At some point, on creation day six, God concocted an unfinished community. We know this because God announced plans to make a human who would be part of a larger unit. It’s odd, really, the way it came together. God announced the creation of one human in the same breath as explaining the purpose of all [soon-to-be] humans:
“Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness; and let them have dominion … ” (Gen. 1:26, NRSV)
Until then, God’s words had achieved spectacular design—infinite space, heavenly bodies, the earth, vegetation, land, sea, and animal life. Prior to gathering some dust, and breathing the first human to life, God envisioned a fuller composition. One would culminate in two according to a meticulous blueprint and process:
“When God created human beings he made them to be like himself. He created them male and female, and he blessed them and called them ‘human.’” (Gen. 5:1b-2, NLT)
God called the man and woman human—or adam—meaning Mr. and Mrs. Humankind. Knowing this, it’s not so bizarre that God shaped the woman from a bone in the man’s body. Reading on, it makes sense that God brought her to life after a profound object lesson.
I imagine God—Creator, Word, Spirit—beaming as dust particles mysteriously transform into human DNA, cells, flesh, organs, bones. Eyes flicker open. The man studies his arms, extending fingers, feeling nails, touching hair, stretching his legs.
The man stands, runs, leaps. God ushers him on a tour of the world he will till and keep: “See the heavens, sun, stars, moon, sky, clouds. It’s all good. That’s water. Those are fish, insects, birds, flowers, bushes, ferns. Yes, good. There’s an animal. Another animal. Those are trees. All good. Just don’t eat that one or death will swallow you in a grave.”
Watching the man explore paradise, one expects to hear God proclaim: “It is good.” Instead, strange words spill across the page: “It is not good that the man is alone. I will make a helper corresponding to him.”
Surprisingly, God lines up some animals before constructing the woman: “Study them. Know them. Give them names.”
How long did the man wrack his brains over what to call each one as animals paraded by? What did he think as they sputtered phlegm, chewed grass, and rolled in dung? How did his smooth skin compare to their horns, fur, and feathers? Did he notice he did not have a tail? Did he wish for their input? How many creatures did he name before realizing it would take an extraordinary amount of time and work?
Outnumbered by creatures so unlike himself, did a loneliness not overcome the man? Did he not yearn for someone who looked, reasoned, and felt like him? Did he not wish for someone to speak, work, eat, play, and rest with him? Did he not ache to share life with another human? (Gen. 2:20)
In the words of theologian Gilbert Bilizekian, “The full expression of humanity necessitated the creation of woman … as the indispensable counterpart to man in God’s perfect creation.” The man couldn’t reflect the multipersonality of God—Creator, Word, Spirit—alone.
Thus far, God’s words and sculpting abilities have formed half a community. It makes perfect sense when God sends the man to dreamland, and shapes a she from a bone of his chest. “At last!” The man recognizes what God has been up to when he wakes. “This one is bone from my bone, and flesh from my flesh! She will be called ‘woman,’ because she was taken from ‘man.’”
God leaves no room for ambiguity about their mutual human purposes: “Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth.” (Gen. 1:28, NRSV)
We don’t know how long the man and woman enjoyed overseeing God’s garden before it all fell apart. Scripture turns to the confusion and conflicts stirred up by the serpent. Many debate who slipped up first and why. I question if it matters when the woman and man—deceived or not—gambled the future, and their very lives, for a bite. We miss the point of the story when weighing who is most to blame. Both fell when trying to be like God . . . Continue reading in SheLoves . . .
Copyright © 2015, Amy R. Buckley.