Punishment and Promise
The Expulsion of Adam and Eve from Paradise by Benjamin West (1738-1820)
Chapter 3 of Genesis concludes with an account of God delivering his sentence on Adam and Eve - and the serpent.
The serpent is cursed by God to ‘go upon its belly’ and ‘eat dust for all the days of its life’. Eve learns that from now on she will experience great pain during childbirth, that her relationship with her husband will be contaminated by lust and a struggle for dominance. Adam is condemned to onerous and frustrating work which will often be largely fruitless. (Genesis 3:14-19).
Once again, we won’t understand the message of Scripture if we interpret these verses literally. The authors of Genesis aren’t saying that God fell victim to the very human emotions of petulance and vindictiveness.
Rather, they’ve grasped the profound truth that human sinfulness by its very nature alienates us from God and automatically erects a barrier between ourselves and God. The consequences of sin are, so to speak, contained in the sin itself. And these consequences are the loss of harmony and intimacy between God and humanity, between man and woman even in their loving and committed marital relationship, and between human beings and the material environment they inhabit.
The authors go on to portray our alienation from God by Adam and Eve’s banishment from the Garden of Eden. But although the original friendship between God and man has been lost forever, God insists on continuing to show care for Adam and Eve, clothing them with garments to protect them as they move into the harsh world outside Paradise and - even more importantly - promising that one day he will take action to restore the friendship.
God promises (Gen 3:15) that eventually, at some point in the future, the woman’s ‘seed’ will crush the serpent’s head: in other words, a descendent of Adam and Eve will, one day, effect the redemption of the human race.
The authors couldn’t have known the precise details of how God would bring about humanity’s salvation, but they were inspired to record their inkling, their vague intuition, of an eventual liberation from sin and the restoration of unity between God and man. And from the earliest period the Christian community came to interpret this verse as a ‘protoevangelium’ - a prior announcement of the Gospel - prophesying the coming of Jesus as a New Adam and the ‘seed’ of the New Eve, his mother Mary.
In closing, there are two other points worth mentioning briefly.
Catholic theological reflection has never interpreted the effects of original sin in terms of a complete corruption of human nature. Our intellectual abilities, our willpower, our perception of God and our capacity for love and goodness have all been damaged and weakened by sin, but not completely destroyed.
The Catholic faith has often expressed this truth by saying that although men and women can grasp goodness and truth and the demands of love to a degree, without the assistance and support of God’s grace, nevertheless, our nature is badly handicapped and, by our own resources alone, we’re simply not capable of keeping to the right path for long.
This condition has been described in various images over the centuries. In one image, which perhaps we could call the ‘legal’ image, sin is depicted as a breaking of law, a crime against God, with Jesus accepting the punishment which in strict justice is due to us. This is accurate, but partial, and, if not stated carefully, runs the risk of obscuring the essence of God’s nature, which is love.
Another ancient Christian image places greater emphasis on God’s mercy and forgiveness and his yearning to rescue us and restore us to friendship with him - the ‘medical’ image as we might call it.
This image portrays fallen human beings as sick and wounded and in need of a cure. Christ is seen as the divine physician who restores us to the healthful state we could never achieve by ourselves.
In the eighth century the English Benedictine monk Saint Bede preached an ingenious sermon on Christ’s parable of the Good Samaritan. Bede depicted the man attacked by brigands as a symbol of humanity, wounded and deprived by sin.
Rather, they’ve grasped the profound truth that human sinfulness by its very nature alienates us from God and automatically erects a barrier between ourselves and God. The consequences of sin are, so to speak, contained in the sin itself. And these consequences are the loss of harmony and intimacy between God and humanity, between man and woman even in their loving and committed marital relationship, and between human beings and the material environment they inhabit.
The authors go on to portray our alienation from God by Adam and Eve’s banishment from the Garden of Eden. But although the original friendship between God and man has been lost forever, God insists on continuing to show care for Adam and Eve, clothing them with garments to protect them as they move into the harsh world outside Paradise and - even more importantly - promising that one day he will take action to restore the friendship.
God promises (Gen 3:15) that eventually, at some point in the future, the woman’s ‘seed’ will crush the serpent’s head: in other words, a descendent of Adam and Eve will, one day, effect the redemption of the human race.
The authors couldn’t have known the precise details of how God would bring about humanity’s salvation, but they were inspired to record their inkling, their vague intuition, of an eventual liberation from sin and the restoration of unity between God and man. And from the earliest period the Christian community came to interpret this verse as a ‘protoevangelium’ - a prior announcement of the Gospel - prophesying the coming of Jesus as a New Adam and the ‘seed’ of the New Eve, his mother Mary.
The Blessed Virgin Mary is often called 'the new Eve', as Jesus is the Second Adam.
She is often portrayed standing on the head of a snake, a reference to Genesis 3:15.
In closing, there are two other points worth mentioning briefly.
Catholic theological reflection has never interpreted the effects of original sin in terms of a complete corruption of human nature. Our intellectual abilities, our willpower, our perception of God and our capacity for love and goodness have all been damaged and weakened by sin, but not completely destroyed.
The Catholic faith has often expressed this truth by saying that although men and women can grasp goodness and truth and the demands of love to a degree, without the assistance and support of God’s grace, nevertheless, our nature is badly handicapped and, by our own resources alone, we’re simply not capable of keeping to the right path for long.
This condition has been described in various images over the centuries. In one image, which perhaps we could call the ‘legal’ image, sin is depicted as a breaking of law, a crime against God, with Jesus accepting the punishment which in strict justice is due to us. This is accurate, but partial, and, if not stated carefully, runs the risk of obscuring the essence of God’s nature, which is love.
Another ancient Christian image places greater emphasis on God’s mercy and forgiveness and his yearning to rescue us and restore us to friendship with him - the ‘medical’ image as we might call it.
This image portrays fallen human beings as sick and wounded and in need of a cure. Christ is seen as the divine physician who restores us to the healthful state we could never achieve by ourselves.
In the eighth century the English Benedictine monk Saint Bede preached an ingenious sermon on Christ’s parable of the Good Samaritan. Bede depicted the man attacked by brigands as a symbol of humanity, wounded and deprived by sin.
Icon of the Venerable Bede (c.672-735)
The Good Samaritan is Christ himself, and the inn is the Christian Church, where the injured man is fed, cared for and nursed back to health. Bede makes Jesus’ parable an allegory of sin and redemption, in line with the ‘medical’ image.
But let’s finish by going back to the book of Genesis and the story of mankind’s Fall. The commentator Alan Richardson sums up the essential message in these words:
‘With astonishing insight [the Genesis account of the first
sin] has laid bare the nature of man’s predicament as a being capable of
response to the divine address, yet incapable of fulfilling in his own strength
the divine command and intention. It has presented us with a prologue to the
whole biblical drama of our salvation...Man stands as a rebel against his
Creator, refusing to give God the glory; yet God will not let man go, or allow
him to suffer the full and dire consequences of his rebellion. Though he
punishes, God is ever preserving man’s life from destruction and preparing the
way of salvation; his chastening is but the “rod and staff” in the hands of the
faithful Shepherd who seeks to lead us to himself.’*
* Alan Richardson, Genesis 1 - 11, SCM Press, 1963 (1st ed. 1953), p. 79.
~~~
(The Easter Proclamation, or Exsultet, is chanted during the liturgy of the Easter Vigil of the Lord's Resurrection, which takes place after dark on the eve of Easter Sunday. Part of the Exsultet is:
washed clean of sin
and freed from all defilement,
are restored to grace and grow together in holiness.
This is the night when Jesus Christ
broke the chains of death
and rose triumphant from the grave.
What good would life have been to us,
had Christ not come as our Redeemer?
Father, how wonderful your care for us!
How boundless your merciful love!
To ransom a slave
you gave away your Son.
O happy fault, O necessary sin of Adam,
which gained for us so great a Redeemer!
Most blessed of all nights, chosen by God
to see Christ rising from the dead!)
1 comment:
‘Of Man’s first disobedience, and the fruit
Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste
Brought death into the world, and all or woe,
With loss of Eden, till one greater Man
Restore us, and regain the blissful seat,
Sing, heavenly Muse,’
Better late than never as they say. I spent a long time ruminating and cogitating or should I say meditating on these four articles on the Fall of Man and I wanted to give a considered response to them and, at the risk of being a poetry bore, begin by quoting the opening lines of Paradise Lost by John Milton - a contender for the finest piece of writing in the English language in my humble opinion. It was written in the seventeenth century, or rather dictated, as the author had become blind - making it an even more remarkable achievement - and here we are in the twenty-first century still wrestling with the implications of the same Old Testament story.
According to the notes in my Bible the story was passed down as an oral tradition and ‘reached its final form at or after the end of the Babylonian exile’ with Abraham placed circa 1850 BC. Whatever the case the story of The Fall of Man speaks to every age - to each of us as individuals and society as a whole.
I think that the notion of sin has become unpopular in modern western society and the idea of conducting our lives with reference to God and worrying whether we will provoke his displeasure seems antiquated to many.
Among Our Lord’s last words on the cross was his plea ‘Father forgive them for they know not what they do’. It seems to me that Christ is asking his Father to extend His mercy to those who are ignorant or unaware that their behaviour is sinful.
As Christians we are called to serve God and to imitate Christ in our lives and so we are usually well aware of our transgressions and have a sense of disappointment in ourselves when we fall short of His expectations. Thankfully the Church and its sacraments help us to mend our relationship with God and, however fleetingly, achieve a state of grace until we fall again under the burden of original sin.
John Milton as a Puritan was at odds with the Catholic Church so to balance things up I will end by recommending another poem - The Hound of Heaven - by Francis Thompson (a Catholic poet who was saved from drug addiction and destitution on the streets of late 19th century London) which is a moving account of a man attempting to live ‘without the assistance and support of God’s grace’ to borrow Father Ian’s phrase. It is, unsurprisingly, a poem written from a dark place and describes a man who is aware of being constantly pursued or ‘hounded’ and all the efforts he goes to avoid his pursuer. The realisation finally dawns when he recognises who it is that he has been avoiding.
‘Is my gloom, after all,
Shade of his hand, outstretched caressingly ?’
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