"Who told you that you were naked?"

Who told you that you were naked?

Who told you that you were exposed?

Who told you what shame is?

Who told you that you were naked?

“I --

I did--

I did.”

Have you eaten from the tree that I commanded you not to eat?

“I --

I did.

I didn’t know what I was doing; 

though I thought that I did.”

Who told you that you were naked?

The answer is always the same.

"I did."

I used to think that the answer was the serpent.  He was the deceiver.  He was the one that set up Eve and Adam to fall like dominoes with just the right push. But it wasn’t him, though I am sure he was pleased with the result.  He knew he was making a mess.  He was crafty.  But he probably couldn’t anticipate all the outcomes of Mankind’s eyes being opened.  No one else seems to know our weaknesses like we do. The serpent wasn’t the one that told them that they were naked.  It was the knowledge of Good and of Evil.  It was Adam. It was Eve.  They grasped it.  Their eyes were opened.

They knew.

And shame was born--

And fear.

"You won’t die.  You’ll be like God."

Not a lie exactly, but certainly not the whole truth.  A partial truth that implies a lie.  Implies that you can’t trust that God who walks with you every day.  That He’s keeping something good from you.  Knowledge.  The ability to distinguish between Good and Evil.  Wisdom--after all--shouldn’t we all be seeking it?

"You’ll be like God." 

Like God.  

Equal with God.  

The serpent’s own grasping--his downfall-- became our own.  Because misery loves company, maybe.  Because evil defies containment.  Because destroying someone else’s creation is the outcome of jealousy; sparked by a desire to wound.

The Knowledge of Good and of Evil opens eyes and kills innocence.  It revealed who they were in relation to God.  How small.  How exposed. How wrongful their disobedience.   Fear and shame and horror came flooding into their consciousness like a tidal wave and instead of being able to enjoy fellowship with God as they had in their innocence, the urge to hide overwhelmed them.  Their ease and confidence in their relationship with God and one with another had been childlike and free of confusion and doubt.  Now everything was different and it could never go back to the way it had been.  

Death.

This tree is innocent.

Why did God put the tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil in the Garden at all?  Is He some horrible cosmic tease?  It wasn’t even hidden away as some gnarled old tree that produced anemic-looking, unappealing fruit.  It was in the middle of the Garden.  It was pleasing to the eye and good for eating.  Why do that?  Or at the very least, why not explain a little further? 

“Listen up, newly created ones, I know this looks good to eat, but seriously, this is poison for you.  You are made in the image of Me.  You aren’t actually able to be Me.  You can’t handle the Knowledge of Good and Evil.  ‘You can’t handle the truth!’  And when I say, ‘when you eat of it, you will die’; I’m talking about more than just your physical life.  I’m talking about a loss of innocence which can never be recovered.  I’m talking about a whole lot of truth you aren’t able to comprehend...”  

Maybe it was because they couldn’t understand the explanation. They just needed to trust.  

It is tempting to blame everyone else for the way that things don’t go our way.  Or when we are awash with the fear of our own blame.

It is other people. “This woman you put here with me…”

It is the devil. “The serpent deceived me…”

It is God.  “Why did you put the Tree in the Garden in the first place?” 

When I was a kid, my mom told me about this creepy dream that she had about bad guys in the house and she only had seconds to get all of us out.  But my siblings and I kept arguing with her and asking why she was telling us to do the things that she told us to do and we wasted the precious moments when we could have escaped unharmed.  Now, if this wasn’t a real dream, my mom has a genius for manipulation that might be unparalleled in the annals of motherhood, because I certainly learned the lesson she was teaching on the importance of unquestioning obedience to trusted authorities.  She freaked me the hell out because I could believe it.  I could believe that I would disobey, that I would argue; that I could endanger everyone.

I think God put the tree in the Garden because He values freedom.  Obedience means little if there is no choice.  Love means little if there is no choice.  The intangibles that we value highly mean nothing if they don’t cost something.  God, who can do anything, binds Himself by the promises He makes.  He has given us the same freedom.  The freedom to choose or reject. Marriage vows place limits on freedom in exchange for something greater.  He gave us the freedom to obey His trustworthy authority or to rebel.  

He knew what was going to happen.  

He knew what we were going to cost Him.  

He did it, anyway.