An afternoon stroll
A silent pull
A woman’s curiosity.
Tree of Life
Fruit to feed immortality.
Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil
Forbidden fruit—Elohim’s stipulation.
Out of the foliage
Draped in glittering, scaly skin.
His target—a direct creation
The last stroke of Elohim’s handiwork.
Former bright, shining one of the Hosts
Aware she could maneuver places he could not.
The subtle and deadly assault begins
Spitting doubts, hissing lies
He tempts the influential one.
The fork-tongued serpent contests
Vaporous poison is emitted.
The helpmeet is restless
She examines the fruit.
“Did Elohim really say?”
The Genesis writer is an incredible storyteller and has caught us in the plot now. The writer informs us the woman saw that the fruit was good.
Good for three reasons:
She (remember she has not been named yet) sees that this fruit is good for food. Of course it was. God proclaimed all things good at the end of his Creation. It wasn’t the fruit that was evil. However, just because something seems good for food and is edible does not mean we should ingest it.
She sees that this fruit (probably not the traditional apple) is lovely to behold. Unblemished. Aesthetically pleasing. We are drawn to all things beautiful—we long for things that have the stamp of purity and loveliness about them. But not everything is as it seems to the eye.
She saw (inferred, discerned) that the fruit was good for gaining wisdom. Her intellect was stirred and her curiosity heightened. But gaining wisdom is a far cry from “being like God”.
She began to covet. She began to want what she thought she could not have. She began to desire the forbidden.
And the mental dance commenced.
What was the Lord God hiding? What was he withholding? What had he been denying Adam and her? Why was God forbidding them to eat good, lovely, and stimulating fruit?
The snake begins to writhe; the subtlety turns to accusation. He is twisting the truth of God. He is baiting the trap. He wants the woman snared quickly, long before the cool of the day.
“You will not die. You will simply become like God,” he hissed.
The serpent told a warped version of the truth.
The woman is beguiled.
She seizes the opportunity. She thinks only of gain and covets to be like Lord-God; however, we must remember she was already like Him. She had been made in his image.
And she turns to Adam and persuades him to take a bite.
What would our Ancient Mother say to us now?
If she could speak to us—what would she advise?
On this side of the garden, this side of history, what would she counsel?
She has received some hard repercussions through history. She has been blamed, accused, avoided, scorned, reviled and hated.
But she is our mother. When Adam named her (after the Fall), he named her Eve—Mother of all Living.
We are her living.
As our mother she has lessons for us to learn from her poor choices. She has principles for us to glean from her undiscerning decisions.
She would want us to pay attention regardless of our ages or the seasons of our lives.
Our mother lost many things that fateful day:
Her innocence. She experienced shame.
Her influence. Rarely would Adam heed her counsel now.
Her relationships. Fault lines, canyons and mountains now existed in her relationships.
Her immortality. Death was now inevitable. .
The serpent still slithers.
The methods and weapons he used in the garden are still in his arsenal today, and he has had thousands upon thousands of years to hone them.
Our Ancient Mother is whispering, “Don’t be deceived, my children.”