Hebrew Scripture
Genesis 3: 1-7
Now the serpent was more crafty than any other wild animal that the Lord God had made. He said to the woman, “Did God say, “You shall not eat from any tree in the garden’?” The woman said to the serpent, “We may eat of the fruit of the trees in the garden; but God said, “You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree that is in the middle of the garden, nor shall you touch it, or you shall die.’ ” But the serpent said to the woman, “You will not die; for God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.”
So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate; and she also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate. Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew that they were naked; and they sewed fig leaves together and made loincloths for themselves.
Sermon
In May of last year, a new $27 million tourist attraction opened not far from Cincinnati, Ohio. The same man who designed the “Jaws” and “King Kong” attractions at Universal Studios in Florida lent his talents to this sprawling 60,000 square foot complex. Among other things, it features gigantic, moving dinosaurs. In one part, a giant Apatosaurus “munches on leaves a few yards away” from a pair of mannequin children. This might sound like a Jurassic Park inspired Six Flags, but, in fact, it is a museum that purports to teach history as it actually happened. Called the Creation Museum, it was founded by Answers in Genesis ministry which has as part of its mission to dramatize as historical fact its understanding of how the Bible says the world began. While scientists believe that dinosaurs lived hundreds of millions of years ago before they became fossilized remains, this museum asserts that they lived only 6,000 years ago side by side with humans. That explains the Apatosaurus standing so close to the children.
In addition to offering its own rendition of the origins of humans and dinosaurs, the museum also provides a theological interpretation for all of human history beginning with Adam and Eve. In the museum, three-dimensional displays show a rather buff Adam and a modelesque Eve resembling soap opera stars as they cavort naked among green foliage that cleverly conceals certain parts of their anatomy. In one scene, Eve offers the infamous evil fruit to a willing Adam who eats it. That is the moment of the big fall on which the sinful condition of humanity hinges for all the rest of time. From that moment on, humanity is doomed to evil, suffering, and death until Jesus offers a way out for those who see the light.
With this theology in place, much of the rest of the museum focuses on what are regarded as the horrors of human history resulting from Adam’s disastrous slip-up. A New York Times reviewer suggests that the museum highlights two major catastrophes in particular: the flood at the time of Noah’s ark and “the abandonment of the Bible by church figures…and Enlightenment philosophers.” The problem with the church figures is that they read “the story of creation as if it were merely metaphorical.” According to the museum, it is “progressives” who are determined to destroy the world. All of this could almost be funny, but there is a serious political dimension to it. In part of the museum, newspaper headlines from the present day blare what are supposedly signs of humanity’s current fallen state: gay marriage, abortion, evolution in schools, and school shootings. Thus, gay marriage is equated with multiple homicide.
Well, if we want to lay claim to being progressive Christians or at least Christians who believe science is a friend rather than an enemy of religion and who believe that gay marriage should be a human right, then what do we do with the creation story? Do we just throw it away? Do we ignore it? Or, do we pursue making our own critically informed interpretation? Do we allow that there might be a number of plausible, valid interpretations simultaneously, rather than just one interpretation that everyone else should believe?
While the Creation Museum rejects metaphorical interpretations of the Bible, one Presbyterian minister rightly responds by noting that if this is what we are to believe then when we say God is our rock, we are saying that we believe God is literally made out of granite. Moreover, if one takes the creation story literally, then one has to believe in a wide range of things such as talking snakes and dinosaurs that refrained from eating little kids. However, if one is open to metaphorical interpretations, some interesting possibilities open up.
One interpretation is that the creation story we read earlier can be read as a metaphorical narrative that pokes fun at King Solomon, one of the kings at the time the story came into being. According to this interpretation, our creation story is something of a folktale with the snake as its trickster. Like many folktales, it takes comedic aim at the powerful whether they be slave masters or kings. In order not to bore you with pure, unadulterated biblical research that attempts to spell all of this out, I thought I would present this interpretation to you this morning as a guided meditation of sorts or perhaps a kind of portrait in words of King Solomon and the people of Jerusalem. Imagine for a second King Solomon sitting in the splendor of his royal palace. Imagine that behind the lavishness of the palace, the temple, and all of the buildings he built are slaves and conscripted laborers who work together in the thousands. Thirty-thousand men cutting down trees in Lebanon. Eighty-thousand working in the stone quarries. Seventy-thousand laboring as “burden-bearers.” Underneath their breath, they curse Solomon saying he is as bad the Egyptian Pharaohs who once enslaved the Israelites. Then, imagine Solomon with his twelve thousand horsemen, his fleets of ships, and a treasury full of gold from tributes, taxes, and trade. Listen to his scribes say that his riches are greater than “all the kings of the earth.” Listen to them say that in the history of their great nation no king has ever reached such power and might over other peoples. Like a god, he rules over both his own people and their conquered enemies.
Now leave the palace of Solomon. Enter into the streets of Jerusalem. Listen to the people talk. Hear the Jewish faithful speak of how Solomon no longer worships Yahweh alone but has turned to the gods of the Canaanites. Hear the gossip among them about his thousand wives and concubines, many from conquered peoples. They say that Solomon like his Canaanite wives now worships the Canaanite God of fertility, a serpent. They say he risks getting them all kicked out of the promised land of Israel for breaking their covenant with God. Now, listen to a storyteller among them as she spins a tale that hints at the life of Solomon. “Once upon a time,” she says, “a long, long time ago, there lived a man made of mere dust. In truth, he was only a lump of clay, but oh how vain he was. He wanted to be God. He wanted to rule all of creation, and he thought that he would. One day it seemed it would actually happen. His wife worshipped a serpent god, and the serpent God promised to give them the knowledge of God. All they had to do was eat the fruit of a special tree and then they would have it. Eagerly, in their lust for power, they ate the fruit.
But it was all a trick. The serpent was no God at all, and when the true God appeared, the serpent was told that he would crawl on his belly and eat dust the rest of his life. The real joke, however, was on the man and his wife. First, they realized, as if for the first time, that they were standing there with nary a cloth on their bodies. Full of embarrassment, they frantically sewed together some fig leaves to cover themselves up. Of course, they did indeed become like God. They received one of the greatest burdens God has: knowledge of good and evil. Like never before, they came to know pain and suffering. They experienced it themselves. For breaking their allegiance with God, they got kicked out of paradise. The man who once aspired to rule over everyone was forced to work the land as a common peasant in order to survive. All the vanity and pride of the man and his wife came to an end as God made them face the truth of who they were: They were nothing but dust and to dust they would return.”
So ends the folktale told among the common people of Israel. Imagine now that you are in the present day and imagine your least favorite authority figure, ruler, president, or whatever the case maybe, and imagine him or her frantically sewing together fig leaves in a rather revealing and embarrassing state. No, just joking…
The creation story, of course, lends itself to lots of interpretations. Maybe you don’t buy that it’s a metaphorical narrative about King Solomon. Maybe instead you might prefer the interpretation that it is a coming of age story. Maybe Adam represents all of us as we mature in life and reach the point where we realize as never before the existence of evil in the world. Recently, I saw the movie “The Lives of Others,” and it occurred to me that one of the characters has this kind of coming of age experience relatively late in life. In his fifties or so, he works for the secret police—the Stasi—during the communist rule of East Germany. At first, he believes in everything the party professes. He hunts down traitors of the government with a devout zeal. One of his targets is a leading playwright who he is convinced fits the profile of a traitor. He spies on the playwright night and day, but gradually his heart begins to change. He listens to the beauty of the playwright’s music, hears the truth of his words, and witnesses the cruelty inflicted upon him by the government. The once fanatical officer begins to see the evil around himself and realizes that he is a part of it. No longer can he continue his complicity. His consciousness comes of age.
Personally, I like both interpretations, and I am not sure which is right. Maybe both are right, and honestly, I am not sure it matters to me. What matters is whether or not I feel these interpretations lead to truth, not historical truth, but the intangible truth known in the depths of my own heart. In the end, I believe both of these interpretations give me cause to celebrate during the season of Lent. The first interpretation makes me celebrate the idea that Lent doesn’t need to be all serious and dour and full of self-recrimination and guilt. Lent can have its laughs while at same time recognizing the very real evil of empires and their kings. The second interpretation makes me celebrate the idea that Lent is about growth. It’s about the potential of humans to kindle within themselves a sense of compassion and a sense of justice that might be exactly what is needed to save us all. Amen.