It started out oh so well. Practically perfect. Everything was good No Evil. No war. No Discontent. Eden was…well Edenic. So many times I have thought this was to be short lived. And it was. Just long enough for Adam to think of a name for all the animals. The first Adam in his first duty. What is not written substantiates a presumable long period of time. God, Adam, and all the created animals. This was no short task. The Great Inventory of Creation. Perhaps this took days, weeks, months, even years. And then…just when Adam thought that he had seen it all. Enter the exclamation mark of creation: the womb-man. She. A suitable helper. The first human mate. Still in fellowship with the Almighty. Everything was perfect. No Shame. And then… it happened. The Wrinkle. The incident of heart and will. The Unveiling of the Eyes. The Fall. It all started with a question: did God really say…? Doubt arose. Everything needed was within reach. Suddenly enough was no longer enough. The Fall is the quest for more. The Fall was the original American Dream. More More More. The Serpent. The Questions. The doubt. The subversion. Eve was not alone. Adam was there afterall. One bite. Two bites. The heavens begin to cry out. This Fall… foreshadowing Autumn. Green leaves of the heart lose color and wilt. Summer air escapes and gives way to an Autumn breeze. Suddenly, the first couple’s skin gives way to chill bumps. We are naked. The new human condition. The ripple felt across the ocean of time. The glory of summer days gone. “These times, they are changing.” Shame is the word for this new emotion. Run. Hide. Run and hide yourself. Adam. Eve. Where are you? Why are you hiding? Who told you were naked? Surely Adam and Eve are growing tired of questions. Questions have thus lead to trouble. Relationship forever changed. And inheritance of shame to bequeath. The curse. The cost? The shedding of blood. A sacrificial clothing. This handiwork of God—garments of skin. Humankind. No longer comfortable in our own skin. No longer comfortable to stand before the Holy One. Oh the Fall. Oh the Fall…Oh the separation.
I relate well to simple things. Like dirt. Thus, I have always preferred the oral tradition. Granted, the first account is nothing short of a miraculous spectacle. The heavens, earth and sky are a derivative of divine utterances. God speaks=it happens. Acoustical generation. No fuss. No hesitation. It’s neat .Clean. Perhaps, too clean for my understanding. Enter the oral tradition. The story of the God according to the people. Communicable understandings. There’s something primal and sinuous about this telling. Maybe it’s too primal for some. Some consider it a defamation of the divine. The Ground of Our Being gathers up dust [aphar] from the ground and draws it close to his lips. A kiss fills the molded dust with inexpressible life giving air. Imagine learning this as a young Hebrew boy, “God breathed into the nostrils [aph] of Adam.” The priestly tradition tells us that God was hands off, an aural creator. But here--here we have someone telling us that when it came to the creation of mankind God ran his fingers through the earth to gather up the beloved of all creation. I prefer this story. I prefer to think that God cared so much for me that he placed his perfect face towards the ground and breathed. Imagine Adam. After gasping your foremost breath you awaken to the face of the Holy. Relationally created. Made for affection and love. Your first sight is of the one who loves you most. This is truly a devastating thought. God willed us into existence with a kiss………………So why do we, Judas, will God out of our lives with the same gesture? I never noticed such irony before.
According to the Levites, God stared down the formless void. I wonder if God thought to God’s self, “This will no longer do”? This “formless void” is seen as infinite potential for finite things. God saw into the face of darkness animated likeness-- something out of nothing. Yet, while observing, God was not motionless or idle. While he stared into potential his Spirit (a mighty rushing wind) swept over the face of the deep dark waters. By His very nature, God was tapping His toes, snapping His fingers, to His own beat, to His own song. Like the tapping of the baton, setting the pace, establishing the rhythm because He is about to speak. And so he utters the great prologue of recorded history. Silence is broken. Four words. Four syllables alter an immeasurable universe, “LET THERE BE LIGHT.” And so the song begins…