The scripture can be found here...
The summer season is drawing to a
close, but one of the greatest gifts of our travels and our visits, our
reunions and our celebrations, is the opportunity we have to share stories with
one another. Think of it: Friends gathered around a campfire, or perhaps a
backyard fire pit. You and someone you love side by side on a beach or at an
outdoor café. Family members normally scattered across the miles, all, for a
brief moment, seated around the same table. And the stories begin to flow…
We tell one another the stories
of the high points, the mountaintop experiences (sometimes, literally!). How we
participated in a triathlon, or ran a 10-K for charity. How our child graduated
with honors, or threw the Hail Mary pass that won the big game. How we finally
grew the perfect heirloom tomato, or bowled a perfect 300 game, or became
grandparents. How we overcame our fear of swimming or flying or being alone.
And we tell one another the other
stories, too. Stories of the crisis at work, the loss of the job, our kid’s
first fender-bender, our loved one in the hospital, in rehab, in the doldrums. We
may even share the story of the one in prison, or going through a painful
divorce, or an ugly custody battle. The stories aren’t always happy. Sometimes
they’re hard. Sometimes they make us want to weep. But they’re our stories, and
the stories of those we love, those we call family, community.
Stories delight and entertain us,
and teach us. Stories remind us of who we are, and of the kind of world we live
in. And stories bring us closer together.
This morning we begin a year-long
project of immersing ourselves in the story and stories of scripture, in a way
we have never done before—not as a congregation, anyway. We begin a time of
reading through the bible in canonical order—that is, in the order the stories
are set out for us. We will read highlights, the major episodes of scripture, and
we do this for several very specific reasons. First, we do it in order to
learn—to see scripture not as we often do, a collection of disparate stories,
letters, songs and histories, but as one story, a Big Story, with a definite
arc, a shape, and a theme—a story that starts one place, and ends in another. I’m
going to tip my hand and tell you the theme right up front: The story of
scripture is the story of God’s amazing love for us. It is a story worth learning!
Second, we do it in order to be reminded of who we are. The stories of
scripture are our stories, the stories of the people of God across time. These
stories belong to us, they speak to us, and they include us. And finally, we do
this, we read through the bible together, in order to recognize that we are all
in this story, not simply as uniquely created individuals, but as a community,
as God’s community. We do this to be reminded that the story of scripture is a
story of belonging.
Our passage this morning begins
in the second chapter of Genesis, the first book in the bible, and it is the
bible’s second creation story. Those of you who were here last Sunday had the
opportunity to read responsively the first creation story, the beautiful
liturgy of the seven days of creation, the one in which God sees that the
creation is very good. This second story focuses in on the creation of
humanity. In this story, we are told, “then the Lord God formed man from the dust
of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and the man
became a living being” (Genesis 2:7). And so, the first thing the story of
scripture tells us today, the first thing we learn, is that humans are intimately
connected with the rest of creation, particularly the earth. In fact, the Hebrew words are connected in a way you
can hear immediately. The Hebrew word for human is ’adam and the word for earth is ’adamah.
The ’adam was formed from the ’adamah. The earthling came from the
earth, the human came from the humus.
We are connected to the earth,
not separate from it. We and the earth together are part of God’s creation. So
much so, in fact, that, the ’adam,
the human, is told to “till and keep” the earth—Hebrew words that also mean
“serve and protect.” Our responsibility towards the earth, given us by our
Creator, is to serve and protect it. This is a far cry from our usual
relationship with the earth. But this is, apparently, one of the things we were
created to do: to participate with God in the work of Creation, by guarding it.
The next thing we learn in
today’s story is that God puts limits on the human. God draws a line and says,
“This far and no further.” The item in question is the Tree of Knowledge of
Good and Evil. What’s amazing is that this prohibition is couched in terms of
absolute abundance. “Any tree,” God says to the human. “Any tree, except this
one.” And the reason seems to be a good one: If you eat of that tree, God tells
the human, on that day you will die.
But we learn, in the same moment,
practically, another truth about human nature: To know that something is off
limits is often to know how very, very much we want it. This is a pretty
universal human experience, but one that is highlighted by the conversation
with the serpent, who points out something that ends up being true: “You will
not die.”
We are used to thinking of the
serpent in this story as an evil figure, even a figure we associate with Satan,
the Tempter. But that is to miss out on a lot of the symbolism the serpent
would have held for those who first gathered around a fire pit to hear this
story. In the ancient world, especially this part of the ancient world, serpents
were wisdom figures. In fact, the Hebrew word translated as “crafty” here, is
translated as “prudent” elsewhere. The serpent is wise. It has some truth to
offer. And one of the truths the serpent highlights is that same thing that
every dieter knows, that is borne out in studies of three-year-olds who are
told they can play with every toy except the one in the box: it is the truth of
the desirability of the forbidden fruit.
The woman and the man, together,
eat the fruit God has forbidden them from eating. Please notice—there is no
seduction, there is no greater guilt on the part of either of them. And the
serpent is right: they don’t die. Was it a test, one they failed? Was it
God-as-overprotective-Parent, trying to keep the newly hatched children from
learning all life’s difficulties too soon? I think all those layers are
possible interpretations of the story, as is the traditional Jewish
interpretation: this is a coming of age story. This is the story of the
original humans learning a hard truth about themselves: the ability to discern
good from evil does not equate to the ability to choose good over evil. Just
because we know the right thing to do doesn’t always mean that we choose it. In
the hot mess that is the human psyche it quite frequently means just the
opposite.
The humans are ashamed—see how they
try to cover up their nakedness, just as we so often try to cover up our own
bad deeds, or even our uncomfortable deeds, or even the deeds of those we love
who have somehow messed up—such a human impulse.
God the Creator does not destroy
the disobedient humans. But in the part of the chapter that comes later, God
gives them clothes to wear, and sends them off to another place to live, a place
where they’ll be fine, though they will certainly have to work harder than they
would have had to in the garden. Is the garden childhood? And the exodus from
the garden adulthood? Hard to say. But know this: the Creator of the garden and
of the humans does not abandon them. God does not wash the divine hands of
these disobedient children. They still belong to God. They still belong to the
earth they are called to serve, and they still belong to one another. God still
tends to their needs. The God of the Old Testament is shown, in this first
encounter with these disobedient children, to be a God of compassion and mercy,
a God who is kind while being just. And that is the true beginning to the long
and beautiful story of God’s relationship with us. God is a God of justice,
compassion, kindness and mercy. We belong to God, and nothing can change that. Thanks
be to God. Amen.
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