Act 2- The Fall

The next big thing is the Fall. I have thought about why the use of that phrase. I think the phrase is interesting because it tells of how the cracks began to emerge. Act 2 of a play is when complications are introduced, and tensions begin to arise. The Fall introduces us to the tensions that have begun to emerge as a result of Adam and Eve's disobedience.

Here’s a thought about the Fall, or falling: to fall means one may have been standing or on an elevated plane and, without any control, move downward, sometimes hurting themselves in the process. This explanation means that someone who is already down cannot fall. One must be in an elevated position before one can fall. Figuratively, as we have come to understand the events in the Garden of Eden, to fall means losing a position of power, authority, influence, or relationship.

And so, when I think, or we talk, about the Fall, we are talking about losing the blessing of a continued relationship with God. When we talk about the Fall, we refer to the loss of our privileged position with God.

And the devastating nature of this loss has been that all through salvation history, God has been about the business of restoring the life and vibrancy of the relationship God once had with us.

The story of the Fall is unique in many ways because it seeks to explain the chasm between God and humans. For the writer of the story, the divine captures all of human imagination and consciousness. The divine is the source from which everything flows, from which life itself flows. And so, if there is a chasm, then the question is why? What happened? What at all caused the separation between God and humanity?

The fact of the matter is that we don’t see the chasm only in the Genesis story. All traditional societies are awash with different narratives that explain the chasm between the divine and humans. African traditional religion has many stories, but my favorite tells of how God lived in the clouds and was so close to humans. At that time, the clouds were so low that even a kid could lift his or her hand and touch the clouds. Bear in mind that touching the clouds meant touching God.

However, the proximity of God to humans gave room for people to taint God. God is clean, God is holy, but people simply lifted their hands and cleaned them in the clouds, thereby smearing God with dirt. This particular act made God dirty, and so out of frustration, God pulled away from humans. That, to the African, explains why the clouds are so far away from us that we cannot touch them.

This story is similar to the Genesis narrative, not in content but in its overarching goal of explaining to us why there’s a chasm between humans and the divine. A critical element of the stories about the separation between God and humans is that the cause of the breakdown has never been pinned on God but on the inordinate desire that rests in each of us. It is that desire that makes us want to be like the God through whom life flows. It is that desire through which our egos are massaged. It is that desire that makes us want to feel superior to others. It is that desire that drives us to the point of even killing others to make us look good.

St. Augustine referred to this inordinate desire as the Original Sin. The theory about Original Sin isn’t about what you have done or what you have left undone. It is about the fact that within each of us lies the proclivity to sin. Within each of us is that inordinate desire. That is what human nature is filled with: desires that can be very destructive.

Psalm 51 echoes this sentiment when David is heard saying, “Surely I was sinful at birth, sinful from the time my mother conceived me.” This is a profound admission that we are sinners even at conception. How could we possibly accuse a fetus at conception that it is conceived out of sin? It doesn’t make sense. But the reality is that that fetus, even at conception, is guilty of the inordinate desire that is alive in every single human being.

In his letter to the Romans, Paul also argues that “All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.” Paul doesn’t say some, but all. And that includes even children, because they, too, like you and me, are guilty of that same inordinate desire which makes us sin.

In the story of the fall, the Serpent goes to Eve and poses this question: “Did God really say, ‘You must not eat from any tree in the garden’?”

Eve answers, “We may eat fruit from the trees in the garden, but God did say, ‘You must not eat fruit from the tree that is in the middle of the garden, and you must not touch it, or you will die.’”

The Serpent responds, “You will not certainly die.” The Serpent goes on to say, “For God knows that when you eat from it, your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.”

Having then proven to Eve that God was not to be trusted to be honest, Eve disobeys God’s command, picks the fruit from the tree, eats of the fruit, and then gives some to Adam, who also eats of it. Both Adam and Eve disobey God’s command.

The story does three things for me: first, God establishes human freedom, but God also limits human freedom. The point is, freedom without any limit is no freedom at all. True freedom comes with the ability to make choices, some of which can be detrimental to us.

Second, the Serpent only gained access to Eve’s psyche by sowing doubts in her about what God had said. The Serpent presents God as a liar and one not to be trusted. And much as Adam and Eve bought into the narrative about God, so do we buy into that narrative because we want to do what we want to do without any recourse to what God has asked of us.

Third, the story of the Fall is a stark reminder that no one is perfect. We are not perfect; we aspire to perfection, but we are not. And that reality should help us be gracious to ourselves and others. It isn’t the case that there was something wrong with us when we were created, far from that. Rather, it is the case that we are so much into ourselves that we miss the abundant beauty that is outside of us.

For me, the critical question about the Fall is, who do I want to be? Do I want to be God, or do I want to be like God? If the underlying theory of the fall is the kind of pride that is rooted in the desire to be superior, then indeed, Adam and Eve wanted to be like God.

I appreciate that we are created in the image of God, and much as I wish I were close enough to God, I know I cannot be like God, nor do I want to be God. To be God is to be perfect. To be God is to be authentic. And I am nowhere near that.

Here is the truth about each of us: no one is authentic because to be a human being is to be an actor. Each of us is wearing a mask, and with that, we create the effect of authenticity. Even children learn how to act on the stage. We learn how to please people. We learn how to make people like us. We learn how to say the right things so that no one gets offended. We learn how to do the right things when everyone is watching. In fact, the person who is being authentic is actually playing that part of being authentic.

Due to the lack of authenticity, it is no wonder that Act 2 not only introduces us to complications, but tensions between God and humans also begin to arise.

Turn the page to Act 3...

Manny+

(I plan to devote each week to an Act, so be on the lookout for Act III next week.)