Adam Leis

The Garden, the Tree, and the Choice

Even as a child, before I was really interested in theology, philosophy, and literature, I’ve been fascinated by the story in the Garden of Eden. Maybe it’s because the first created human was named Adam. (I should write a little about that name’s meaning.)

Eden can scarcely be talked about without mentioning the Fall. So many questions arise from it. Why did God leave the tree so accessible in the first place? If God knew we would eat and Fall, why point it out or make it accessible? Is it fair that it was dangled in front of them? Why leave it in the middle of the Garden? How big is this Garden anyways?

Among the numerous question, I often asked what’s up with the elements of the story? Why does eating a fruit cause spiritual cosmic tsunamis throughout creation and wreck everything?

There’s no shortage of commentary on the Fall and its details. Nothing I’ll cover here is new or revelatory, but you’re still reading, so let’s get to it.

Whatever else it might be, the story of the Fall is a metaphor that applies as much to us today as in the human genesis. To be clear, I’m not calling into question or even addressing if I think the story is grounded in history. (I do, but that’s not what I’m focusing on here.) I’m proposing that the Fall is an archetype of human behavior that still plays out today.

The Details

Let’s summarize the story briefly, though it’s short enough to read in its entirety in Genesis 2 & 3.

The Interpretation

The man/human/Adam is created, given instructions (another way to say it, given “the Law” or torah) on how to live in the Garden, given work, then given a helper (not a servant, but genuinely a helpmate; someone to strengthen Adam and help enable him in his God-given work). Then, God’s instructions are challenged, misinterpreted/misquoted (by Eve and not corrected by Adam), and ignored.

Here’s the crux of the issue: eating from the tree of knowledge of good and evil is akin to rejecting God’s instructions and going one’s own way.

The expression “good and evil” is an idiot to express two extremes of the moral spectrum, good and evil, and everything in between. This is common in Hebrew literature: “the heavens and the earth” from the perspective of pre-scientific astronomy means “the very top to the very bottom;” “as far as the east to the west” means the furthest extremes on this physical plain; and of course, “good and evil” means “all moral actions.” Another way to more concisely express the idea in modern English would be “the tree of moral knowledge.”

Eating from the tree of moral knowledge is akin to rejecting God’s instructions and going one’s own way.

God instructs humanity (Adam and by extension Eve) to partake in all the activities available, but don’t determine for yourselves what is morally right and wrong; that’s God’s job. (In apologetic discussions of the problem of evil/pain/suffering, moral law is not something God declares, nor something co-existing with God that God follows as the Euthyphro dilemma would suggest; moral law extends from God’s own character).

To restate and rephrase: eating from the tree of moral knowledge is akin to rejecting God’s instructions and going one’s own way.

When (any) human eats from that tree, the person declares, “I know better than God’s instruction on this matter,” and effectively asserts moral superiority over God. It’s fundamentally an act of pride and self-glorification/deification. Now the weight of the sin/fault is clear.

The Solution

It took a long time for the solution to become clear. When Jesus lived and worked on earth, he followed God’s instructions. His life became a model for all “Adams” (and Eves). Much more can be said about the nature of cultural and ritual sacrifices, the atonement of sins, and the role Jesus played there, but again, that’s another topic for another day.

”Jesus is the answer” as the saying goes. Specifically, trusting that Jesus can and will save you from your own “fruit-eating” and help reunite you to the affectionate Creator Who strolled with us through the Garden. Give him some serious, honest, and humble (the opposite of pride) consideration.