by Scott A. Klepach, Jr.
In the beginning, there was Adam and Eve, as we have been told. They are a couple that confuses and captivates us, delights us and deprives us. Packed into just the first several chapters of Genesis, Adam and Eve nonetheless are situated as the first human characters of the world, and their compact, complex, and often vague representation sets the stage for the rest of the Bible and the morals, ethics, and relationships that follow in the chapters and books to come. Perhaps it is more telling what is not said, or at least not answered, in the first several chapters of Genesis, which focus on Adam and Eve. What are we to make of them? Are believers to believe in them literally, or as some suggest, should they view them more as Everyman and Everywoman? What would it mean either way? More importantly in either case, from the believer’s perspective, what do these few passages say about the nature of the Divine, humankind, and relationships between humans and God and humans with each other? These are compelling questions that will be explored in the next few pages, first by exploring the biblical text, and then expanding the search to consult the more contemporary voices of Mark Twain and Elie Wiesel. We shall discover that by looking beyond the text, but not neglecting it, perhaps there is more to say positively about how humans treat each other than how God treats humankind, and thus we can possibly make the case that Adam and Eve can be viewed as the first love story of humankind.
The tale of Adam and Eve begins just after the creation account in Genesis. Initially, we find a vague description of the creation of humankind in the opening chapter, compared to the details presented in the second. In Genesis 1:27, we learn that “God created man in his own image, / in the image of God he created him, / male and female he created them.” In the second chapter we learned that Adam and Eve are specifically mentioned, but that Eve is created after Adam, and from his rib. Some have contended that this reveals two creation stories, yet each story is presented in separate chapters. The first chapter lays out the entire seven days of creation, and then the author goes back to emphasize the human element in the second. Moreover, the author introduces humans with poetry, which offsets the rest of the narrative prose found in that chapter. In a way, this is similar to how classic musical films open with a minutes-long overture to give a bit of a preview of the melodies that will come later. Whether Moses was the sole or primary author, or if other sources were involved, it seems plausible that these two accounts do not conflict or seem discombobulated. I will henceforth refer to the author of Genesis in the singular, even though I recognize there is a high probability that there were many contributors.
Above all, the biblical author is mostly concerned with not just the creation of the world, but also the first generations of humanity; hence, the Hebrew word for the first book of the Hebrew Bible is bereshit, or “the beginning,” but the Greek definition of Genesis means generations. Written somewhere between 2000 and 1500 B.C., Genesis is broken into two major sections: the primeval history of the world in the first eleven chapters, and the epic of the patriarchs, which covers chapters twelve through fifty. But in order to explain the first generation of humanity, the author had to start with the first couple, and thus we find the story of Adam and Eve. Once the first couple is explained, readers can then move on and understand the development of humans in this relatively new earth, and explore God’s relationship with humans. Several key themes resonate in the entire book, including the promise of progeny and land.
These two themes of progeny and land begin with Adam and Eve. Before the first chapter concludes, we are told in Genesis 1:28 that “God blessed them and said to them, ‘Be fruitful and increase in number, fill the earth and subdue it.’” God’s two commands are for men and women to procreate and tend to the garden, and by extension, have dominion over the earth. Even after the fall, these commands stick; despite their expulsion from paradise, they still must follow these edicts. The themes of progeny and land in Genesis were not snuffed out after Adam and Eve’s fall; rather, they become even more crucial for the rest of humankind. Despite the rule that humans are not allowed to enter Eden—or perhaps because of it—land becomes a central issue of power and struggle in Genesis and the rest of the biblical narrative. The same goes for progeny, since the transfer of land—and thus power—was passed on to the next of kin. The first covenant after the fall, then, remained virtually the same as it was before, which was namely for human beings to be good stewards and multiply their number. The events in Genesis occurred before Moses and the covenant between God and the Israelites; at this point there was no Israel. The history had to be paved for it to be established.
Even so, God did tell Adam not to partake of the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, and whether or not he warned Eve of this, the pact was broken. God told Adam not to eat of the fruit, lest he face death. But do we know if Adam has even heard of death before, or if he even understands the concept until he has witnessed it, or at least has gained the knowledge to understand it, which seems possible only if he were to eat of the fruit? Based on the biblical account, which is glaringly limited and vague at times, it seems that God holds information back from Adam. But then why would the tree be in Eden in the first place? Could God have known that humans would have been tempted to eat of it anyway, or at least been aware that there was a clever serpent present, waiting to push them into action? Though God is more anthropomorphic in Genesis than in other parts of the Hebrew Bible, and even more so in the first few chapters of Genesis, he still seems alien and distant when he keeps such a barrier of communication in place. As Elie Wiesel notes, when Adam is created he is alone, and “he does not ask: Who am I? He asks: Who are you?” 1 Adam inquires about God in Wiesel’s mind, then, but he does not receive many answers, or at least not ones that he can fully understand or appreciate. Wiesel refers to the Midrash when he suggests that Adam is “the first living contradiction.” Yet if man is created in God’s image—fully, or in chosen parts—can we then surmise that God is also a contradiction?2 Or is God so multifaceted and complex that people cannot understand anything but the concept of contradiction, and yet his nature transcends this trait?
Eve, on the other hand (named after her initial emergence), seems to be less of a culprit than many readers have made her out to be. Indeed, she seems to be a passive victim, of fate perhaps, since we do not have a scenario where Adam reveals God’s warning to her. Instead, Adam is noticeably silent throughout most of the text, and perhaps the serpent knew she was not informed when he approached her instead of Adam; perhaps the lack of communication between the first man and woman was noticed by the serpent, and it took advantage of this situation. If this is the case, then we have communication problems on two levels: God to Adam, and Adam to Eve.
Original sin is primarily a Christian notion, or at the very least it is emphasized largely in Christian circles, but the Midrash, Wiesel, and Mark Twain all question this idea. Wiesel states about Adam:
Nobody received as much and nobody lost it as quickly or as brutally. Nor was he to blame in any way. He was pushed and was helpless to resist. No one asked him anything; he was made to obey a will other than his own. Everything belonged to him except his will. He had no choice but to submit.3
In this light, Adam—and the rest of humanity for generations to come—cannot be entirely at fault, even if all humans have the same capacity to disobey like he did. Twain is more biting than Wiesel, which is due in part to his breaking away from traditional Christian beliefs and adopting a more cynical view of humanity as he grew older. In The Diaries of Adam and Eve, Twain presents the diaries of the first couple, spanning from creation to Eve’s death. At first, Twain reveals that the two really do not understand each other, and at times we wonder if they truly grow to hate their partner, but it is actually after the fall that we start to learn that this text is truly a love story. In the end, the two discover they do not really understand God and concepts like death, but they grow to learn more about each other, and because of this they start to understand a form of love.
Before the fall, Twain presents a conversation between Adam and Eve. When they come upon the tree that houses the knowledge of good and evil, Adam tells Eve what it is, but she questions the terms:
“Well, then, what is evil?”
“I suppose it is the name of something, but I do not know what.”
“But Adam, you must have some idea of what it is.”
“Why should I have some idea? I have never seen the thing; how am I to form
any conception of it?”4
Eve does not know, and then she moves on to question other terms:
“Adam, there are those other words–die and death. What do they mean?”
“I have no idea.”
“Well, then, what do you think they mean?”
“My child, cannot you see that it is impossible for me to make even a plausible
guess concerning a matter about which I am absolutely ignorant? A person can’t think
when he has no material to think with. Isn’t that true?
“Yes, I know it, but how vexatious it is. Just because I can’t know, I all the
more want to know.”5
As if her last words were prophetic, the two decide to go along with Eve’s next idea: “ ‘How stupid we are! Let us eat of it. We shall die, and then we shall know what it is and not have any more bother about it.’”6 In Twain’s narrative, the two eventually eat the fruit and fall. Years pass, Cain and Abel emerge, and Cain murders Abel.
Only after Abel’s murder do Adam and Eve comprehend what death is, and at this point Twain depicts a bitter, spiteful Eve toward the nature of their creation and expulsion:
They drove us from the garden with their swords of flame, the fierce cherubim. And what had we done? We meant no harm. We were ignorant and did as any other children might do. We could not know it was wrong to disobey the command, for the words were strange to us and we did not understand them. We did not know right from wrong—how should we know? We could not, without the Moral Sense; it was not possible. If we had been given the Moral Sense first—ah, that would have been fairer, that would have been kinder. Then we should have been to blame if we disobeyed. But to say to us poor ignorant children words which we could not understand and then punish us because we did not do as we were told—ah, how can that be justified?…Adam says my brain is turned by my troubles and that I am become wicked. I am as I am; I did not make myself.7
What hope are we to have, then, if we follow Twain’s version? He seems to be pinpointing the same ideas I have been leading up to throughout this paper: to stress the sheer incompatibility of God and humanity, and highlight the eventual compatibility between men and women. Above all, as stated earlier, Twain’s text is a love story between the first man and woman. Twain’s personal life might have driven him to craft this narrative in such a way. He lost many children to sickness, and he also lost his wife, Olivia, to sickness. Many scholars believe that such heavy loss is reflected in his later writings, and often he lashes out at God and favors more humanistic relationships. Twain’s response is similar to Rembrandt’s, who portrayed the sacrifice of Isaac in a solemn light after he lost his wife and children. Some of Eve’s last words, according to Twain, seem to indicate this sentiment: “Life without him [Adam] would not be life; how could I endure it?”8 And this love is requited; Adam’s transcription on Eve’s grave read simply but tellingly: “Wheresoever she was, there was Eden.”9
If Genesis is a long account of the first generations, then Adam and Eve set the foundation for the rest of humanity. Taken literally or symbolically, if they are to be remembered for the fall, then we cannot blame them but look to ourselves for the strengths and weaknesses each of us harbors within ourselves. Genesis was read by the first audience to not only reveal who the first couple was, but also to offer reasons for evil and suffering in the world. But contemporary audiences can delve deeper into the text, and even go beyond, as we have done by briefly examining the writings of Wiesel and Twain. Some might find it easier to grasp that Adam and Eve could have understood what it meant to obey such seemingly overt rules as “don’t touch” or “don’t eat.” Readers often assume that the couple could have discerned the notions of death or dying, but God does not appear to explain it to them. As Twain revealed, perhaps Adam and Eve’s lack of understanding of God’s commands came from a lack of knowledge, but by falling from paradise, they were able to create a true bond of love with each other. Somehow the first love story had to come about in order for the human race to continue, and one way God could assure this would be to limit the couple’s knowledge and understand that they must fall in order to initiate the story of humanity.
By probing and expanding our inquiry of those several opening chapters of Genesis, as we have started with this paper, we might apply the same technique to our own situations and become more cognizant of the necessity to understand each other fully and truly. Ultimately, we could take away more than just the negative images so many people maintain about the story in Genesis, and then promulgate this message of hope to the world.
1 Elie Wiesel, Messengers of God: Biblical Portraits and Legends, New York, Simon and Schuster, 1976. 3.
2 Ibid., 5.
3 Ibid., 6-7.
4 Mark Twain, The Diaries of Adam and Eve, San Francisco, Fair Oaks Press, 1997. 56.
5 Ibid., 56-57.
6 Ibid., 57.
7 Ibid., 105-106.
8 Ibid., 106.
9 Ibid., 109.
Bibliography
Harris, Stephen L., and Robert L. Platzner. The Old Testament: An Introduction to the Hebrew Bible. Second Edition. McGraw-Hill, 2008.
The NIV Study Bible. Gen. Ed. Kenneth Barker. Grand Rapids, Michigan: Zondervan Publishing House, 1995.
Twain, Mark. The Diaries of Adam and Eve. San Francisco: Fair Oaks Press, 1997.
Wiesel, Elie. Messengers of God: Biblical Portraits and Legends. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1976.
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