Lately I’ve been pondering the ancient story of Adam and Eve, who lived in this beautiful paradise of innocence and splendor, and who had everything that their hearts could desire. Well, almost everything. There was one thing that they could not have, one thing that God had specifically commanded them to leave alone, and that was God’s own tree. “You may freely eat of every tree in the garden,” God instructed them, “but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall die” (Genesis 2:16-17).
So, of course, from that moment on, it was the only thing they really wanted. It was what they dreamt of each night, and what they talked about all day. “What’s so special about that tree?” they wondered. “I’ll bet the fruit of that tree tastes better than the fruit of all the other trees combined,” Adam suggested. “Or maybe it contains mysterious powers,” said Eve, “and that’s why God is being so protective of it.”
In other words, while God had clearly told them to stay away from the tree, God had not provided them with much of a rationale—and so they were free to speculate. And among other things, what the crafty serpent invites them to do is to speculate on the possibility that God wasn’t giving them the whole story.
“You will not die,” hissed the serpent. “On the contrary, your eyes will be opened, and you will become like God.”
And obviously, on one level, he was right—they did not die (at least not physically). However, on another level, it was the end of life (at least the life that they had come to know). They crossed a boundary that day … and there simply was no going back. Their innocence was forever shattered with one fateful, willful decision.
But then again, if God did not want them to eat from the tree, then why did God put it right smack-dab in the middle of the garden? If God wanted them to avoid it, why not surround the tree with thorn bushes, or place it on the other side of a raging river? Why not make the fruit look unappealing? Why not make the tree so tall that they could not reach the fruit? And as far as that goes, who let this serpent into the garden? And who gave it the ability to speak? And who made it so crafty?
Some have suggested that this is actually a test of the first couple’s ability to follow directions. But if that’s the case, then why didn’t God let them work up to it a little? You know, start off with something less significant, like “Don’t call me after 9 p.m.” or “Remember to feed the goldfish.” After all, Adam and Eve were still fairly new to all of this. Why present them with such a difficult moral decision right off the bat—and especially one that carried such dire consequences?
Suffice it to say, this story tends to generate more questions than it does answers. But maybe that’s the point. If we had all the answers, if we knew the reasons for why God decides to make some things off-limits, then we wouldn’t really need to trust God. And of course, that’s part of what Adam and Eve failed to do—they failed to trust God!
So, of course, from that moment on, it was the only thing they really wanted. It was what they dreamt of each night, and what they talked about all day. “What’s so special about that tree?” they wondered. “I’ll bet the fruit of that tree tastes better than the fruit of all the other trees combined,” Adam suggested. “Or maybe it contains mysterious powers,” said Eve, “and that’s why God is being so protective of it.”
In other words, while God had clearly told them to stay away from the tree, God had not provided them with much of a rationale—and so they were free to speculate. And among other things, what the crafty serpent invites them to do is to speculate on the possibility that God wasn’t giving them the whole story.
“You will not die,” hissed the serpent. “On the contrary, your eyes will be opened, and you will become like God.”
And obviously, on one level, he was right—they did not die (at least not physically). However, on another level, it was the end of life (at least the life that they had come to know). They crossed a boundary that day … and there simply was no going back. Their innocence was forever shattered with one fateful, willful decision.
But then again, if God did not want them to eat from the tree, then why did God put it right smack-dab in the middle of the garden? If God wanted them to avoid it, why not surround the tree with thorn bushes, or place it on the other side of a raging river? Why not make the fruit look unappealing? Why not make the tree so tall that they could not reach the fruit? And as far as that goes, who let this serpent into the garden? And who gave it the ability to speak? And who made it so crafty?
Some have suggested that this is actually a test of the first couple’s ability to follow directions. But if that’s the case, then why didn’t God let them work up to it a little? You know, start off with something less significant, like “Don’t call me after 9 p.m.” or “Remember to feed the goldfish.” After all, Adam and Eve were still fairly new to all of this. Why present them with such a difficult moral decision right off the bat—and especially one that carried such dire consequences?
Suffice it to say, this story tends to generate more questions than it does answers. But maybe that’s the point. If we had all the answers, if we knew the reasons for why God decides to make some things off-limits, then we wouldn’t really need to trust God. And of course, that’s part of what Adam and Eve failed to do—they failed to trust God!
posted by Dr. Robert Crilley at
9:23 PM
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3 comments
