The Primeval Mythology of Genesis - The Fall

Genesis 3:8-24

They heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden at the time of the evening breeze, and the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden.

But the Lord God called to the man and said to him, “Where are you?” He said, “I heard the sound of you in the garden, and I was afraid, because I was naked, and I hid myself.” He said, “Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten from the tree of which I commanded you not to eat?”

The man said, “The woman whom you gave to be with me, she gave me fruit from the tree, and I ate.” Then the Lord God said to the woman, “What is this that you have done?” The woman said, “The serpent tricked me, and I ate.” The Lord God said to the serpent,

“Because you have done this, cursed are you among all animals and among all wild creatures; upon your belly you shall go, and dust you shall eat all the days of your life. I will put enmity between you and the woman and between your offspring and hers; he will strike your head, and you will strike his heel.”

To the woman he said,

“I will make your pangs in childbirth exceedingly great; in pain you shall bring forth children, yet your desire shall be for your husband, and he shall rule over you.”

And to the man he said,

“Because you have listened to the voice of your wife and have eaten of the tree about which I commanded you, ‘You shall not eat of it,’ cursed is the ground because of you; in toil you shall eat of it all the days of your life; thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you; and you shall eat the plants of the field. By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread until you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”

The man named his wife Eve because she was the mother of all living. And the Lord God made garments of skins for the man and for his wife and clothed them.

Then the Lord God said, “See, the humans have become like one of us, knowing good and evil, and now they might reach out their hands and take also from the tree of life and eat and live forever”— therefore the Lord God sent them forth from the garden of Eden, to till the ground from which they were taken.

He drove out the humans, and at the east of the garden of Eden he placed the cherubim and a sword flaming and turning to guard the way to the tree of life.

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If ever there was a story in the Bible that has been misunderstood, misused, and abused, it is this one. The story of Adam and Eve, and their leave from Eden, is what many have used to justify patriarchy and the subjugation of women, the explanation and origin of evil, sin, and death in the world, and why sex has long been treated as something shameful and dangerous.

We come to these beliefs and practices by believing that there really were two people named Adam and Eve. And a serpent, who is clearly Satan, tricked the gullible Eve into eating the fruit from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.

Eve, being the temptress that she was, lured her husband into sampling the fruit, too. Suddenly, they realized they were naked, filled with shame, and ran to hide themselves with fig leaf loincloths. Then God shows up, gets them to confess to their sin, and punishes them both with painful labor: one in childbirth and the other in trying to bring life from the ground, and of course getting pushed out of paradise forever.

And now, every person after can blame Adam, but mostly Eve, for bringing sin and death into the world.

All from taking a bite of an apple…

But what if we don’t have to believe all of those things? What if the text itself doesn’t really support any of that? What if there are a lot more ways to understand the story of our mythical first parents and what it might mean for us today? And more importantly what it tells us about God our Creator.

So first things first - there was no apple. The text just says fruit. What kind of fruit, we don’t know. But I am pretty sure it wasn’t an apple, no matter what popular paintings portray.

Now to something more serious. Did Adam and Eve exist? Two individual people in a perfect garden, from whom the whole human race descended? No—probably not. The archaeological, historical, and especially genetic evidence just doesn’t support that reading.

And that’s where a lot of people start to worry. If that part of the Bible isn’t literally true, then what about the rest? If Adam and Eve weren’t real people—if this is a story rather than a historical event—then how can we trust the Gospels? Or the cross? Or anything else?

That fear is what one theologian called “house of cards theology.” If one part of the story feels shaky, then the whole thing must come crashing down. But that’s a fragile way to approach Scripture. It leads to an anxious, defensive kind of faith—one that clings to literal readings and misses deeper truths.

Yet we must remember, not only when we are looking at these stories in Genesis but throughout the Bible, God doesn’t only desire knowledge, but faith. And faith involves mystery, not certainty.

As for an origin story, this is a sort of an origin, but not one about evil, sin, and death.

Nowhere in the text is the serpent called Satan. Genesis 3:1 says, “The serpent was more crafty than any other wild animal the Lord God had made,” suggesting it too is an animal, created by God. If anything, based on what we know from the previous two chapters of Genesis, all of creation created by God, is good.

What that means for this crafty serpent, I am not sure. Perhaps this is where we lean into God saying that creation was good, not perfect. Perhaps the serpent was good, not perfect, but also not evil. Could it be that even in a good creation, not everything was meant to be simple or safe?

As for death, what rings in our ears is Paul saying, “the wages of sin is death.” So we often assume Adam and Eve were created immortal, and that because they sinned, now we all suffer the consequences—one of them being death.

However, the question of Adam and Eve being created immortal remains open and unclear.

If anything, God’s words in verse 22 suggest something different: “If they eat from the tree of life, they will live forever”—which implies they wouldn’t otherwise.In other words, part of being a creature is death. It is part of the created order. But if the serpent wasn’t Satan, and death wasn’t a punishment, then what about sin?

Sin is certainly central to the story, no doubt. But not sin in the abstract. This is the first instance of sin, so an origin story in that way. Yet the way we often hear this is that because Eve ate the forbidden fruit, all humanity after her is cursed—sin passed down like a hereditary disease.

But such a reading seems a little unfair to Eve and to us.

Afterall, Adam was there with Eve the whole time she was talking with the snake! [pic 3] It says so right in v. 6. He wasn’t off gathering other fruit. He stood silent, passive, seemingly unengaged from what was happening right in front of him. Eve on the other hand, though she is labeled and seen as a temptress, she is anything but.

Really, it is Eve who takes initiative. She rebuffs the serpent when it doesn’t tell the full truth. She makes decisions and is bold. All things we praise men for being, but not Eve. She doesn’t need to act as a temptress because she was clearly already in control. She handed Adam the fruit and he ate, no questions asked. No protest. No discernment. Just silence. Perhaps if Adam had been as engaged and discerning as Eve, we wouldn’t be in this mess.

So if there is blame, it is squarely on both. For not only were they equal in creation, they were equal in sin, too. And just so it’s stated, the story, not before eating the fruit and not after, does not call for men’s dominion over women. As one writer puts it, v. 16 “is not a mandate by God for male dominance but a description of the distortion that now marks human relationships.

A distortion brought by sin.

And what was the sin exactly? We’re told its disobedience - clearly they disobeyed God.

But disobedience is really the result of the actual sin at the heart of this story and the sin at center of our hearts, too. And that is mistrust.

Genesis 3 tells us that we live in a world where there are alternatives to God’s voice, in this case the serpent. And those voices tell half truths and lies that make us wonder if life could be better, we could be better if we just had that thing we are missing.

And we listen to those voices just enough that we begin to doubt not only ourselves, but God too. Creation is good, but not good enough. Perhaps it could be better. I am very good, according to God, but not good enough. Perhaps I could be better.

Maybe the snake is right, I am missing something. And once you believe that, you no longer trust God. And with trust out the window, disobedience is sure to follow.

We all have listened to the talking snake that tells us half truths and lies. If you just had this one fruit, this missing piece, then life would be better. If only I were skinnier or bulkier, if only I had more money or were more successful, if only I had more sex, or a nicer car, or a bigger house, then life would be better. It’s the same voice behind every perfectly filtered photo on instagram, every hustle culture mantra, every ad promising transformation if we just buy, try, or become something more. And finally we could be whole; we could be like God!

But don’t listen to the snake, it's a damned liar, always has been!

No human, no creature has it all. We are good, not perfect, remember? And the tragedy, as one pastor put it, is when we become so obsessive at securing what we think is missing from our lives, we end up losing the garden that was really good from the start.

The good news in all of this is what the story tells us about God our Creator.

Even though Adam and Eve listened to the snake, mistrusted God, and disobeyed, God still clothed them; meaning from the start God has never desired for us to walk around in shame or guilt. God has always desired to cover that for us. Whether it was leather garments for Adam and Eve, or the grace of Jesus Christ that now clothes us in baptism.

God, the perfect Creator, is always covering us with forgiveness and grace, even in our mistrust. Amen.

The Cost of Grace

Luke 9:51-62

When the days drew near for him to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem. And he sent messengers ahead of him. On their way they entered a village of the Samaritans to prepare for his arrival, but they did not receive him because his face was set toward Jerusalem. 

When his disciples James and John saw this, they said, “Lord, do you want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?” But he turned and rebuked them. Then they went on to another village.

As they were going along the road, someone said to him, “I will follow you wherever you go.” And Jesus said to him, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” To another he said, “Follow me.” But he said, “Lord, first let me go and bury my father.” And Jesus said to him, “Let the dead bury their own dead, but as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” Another said, “I will follow you, Lord, but let me first say farewell to those at my home.” And Jesus said to him, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”

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Jesus would have been a terrible pastor. And I am not the first pastor or preacher to say such a thing. Most pastors, yours included, work very hard to make things comfortable. When you come here, things are orderly and neat, (have you met pastor mark?). We do our best to explain what’s going on, where things are, and how to get involved (if you want to). We hope the worship is satisfying, the music gratifying, and the preaching not a snore. We want people to know this is a place where you are cared for.

So we make sure Christian education is appealing and diverse in it’s offerings; there is plenty of opportunity for fellowship and meals together; and we do some service, but not too much. In all, we try to give people what they want, without too many demands — after all, it’s not like we can compete with sports or packed family calendars.

Jesus is the opposite. I imagine if Jesus were a pastor and greeted you at the door, he wouldn’t say, “I’m so glad you’ve joined us,” but more like, “Are you sure you want to do this?” That’s essentially what he says to the would-be disciples in Luke. Jesus is walking toward Jerusalem when someone says, “Wherever you go, I’ll follow!” You can almost hear Jesus say, “You don’t even know what you’re saying. Creatures of earth and sky have homes — not me. Are you ready to be homeless?” We don’t know how the young man responds. But I know how I would — and I’m guessing you do too.

And so it is with the other two would-be disciples. Jesus tells one not to bury his father. What kind of lunatic says that? Especially in a culture where honoring one’s parents was a sacred obligation. Surely Jesus can’t be saying that following him is greater than the traditions of their culture? Surely he isn’t telling us we can’t attend funerals or grieve those we love.

And is it really a big deal that the third person wants to say goodbye? That doesn’t seem like an unreasonable request? I mean of course he would come rushing back to Jesus, right? A quick hug to mom, maybe one more meal, a good night’s rest, and then he’ll be ready. But Jesus says “you’ll only make crooked furrows and that’s no good in the Kingdom of God”.

You see what I mean that Jesus wouldn’t make a good pastor? Here are people throwing themselves at Jesus and his response is “are you sure? Because this is going to cost you.”

It will cost you your comfort; it will cost you the traditions and obligations you hold so dearly,

it will cost you whatever or whoever it was waiting for you back home.

We don’t want to hear that. I don’t want to preach that! It would be easier to stand up and say we are doing so well. Instead of a discipleship at all cost, we much prefer discipleship at little to no cost. We want Jesus, myself included, to sound like a used car salesman, reaffirming that this life of faith can be ours with little to no money down!

We want discipleship on demand — where we hit pause when something else comes up, and resume when time allows. After all isn’t there grace?! And here among all places, isn’t grace offered with no string attached?

But when grace becomes an excuse to avoid commitment — when it asks nothing of us — it turns into what Bonhoeffer called “cheap grace.

“Cheap grace is that grace which we bestow on ourselves. Cheap grace is preaching forgiveness without repentance; it is baptism without the disciple of community;

it is the Lord’s Supper without the confession of sin; it is absolution with out personal confession.

Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without the living, incarnate Jesus Christ”.

Rather what Jesus offers to the would-be disciples and to us is a costly grace. It is costly because it will cost us comfort — but it is grace, because we follow Jesus.

It is costly because it will upend our lives — but it is grace, because it offers life to the full, here and now.

It is costly because we will lose relationships — but it is grace, because it leads us into deeper communion with others and with God

I want to be clear. Discipleship is not how much one goes to church. I don’t think Jesus is saying discipleship means you must be homeless, or that you can’t grieve a loved one, or doubt what you’re doing. But I also don’t want to chalk this up to hyperbole and say, “Nice try — at least there’s grace.” Grace isn’t an excuse; it’s a catalyst. Discipleship will cost us.

So what is the cost — for you, in your life, right now? And what might it cost us, together, as a community of faith?

What comfort might this costly grace afflict?

What obligations are you asked to let go of?

What relationships need reordered?

In Winston-Salem, I saw costly grace embodied. The Dwelling is a church made up of — and for — people who live on the margins. Folks who are homeless or have been. People wrestling with addiction. Just out of incarceration. Some from nearby low-income housing.

A few who looked like you and me.

When we got to the dwelling for worship, their sanctuary looked nothing like ours. Think more living room, less cathedral. It was packed with people who walked in from the street, bags and dogs in tow. People would yell, sometimes at no one, sometimes at someone, sometimes playful, sometimes not.

We ate breakfast together. But the smell of the egg casserole was not enough to mask the scent of sweat and smoke that filled the space. Worship began once seconds were finished, around 11ish, but no one sets their watch by it. And if you think our second service is loud…

People held conversations, left, came back in, moved about at their leisure. But they also clapped and danced, and yell affirmations during the sermon and prayers. Did I mention it too is an ELCA church?

After worship, they gathered for another meal, waiting in a long line on the blacktop as the North Carolina sun beat down. With early 2000s pop blasting from a speaker, the servers danced with abandon as they dished up a thoroughly southern lunch for over 200 people.

And that’s what every Sunday is like. [return to screen].

It is uncomfortable, especially for those of us who expect church to look, feel, smell, and sound more like this. It breaks many traditions of worship, programming, and education, especially for a Lutheran congregation.

And it has cost them relationships. People won’t worship there because they think it could be unsafe, or they can’t tolerate the smell, or there’s no Sunday School.

Yet as I sat in worship — clearly the minority in all sorts of ways — I saw costly grace. It was messy and beautiful, hard and joy-filled. But that’s discipleship.

And at our best, I believe we embrace costly grace in faithful ways for our context.

It sounds like raising hard questions and concerns about the dangers of Christian Nationalism.

It looks like showing up at Pride with a booth and a message: that God’s love is for all — especially those who’ve been told it’s not. It means addressing the history and ongoing injustice caused by racism. It feels like giving a significant portion of our money away each and every year to people and places that need it.

These things make us uncomfortable. They reorder our obligations. They challenge our traditions. And yes — they have cost us relationships. But isn’t that what Jesus said discipleship would look like?

Discipleship is costly, Jesus is very honest about that. But he asks nothing of us that he hasn’t already done for us.

Maybe that’s why he would have been a terrible pastor — but the perfect Savior. And thank God for that. Amen.