibility. We will thus have to look to its contextual partner, šmr, to take us one direction or another.
The verb šmr is used in the contexts of the Levitical responsibility of guarding sacred space as well as for observing religious commands and responsibilities. This verb is used in agricultural contexts only when crops are being guarded from people or animals who want to destroy or steal. In Eden we presume that there is no one to guard against. When the verb applies to Levitical activity, it may involve control of access to the sacred precinct but is often used more generally to performing duties on the grounds.
To conclude, then, (1) since there are a couple of contexts in which šmr is used for Levitical service along with ʿbd (e.g., Num. 3:8–9), (2) since the contextual use of šmr here favors sacred service, (3) since ʿbd is as likely to refer to sacred service as to agricultural tasks, and (4) since there are other indications that the garden is being portrayed as sacred space, it is likely that the tasks given to Adam are of a priestly nature—that is, caring for sacred space.30 In ancient thinking, caring for sacred space was a way of upholding creation. By preserving order, chaos was held at bay. As J. M. Plumley describes it in Egyptian thinking, so it was throughout the ancient world, including Israel at many points:
But whatever wise men might think about the purpose of creation and whatever might be the official doctrines about the way in which the creation came into being, there was the universal belief that what had been achieved in the beginning of time must be maintained. For mortal men the most essential task of earthly life was to ensure that the fabric of the Universe was sustained. The ancient cosmogonies were in agreement that obscure forces of chaos had existed before the world was created, and that, although in the act of creation they had been cast away to the outer edges of the world, they nevertheless continued to threaten to encroach into the world. The possibility of such a catastrophe could only be averted by the actions of gods and men, both working together to maintain the world order. That order which embraced the notions of an equilibrium of the universe, the harmonious co-existence of all its elements and its essential cohesion for the maintenance of all created forms was summed up in the word Ma’at.31
If the priestly vocabulary in 2:15 indicates the same kind of thinking here, the point of caring for sacred space should be seen as much more than landscaping or even priestly duties. Maintaining order made one a participant with God in the ongoing task of sustaining the equilibrium God had established in the cosmos.32 Egyptian thinking attached this to the role of priests as they maintained the sacred space in the temples but also to the king, whose task was “to complete what was unfinished, and to preserve the existent, not as a status quo but in a continuing, dynamic, even revolutionary process of remodeling and improvement.”33 This combines the subduing and ruling of chapter 1 with the ʿbd and šmr of this chapter.
Command and threat. Verse 17 contains the prohibition against eating from “the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.” The command is clear enough, but the warning that is intended to motivate obedience is often misunderstood. The KJV, NKJV, and NASB all translate “in the day” you eat from it. The NIV has replaced this with the appropriate English rendering “when.” The expression “in the day” is one of the major ways in Hebrew to say “when” and does not suggest that the events described will take place within the next twenty-four hours, though, as Wenham maintains, its use implies promptness.34
More important, the verbal combination that describes the penalty (“you will surely die”) needs clarification. The profile of this combination of verb forms (infinitive absolute coupled with finite verb of the same root) using the root “to die” can be established with a good deal of confidence. In Jeremiah 26, the prophet delivers a scathing message to the people of Judah to the effect that the temple will be destroyed (26:4–6). The response of the people and priests is not repentance but antagonism toward Jeremiah as they seize him and pass sentence: “You must die!” (26:8). The explanation is given a few verses later, “This man should be sentenced to death because he has prophesied against this city” (26:11).
Jeremiah 26:8 uses the same phrase as we have in Genesis 2:17, but it is Jeremiah 26:11 that shows us exactly what the people mean by using that phrase in verse 8. When they say, “You will surely die,” they are talking about the eventual outcome of the behavior. The sentence will be passed, the doom will be fixed. This phrase is also used in the historical literature to pass sentence on offenders of various kinds (Gen. 20:7; Num. 26:65; 1 Sam. 14:39, 44; 1 Kings 2:37, 42). The resulting paraphrase of Genesis 2:17 then is: “When you eat of it, you will be sentenced to death and therefore doomed to die.” Consequently, death will be a certainty.
The significance of this has some impact on theology. The theological logic that has been applied to this text in the past is that since Adam and Eve did not drop over dead on the first bite of the forbidden fruit or die shortly thereafter (“that day”), the warning from God must have referred to spiritual death.35 This is an excellent example of how exegetical shortsightedness can result in unwarranted theological conclusions. There is no reason to dispute the concept of spiritual death or to question that Adam and Eve’s sin eventuated in that condition. It is a mistake, however, to deduce that the warning of 2:17 had spiritual death in mind because physical death did not occur right away. In actual fact, the language of the threatened penalty did not imply that physical death would immediately ensue. This penalty was enacted when they were driven out of the garden and prevented access to the tree of life. Without such access, they were doomed to die.
Adam and Eve (2:18–25)
SUITABLE HELPER. Adam does not find companionship among the animals but will do so in one of his own kind. In Mesopotamian literature this concept is represented very differently in the Gilgamesh Epic. Enkidu, the half-man, half-beast, is content with animal companionship until he is seduced by a prostitute sent to capture him.36 The author of Genesis offers the view of man turning away from animals and being attracted to a wife. Again, it is not the author’s purpose to engage or debate the ancient Near Eastern perspectives, but the Israelites could not help but see the contrast between Genesis and Mesopotamian accounts.
What is the implication of identifying the woman as a “helper suitable” for man? Would it be appropriate to refer to man as a “suitable helper” for woman as well? As always, we must begin with the words. Synchronic analysis (that which is derived from how contemporary authors used a word or phrase) is obstructed because this combination occurs nowhere else. We can look at the word translated “helper” and the word translated “suitable” individually, but in language the meaning of the whole may be more than, or at least different from, the sum of the parts.37 In the present case, since the combination occurs nowhere else, we must glean all that we can from the individual parts, even as we realize the limitations of this information.
The word “helper” is common enough as a description of someone who comes to the aid of or provides a service for someone. It carries no implications regarding the relationship or relative status of the individuals involved. In fact, the noun form of the word found in this verse as used elsewhere refers almost exclusively to God as the One who helps his people. If we expand our investigation to verbal forms, we find a continuing predominance of God as the subject, though there are a handful of occurrences where people help people. In this latter category we find people helping their neighbors or relatives (Isa. 41:6), people helping in a political alliance or coalition (Ezra 10:15), and military reinforcements (Josh. 10:4; 2 Sam. 8:5). Nothing suggests a subservient status of the one helping; in fact, the opposite is more likely. Certainly “helper” cannot be understood as the opposite/complement of “leader.”38
The second word, kenegdo (NIV “suitable”), is much more problematic. It is a combination of two prepositions with the appendage of the third masculine singular pronominal suffix. In preposition combinations, as in most compound words, the whole does not equal the sum of the parts.39 Confidence in assigning meaning can only be achieved when we have sufficient examples of the compound being used in context. Unfortunately, this compound occurs nowhere else. The first preposition, ke, is generally used to describe comparison and correspondence. Waltke and O’Connor describe three basic facets to its use: approximation, agreement in kind, and correspondence in identity.40 It is therefore usually translated “like” or “as.”
The second element (neged) is predominantly used as a preposition, though HALOT considers it a substantive here.41 Its range of meaning is most similar to what we would find in the English word “opposite,” which can be spatial (e.g., opposite bank) or conceptual, thereby being used in contexts that suggest “complementary” or contexts that suggest “in opposition to” someone. Obviously, this profile leaves so much room that it is useless for giving us direction. As a result of the lack of synchronic information and the ambiguity of the diachronic information, most interpreters find in this phrase whatever they come to it looking for.42
The best procedure from a methodological standpoint in this kind of situation is to find something sufficiently vague to cover the territory. As a result, since helping generally has to do with mutual undertaking of a task and the prepositions lead us to understand some level of association, I would choose a translation such as “partner” or “counterpart.” The former better reflects the “helper” part of the combination, while the latter better reflects the compound word. If we could make up words, “counterpartner” would be a great one.
Rib. There are a number of unusual elements in 2:21–22. First, it should be noted that the word translated “rib” is not used anatomically anywhere else in the Old Testament. It is usually used to refer to the side of a building or room. Nevertheless, there is an Akkadian cognate that shares the same semantic range and is used anatomically. Even there, however, it is rarely used to refer only to the bone. It indicates the area of the ribs but includes the flesh and muscle as well. In animals the singular is more often used for the rib cage rather than for a single rib.43 Given all the lexical data and the fact that Adam refers to woman as taken from his “bone” and “flesh,” it is more likely that the text portrays God as taking a handful (?) of bone and flesh out of Adam’s side to use in the construction of Eve. Another suggestion goes so far as to suggest that Yahweh divides Adam in half, making one half (side) the woman44
A second idiosyncrasy is found in the syntax of the first half of verse 22. The verb “made” (bnh) means “to build,” and the “side/rib” is set up as the direct object of the verb. Everywhere else the direct object of this verb is that which is being built (wall, temple, city, watchtower, etc.) rather than the material being used in the construction. Furthermore, the word “woman” is preceded by a preposition that usually marks the indirect object. With bnh the indirect object typically indicates for whom or for what the building is taking place.45 So, typical syntax would be something like “Solomon built the temple [direct object] for the LORD [indirect object].” But if we were to transfer that sentence construction to this verse we would end up with, “The LORD built the rib [direct object] for the woman [indirect object].”
A possible direction is to separate out those occurrences of bnh in which it refers to a regenerative/reproductive process (Deut. 25:9; Ruth 4:1146) with kinship being at issue. When Rachel and Leah “built up” the house of Israel, the emphasis is on extending the bloodline of kinship. In Genesis 2 it is more like extending the “flesh-line,” and the kinship that results is on the basis of a different type of relationship—in some ways stronger and more intimate than a bloodline relationship (as v. 25 indicates). In this case, the preposition connected to the word “woman” may simply introduce the purpose of the action: “Then the LORD God built up the side he had taken from the man for (the purpose of making) a woman.”47
Responses to Eve. Two responses to Eve are given in the passage: Adam’s and the narrator’s. (1) Adam’s response to Eve recognizes her similarity to him and her derivative nature. We would be mistaken to think that Adam names Eve here. He rather indicates what category she belongs in. When Adam named the animals in 2:19–20, a different vocabulary and syntax are used. Adam there was carrying out his function of ruling in that whatever he called a creature, that was its name. His naming of the animals was an exercise of authority. This same vocabulary is used with regard to Eve in 3:20, but not so in 2:23. Here he simply states what she will be recognized as, and she will be recognized on the basis of her relationship to man. He indicates the category she will be recognized as belonging to—that of humankind. Categories for the animals were indicated in 1:24–25 before names were given to them.
(2) The narrator’s response is given in 2:24, where he communicates an important point to his audience. It has often been asked why this verse speaks of man leaving his father and mother rather than the woman leaving her father and mother. In Israelite society, the woman became part of the man’s tribe, so she was the one leaving her parents. Counterbalancing that, in marriage procedures the woman often continued to live in the house of her parents for some months after the marriage was initially consummated and received conjugal visits from her husband. Here in 2:24 he is leaving his parents home not just for sex but for conception.
But the narrator’s comment need not be sociologically based. Two textual elements offer explanation. (a) The fact that the woman is made from the man establishes what I called a “flesh-line” that is stronger than a bloodline and causes him to seek her out. A part of him is missing and is, in effect, beckoning him.48 (b) The instinctive urges associated with the blessing lead him to seek out a reproductive partner. The verse does not speak exclusively of sexual desire, though sexual desire may be the mechanism that drives it. Conceiving children (being fruitful) is the idea.
Naked without shame. This statement is the narrative bridge that links chapters 2 and 3. It provides a contrast to what has gone before in that while it recognizes the sexual desire that serves as the foundation for basic sociological realities, it defies the most basic social sensibilities that impose some level of control on those sexual desires. Two explanations have been prominent. The traditional view observes that Adam and Eve have nothing to hide from each other and no one to hide themselves from. They have no shame for they have no guilt and are secure in themselves and in one another. The alternative view suggests that this description corresponds with a prepubescent condition. In childlike innocence they see no need of clothes. They are unaware of their sexuality.
We will explore this issue in our discussion of chapter 3. This verse links directly to chapter 3 as it provides a transition. Their nakedness (ʿ arummim) is contrasted to the serpent’s craftiness (ʿarum) by means of wordplay. In this sense their nakedness is an indication of a level of naiveté. It serves as the “before” picture that will be contrasted to the “after” picture in 3:7.
Bridging Contexts
THE NARRATIVE IN Genesis 1 recounted the establishing of functions and the installation of functionaries, which, in the process, brought order out of chaos to produce the operational cosmos. Just as chapter 1 describes a nonfunctional condition as chaos (not an antagonistic threat, but a nonfunctional unproductive state) from which God will bring order to the cosmos (1:2), so this account begins with a description of a nonfunctional condition (2:5–6). In ancient Near Eastern cosmological literature it is typical to begin with such a description of a time when certain elements of order had not yet come into being.49 We must then ask ourselves: What is the text describing as nonfunctional?
The context suggests that it is the blessing that is nonfunctional. The blessing of Genesis 1 granted the privileges of reproduction and food acquisition. Genesis 2 provides the means for food acquisition (the garden) and for reproduction (Eve). The nonfunctionality is remedied by providing the ability for the blessing to be carried out (food, 2:5–17; reproduction, 2:18–24). The order God brings allows the privileges to be procured. This means that chapter 2 flows naturally out of chapter 1 to the next logical step. God has made the cosmos operational; he is now going to make the blessing operational. The blessing is the link between the two chapters.
Initial condition. The chaos described here is of an entirely different order from that presented in 1:2, but it is no less a description of nonfunctionality.50 Again, it should be pointed out that when the text addresses function and order, it sees them as dependent on a human presence. The function of the cosmos is relative in the sense that the functions are designed for human use. The lack of irrigation is therefore more integrally connected with the issue of human sustenance rather than just the way the cosmos operates. As such it has connections back to 1:29.
Verses 5–6 discuss two locations. (1) In nonarable areas (śadeh) there was no rain to produce the two different kinds of plants referred to. (2) The arable land (ʾ adama) was watered ineffectively and indiscriminately, with no people to work the soil and provide for productive and efficient irrigation. As a result of these two situations, both land and water were unproductive with regard to their ability to provide food. These verses, then, set the scene for the prefunctional situation for one part of the blessing: provision of food. The text goes on to report how that situation was remedied.
The formation of Adam. The garden is going to be the remedy, but first the text has to report the formation of Adam, since the functions cannot be brought on line without someone to function for. In ancient Near Eastern thought, the gods carried out agriculture and irrigation before humans were created. In fact, it was specifically the work of digging irrigation ditches that the gods tired of that led them to rebel against the high gods and eventuated in the creation of people to dig the ditches and carry out the agriculture.51 By contrast, Genesis indicates that there was no irrigation prior to the creation of Adam.
What is the significance of the garden? To understand the significance of the garden, we must penetrate the ancient Israelite mind. While the text gives us some clues, the author assumes some common ideas as he communicates, and we must try to recover some of those if we hope to acquire the ancient mindset as we lay our own cultural ideas aside. This attempt at recovery hurls us headlong into the literature of the ancient Near East. Though it often offends our theological sensibilities to offer any credence to the polytheistic mythology of Babylon or Canaan, we must admit that we can benefit from the window to the world that they offer.
As we investigate these myths, we must constantly remember that we are not approaching this literature to reconstruct a literary trail; that is, we are not trying to establish who borrowed from whom.52 Likewise, we are not trying to class Israelite literature or theology with the neighboring literature or theology. We are simply recognizing that there was significant cultural continuity between Israel and her neighbors and that this ancient worldview was at times assumed in the communication between the author and audience of the biblical text.
The paradise motif in the ancient Near East is nearly nonexistent. Recent studies have shown that even those texts that have at times been considered paradisiacal are simply describing “an initially inchoate world”53 rather than an idyllic existence.54 For instance, according to one Sumerian myth, the high plain was not yet tilled, canals were not opened, no dredging was done, no one was planting in furrows, humans walked about naked, and there were no predators bringing terror to people.55 This tale leads to the institution of civilization, especially kingship. The description offered in Genesis 2:5–6 has similarities to these types of “not yet” statements, but the subsequent idyllic existence of the garden finds no parallel.
The Genesis paradise story will make some of its points in line with these other ancient traditions. But other significant ideas will emerge through contrast with common beliefs in the ancient world. Through these similarities and differences the focus of Genesis becomes clarified. The similarities will help us to understand the worldview that was the cultural heritage of the ancient world and thus help us look beyond the confines of our own cultural and theological thinking. The differences will help us to see those areas where revelation provided Israel a distinctive perspective on cosmology.
Theological significance. We must first recognize that the garden of Eden was not, strictly speaking, a garden for man, but was the Garden of God (Isa. 51:3; Ezek. 28:13).
The garden of Eden is not viewed by the author of Genesis simply as a piece of Mesopotamian farmland, but as an archetypal sanctuary, that is a place where God dwells and where man should worship him. Many of the features of the garden may also be found in later sanctuaries particularly the tabernacle or Jerusalem temple. These parallels suggest that the garden itself is understood as a sort of sanctuary.56
The presence of God was the key to the garden, which the author and audience understood as a given from the ancient worldview. His presence is seen as the fertile source of all life-giving waters. “It is not only the dwelling place of God. It is also the source of all the creative forces that flow forth from the Divine Presence, that energize and give life to the creation in a constant, unceasing outflow of vivifying power.”57
This concept is well known in the Bible. Ezekiel 47:1–12 shows the life-giving waters flowing from the temple (see also Ps. 46:4; Zech. 14:8). Perhaps the most familiar picture comes in Revelation 22:1–2, where the river of the water of life flows from the throne of God. This association between ancient Near Eastern temples and spring waters is well attested. In fact, some temples in Mesopotamia, in Egypt, and in the Ugaritic myth of Baal were considered to have been founded upon springs (likened to the primeval waters), which sometimes flowed from the building itself. Thus, the symbolic cosmic mountain (temple) stood upon the symbolic primeval waters (spring).58
On this point, then, the ancient world and the biblical picture agree. Since we have suggested in our treatment of Genesis 1 that creation as a whole was understood in terms of a cosmic temple complex (see above, pp. 147–52), it is logical to understand the garden as the antechamber to the Most Holy Place. As indicated in the Original Meaning section above, Eden is in effect the Most Holy Place, and the garden adjoins it as the antechamber. In this regard it is important to note that the objects kept in the antechamber of the Old Testament sanctuary are images intended to evoke the garden. The menorah is a symbol of the tree of life,59 and the table for the bread of the Presence provided food for the priests.
Textual significance. Despite the significance of this theological backdrop to the Garden of Eden, we must recognize that it is no more than a backdrop. Genesis 2 is not trying to develop the idea that Eden is the place of God’s presence or the Most Holy Place of the cosmic temple. Those are givens that are simply assumed by author and audience. As we introduced in the Original Meaning section, however, the text is most interested in the garden as the means by which God provides food for people (v. 9). Trees of the garden provide food, not for the deity (as in the parks that sometimes adjoined temples), but for the people who served the deity. By providing food the garden actualizes the benefits granted in the blessing.
Once we have understood the role and function of the garden-parks in the ancient Near East, it is easy to understand the “making” of the garden along with its trees and animals. The same procedure is being followed that we observed in chapter 1. First the function of the garden is set forth, providing food for people (v. 9). The functionaries are also provided: trees, water sources, and animals. God is stocking the garden with everything that was typical. Just as God did not transplant vegetation from the cosmos into the garden, but “planted [the] garden,”60 so he did not need to summon the animals to populate the garden but formed them.61 The garden is being set up as Adam’s domain.
In conclusion, then, the garden is understood to be the antechamber of the Most Holy Place (Eden) in the cosmic temple complex, but the text is focusing on its role in providing food for people so that the blessing can be fulfilled.
Tree of life. If the fruit of the tree of life was necessary to sustain perpetuated life (i.e., a tree of youth, as concluded in the Original Meaning section), then it is clear that the human body in and of itself was inclined to deterioration.62 God provided the tree of life to make death unnecessary. Thus, when the human pair was prevented from having access to the tree of life, death became an unavoidable reality. In this way Paul’s statements (Rom. 5:12–14) can be understood that with sin came death. That does not mean that the human body passed from immortal to mortal, but that the means by which mortality could be held at bay was taken away. This conclusion also suggests that death existed in the rest of the created world prior to the Fall. Only people enjoyed the antidote. Paul implies no more than this.
In fact, despite the popular and traditional belief otherwise, it can be easily demonstrated that death was in the system prior to the Fall. I ask the question, Did Adam have skin? His statement in 2:23 shows that he did. We know well today what the epidermis is—a layer of dead skin cells. Since Adam had dead cells, we know that death existed at the cellular level. If plants served as food, then certainly we can conclude that plants likewise died. There is no reason to draw a line between animal life and lower forms of life; thus, we have no theological reason to claim that death of animals did not exist before the Fall. Through sin came the inevitability of death for people. Because of sin people lost access to the tree of life and became fully susceptible to death. The tree of life, therefore, represents a pre-Fall indication of God’s grace.
Ancient Near Eastern evidence for the tree of life comes from a number of different directions. The Epic of Gilgamesh contains the closest parallel, though it is still distant in detail. Gilgamesh, on the instruction of the Flood hero, Utnapishtim, acquires a plant from the bottom of the cosmic river that is purported to be able to provide rejuvenation. It is named “plant that makes the old man young.” As with the tree of life in the garden, it is a plant that offers extension of life. The location of the plant and its role in the story are quite different. The parallel is sufficient to show that there was in ancient Near Eastern thinking the idea that old age could be held off by partaking of a plant with supernatural properties.
A second example occurs in the Tale of Adapa. Adapa was the first of seven sages sent by the gods to bring the arts of civilization to the human population. He committed an offense against Anu by “breaking the wing” of the south wind and is therefore called into Anu’s presence to account for his conduct. Before he goes, Ea, a god who generally is a defender of humankind, advises him not to accept the food or drink he is offered while he is there because it will lead to death. Adapa follows Ea’s advice but later learns that what he turned down was actually “bread of life” and “water of life,” which would have given him immortality. Here there is no tree or plant involved, but the tale recounts a time when an opportunity for immortality was held out to a human who squandered the chance. It offers no understanding of the tree of life specifically.
Such examples from the ancient Near East show how pervasive was the ancient concern about human mortality. Death looms over all and brings its gloom to every human endeavor. Israel was not immune to the questions and curiosity about why deity had ordained death for humankind.63 The tree of life indicates that though the human body was created mortal, it was not God’s original plan for us to feel the constant burden of impending death.
Both trees offered something in their fruit, not just in a choice they represented. The tree of life was not designed to offer Adam the choice between life and death. The text implies that there was actually a quality in the fruit that provided life. Our modern knowledge of the properties of certain foods and of the operation of our own genetic systems makes such a thing believable even from a scientific perspective. Certain fruits and vegetables contain antioxidants that scientific study has concluded can increase life span.64 Geneticists have discovered genes connected to the aging process that we may someday be able to deactivate. Research is also being done on genetic proteins that introduce an enzyme that reverses the aging process in cells.
I am not trying to read science between the lines here in Genesis, but only suggest that even in our modern understanding it is not outlandish to believe that a fruit can actually contain such properties. It need not be magical or symbolic. If this is true for the tree of life, it should also be true for the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. We will return to this issue next chapter.
Human roles. The verbs ʿabad (“serve”) and šmr (“keep”) do not indicate what people are to do to provide for themselves but what they are to do for God. This may have involved some landscaping and pruning, but that is not the point. Adam’s duty in the garden is to maintain it as sacred space, not as a food cupboard. It is a high privilege to serve in the sacred precinct. He is to preserve its holiness and its character, just as priests did for the temple or tabernacle. Many environmentalists, who still see working the ground as the issue, would readily agree and suggest that if it is not done for the sake of humanity, it must be for creation’s sake.
The significant thing about both words is that they describe actions undertaken not primarily for the sake of the doer, but for the sake of the object of the action. The kind of tilling which is to be done is a service of the earth. The keeping of the garden is not just for human comfort, but is a kind of preservation.65
I agree that the actions are not for the sake of the doer, but rather than seeing them as being carried out for the sake of the garden itself, I see them as being for the sake of the Master. We have the privilege of serving in the temple of God.66 This concept is well known in the ancient world but, as usual, often takes a different form. The idea of people being created to provide service for the temple is found, for instance, in an Akkadian prayer used in the dedication of the foundation brick of a temple:
When Anu, Enlil and Ea had a first idea of heaven and earth,
They found a wise means of providing support for the gods:
They prepared, in the land, a pleasant dwelling,
And the gods were installed in this dwelling: their principal temple.
Then they entrusted to the king the responsibility of assuring them
their regular choice offerings.
And for the feast of the gods, they established the required
food offering!
The gods loved this dwelling!67
The interpretation offered here of the human role in the garden is more similar to these Mesopotamian accounts than traditional interpretations in that it features the common theme of people being created to serve the gods. It is still different, however, because in Mesopotamian traditions the gods had needs that had to be met, especially a need for food.68 In Genesis, Yahweh has no needs. The duty of Adam in the garden is not drudgery that God has gotten tired of doing himself. In other words, Genesis agrees with Babylon that people were created to serve deity. It disagrees that this was a late adjustment made by the gods because they were tired of the drudgery of providing for themselves. Drudgery does not enter the picture for people until the Fall and the expulsion from the garden.
It is necessary, however, to move beyond the “serving and preserving” role. If people were going to fill the earth, we must conclude that they were not intended to stay in the garden in a static situation. Yet moving out of the garden would appear a hardship since the land outside the garden was not as hospitable as that inside the garden (otherwise the garden would not be distinguishable). Perhaps, then, we should surmise that people were gradually supposed to extend the garden as they went about subduing and ruling. Extending the garden would extend the food supply as well as extend sacred space (since that is what the garden represented).
In this regard it is possible to conclude that the inclusion of where the rivers went (2:11–14) is intended to indicate some of the resources that would eventually be at humankind’s disposal as they worked their way out from the garden. Gold, spices, and precious stones all found their most common functions within sacred space, and these could be procured for that purpose as the garden was expanded.
The woman. In this section we encounter for the first time the statement that something is “not good.” In chapter 1 the assessment that something was good indicated the successful completion of bringing order and function to the area under discussion. When something was “good,” it was functioning as God intended it to function. Thus the statement that “it is not good for the man to be alone” is one of nonfunctionality. Just as 2:5–6 indicated the nonfunctionality of the food aspect of the blessing, verse 18 indicates the nonfunctionality of the reproduction aspect of the blessing.
In the ancient Near East, enthronement festivals bring the deity into his temple and establish him on his throne. His consort, of course, accompanies him. There then follows a sacred marriage ceremony, in which the king and a priestess often played the roles of the deities, with their intercourse serving as a rite of fertility for the year. In Genesis, instead of a sacred marriage ceremony of the deities following the seven-day dedication, a wife is given to the man to accomplish the blessing of fertility.69 In the ancient Near East the fertility of the land was secured through sexual rites. In Genesis we see land fertility and human fertility next to one another as two aspects of the blessing, but the two are not intertwined or mutually dependent.
At the same time, the text does not suggest that woman was created merely to be a reproduction partner. It is one of her functions (the text is providing for reproduction), but it is not her purpose. Adam was not looking among the animals for something to reproduce by. Yet he was looking for something, since the text says that what he was searching for was not found (v. 20). His identification of Eve as his counterpart in verse 23 suggests that she was the counterpart for which he was searching.
When Adam identified the roles and functions of each of the animals, he realized that none could serve as a partner in the functions that he was serving—functions related to the blessing from 1:28–29 as elaborated in chapter 2, namely, subduing and ruling (1:28, i.e., extending the garden), serving and preserving the garden (2:15), and being fruitful and multiplying (1:28). Woman becomes his partner in all of these functions. Only such a “counterpartner” could serve the function of reproduction partner, but reproduction is not thereby the purpose of the counterpartner. Just as food was not the purpose of the garden, yet that was what the garden functioned to provide, reproduction was not the purpose of the woman, though that was what she functioned to provide. In that sense the text is not addressing ultimate purpose but only a function relative to the contextual intention.
Functions not structures. Again we must draw attention to the text’s overriding concern with functions instead of structures. It begins with a non-functional situation in which the blessing cannot be fulfilled, then proceeds to establish the functions by which it can be fulfilled. One could say, then, that in chapter 2 God created food and family. The latter encompasses the whole “counterpartner” idea in that the text identifies not only the intimate relationship but also the sharing of functions and the establishment of new sociological (family) units.70
When we move to the particulars of God’s creation of human beings, we again must ask the extent to which the account is functional or structural. In the first place, note that the construction of Eve from Adam’s side is not intended as an anatomy lesson of any sort but is a functional statement that leads to the conclusion of verse 25. Woman was taken from man’s side to be by his side. Likewise, the forming of man from the dust of the earth is not an attempt at identifying chemical composition but indicates our solidarity with “created stuff”—today we would say “biodegradable.” In this sense, these can be seen as functional statements, yet here one cannot deny all structural interests, since the text so specifically refers to the construction process. This has all the hallmarks of special creation of the material component of human beings even though function is still an important element.
Contemporary Significance
GENDER ROLES. In the Western world today there is much controversy and confusion over gender roles. Does Genesis 2 offer information that will guide us through this maze? Many on all sides of the issue believe it does. Yet as one reads the literature, it becomes quickly evident that all positions are capable of construing the text in such a way that it supports their position. When we encounter this situation as readers, we often feel adrift without an anchor. What are we to do? I do not pretend to be able to resolve the debate, but I suggest some steps we need to take.
First, we must make some methodological commitments lest we be guilty of dressing up our own desires so that they look like the Bible’s teaching.
1. We must allow the text to pursue its own agenda, not force it to pursue ours.
2. We must be committed to the intention of the author rather than getting whatever mileage we can out of the words he used.
3. We must resist overinterpreting the text in order to derive the angle we are seeking.
4. We must be willing to have our minds changed by the text—that is at least part of the definition of submitting ourselves to the authority of the text.
5. We must be willing to accept the inevitable disappointment if the text does not address or solve the questions we would like answers to.
If parties on all sides of the argument commit to these terms, the deplorable abuse of the biblical text might at least be excised from the debate. We trivialize and degrade the text when we commandeer it for our own causes, however noble they may be.
Second, we must make some personal commitments to one another as members of God’s family.
1. We must be willing to preserve a godly perspective on the issue and accord Christian respect to those we disagree with, refusing to belittle, degrade, accuse, or insult them. Ad hominem arguments and other varieties of “negative campaigning” should be set aside.
2. We must not allow our differences of opinion to overshadow and disrupt the effectiveness of ministry and our Christian witness.
3. We must decry the arrogance that accompanies a feeling of self-righteousness and portrays others as somehow less godly because of the position they hold.
If parties on all sides of the argument commit to these terms, we can eliminate the antagonistic animosity that too often characterizes the debate and makes us a laughingstock to those who are supposed to be able to recognize us by our love (1 John 4–5).
Third, we must be willing to make some values commitments to take a stand against the distorted values of our society that often fuel the debate.
1. We must determine that individual “rights” and the pursuit of them will not take precedence over more important values, as they have in our society at large.
2. We must resist any desire to hoard or attain power, though our society and our fallenness drive us to pursue it above all else.
3. We must constantly strive to divest ourselves of self, though we live in a “What about me?” world.
4. We must accept that ministry is not to be considered a route to self-fulfillment; it is service to God and his people.
If parties on all sides of the argument commit to these terms, the debate will become largely academic and be relegated to the pages of scholarly journals, where it will fade into oblivion.
Given the heat generated by the debate, I often encourage my students on either side to consider the question, “What is at stake if we are wrong in our assessment of the legitimate role of women?” Let’s look at that from both sides. If women are restricted when they should not be, what is the cost?
1. The ministry that they would have done might be considered to be lost. In many cases, however, it will get done anyway, though perhaps not as well or as effectively. Yet God is not crippled by that. Additionally, counterbalancing that loss would be the positive impact they would have had in the ministries they were able to serve in.
2. Individual women may feel unfulfilled or have lost some self-esteem. If men make women feel patronized, worthless, or belittled, that is the fault of male attitudes and perceptions, not the problem with the position that has been taken in the debate. Whatever position men take on the issue, they have a responsibility to promote the dignity and self-respect of women. As to the women, it must be acknowledged that fulfillment and self-esteem are not without significance, but they represent expectations that are created by our society and, to some extent, by our own fallen needs. Neither men nor women can afford to make these needs or expectations the criteria by which ministry is or is not carried out.
If women are not restricted when they should be, what is the cost?
1. Is their ministry of no effect? Certainly not. God can work through us even if we are sinning, though that is no excuse to sin. Thus, he can certainly work through someone functioning in a putatively illicit capacity. God has used pastors living a life of adultery to bring great spiritual blessings to their churches. A female pastor could not possibly be creating more jeopardy than a male pastor who has been morally compromised. God has used passages of his Word powerfully in people’s lives even when they are incorrectly interpreted (e.g., the evangelistic use of Rev. 3:20), though that is no excuse for sloppy hermeneutics.
Will the church come plummeting to the ground because women are in positions of leadership rather than men? The text never suggests such an exigency, and in the end it is God’s church, not ours, so it will stand. If weak ministry is the problem to be avoided, we just exercise discernment in putting people in ministry in places of their strengths. Weak ministry is a human problem, not a women problem.
2. Perhaps men will feel that their control over ecclesiastical affairs is slipping, but that is an ego/power issue and does not belong in the discussion. And if women approach the issue with a thirst for power, they are out of line as well. As Christian men or women, the only power is Christ’s power, and as Simon the sorcerer learned (Acts 8:18–23), those who yearn for it most are least worthy of having it. We must recall that it is neither men nor women, neither pastors nor elders, who are the head of the church—Christ is the head of the church.
Now that I have stirred all the hornets’ nests, let’s see if we can bring some sanity to the issue. In both cases the potential losses are in effective ministry and in personal feelings. What effect should these have? The points made above are not intended as an excuse for needlessly preserving the status quo nor to urge change for the sake of change. It is far too easy for some men to stubbornly preach caution, conservatism, and traditionalism when they are not the ones being held down or trampled. It is far too easy for women to angrily attack male leadership and seek to dismantle the institution with no regard for ministry issues.
We desire to maximize ministry effectiveness, and we are concerned to preserve people’s feelings, but there are caveats in both, and neither of these can be driven by the needs to withhold or attain status. (1) We must understand ourselves as instruments of God in ministry. It is his ministry, not ours. (2) Ministry is not done for the sake of the minister but for the sake of God and of those being served. To some extent, then, ministry must be tailored to address the needs of those who are being served, and the feelings of the minister must be subordinated to the ministry needs. Submitting our role to the God whom we serve and subordinating our feelings and desires to those being served both require a substantial amount of spiritual maturity, to which we should all aspire. In that sense, the solution to the problem is not to be sought by finding an answer; rather, we have to change as people. This may sound simplistic or naive, but we must start somewhere.
My own opinion of the contribution of Genesis 2 to the debate is that it offers no establishment or articulation of gender roles. Regardless of what conclusions can be drawn about the issue as a whole once New Testament texts are considered, this text is concerned with human roles, not gender roles. Man and woman serve together. We still have the same problem Christ’s disciples had. While he busied himself proclaiming the spiritual qualities of the kingdom, they were busy arguing who would be most important (showing how little they understood his kingdom teaching). Christ responded to their bickering by making it plain that they were to be servants one and all.
Genesis 2 proclaims God’s gracious provision for the blessing to be procured. In addition the text addresses the interdependence that exists between man and woman. Mary Shelley captures this element in the plea made to Dr. Victor Frankenstein by the creature he created: “You must create a female for me with whom I can live in the interchange of those sympathies necessary for my being. This you alone can do and I demand it of you as a right which you must not refuse to concede.” Unlike Dr. Frankenstein, no demands had to be made of God (and there would be no basis for claiming rights). His provision was tailored to our needs.
Serve and preserve. Now that we have discussed a contemporary issue that the text does not address, we can turn our attention to the contemporary impact of what the text does address. Adam and Eve were given the role of “serving and preserving” in the garden. What becomes of this mandate when they are cast from the garden? Is there any sense in which this mandate suggests continuing duties in our relationship with God? There are two very different directions that can be pursued in this regard. The first concerns what may be called a theology of work; the second revolves around the issue of sacred space.
(1) With regard to the first, Colson and Pearcy have called Americans to a renewed vision for the higher purpose of work.
In our materialistic culture, work is reduced to a utilitarian function: a means of attaining benefits for this world, this life—whether material gain or self-fulfillment. Work no longer has a transcendent purpose as a means of serving and loving God. No wonder, then, that many are questioning the very meaning of work. . . . This offers Christians a rich opportunity to make the case that work is truly fulfilling only when it is firmly tied to its moral and spiritual moorings. It is time for the church to reclaim this crucial part of life, restoring a biblical understanding of work and economics. A biblical theology of work should be a frequent subject for sermons, just as it was during the Reformation, when establishing one’s vocation was considered a crucial element in discipleship.71
Such a view draws together the two aspects that have been bifurcated in modern thinking: employment and service to God. It may be that we have created an oxymoron in the concept of “secular vocation.”
(2) Regarding sacred space, we must go the long way around by working through several transitions in Israelite history to get where we need to go. We have established in previous sections that the garden was sacred space. In Israel, the closer a place was to the center of God’s presence, the more holiness attached to that place. Prior to the Fall, God’s presence was Eden, and the garden, adjoining that sacred place, was next in holiness.
We have already drawn the analogy to the tabernacle in which God’s presence was in the Most Holy Place, and the antechamber, filled with garden symbolism, was next in holiness. There only the priestly personnel could venture to do the tasks necessary for the upkeep of that sacred space. If we view these as concentric circles, the presence of God is in the center circle, the next circle out is the antechamber. The gradations of holiness continue as the tabernacle courtyard had limited access but a lesser degree of holiness. People were allowed in the courtyard when they had sacrifices to offer. The next concentric circle was the camp of Israel, which likewise had its standards of purity that had to be maintained. Finally, there was the space outside the camp.
This model of concentric circles of decreasing holiness as one moves out from the center has been designated as the sacred compass, and it defines the Israelite concept of sacred space. Genesis 2 reflects the concept of sacred space and the sacred compass, and it served as model for the tabernacle and later the temple. Israel’s sanctuary ideology can therefore be seen as a restoration of Eden.
It has often been pointed out that the giving of the instructions for and the actual construction of the tabernacle have important literary and conceptual links to the Priestly creation account. These conceptions point to the Priestly belief that God brought into being and established the cosmic order. Indeed it points to the belief that the cultic order is established as an integral part of the created order and . . . is the primary means by which the order of creation is upheld.72
God’s presence again dwelt among people. The priests and Levites were once more able to take up the mandate given to Adam and Eve, to serve and preserve sacred space as they performed their duties in the temple complex, though the presence of sin required elements not necessary in the garden. The priestly duties involved preserving sacred times by maintaining the schedule of sacrifices day by day, Sabbath duties, and monthly and yearly festivals. Everything had to be done at its proper time. They also preserved sacred space by maintaining the levels of purity necessary to each of the spheres as they carried out the worship of God. Note, for instance, the sacrifices that purified sacred objects (the sin and guilt offerings, whose blood was sprinkled on altar or veil). Finally they preserved sacred status as they determined the level of access people had to the various areas of sacred space. F. Gorman has pointed out how central these three issues (time, space, and status) are in drawing together the cosmological and ritual worldview of Israel.
It has long been recognized that spatial and temporal categories play an important and meaningful role in sacred rituals. It is equally clear that the way a particular culture views and “interprets” space and time is an important part of its world view and, hence, of its cosmology. Spatial and temporal categories thus provide a significant intersection of cult and cosmos.73
In this light it is interesting that Genesis 1 deals mainly with sacred time (see above, p. 147), Genesis 2 with sacred space, and Genesis 3 with status in sacred space. We can see, then, how central these early chapters of Genesis are to the Israelite understanding of ritual and worship. Although, unlike Adam and Eve, the priests had to focus on the encroachment of evil in their tasks, they were still carrying out the Eden mandate of serving and preserving; and in so doing, they viewed themselves as upholding the order of creation.
When God’s presence left the temple (Ezek. 10) and the temple was destroyed, sacred space was absent for seventy years until the temple was rebuilt and the sacred compass reestablished. This situation extended until the first century A.D. in the temple that Herod built. That temple was destroyed by the Romans in A.D. 70. A generation earlier, however, a remarkable event took place. At the moment Jesus died, the Gospels report that the veil was torn in two (Matt. 27:51; Mark 15:38; Luke 23:45). We do not usually recognize the significance of this because we have so little understanding of sacred space. The tearing of the veil indicated an end to restricted access to God. Hebrews 10:20 clarifies the new situation further as it uses the imagery of Christ’s flesh as the veil that gives us access. Through the blood of Christ we are able to enter the Most Holy Place.
Paul works out some of the ramifications of this in Ephesians 2:11–22 as he explains that the Gentiles were excluded from God’s presence (i.e., outside the camp) but have now been brought near. Access that was denied is now available as the barrier or wall has been broken down (v. 14). Through him we all have access (v. 18), and built together we become a holy temple (v. 21) and a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit (v. 22). Paul further develops this issue in 1 Corinthians, where he identifies the corporate church as God’s temple (1 Cor. 3:16–17) and each individual Christian as a temple of the Holy Spirit (6:19).
Peter proclaims that we are a royal priesthood (1 Peter 2:9). Since this is true, the church has taken its place in the long tradition of upholding creation. Eden is restored in us as God’s presence has taken up his dwelling in his people. We have been given access to the fruit of the tree of life and have been granted eternal life; the function of the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil has taken root in us as the indwelling Spirit leads us to make godly choices. Though the rest of creation awaits with us for the final liberation from the effects of sin (Rom. 8:18–21), we are the heirs to the Garden of Eden and therefore to the Eden mandate. What does this require of us? How are we supposed to uphold creation and maintain and preserve the presence of God?
Henry Varley once said to D. L. Moody, “The world has yet to see what God will do with and for and through and in and by the man who is fully and wholly consecrated to him.”74 Moody determined to be that kind of man and pursued it throughout his life. In the last years of the second millennium, though it will quickly take its place alongside the fads of pop culture, the emblem WWJD has captured the spotlight of marketing attention. It is hard to imagine what motivates such a wide range of people to identify with the question “What would Jesus do?” Is our world filled with those who have taken up the mantle of D. L. Moody? Are that many people trying to make their moment-by-moment decisions by evaluating what Jesus would have done?
WWJD has been taken from Charles Sheldon’s 1897 book, In His Steps, but often when something becomes a slogan, it loses its ability to communicate. When Sheldon wrote the book, he was trying to provide a practical look at how it would change people’s lives if they were constantly aware of God’s presence and lived by Christ’s example. For many of us, the busy pace of the routines of life prevent us from being able to concentrate on God’s presence. It may take an event that dramatically rips us away from our routines to turn our attention to God. Corrie ten Boom found it was in the extreme conditions of the Nazi concentration camps, living in the shadows of the gas chambers, that she learned how to experience day by day the presence of God.
Moody, Sheldon, and ten Boom each show responses to the challenge of practicing the presence of God. For the story behind that phrase, we need to go back to seventeenth-century France. Nicholas Herman was born in French Lorraine in the year 1611. Converted at the age of eighteen, he spent the prime years of life in military service. In 1666 he entered the religious community of the Carmelites and became known as Brother Lawrence. Over the last twenty-five years of his life, Brother Lawrence became known far and wide for his humble attention to God’s presence in every aspect of his life. His reflections on this journey are preserved in letters gathered after his death and published under the title, Practicing the Presence of God.
Brother Lawrence decided that by entering religious service he would be subjecting himself to hardship on God’s behalf. Much to his surprise, he found it no hardship at all. In one letter he reports, “I decided to sacrifice my life with all its pleasures to God. But He greatly disappointed me in this idea, for I have met with nothing but satisfaction in giving my life over to him.”75 In other words, practicing God’s presence is not simply ascetic denial of self, though dealing with negative factors in one’s life may be necessary to achieve a positive outlook. Brother Lawrence’s approach to practicing God’s presence included continual conversation with God, feeding his soul with high notions of God, putting his faith to the test daily, giving himself into God’s hands in all things, and seeking satisfaction only in doing his will. These were not the pursuits afforded by hours alone in his chamber spent in meditation but were carried on throughout the hours of his busy schedule as a member of the kitchen staff.
This practice of the presence of God is the means by which we carry out the Eden mandate. God’s presence is within us, and so it is our privilege to live our lives in his presence. Since we are now his sacred space, we must maintain holiness in our bodies, in our lives, and in the church. Following the space-time-status model, we can understand the mandate under three headings, each with relevance both on the individual and corporate levels.
1. Keep the space pure.
2. Maintain an environment and routine of worship.
3. Monitor the status of the inhabitants of sacred space.
Keep the space pure. The priests accomplished this by rites of cleansing and purification. In following the Eden mandate we must keep careful accounts and be sure to deal with sin or impurity in our lives. When sin or impurity occurred in the camp of Israel, it was drawn to the sanctuary and defiled it, like filthy graffiti scrawled on its walls. Sacrifices such as the sin offering and guilt offering were intended to deal with that defilement by cleansing it away. The Hebrew word that describes this procedure is usually translated (I believe incorrectly) “atonement.” The object of the verb is typically the sacred article rather than the person. These sacrifices were set up to restore the sanctity and purity of sacred space. Once the defilement was cared for, restoration was possible.
With the personalization of sacred space, the distinction that was maintained between defiled objects and defiled people in Israel’s ritual texts has become nonexistent. Since each individual Christian has become sacred space, the cleansing of sacred space becomes the cleansing of the person. In our own lives, the defilement of sin or impurity has been cared for. Christ’s blood has made it impossible for the defilement to stick—we are graffiti-proof. Nevertheless, our sin can still draw us away from God. That is why we must continue to seek his forgiveness (which is guaranteed for the asking) and restore our fellowship with him.
We must also preserve the purity of the church. We cannot allow sin to take root and fester (cf. the letters to the seven churches in Rev. 2–3). In the permissive and litigious society in which we live, it has become more and more difficult to carry out church discipline. As a result, accountability is at an all-time low. This plight is well-summarized by J. White and K. Blue:
In spite of renewals and revivals, the world remains unimpressed [with the church]. Church discipline that takes sin seriously is almost extinct (especially in traditional churches) and church morality is often tarnished. Many younger Christians have little idea what corrective church discipline is and have little interest in it. People under forty do not flock to hear addresses on it. The topic registers a blank in their minds. People over forty prefer not to think about it.76
Obviously, appropriate discipline leaves no room for those who tyrannically abuse their power or those seeking to impose a straightjacket of detailed regulations that curtail legitimate Christian liberty. But the presence of those elements makes discipline a controversial matter today. The fact that abuse exists does not negate the need or importance of appropriate discipline, but it does create a difficult climate. Add to that the fact that a church imposing even legitimate discipline on one of its members may find itself named in a defamation lawsuit, and one can understand the difficulties. Already in the early 1980s, an Oklahoma woman was awarded $390,000 after she was accused of fornication by the church and removed from membership.77
Nevertheless, we cannot shrink from the biblical mandate. The impetus for discipline is purity in the church. But as White and Blue point out, the objectives must go far beyond that. Three additional aims they cite are restoration of the sinner, reconciliation of the sinner to the church, and freedom from guilt.78 Just as the priests sought to restore wholeness to those who had contracted impurity, so the church must seek to maintain its purity not just by driving some “outside the camp” but by engaging in procedures that will bring the disenfranchised back into the camp.
Maintain an environment and routine of worship. Priests ministered daily in God’s presence as they offered the sacrifices (morning and evening) for the nation and assisted the people who brought their sacrifices. But they also maintained the details of the worship calendar from Sabbath to New Moon to the great annual pilgrimage festivals. The worship environment of our personal sacred space needs also to be maintained through the “times” of our schedules and calendars. The routine of worship should proceed day to day. This may take the form of “devotions,” but our routine devotions, whatever they are comprised of, should not be isolated from the rest of the day. Brother Lawrence found the concept of devotions almost paradoxical: “My set times of prayer are not different from other times of the day. Although I do retire to pray (because it is the direction of my superior) I do not need such retirement nor do I ask for it because my greatest business does not divert me from God.”79
At a school I taught in for many years, we annually had a “Spiritual Emphasis Week.” It is not unusual to hear the quip, “What are we emphasizing the rest of the weeks?” The routine of worship should engage us in some sense throughout the day. C. S. Lewis points out that there are many obstacles to success in the endeavor to live in a state of adoration:
One obstacle is inattention. Another is the wrong kind of attention. One could, if one practised, hear simply a roar and not the roaring-of-the-wind. In the same way, only far too easily, one can concentrate on the pleasure as an event in one’s own nervous system—subjectify it—and ignore the smell of Deity that hangs about it. A third obstacle is greed. Instead of saying “This also is Thou,” one may say the fatal word Encore. There is also conceit: the dangerous reflection that not everyone can find God in a plain slice of bread and butter, or that others would condemn as simply “grey” the sky in which I am delightedly observing such delicacies of pearl and dove and silver.80
Beyond our daily routine of worship, however, is our involvement in special opportunities for renewing commitment and expressing adoration in regular participation in weekly worship and the events of the liturgical calendar. In all of this, we cannot afford to become mechanical. The routine of worship only carries out the mandate as we maintain the environment of worship. If our thoughts are full of ourselves and our plans, the environment of our minds has no room for another to be adored.
In the temple complex of Israel this focus was represented in centrality. The temple complex could be divided into two squares to create the proper environment for worship. At the center of one sat the ark, at the center of the other was the altar. In the sacred space of our lives, an environment for worship is also created by making God central in our worldview. Everything in our lives should revolve around God and be under the influence of his gravity. It is too easy to allow God to drift to the outer edges of our personal world and make something else our center of gravity.
In the church it is also true that God must be firmly in the center of who we are and what we do. The church is not about tolerance; the church is not about rights; the church is not about racial reconciliation; the church is not about political agendas or social causes; the church is not about pantry programs, marches and demonstrations, work camps, or potlucks. We cannot allow our picture of God to be trivialized into a “God-of-my-Cause” idea.81
Many of these may be good things, and the church should not just cloister together behind locked doors sitting in dusty, half-empty pews and sing its hymns. But we cannot allow any distraction, as noble or worthy or necessary as it may be, to usurp the central role from Christ. That is our Eden mandate. Nevertheless, we go out into the world to extend the garden and expand sacred space. This is the missionary mandate that will involve us not only in evangelism but in addressing the needs and wounds of our fallen world.
Monitor the status of the inhabitants of sacred space. In our personal lives we must take seriously the role of gatekeeper, preventing that which is impure from taking up residence in or even gaining entry to God’s sacred space, our lives. On the individual level this means self-examination. There was nobody to regulate the status of the priesthood but the priests. This extends beyond our behavior (Paul’s subject in 1 Cor. 6) to our thoughts. This is difficult to accomplish because of the great amount of impurity that is all around us. Sometimes an entertaining movie or a well-written novel may be tainted with less than desirable elements. Sometimes I will read a book and encounter some of those elements and conclude that I would not readily recommend that book to students or to my kids.
It is easy to shy away from Brother Lawrence’s perspective because the cost of purity is high. How many movies or TV shows would I watch if I engaged in the discipline of imagining myself in God’s presence—the Eternal One sitting next to me on the couch in my den? When my kids are watching a show with me, I use the mute button often (much to their frustration) and am quite willing to change channels or shut it off altogether if something I don’t want them exposed to comes on. I find it a little easier to be the guardian of the gate for my children than to be guardian for myself. How many inappropriate pictures do we allow to take their place in the photo albums of our minds? The Eden mandate calls us to keep God’s sacred space pure.
We must also keep the corporate sacred space pure. How is the church (the corporate body of Christ) in danger of allowing defiling influences in its midst? When the church allows qualities to become characteristic of it that are an offense to God’s presence, we risk defilement. In ages past we can point to abhorrent behavior reflected in endeavors undertaken in the name of the church, such as the Crusades, the Inquisition, and, in more recent times, the Holocaust. But we need to look closer to home. Can political alliances defile the church? Can social apathy? Can worldliness or materialism or secularism?
Of course, they all can. In The Subversion of Christianity, Jacques Ellul decries the many ways in which the familiar Christianity of our age has become too comfortable with culture and spends far too much energy trying to make itself acceptable to and in society rather than taking the radical narrow path enjoined by Christ on his disciples.
Jesus tells us plainly that if we simply do as the world does, we can expect no thanks, for we are doing nothing out of the ordinary. What we are summoned to do is something out of the ordinary. We are to be perfect as our Father in heaven is perfect. No less. All else is perversion.82
One of the dangers inherent in the focus of the seeker churches is that in their desire to attract seekers, they risk adopting too much of culture and fail to portray the church as a radical departure from the world. At one level Christ drew people to the kingdom by portraying it as a pearl of great price. This depiction had its limitations, of course, but it must also be admitted that Christ did not attempt to portray the kingdom as attractive when he spoke of what must be given up to embrace it. He did not say, “Come, be my disciple; you will love it here and find contentment in life.” It was instead a call to give up father and mother, to lose one’s life, to sell all that one has, to forsake all for Christ. This call to discipleship is not the message our world wants to hear, and it has become a message that even people in the pews do not like to hear. Seekers, beware what you might find.
Conclusion. The Eden mandate calls us to the narrow way of self-sacrificing service, of purity, of practicing God’s presence minute by minute, of worship and adoration. It does not call for a method; it calls for a lifestyle. It does not call for establishing a devotional time to touch base with God before we go on with our day; it calls for an attitude that fills our day with God. Too often our “devotional” time with God serves as an excuse to neglect him the rest of the day. Instead, it should help us set the course for being continually mindful of him. Brother Lawrence again challenges us through his life:
I have read many books on how to go to God and how to practice the spiritual life. It seems these methods serve more to puzzle me than to help, for what I sought after was simply how to become wholly God’s. So I resolved to give all for ALL. Then I gave myself wholly to God; I renounced everything that was not His. I did this to deal with my sins, and because of my love for Him. I began to live as if there were nothing, absolutely nothing but Him. So upon this earth I began to seek to live as though there were only the Lord and me in the whole world.83
What if we fail in this high ideal? What if godliness is fleeting and the presence of God is buried so deeply in our souls that we feel we wander the deserts or the Vanity Fairs of this world far from anything we can identify as sacred space in our lives? Then we must know that God calls us back, guides us, and helps our prayers as we seek to find our way home to the garden.
Master, they say that when I seem
To be in speech with you,
Since you make no replies, it’s all a dream
—One talker aping two.
They are half right, but not as they
Imagine; rather I
Seek in myself the things I meant to say,
And lo! The wells are dry.
Then, seeing me empty, you forsake
The Listener’s rôle, and through
My dead lips breathe and into utterance wake
The thoughts I never knew.
And thus you neither need reply
Nor can; thus, while we seem
Two talking, thou art One forever, and I
No dreamer, but thy dream.84
Yet in the end, we must confess that we know less of Eden than of the lands east of Eden.85