Bill Maher likes to test people’s reason by asking them if they actually believe in a talking snake, referring, of course, to the tale of the Garden of Eden. Frankly, to me, the idea that the snake talks is perhaps the least troubling detail of the story. Maybe I’m just missing something; maybe a biblical literalist can set me straight here. Let me lay it out.
God is supposed to be omniscient and omnipotent. God created us as we are, foibles and all. So right there, I begin to have some problems with the Eden story, because if God is (a) omnipotent and omniscient and (b) created us complete with our faults, then just at that the story of the garden falls apart–it’s clearly all God’s fault.
But let’s take it from the beginning. God creates Adam and Eve, but wants to keep them innocent of the knowledge of good and evil. Okay, we usually envy children their innocence, and say that ignorance is bliss; we may not agree with the idea of not teaching our children, but at least we can understand this part to a certain degree.
But here is where the story, taken literally, begins to take on a bent angle. God takes the quality of knowledge of good and evil, and places it in the garden where he has placed Adam and Eve. Right there I have questions: why put the knowledge in the garden–in fact, why make the knowledge accessible at all? Why not keep the knowledge of good and evil completely out of mankind’s reach?
And if God does decide to make it something which can be accessed, then why put it in the middle of the garden? Why not put it in a far-off place? Why not put in on top of a mountain beyond a thousand miles of desert? No, God puts it smack in the middle of the garden, right at the feet of the very beings he supposedly wants to keep it from.
But God goes further: he not only puts the knowledge in the garden, he makes it edible. Not so that you have to study hard or go to any effort at all to acquire the knowledge, but just eat the fruit and magically, you know all about good and evil.
Worse, God makes the knowledge a fruit–which is not just food, but food which has no other purpose than to be eaten, more so than any other kind of food. That’s what fruit is for: it’s a strategy that plants have to offer nutrition along with its seed, so that animals will eat it, then deposit the seed a distance away right in the middle of a pile of fertilizer. By putting the knowledge in a fruit and making the knowledge attainable just by eating it, and then putting it in front of Adam and Eve, God is essentially inviting them to eat it, despite his verbal warnings to the contrary.
But God doesn’t stop there. He then creates a serpent, imbues it with the power of speech understandable by humans, and gives it the will to deceive and entice the humans to eat what God has forbidden. Then he puts the serpent in the garden with full access to the tree, where (being omniscient) he knows that it will successfully tempt the humans.
Imagine taking a couple of kids, and commanding them to not eat yummy chocolate. Okay so far, so long as you keep the chocolate out of reach somewhere, on a high shelf perhaps. But then you not only put a big bowl of yummy chocolate in the middle of their playroom, but you invite grandma in, knowing that the moment you’re out of the room, she’ll start begging the kids to eat the chocolate. Then you go off for a walk for a few hours, and when you come back, you are shocked–just shocked–to learn that the kids actually ate some chocolate.
Really, I see no way possible of laying the blame at the foot of Eve, or Adam, or even the serpent. This was clearly the fault on one being and one being only: God. In this tale, if taken literally and read in the light of reason, God comes across as either a sadistic con man or a psychopathic moron. And apparently as someone completely incapable of accepting responsibility for his own actions.
First, when he comes across Adam in the garden, God acts like he was unaware of what Adam had done. Remember, God is omniscient–of course he knew, even if he was such an idiot that he didn’t see it coming just by thinking about the setup he arranged. It’s almost as if God is toying with Adam–setting this innocent kid up and then playing him along, as if he did not know exactly what had transpired, letting Adam squirm, cementing his feelings of guilt.
And then God metes out his punishments: condemning the snake to walk on its belly and pitting it against mankind; condemning Eve to sorrow and pain in childbirth, not to mention submission to men; and cursing Adam, sentencing him to hard, painful labor and eventually death.
The church itself takes it even further: it calls this “original sin,” claims that it makes every human being guilty regardless of their own actions; we must be forgiven by God (or, more precisely, his agents in the church), and/or be indebted to Jesus who, apparently died for the purpose of rescuing us from original sin–despite the fact that we are apparently still just as guilty of that sin as we ever were. So now we have to beg God/the church for forgiveness and be indebted to Christ for saving us from sins that we are still responsible for.
Does this, or does this not, all come across as a rather transparent con game?
Now, take the story in a different way: not literally, but as a parable, which chronicles our path from naked animal to thinking being, causing us pain in our knowledge, the fear of ultimate death, the labor of agriculture–even the pain of giving birth due to a larger cranium. A story which speaks to rebellion of youth, a desire to become wise, even to outgrow childhood and leave the house of one’s parents. There is a lot which can be gleaned from the story if not taken literally.
But taking the story literally robs it of meaning, makes God into an abusive, manipulative ass, and shows up the church as conning the people into being forever beholden to them, no matter what.
Or am I missing something?