The Bible has an account of Adam. We know how it turned out. We know that before it was over Adam felt fear. The only other description we have of Adam's mental state is in the negative: It is said that he felt no shame in being naked---before the eating of the fruit. If he felt shame afterward, that is not recorded for us. If he felt emotion beyond the anticipation of physical and intellectual gratification at the appearance of Eve, that is not recorded for us. It is the translator who has to add the exclamation point to "bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh (!)" What can we know about Adam's emotional state?
That the first couple--assuming no extra-Genesis contentions about differences between male and female moral states--both felt temptation to disobedience as part of their make-ups is beyond question. Eve was tempted by the serpent to question the substance of God's directive about the forbidden fruit, but the serpent by definition could not talk Eve into allowing herself to listen to any voice beside God's. The seed of disobedience was not raped into Eve or into Adam by the serpent.
And we are not to be surprised that Adam can tell God of his fear before God. Adam apparently knows what fear is. If Adam knew at that moment what "shame" is, that is not recorded for us. He had never felt shame before, and if punishment for any of his sins was immediate and perfectly proportionate, then "shame" would seem to be drained of its substance--perfect expiation would square all accounts. Only the experience of having done wrong and having it hang over oneself would seem to animate a sense of moral shame (as opposed to social shame, such as the first couple might have felt in failing each other.)
And so Adam was without shame, pre-"Fall". Adam was, however, possessed undeniably of three traits from his creation (or at least as far back toward his creation as we are allowed to see.) First, he desired more than he was given at first by God--even though this initial gift included proximity to and communication with God. Second, he was inclined (to some extent) to disobedience and--Eve or no Eve--this inclination could scarcely be expected to have remained merely latent over time without end. And, third, Adam was apparently no stranger to fear as a concept. Adam was, after all, charged by God with tending and dressing the Garden--if Adam's motivation to comply was without reference to the possibility of God's censure in case of non-compliance, then Adam's connection to the garden and its flowers would have been of no more substance than the instinct-driven flittings of the bees.
And we are like Adam today. We want more than God has given us. We want to transgress the bounds God has given us. We are haunted--one would hope--by the fear of punishment (or even of the fear of consequences of wickedly imprudent behavior) for having broken the rules that God has given us. And, as a last, simmering observation--we are remarkably adept at avoiding feelings of shame. Not only are we like Adam today, we are--and this is most crucial--like Adam as he always was.
Adam wanted to experience things, to learn things, to possess things. To say that these urges of Adam (as we might find reflected in what we call the perfectly "natural" yearnings of our young people) are entirely understandable is to miss the point. To say that such yearnings are "bad"--as though we were qualified even to make such judgments--is to miss the point yet again. And to foster in young people a predisposition to find their inner yearnings shameful is to miss the point a third time--and most lamentably of all. What needs most to be addressed about the yearnings of us children of Adam is the element of risk, and its handmaiden fear.
Adam as he is first described wanted to turn his attentions to things besides God. That was a risk to which Adam was driven. He had already been charged with tending to the Garden, and there was a risk that he would fail in his attentions. Adam, having displayed a dissatisfaction with God's nearness in the Garden, was presented with the animal kingdom as candidates for his "help meet." Adam was charged with naming the creatures, a proceeding that the interpreters like to tell us meant that Adam was given hegemony over them. That also means, of course, that Adam was given responsibility for them--with all of its attendant risks. And, from the start, the generalized Genesis description of humanity has us responsible for Creation--a risky proposition, Fall or no Fall.
Then came Eve, and the myriad risks the first couple presented to each other. The cruel logic of this progression has ground ahead through the history of humanity, and with each discovery, with each advancement of humanity's knowledge, the risks grow greater. This is what we fail to understand about the teachings of Jesus, about the Gospels. When Jesus tells us not to worry about this or that necessity of life, he is not telling us that such matters are without substance, or that fear about holding such matters together is a misplaced or illogical emotion. Jesus is telling us that our very next step, our very next breath, might be withheld from us, and that we might in such a moment be worrying about the things of humanity rather than the things of God. To worry about tomorrow, or even to worry about the remaining hours of each trouble-filled day, is pointless, not because God or Jesus will pour out some abundance to fill all needs, but because even framing the conditions of our worry is building upon presumptions about our existence for which we have no warrant. We think we understand things, and each such element of "understanding," no matter how logical or apparently basic or apparently unquestionable, is a matter of risk, and properly an occasion of fear.
We think we understand things, and we do not. We set about erecting belief systems. Haunted by fear of being wrong or going astray, we attempt to drown our fears in protestations about how we are charged by God to discern structures of theology, always structures of theology that are described, firstly, as plainly emergent from a plain understanding of Scripture, and, secondly, as unaccountably disregarded by other, so-called "Christians" who insist on being led astray by other, so-called "plain understandings" of Scripture. Always these erections of theology are understood to be demanded by God, so that the believers would be fearful of divine wrath if found neglectful in their theological tasks.
But risk of going astray is not how fear is to be cultivated or employed, as though properly following Jesus involves starting with the unquestionable building-blocks of belief and proceeding upwards--which is a daunting enough task, in that even the slightest error in some near-foundational stage can be expected to be exponentially more deleterious at each such succeeding stage. This process is unsupportable in light of any fair understanding of human thought, and it is rightly thought to be doomed--a suspicion that is amply displayed in the responses of challenged theologians. We can strive to remind ourselves that a phrase like "challenged theologians" can include some of the most tolerant, self-assured, and yet self-unsparing women and men in history. We must also hope never to forget other descriptions that might be applicable across the rolls of history of certain persons who were "challenged theologians."
Fear is to be cultivated and employed as the context of thought. Adam wanted certain things (or to have certain needs met by remedies God might provide) but he was surrounded--as we are--by uncertain things. We are creatures of fear as much as creatures of thought. Jesus tells us that only those who are steadfast to the end will be saved. Being steadfast--which is above all to confront fear--is the way to remain optimally attuned to such truth as we can understand--and to be optimally attuned to questioning whatever we think we understand. Being steadfast is also to be fearful, as the watchful steward is fearful. We might hope to be watchful stewards out of devotion to God or to the things of God (drowning therein our fears in such manner as saints of this or that faith are described as doing) yet Jesus does not besiege us with such lyrical notions. Jesus puts the fear of God into us.
Every step we take is fearfully liable to put us further from the truths of God. Every thought we have is fearfully liable to put us further from the truths of God. Each word we utter is a risk. Each thought we have is a risk. Each word or thought is a crumpling place-holder in a burgeoning matrix of risk.
No comments:
Post a Comment