Proper 5 2015

Proper 5 2015

It may be just me, but I don’t feel like I hear nearly enough sermons based on the Old Testament. Maybe that’s a relief to some of you, I don’t know. But my guess is that because it requires a lot of contextualizing, and explanation—sermons based on the Old Testament have the potential to be dreadfully boring. There are, after all things like culture, historical context and things to be considered…but, also the Old Testament can just be a little weird sometimes.

Our reading from Genesis might fall into this category if it weren’t such a familiar story. However, this isn’t the lovely litany of Creation from previous chapters—instead, this is the story of how these humans that God has created are eventually exiled for their disobedience. Which is really a bit of a downer, when you think of it…

But before we all put on our self-effacing, Sunday School hats—it might be helpful to explore the story a bit before we make any assumptions. Besides, as Walter Brueggemann, the incredibly popular, cool and devilishly handsome Old Testament scholar has pointed out: this narrative cannot be oversimplified as simply being about origins of evil/ the fall/sin/death or sex; and to make it only about that stuff oversimplifies the meaning, and overstates the importance of such things that are really very minor points in the story... It also distracts us from the fact that the story is rich in graciousness, mercy, and love. Instead, as Brueggemann says, it is a story about “God’s powerful resolve to overcome [humanity’s] alienation [from God] (pg 44),” It’s also about the purposes of God, and the trust of humankind (pg 43).

So, if you still haven’t lost interest, here we go…

Oh! I would like to first point out that this story was not written as historical fact. For one, the writers of Scripture were less interested in historical reporting (as we understand it today), and were instead very concerned with communicating “Truth.”

That’s to say whether you take the creation account in Genesis as literal, or don’t believe it at all—the point is that the writers were trying to communicate deeper truth. So, arguments about infallibility, literal interpretation, or even discounting this work as pure, primitive nonsense is pretty much irrelevant to the point of it.

Right, so, on to the story…

Well, we’re told about this Garden that is planted by God—and this planting, like everything else that God has done in Creation is purely graciousness. Previously we’ve heard about God calling into existence light, and out of chaos the variety of elements—earth, the stars and other heavenly bodies. The boundaries of the sea are marked, and plants and animals spring forth to inhabit this newly birthed world.

But into this Garden, which God planted, there is a surprise creature—this one which is not simply called into being by the existence-giving word of God. Instead, this creature is formed, from the earth, and life is breathed into it. And, because this creature is made from the soil, it is called Adamah (“Adam”).

What’s more, this creature is somehow made in the Image of God, and therefore can find no equal in all of creation. This was the first time in the whole liturgy of Creation that God says that something is “not good.” Adam is alone…

But, God is not supposed to be Adam’s helper. It’s one thing for God to be the help of the Creation—but, not a helper. So, to solve this matter, it would require another new and surprising and creative action. And God creates the woman from the side of the man—and they are equal, and they are one in their community in this Garden that God has planted for them.

Now, Walter Brueggemann says that from this development of the plot so far that humanity and this Garden tell us something about the purpose of God in humanity. Humans are given certain characteristics which both define their identity as this special type of creature, but also identify the purpose for humanity’s relationship to this Garden, and to God.

First of all, the human is given into this Garden to work. It is Adam’s created vocation to work in this Garden, and from its bounty to be sustained, like the rest of the Creation. However, because humanity is made in this likeness of the Creator—the nature to be creative is part of that image. And so, Adam is placed into this Garden not only to work, care for, and cultivate it—but, by this creative nature, to enhance it!

What’s more, Adam is placed into this world and is told that he ought to go and enjoy the Creation. God gives Adam permission to be utterly free—this is a freedom that we often forget because, of course, there is the one prohibition that God gives to Adam and Eve. God explains that they are free to explore and enjoy the creation—but for this one tree.

“You’re forbidden this one thing”, God says. “Do not eat of this tree…it’s the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, and eating of this tree will bring you death…”

This is the part that we normally focus on… We may wonder, what’s the point in allowing the man and the woman unlimited access to everything else—but then to place a tree in the Garden that could easily be the cause of death for these creatures?

But, here again, the point is not why God would prohibit this one thing—the point is that not only is this one tree not relevant to the purposes of God, the more important point is that humanity misses the immensity of freedom that has been bestowed upon them.

The truth is, we’re not given a lot of information about this tree—it doesn’t play any particular role in Scripture until a few conversations by St. Paul in the New Testament. However, it wouldn’t be much of a story if the tree wasn’t so interesting…

Enter: the serpent. Inevitably, it’s the serpent who will become the catalyst for what we can easily guess will happen.

Apparently, the serpent is the only creature who has considered philosophically this prohibition about the tree. That’s not to say that this serpent is the embodiment of evil or of Satan—in fact, we don’t see the serpent as any particular symbol of evil anywhere else in the Old Testament, really. If anything, in a couple of places, we see that serpents were symbols of healing. And as to this prefiguring Satan; well, this serpent is more like a philosopher, or theologian than a prosecuting attorney (as the name Satan implies).

This serpent, then, offers this theological question to the woman. Did God really say that you weren’t allowed to eat from the tree? Do you really think that death really means death? So, like a theologian, the serpent begins having a conversation about God—without involving God. God is instead objectified.

The serpent encourages the woman to make a value judgment about God. Suddenly, this clear prohibition of God’s gets somehow rationally reframed, and in no time both the woman and the man have eaten from the one tree that was forbidden to them.   

What happens then, and where our reading begins today, is incredibly nuanced—and it’s because of this nuance that I think this story is so beautiful…

God shows up, as we would expect. The man and the woman, we’re told, have hidden themselves away—not that this would matter, or would somehow keep God from finding them. But in spite of God’s apparent omniscience, and even omnipotence—God asks the first recorded question to any of his creatures. God cries out, “Ayeka?!” “Where are you?”

This isn’t a question of physical location—it’s not as if God is fooled by the man and woman hiding. This is a question of the heart. It’s a question of spiritual presence. “Where is your heart?”

Vicki Garvey (from our diocesan staff, and formerly Old Testament professor at Seabury) has pointed out, there is fear and abandonment in this question. God is utterly broken-hearted, and it’s somehow God who is lost.

All of a sudden these beautiful, amazing creatures that had so much potential were now unrecognizable. Where were these cleverly creative children who were supposed to enhance the beauty of an already beautiful Creation? Where were these wide-eyed, and curious people who were compelled to learn about their world, learn about themselves, and learn about God?

Now, who were these pitiful, frightened shadows who not only couldn’t hide, but couldn’t even dress themselves?

When the man emerges, he’s quick to explain that when he heard God in the Garden, he was afraid. He hid because he was naked. Nakedness was never a condition before—not until the man made it one. Suddenly something that was simply part of being human had become a reason for fear and shame.

Who told you that you were naked, God asks him… Have you eaten from the tree?

The man then explains that it was this woman that God gave him. She was responsible for giving him the fruit. The woman, in her turn, likewise explains that it was the serpent who tricked her, and then she ate the fruit… And so, we see that the man and the woman—for all of the guilt we know they feel—can’t admit any fault of their own. It wasn’t apparently their own choices, but was instead God’s fault, and the woman’s fault and the serpent’s fault…not to mention everything is “I, I, I; me, me, me…”

Well, we know how the story ends—the man and woman are exiled from the Garden, and they are cursed to toil and pain on the earth… But here is what we probably don’t consider in this story: God’s grace is still very much evident, and is even given in their sentencing to exile.

God made it perfectly clear that while everything was permissible to them, there was this one thing—this one tree that, if they ate of its fruit would lead to death. But, the man and the woman did eat the fruit of this tree—but, they didn’t die. And so, while we would expect some punishment for their actions from God—there is still a clear injustice in the very judgment that God gives…

What’s more, this shame and guilt that the man and woman cannot bear, Brueggemann adds, God can bear it, and even goes so far as to do what they cannot—God clothes them. And as we know from the New Testament, to be clothed is to have life.

Again, as I quoted earlier, this isn’t a hopeless story—“it’s a story about God’s powerful resolve to overcome alienation…” And the deep truth that this narrative speaks to us is quite an important one. Because, as we see this beautiful, hope-filled vision of humanity in the creation—we hold to the faith that in Jesus we are made a new creation. The Church, then is to strive to reflect a renewed vision of that original, beautiful state of humanity that we see in the Creation story.

As the Imago Dei, then, it is our very nature to be about the vocation of enhancing and making our world. This means through our talents, and our creativity, we have the responsibility to work for the benefit of all of this Creation of which we are a part. More importantly, because we are also called Christ’s own forever by our baptism—we’re called to continue the work of salvation that was set in motion by Jesus—but, has also been in motion from the very beginning. This is our vocation.

We also live in a time and culture where communication, technology and scientific discovery have made it easier to experience, explore and understand our Universe. With every connection we make with other cultures, we come to understand our own a little more. With each scientific discovery, we find a multitude of questions to spark our curiosity to understand even more…and this is also part of who we are as humans.

We are given incredible freedom to learn about this life, about one another, ourselves—and, certainly about God. The limits for us in this regard, then, are really pretty insignificant compared to the freedom we’re permitted.

But with regard to limits, we do have prohibitions… not a mysterious tree that we’re not allowed to go near. But this is to say, that the prohibition for us is simply not to do those things which lead to death.

This may sound overly simple, but with regard to the other two—our vocation and our freedom—our abuse or neglect of such gifts would certainly be dangerous. For instance we already see in the world where technology which could help to provide necessary resources for the life of others, is instead used to monopolize and exploit resources. We’ve seen how our freedom to seek and to know have been turned to fear and control of others…

There were some articles a couple years back with studies that surprised advertising agencies, and churches right along with them. They found that the Millennial generation—those born between the 1980s through the 2000s—apparently didn’t really care a whole lot about such things as social consciousness; the environment; or a number of other things that had been major issues in previous generations. Some researchers have gone so far as to say that Millennials are identified as having a sense of entitlement and narcissism. Of course this is the generation that both advertisers and the Church has been trying to court for the past few years.

The irony, I suppose, is that we’ve also spent decades asking not only children in this particular generation what “they value,” “what is important to them,” “what do they see as necessary or valuable to them and their lives.” In other words, we’ve trained our culture to make value judgments on just about everything. And so, we’re surprised when we can’t get people to be engaged in working toward a common sense of good; or committing to transformative work in the world; or even to being vital members of our churches, when we’ve already restructured our society to give people whatever they want—encouraged people to only take whatever they feel they need, and leave the rest… In other words, we’ve encouraged self-entitlement and narcissism in a generation—but we’ve also made it the new normal for the rest of us.

So here’s the punchline… When our response to the world’s need no longer evokes our creativity, and our vocation to work and respond; we’ve lost part of what it is to be human. When we’re no longer awestruck, or gob-smacked by the utter grandeur, mystery and largesse of the Creation, because we just can’t see much value in it for us right now…well, we’ve squandered our God-given gift of freedom for what appears convenient for us in the moment. And when the pain of the world due to human greed or negligence—even our own—challenges us to take a hard look at ourselves—who’s fault will it be? God’s? other people? the serpent?

More importantly, who will God see? Will it be the creative, free, life-affirming person created by God, or will it be the frightened shadow, hiding in fear? As the Church, we’re supposed to renew this Imago Dei that we’re given. We called to join God, in Christ, as co-creators, and we’re also to work to overcome alienation among all of humanity, and between ourselves and God. If we ignore this (or make excuses), we diminish our nature. So, the question God continues to ask humanity is, “Ayeka? Where are you?” And I would imagine it is asked with just as much fear and anxiety as when God asked the man and the woman…