“Yea, hath God said, Ye shall not eat of every tree of the garden?”
The voice came from the branches of the tree, low and slow, and the woman stopped to listen. It came from the serpent that moved among the leaves, its scales dark against the green, its eyes fixed on her face.
She was near the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, and she knew which tree it was. The Lord God had set this one apart from all the others. The command was clear. But the serpent had asked a question, and the question pulled at the edges of what she knew.
The Woman Answered
She answered the serpent. She did not turn away from it, and she did not call for the man. She listened to the question and she spoke.
“We may eat of the fruit of the trees of the garden. But of the fruit of the tree which is in the midst of the garden, God hath said, Ye shall not eat of it, neither shall ye touch it, lest ye die.”
Her words were almost what the Lord God had said. The command had been about eating. She added something about not touching. The addition was small.
The serpent spoke again, its voice flat and certain. No question this time.
“Ye shall not surely die.”
The woman stood still. The garden was quiet except for the river far away and the wind moving through the leaves above her. The tongue of the serpent flicked out and back, and its eyes did not blink.
“For God doth know that in the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil.”
The Woman Looked at the Tree
She looked at the fruit. The tree was good for food, and she could see it with her own eyes. The fruit was full and ripe, the skin smooth, the color deep in the afternoon light that came through the leaves. It was pleasant to look at. It was a tree to be desired to make one wise.
She reached up and took the fruit from the branch. The stem broke with a small snap. The fruit was solid in her palm, heavy with juice, and she lifted it to her mouth and bit into it. The flesh gave under her teeth, the taste sweet on her tongue. She chewed and swallowed.
Then she turned, and the man was there. He had been standing near her, silent. She held the fruit out to him, the same fruit, the mark of her teeth still visible on one side. He took it from her hand and put it in his mouth and ate.
The eyes of both of them were opened, and they knew that they were naked.
They Made a Covering
They had been naked all along, from the day the woman was taken from the side of the man. They had worn nothing and felt no shame. Their bodies were what the Lord God had formed. There was nothing to hide and nothing to fear. But now their eyes were open, and the first thing they saw was each other. The first thing they knew was that they were exposed.
They looked at their own skin, their own hands, their own bodies, and what they saw filled them with something they had never felt before. Shame. The knowledge of evil that they had done.
They sewed fig leaves together and made themselves coverings. The leaves were broad and green, and the sap was sticky on their fingers. They tied the leaves around their waists and hid what they could.
A Voice Walking in the Garden
Then they heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day. Footsteps on the ground. The wind stirred the trees. The sun was going down and the air was growing cool.
The man heard the footsteps, and the woman heard them too. They hid themselves from His presence among the trees of the garden, crouching behind trunks and branches and pressing their bodies into the shadows. Their breath came quick and shallow. The fig leaves scratched against their skin, and their hearts beat hard. They had never hidden before. They had never been afraid of the sound of Him walking in the garden. But now they were terrified.
The footsteps stopped.
“Where art thou?”
The voice called out across the garden. The man answered from his hiding place, his voice thin and shaking.
“I heard thy voice in the garden, and I was afraid, because I was naked, and I hid myself.”
The Lord spoke again.
“Who told thee that thou wast naked? Hast thou eaten of the tree, whereof I commanded thee that thou shouldest not eat?”
The Blame
The man did not say yes. He pointed at his wife.
“The woman whom thou gavest to be with me, she gave me of the tree, and I did eat.”
The Lord turned to the woman.
“What is this that thou hast done?”
The woman did not point at the man. She pointed at the serpent.
“The serpent beguiled me, and I did eat.”
The Curse and the Promise
The Lord God spoke to the serpent.
“Because thou hast done this, thou art cursed above all cattle, and above every beast of the field. Upon thy belly shalt thou go, and dust shalt thou eat all the days of thy life. And I will put enmity between thee and the woman, and between thy seed and her seed. It shall bruise thy head, and thou shalt bruise his heel.”
Then He turned to the woman.
“I will greatly multiply thy sorrow and thy conception. In sorrow thou shalt bring forth children. And thy desire shall be to thy husband, and he shall rule over thee.”
Then He turned to the man.
“Because thou hast hearkened unto the voice of thy wife, and hast eaten of the tree of which I commanded thee, saying, Thou shalt not eat of it: cursed is the ground for thy sake. In sorrow shalt thou eat of it all the days of thy life. Thorns also and thistles shall it bring forth to thee, and thou shalt eat the herb of the field. In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground. For out of it wast thou taken. For dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.”
Garments of Skin
The Lord God made coats of skins and clothed them.
The skins were heavy on their shoulders. The smell of the skins was in their noses, the smell of death and the smell of mercy. Something innocent had died so that the man and the woman could be covered.
East of the Garden
The Lord said, “Behold, the man is become as one of us, to know good and evil. And now, lest he put forth his hand and take also of the tree of life, and eat, and live for ever.”
So He sent the man and the woman out of the garden. He drove them out. At the east of the garden of Eden, He placed cherubims and a flaming sword that turned every way, to keep the way of the tree of life. The sword flashed in the fading light. The cherubims stood watch, their wings spread wide and their faces set toward the world outside.
The man and the woman walked east. The dust rose up around their feet, the dust they were made from, the dust they would return to. The sun went down, and the garden was behind them, silent and guarded.
