(I'm writing a book - tentatively titled SHOUTING STONES: A Novel of Biblical Distortions - midrashic mash-ups of Bible stories - and this piece will be in it.... stay tuned!)
In the Beginning
In the Beginning
“… then the Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and the man became a living being.” Genesis 2:7
“..why does God want him (Adam) in the Garden of Eden? Because God has some kind of a desire that he wants to see played out in the Garden of Eden. God desires something about human beings and, in the Midrashic literature, what God desires of human beings is simply that human beings should desire him…” Avivah Zornberg, Talmudic scholar, interviewed by Krista Tippett on NPR’s “On Being” show, Oct 6, 2011
On the seventh day, at the time of the evening breeze, the Lord God walked in the Garden of Eden to enjoy what he had created. Water tumbled in streams around luxuriant groves of trees and palms. The fragrance of flowers filled the air. Lions lay down among lambs on the grass. A sparrow flitted above him, chirping joyously. A family of pigs waddled along near him, snorting happily.
At the edge of the Garden was a cliff face of stone, laid out in clear bands of strata. And from that wall he heard a loud voice. “God, look at what you’ve created! It’s amazing! Waaaahooooo! Yip-yip-yippeee!” God approached the source of the sound and was bewildered. The shouting came from a stone embedded in the cliff.
“Who taught you how to talk?” God asked. “Talking stones was not in my plan.”
“The Snake taught me,” replied the stone.
“Of course. The snake. The most clever of my creatures,” said God. “I should have known this sort of thing might happen. Look, stone: could you please do me a favor and be quiet? I’ll go have words with the Snake about this.”
God didn’t have to walk far before the Snake appeared. He was a magnificent creature indeed: tall, with graceful arms and legs, glistening skin, and a wide grin. “God, so good to see you here in the Garden! The glory of what you have done is all around us! Praise be to you!”
“Dear Snake, thank you for your kind words. But I am distressed that you taught a stone how to talk. That wasn’t in my plan for creation,” said God.
“I’m so sorry, God. You created me to be clever, so I thought it would be kind and good for me to share that cleverness with others.”
God was visibly alarmed. “Did you teach anything else to talk?”
“Oh yes. In addition to the stone, I’ve taught Adam how to talk! He’s quite good at it, by the way. In only one day he’s developed a great vocabulary. He’s named all the animals, already!”
“Does he know his own name?” asked God.
“Oh yes!” answered the Snake with pride.
God leaned his head back and with a thundering voice called out: “ADAM!”
God and the Snake heard leaves crunching under Adam’s running feet as he approached.
“Yes, Lord!” he called out with joy as he arrived, breathing hard.
“Adam, Snake, listen to me. This is really important. Do not teach stones or lions or lambs or sparrows or pigs or any other creature or thing to talk, unless I give you explicit permission. I am the Lord God of the Universe, Creator of Everything, the All Mighty. I have no equal, and I will never have an equal. You two are the most Godlike of my creations, and I’m taking a chance with you. I know it could be hard for you, but you’ve got to stay in your lanes as my inferiors. I can’t afford to take the same chance with everything else. You can talk with me, you can talk with each other, and that’s all, okay? I’d really appreciate your cooperation.”
The Lord God walked away on the path deeper into the dense jungle of the Garden.
“This is going to get interesting,” said the Snake with a knowing grin. “Don’t you think?”
“What do you mean?” asked Adam.
“He is afraid we’re going to compete with him, that we’re going to try to get to his level of All Mighty-ness. So stick with me, Adam. I’ll show you how we can push his limits to the max. If we just keep learning and developing and evolving, we can beat him at his own game.”
“I don’t understand. What’s “his own game”?” asked Adam.
“The creation game. He created all this, he created us, and now it’s our turn to do some creating! I’ll show you how,” said the Snake.
As they wandered through the Garden together, the Snake taught Adam mathematics, astronomy, biology, and engineering. At first, Adam enjoyed the Snake’s lectures, and applied himself fully to his studies. For hours they would sit at the bank of a stream, where the Snake would use a stick to write lessons for Adam in the mud. Sometimes they could hear a rustling in the forest behind them, as God hovered near, observing their doings.
Adam began to grow weary of the Snake’s lessons. He knew something was bothering him, but he didn’t know how to define or express it. Social and emotional learning was not on the Snake’s curriculum. One day he asked for a break. “I need some time alone.”
Adam wandered over to the edge of the Garden and as he walked near the cliff he heard a whisper. “Over here!” He approached, and the stone softly spoke. “Adam! You’re lonely! The Snake is smart and charming and handsome, and you can learn a lot from him. But he’ll never be your friend. You need somebody like yourself to be your companion. Go talk to God about it. Ask him for a real partner in life. But remember! You didn’t hear this from me.”
“Thank you, Stone!” said Adam in a hush. “Tell me, Stone. Do you have friends?”
“I do now! Ever since the Snake taught me how to talk. I taught my neighbor stones how to talk, too, and now we whisper among ourselves all the time. It’s so great! I wish the same for you.”
And off Adam went to find God in the Garden.
God was watching fish swim in the Euphrates River when Adam approached him. “God, I have a problem.”
“Yes, you do. And so do I,” said God, still staring at the river. “I created you to be my companion, but you haven’t sought me out for weeks. You spend all your time with the Snake.”
“I’m sorry. He told me he would teach me all that there is to know about the world you have created. I thought that for me to learn from him was part of your plan.”
“Yes, up to a point. But I have been watching, and I see that you’re unhappy.”
“Yes, God, I’m having a hard time. I’m lonely. I need somebody in my life with whom I can relate as an equal. You’re All Mighty, and the Snake is too smart, and he talks too much. You know what I mean?”
“Oh do I ever!” laughed God. “The Snake can be insufferable sometimes.” God sighed as he stared at the river flowing past.
“Are you lonely?” Adam asked.
“A bit less lonely than I used to be,” answered God, turning to face him. “Why do you suppose I created all this? Why do you suppose I created you?”
“I’m so sorry I am not as good a companion to you as you wished. I’ll try harder, God!” Adam said, earnestly.
God turned back toward the river. “It’s not your fault. I should have known it would turn out like this. Meanwhile, until I figure out another solution to my own problem, I think it’s only right that I should solve your problem.”
That night, God found Adam sleeping in the Garden on a little patch of soft grass. God hovered over Adam, opened up his chest, pulled out a rib, and then closed over Adam’s skin. God took the rib and went to work on it, fashioning another human being.
In the morning, Adam woke up to find God sitting near him, next to a creature that looked very much like Adam. The same, but different, and different in a most marvelous way. “I’d like you to meet Eve, your new companion,” said God, who then stood up and walked away, deep into the Garden.
From afar, the Snake heard sounds he’d never heard before, and he slipped through the jungle of the Garden to seek their source. Through parted fronds of fern, he saw Adam and Eve rolling on the grass, their bodies entwined, their voices ecstatic with moans and cries. “So this is what it comes to,” he muttered to himself. “All my efforts to befriend him, to educate him, to bring him to my level. And now God gives him one of his own as a partner.” Seething with jealousy, he slid back through the foliage and away.
Nearly floating above the ground in the bliss of love, Adam and Eve wandered among the trees by the waterside, offering each other every different kind of fruit. Eve sank her gleaming teeth into a large, very ripe pear, sending a stream of sweet juice down her chin and chest to the firm, upturned nipple of her left breast, which Adam eagerly licked as they both giggled.
Then the Snake appeared.
“Eve, I’d like you to meet Snake, my teacher!” said Adam with enthusiasm.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” replied the Snake, with a formality that Adam found strange. “I see you are greatly enjoying the fruits of the trees of the Garden!”
Eve, a quick study, already had learned to talk from Adam. “Each one is different and so delicious!” she exulted. “Won’t you try some with us?” she asked the Snake, her eyes shining.
“Have you had a look at the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil?” asked the Snake.
“The one God told us we could not eat from?” asked Adam. “That tree over there?”
“Yes, that one,” said the Snake. “Particularly beautiful, is it not?”
“..why does God want him (Adam) in the Garden of Eden? Because God has some kind of a desire that he wants to see played out in the Garden of Eden. God desires something about human beings and, in the Midrashic literature, what God desires of human beings is simply that human beings should desire him…” Avivah Zornberg, Talmudic scholar, interviewed by Krista Tippett on NPR’s “On Being” show, Oct 6, 2011
On the seventh day, at the time of the evening breeze, the Lord God walked in the Garden of Eden to enjoy what he had created. Water tumbled in streams around luxuriant groves of trees and palms. The fragrance of flowers filled the air. Lions lay down among lambs on the grass. A sparrow flitted above him, chirping joyously. A family of pigs waddled along near him, snorting happily.
At the edge of the Garden was a cliff face of stone, laid out in clear bands of strata. And from that wall he heard a loud voice. “God, look at what you’ve created! It’s amazing! Waaaahooooo! Yip-yip-yippeee!” God approached the source of the sound and was bewildered. The shouting came from a stone embedded in the cliff.
“Who taught you how to talk?” God asked. “Talking stones was not in my plan.”
“The Snake taught me,” replied the stone.
“Of course. The snake. The most clever of my creatures,” said God. “I should have known this sort of thing might happen. Look, stone: could you please do me a favor and be quiet? I’ll go have words with the Snake about this.”
God didn’t have to walk far before the Snake appeared. He was a magnificent creature indeed: tall, with graceful arms and legs, glistening skin, and a wide grin. “God, so good to see you here in the Garden! The glory of what you have done is all around us! Praise be to you!”
“Dear Snake, thank you for your kind words. But I am distressed that you taught a stone how to talk. That wasn’t in my plan for creation,” said God.
“I’m so sorry, God. You created me to be clever, so I thought it would be kind and good for me to share that cleverness with others.”
God was visibly alarmed. “Did you teach anything else to talk?”
“Oh yes. In addition to the stone, I’ve taught Adam how to talk! He’s quite good at it, by the way. In only one day he’s developed a great vocabulary. He’s named all the animals, already!”
“Does he know his own name?” asked God.
“Oh yes!” answered the Snake with pride.
God leaned his head back and with a thundering voice called out: “ADAM!”
God and the Snake heard leaves crunching under Adam’s running feet as he approached.
“Yes, Lord!” he called out with joy as he arrived, breathing hard.
“Adam, Snake, listen to me. This is really important. Do not teach stones or lions or lambs or sparrows or pigs or any other creature or thing to talk, unless I give you explicit permission. I am the Lord God of the Universe, Creator of Everything, the All Mighty. I have no equal, and I will never have an equal. You two are the most Godlike of my creations, and I’m taking a chance with you. I know it could be hard for you, but you’ve got to stay in your lanes as my inferiors. I can’t afford to take the same chance with everything else. You can talk with me, you can talk with each other, and that’s all, okay? I’d really appreciate your cooperation.”
The Lord God walked away on the path deeper into the dense jungle of the Garden.
“This is going to get interesting,” said the Snake with a knowing grin. “Don’t you think?”
“What do you mean?” asked Adam.
“He is afraid we’re going to compete with him, that we’re going to try to get to his level of All Mighty-ness. So stick with me, Adam. I’ll show you how we can push his limits to the max. If we just keep learning and developing and evolving, we can beat him at his own game.”
“I don’t understand. What’s “his own game”?” asked Adam.
“The creation game. He created all this, he created us, and now it’s our turn to do some creating! I’ll show you how,” said the Snake.
As they wandered through the Garden together, the Snake taught Adam mathematics, astronomy, biology, and engineering. At first, Adam enjoyed the Snake’s lectures, and applied himself fully to his studies. For hours they would sit at the bank of a stream, where the Snake would use a stick to write lessons for Adam in the mud. Sometimes they could hear a rustling in the forest behind them, as God hovered near, observing their doings.
Adam began to grow weary of the Snake’s lessons. He knew something was bothering him, but he didn’t know how to define or express it. Social and emotional learning was not on the Snake’s curriculum. One day he asked for a break. “I need some time alone.”
Adam wandered over to the edge of the Garden and as he walked near the cliff he heard a whisper. “Over here!” He approached, and the stone softly spoke. “Adam! You’re lonely! The Snake is smart and charming and handsome, and you can learn a lot from him. But he’ll never be your friend. You need somebody like yourself to be your companion. Go talk to God about it. Ask him for a real partner in life. But remember! You didn’t hear this from me.”
“Thank you, Stone!” said Adam in a hush. “Tell me, Stone. Do you have friends?”
“I do now! Ever since the Snake taught me how to talk. I taught my neighbor stones how to talk, too, and now we whisper among ourselves all the time. It’s so great! I wish the same for you.”
And off Adam went to find God in the Garden.
God was watching fish swim in the Euphrates River when Adam approached him. “God, I have a problem.”
“Yes, you do. And so do I,” said God, still staring at the river. “I created you to be my companion, but you haven’t sought me out for weeks. You spend all your time with the Snake.”
“I’m sorry. He told me he would teach me all that there is to know about the world you have created. I thought that for me to learn from him was part of your plan.”
“Yes, up to a point. But I have been watching, and I see that you’re unhappy.”
“Yes, God, I’m having a hard time. I’m lonely. I need somebody in my life with whom I can relate as an equal. You’re All Mighty, and the Snake is too smart, and he talks too much. You know what I mean?”
“Oh do I ever!” laughed God. “The Snake can be insufferable sometimes.” God sighed as he stared at the river flowing past.
“Are you lonely?” Adam asked.
“A bit less lonely than I used to be,” answered God, turning to face him. “Why do you suppose I created all this? Why do you suppose I created you?”
“I’m so sorry I am not as good a companion to you as you wished. I’ll try harder, God!” Adam said, earnestly.
God turned back toward the river. “It’s not your fault. I should have known it would turn out like this. Meanwhile, until I figure out another solution to my own problem, I think it’s only right that I should solve your problem.”
That night, God found Adam sleeping in the Garden on a little patch of soft grass. God hovered over Adam, opened up his chest, pulled out a rib, and then closed over Adam’s skin. God took the rib and went to work on it, fashioning another human being.
In the morning, Adam woke up to find God sitting near him, next to a creature that looked very much like Adam. The same, but different, and different in a most marvelous way. “I’d like you to meet Eve, your new companion,” said God, who then stood up and walked away, deep into the Garden.
From afar, the Snake heard sounds he’d never heard before, and he slipped through the jungle of the Garden to seek their source. Through parted fronds of fern, he saw Adam and Eve rolling on the grass, their bodies entwined, their voices ecstatic with moans and cries. “So this is what it comes to,” he muttered to himself. “All my efforts to befriend him, to educate him, to bring him to my level. And now God gives him one of his own as a partner.” Seething with jealousy, he slid back through the foliage and away.
Nearly floating above the ground in the bliss of love, Adam and Eve wandered among the trees by the waterside, offering each other every different kind of fruit. Eve sank her gleaming teeth into a large, very ripe pear, sending a stream of sweet juice down her chin and chest to the firm, upturned nipple of her left breast, which Adam eagerly licked as they both giggled.
Then the Snake appeared.
“Eve, I’d like you to meet Snake, my teacher!” said Adam with enthusiasm.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” replied the Snake, with a formality that Adam found strange. “I see you are greatly enjoying the fruits of the trees of the Garden!”
Eve, a quick study, already had learned to talk from Adam. “Each one is different and so delicious!” she exulted. “Won’t you try some with us?” she asked the Snake, her eyes shining.
“Have you had a look at the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil?” asked the Snake.
“The one God told us we could not eat from?” asked Adam. “That tree over there?”
“Yes, that one,” said the Snake. “Particularly beautiful, is it not?”