Adam/Eve: From Rabbinic To Scriptural Anthropology
Steven Kepnes
Ph.d. Colgate University
As a form of group reading of scriptures by Jews,
Christians, and Muslims the Society of Scriptural Reasoning has naturally
focused on Abraham. Abraham is the father of the three monotheistic faiths
through whom all the nations of the world are blessed. Yet behind or before
Abraham there are others that serve as common figures for the three traditions.
As a figure of scriptural imagination and reasoning there are few that surpass
Adam, the first human. As both image of God and red clay, male and female,
spirit and body, proud and shamed, perfect and flawed, Adam represents all the
potential and danger that we, as humans, are. The midrashic readers of Torah clearly
see this and Adam therefore gives rise to some of the most creative reflections
on the questions of philosophical anthropology that we have in the Jewish
tradition. But Adam is not only an important figure for rabbinic anthropology.
As the first human, Adam represents all humans as beings created in the image
of God and therefore of infinite value. Reflection on Adam therefore not only
gives rise to philosophical anthropology, it also issues in the ethical
imperative to address the suffering of all humans regardless of their
connections to the traditions of monotheism. Since Adam is created in the image
of God, he also poses a deeper question that we may also ask of God: if this
human is in your image, what does he tell us about you?
When we move away from issues of
human nature and theology to the specific characters of Adam and Eve, we find
different sorts of midrashic reflections on the first humans. Genesis paints a
picture of Adam as a passive personality and Eve as outgoing and inquisitive.
Midrash fills in the scant character sketches in Genesis to provide us with a
peculiarly pious and contemplative Adam. Together, this pious Adam and the
active and worldly Eve are suggestive of two modes of being in the world
religiously and two different styles for scriptural reasoning. This leads me,
at the end of this essay, to some final thoughts on the nature of scripture and
the goals of scriptural reasoning.
As an absent/present figure and a bundle of questions, Adam
is the perfect figure for midrash. In the expression that we often see in
midrashic parlance, Adam "cries out, interpret me!" The mystery of Adam is
perhaps nowhere more present than in his origins.
And God said, let us make Humankind
in our image, after our likeness…
And God created the Human in His
image, in the image of God he created Him; male and female He created them. (Gen
1:27)
These verses begin with the puzzle of the monotheistic God speaking in the plural:
"Let us make..." It continues with the creation of an androgynous
being, a male/female. The easiest solution to the first problem is that God
is speaking in the "royal we" or, perhaps, he is speaking to the
angels. But he has created all the celestial bodies, plants, and animals by
himself: "Let there be...." And we have heard nothing about the
creation of angels or divine helpers thus far. So, we have reason to be perplexed
by this "Let us make..." One striking interpretation can be
developed from a suggestion of the contemporary interpreter, Aviva Zornberg.
Zornberg argues that humans are not fully formed by God but that their formation
is a joint undertaking of God and humans.[1]
Thus, here, the "Let us" is neither directed to God as the royal
we nor the angels, but to the human him/herself! So we then have: 'Let
us, you and I, make you!' This suggests that human nature is not a finished
product but a process. Human nature is not a given essence but a free potential
that must be finished in human choices and in the human response to God.
Male And Female
The paradox of the plural and the singular in reference to
God returns again in reference to humans when God creates the human (singular)
both male and female (plural). The use of the Hebrew word with the definite
article Ha-Adam, "the Adam," seems to suggest, as the NRSV translation has it,
"humankind." This translation means that God is creating, not a man who is
androgynous, but the basic qualities of "humankind." One of the qualities of
humankind is that we are created both sexually embodied and sexually
differentiated. This leads Phyllis Trible to make a good case that male and
female are created, at first, in sexual equality. She points us to the summary
statement about the creation of humankind in Genesis 5: "When God created
humankind (adam)....male and female created he them." Trible states, "the
parallelism between 'ha-adam [humankind] and 'male and female' shows,
further, that sexual differentiation does not mean hierarchy but
equality."[2]
The continued reference to male and femaleness as a quality of humaneness means
not only that each of the sexes is equally human, but that gender and sexual
activity is essential to humanity. This is affirmed by God's first commandment
to Adam and Eve: "Be fruitful and multiply..."(Gen. 1:28). Rashi amplifies
the positive view of sexuality in his famous discussion of when intimate
relations between Adam and Eve began. Rashi uses a simple Hebrew syntactical
rule[3]
to argue that we must translate Genesis 4:1 not as "Adam knew Eve" but, rather
as "And Adam had known Eve [before the expulsion from Eden); and she become
pregnant." Thus, sexual relations between men and women occurred while in the
ideal state of Eden.
Image and Likeness
But if it is the case that being created in the image of God
means to be sexually differentiated, what does that say about God and sexuality?
Obviously, a central polemic of the Bible and the monotheistic traditions that
grow from it, is that God is beyond body and sexuality. However, a close
reading of the text suggests that the phrase the "the image of God" does not
have to be seen as a representation of God but, instead, it can be understood
as an instrument that God employs in making humanity. Thus, Bara Elokim
et ha-adam b'tselmo could be translated: 'God created humanity with [or
through] his image.' Rashi suggests that the Hebrew word, tselem, can
be translated as a "type" or a mold or form. He argues that whereas God created
all the other creatures by word, "Let there be..." he created human with a tselem,
with a form. This preserves the transcendence of God from his image and from
materiality and sexuality.
Yet the mystery of being created in
the image of God is not exhausted by the material and sexual meanings. If the
essence of humans was their bodily and sexual nature, then God could have
created them alongside the animals and in the same way. As well as relating
humans to the creation of nature and the animals, the assertion that humans are
created in the likeness and image of God suggests the distinction of humans
from animals. For this distinction, Rashi points us to certain cognitive
qualities. He tells us that being created in God's "likeness" (dmut')
means being created “with the power to comprehend and discern.” This must be so
because, after Adam is created, he is given the commandment not to eat of the
tree of good and evil. The power to comprehend and discern is necessary to
understand God’s commandment. This already suggests a certain amount of freedom
of the human will and the ability to deliberate on how to use it.
However, if we come back to the literal sense of the terms tselem
(“image”) and dmut' (“likeness”), we come to a deeper query.
What does it mean to be created in the image of a being that has
no image and to be like a being that has no likeness? Perhaps this
ties back to our earlier discussion of the openness of human nature.
Being created in the image of God means that there is no one determinative
and definitive image that determines us. Being created in God’s
image means that there is no one mold or picture for the human because
each makes herself through the decisions that she makes in relation
to God’s love and commandments. There is no one likeness for humans
because as beings who comprehend and discern and choose, we are
constantly changing and growing and developing. Maimonides stresses,
in his “Laws of Repentance,” that the fact of human free will means
that our moral and spiritual characters are never set. At every
moment we are able to renew ourselves and achieve great spiritual
heights. At the same time we are, at every moment, tempted by sin
and can destroy a life-time of good deeds by turning away from God.[4]
There is a long line of
interpretations from the midrashim to Maimonides to the modern neo-Kantian
thinker Hermann Cohen to the existentialist Martin Buber, that suggest that the
meaning of being created in the image of God is that the spiritual and moral
character of the human lies, not within the self, but outside the self in its
relations to God and to other humans. Lying outside the self in acts of
relating to God and others, the spiritual and moral self is not only made in
every moment, but also made new at every moment. Here, we are not talking about
psychological characteristics and personality traits that may be permanent
fixtures of the self. Instead, we are talking about the moral and spiritual
self which lies outside the psychological ego in the triad of relations whose
elements are the person, God, and other persons. If the moral and spiritual
self lies in this web of triadic relations, we have yet another reason why the
image of the human cannot be a definite given: it must be an open-ended image
because it is constantly being made and remade in the dynamic movement of its
relations.
The Heteronomous Law
The fact that the moral and spiritual self lies outside the
self provides us with a way of understanding the moral status of the
heteronomous law. This law must remain outside and "above" the self, in order
to maintain itself as an unyielding and stable guidepost for the moral and
spiritual self. The Jew certainly tries to internalize the heteronomous law and
become morally and spiritually "autonomous" as Kant would have it. But the law
must remain outside and even beyond the self because morality and contact with
God are always beyond us as the goal and ideal to which we must strive.
Along with our qualities of gender,
cognition, and free will, the rabbis conceptualize forces within the self which
push us toward good and evil. They call these forces yetzer ha- ra and
the yetzer ha- tov, the bad and good impulses. Without the Torah, we are
thrown back and forth between the two impulses. The gift of the Torah, however,
is the provision for a stable guide, a series of ethical imperatives and
discussions and the constant presence of God as an inspiration and motivation
to follow the yester tov. "My sons I have given you the evil
inclination, (but I have at the same time) given you the Torah as an antidote.
As long as you preoccupy yourself with the Torah (the evil inclination) will
have no dominion over you."[5]
Human Uniqueness and Infinite Value
Still another way of understanding the meaning of being
created in the image of God is provided in the mishna. In Sanhedrin we learn
that that being created in God's image means that every human is unique.
The greatness of the Holy One
blessed be He is thus demonstrated. For whereas man prints many coins from one
die, each one is a replica of the other, the Supreme King of Kings, the Holy
One blessed be He, stamped every man with the die of Adam and yet no one
exactly resembles his fellow. [6]
This mishna responds to the obvious question: If humans are
created from the same mold why aren't they all alike? In the process of answering
this question, the mishna makes a startling statement about human diversity.
For the mishna the key word in Genesis 1:27 is not tselem but the word
that is repeated three times, barah, created. The verse then is telling
us something about what it means to be created by God. It means to be created
unique. Unlike humans, who like to make replicas (and who are now fascinated
with the idea of "cloning") God creates life new and different every time.
Thus, the mishna is saying that implicit in the fact that humans are created by
God is the value of human diversity. In reflecting on this point the mishna
makes one the most beautiful statements about the value of every human life in
all of the Torah.
Therefore man was created on his
own, to teach you that whoever destroys one soul is regarded by the Torah as if
he destroyed a whole world and whoever saves one soul, is regarded as if he had
saved a whole world. [7]
Here, the mishna suggests that not only is every person
unique, but every person is equal in complexity and unity to the creation of a
whole world! God, who created the world, creates each human being as a
microcosm of the world. And each person possesses the value of an entire world.
So to return to our question: What
does it mean to be created in the tselem Elokim, the image of God? It
means to possess the complexity, unity and the infinite value of a world. It
means to be created different. It means to be created male or female, white or
brown. The image of God, then, does not work like a mold or mirror, giving us
like attributes; rather it is a kind of inverted mirror or prism which gives
each of us our unique light. It is a spark of diversity which makes us uniquely
us. And if we stay with the metaphor of the tselem Elokim as the
infinitely valuable spark of uniqueness within us, perhaps we could gain a
deeper understanding of the nature of God. God, the creator and source of
difference, uniqueness, value, and oneness, must himself be the infinitely
different, unique, valuable and one. And that, of course, is the basic
assertion of Deuteronomy 6:4 and the words of Judaism's most basic prayer, the Shema: God is one. God is unique.
II. Ayeka-- Where Are You?
Having explicated the meaning of being created in the image
of God as a key to the basic qualities of Ha-Adam, of humanity, we still may
want to return to Adam as a particular and unique figure in the opening
chapters of Genesis. Here, questions remain about who this person is, and, more
importantly, what he was doing while all the action was taking place. After all,
Adam is placed in the garden to "cultivate and keep it;" but we do not really
see him working or watching over the trees and plants in the garden. He is
given power over all the other created animals; but other than naming the other
animals, he is not seen exercising this power. He does not appear to do very
much at all. He says little and fails to take initiative. He is asleep when Eve
is created and absent when the serpent appears. Eve is far more active than
Adam, as she speaks with the serpent and is bold enough to interpret the word
of God. Thus, she adds to God's prohibition against eating of the tree,
"neither shall you touch it" (Gen 3:3). Eve admires both the physical form
and the inherent wisdom of the tree, then takes and eats its forbidden fruit,
and gives it to Adam to eat. He then performs one of his few actions, which is
to eat, but he then avoids responsibility for doing so. Later, when he emerges
from Eden, he is an absent husband and father who appears to take no
responsibility for the upbringing of his two sons.
Adam is a bundle of contradictions
and questions, and therefore the reader is happy that God voices the question
that we all want to ask of Adam: "Ayeka, Where are you?" (Gen.
3:9). Midrash Tanhuma supplies us with a wonderful answer to the question of
where Adam is and what he is doing while the momentous events of the opening
chapters of Genesis are occurring. Tanhuma tells us that Adam is admiring the
glory of creation, composing and reciting psalms, and contemplating the majesty
of God. Thus, when Adam was created and beheld the world about him, he broke
into praise of God and encouraged all creatures to join him in praise. "Let us
all see the creation that God has created. And he was astonished to his heart.
And he began to praise and extol, saying 'How great are your works (Ps.
104:24)'"[8] Adam then
recites the 93rd psalm.
The Lord is King;
He is robed in grandeur
The Lord is robed,
He is girded with strength.
The world stands firm;
It cannot be shaken.
Your throne stands firm from of old;
from eternity you have existed.
The Ocean sounds, O Lord,
The ocean sounds its thunder,
The ocean sounds its pounding
Above the thunder of the mighty waters,
More majestic than the breakers of the sea
Is the Lord, majestic on high.
Your decrees are indeed enduring;
Holiness befits your house,
O Lord, for all times
Thus, in the Tanhuma, Adam is elevated to the level of a
singer poet, a natural philosopher, and visionary. As the first human, the
first to behold God's creation, Adam responds with astonishment, and deep
appreciation. Adam is the visionary who, in beholding the world, sees the
complex and simple beauty of the ocean as itself a form of praise for God. Adam
calls to mind other psalms: "The Heavens declare the glory of God, the sky
proclaims his handiwork" (PS 19:1). Adam not only perceives signs of
praise for God in the ocean, heavens and sky, but he hears the sounds of praise
in all life. "All that breathes praises the
Lord" (Ps. 150:6).[9]
In the midrashic imagination Adam
has more important things to do than cultivate and watch over the
garden.[10]
Being God's last creation, right before the creation of the sabbath, Adam
recognizes that Eden is the perfect creation, the ideal space and time before
history and outside of profane space. Eden is the eternal time, the time that
is referred to in the Shabbat liturgy, as sh'kulo Shabbat, the time in
which all time is Shabbat. Eden is the perfect space in which the human needs
only extol the wonders of creation and contemplate the majesty of God. Midrash
tells us then that it is Adam who composes a sketch of the psalm for Shabbat
that David later fills in.[11]
Eden is the paradigm of redemption, and therefore, Adam is doing what he
should, resting, praying, and midrash adds, studying Torah (doing "textual
reasoning"), and performing mitsvot.[12]
Genesis 3: Now the Serpent was More Subtle Than
Any Other Animal of the Field.
The midrash seems to have offered us both a plausible and a
beautiful vision for the Adam of the first creation of the human, the human
that was created in the image of God. But things get more difficult when the
plot thickens and the serpent enters on the scene. Here, Adam seems to remain
in his pious condition of prayer, contemplation, and innocence even though the
world around him is being threatened. Though he remains in Eden, even in Eden--the
ideal and natural naked state--there is a fissure. The fissure appears
precisely in the nakedness. Adam and Eve are naked (arumim) but the
serpent is "more naked" (arum m'kol) than they. Perhaps, his nakedness
is derived from the fact that he is only naked nature, that he has not been
created "in the image of God." The serpent is certainly the basely physical
but what makes him dangerous is that he is also smart. He is subtle, crafty,
shrewd. I could launch us into a discussion of base physicality and how what I
have called the "fissure" in Eden got there. This could get us into discussion
of the status of evil in the Hebrew scriptures, and midrash, and philosophy and
kabbalah. But I would like to leave this issue alone for now and return to Adam
in his prayerful and contemplative and studious state. I do this because Adam's
piety is, I think, instructive for us as scriptural reasoners. Adam is
instructive for us, for we, too, like to stop the world and retreat to our
wonderful tents of meeting to contemplate and study. This is a crucial part of
our "work" precisely because the art of contemplation and study of scripture
seems to have been lost to many in the academy and even the church and
synagogue and mosque. The communitas of our gathering and studying
together recreates something of the awe and wonder of what Adam must have
experienced in beholding the glory of God's creation. But as we gather, we want
to remain in touch with the world outside of our tents that is rent with
fissures. Indeed, those fissures are not only outside our world, but they exist
right with us in our idealistic tents of meeting. Is it not a cautionary tale,
that while Adam was contemplating, Eve was left to negotiate with the snake? Is
it not instructive, that while Adam was giving God his gifts of praise, Cain
and Abel were left to decide how to properly give gifts to God? And while Adam
continued to pray, Cain was thrown into utter despair by the impropriety of his
gift so that, as Adam continued to contemplate, Cain rose up and killed Abel
his brother. And while Adam continued to study his son answered the question
that God had asked him too, the question Ayeka, "Where are you?" now
enlarged in scope to the question: "Where is Abel thy brother?" And Cain's
answer, like that of his father, was the answer of the failure to take
responsibility: "I do not know, am I my brother's keeper?"
As scriptural reasoners we have given ourselves
a twofold task, we want to preserve our tent of meeting both as a sacred space,
a place of group study and communitas and as a place in which our
awareness and sense of responsibility for suffering in the world is enhanced
and not diminished. We want to be both like Adam, whose deep appreciation for
the gift of creation brings him to praise God, and like Eve, who actively
embraces her freedom and courageously meets the serpent. We want to be like Eve
who boldly interprets the word of God and follows her senses and with the "help
of God" brings human life to the world. Our goal, then, is perhaps best
expressed by a desire to bring the two faces of humanity, sometimes posed as
the dichotomy of Adam and Eve, back together. Our goal is to bring study of
scripture and action together so that the image of God in the world can once
again shine forth.
Given the consistent use of doubles: Cain/Abel, Abraham/Lot,
Sarah/Hagar, Isaac//Isaac, Jacob/Esau, Rachel/Leah, Joseph/His brothers, one
could say that the Adam/Eve double provides a hermeneutical key to understand
Genesis. The written scripture gives us the human dynamic of doubling and shows
us the destructive and ruinous consequences when the doubling turns into
dichotomies. In this sense, scripture is descriptive of human failing.
Scripture is a mirror meant to show us the splits and fissures within us and within
our societies that prevent the disclosure of the image of God. But scripture
does not want to fix the problem by itself. It wants us to live up to our
potential by figuring out the solution ourselves. The nature or "anthropology"
of scripture is to provide a description of human failing together with keys
and clues to solutions. Scripture then calls out to us as readers and reasoners
to fix scripture and in so doing fix ourselves and the world. This is the
redemptive dimension of the work we do in our collective acts of reading.
What I have provided parallels
rabbinic notions of the written and oral torah of which midrash is a part. The
oral torah fills in lacunae and answers or "fixes" problems in written torah.
The oral torah teases out the secrets in the lacunae in the written word and
thereby releases deeper levels of its divine meaning. Yet oral torah is the
activity of Jews alone. Scriptural reasoning is group interpretive work done by
Jews, Christians, and Muslims together. Scriptural reasoning begins with a sense
that the solutions provided by Jews or Christians or Muslims alone are now not
enough to redeem us from the dichotomies and violence of our contemporary
world. Scriptural reasoning is therefore a kind of super-midrash, a midrash
done in the context of a new world with new challenges. Scriptural reasoning is
a kind of super-midrash that starts from the realization that at least some of
the fissures in the world stem from fissures that have occurred and are
occurring between the children of Abraham. This is difficult and bold and
dangerous work that we hope to do with both the courage of Eve and the piety of
Adam.
ENDNOTES
[1]
Avivah Gottleib Zornberg, Genesis: The Beginning Desire. (Philadelphia:
Jewish Publication Society, 1995), 19.
[2]
Phyllis Trible, God and the Rhetoric of Sexuality (Philadelphia:
Fortress, 1978), 18.
[3]
When the perfect form of the verb follows a series of verbs in the vow
conversive, [as in Gen 3:23-24, va-yishalhahu, and he sent, va-igaresh,
and he drove out, vayashkan and he stationed] we translate the perfect, yadah,
(4:1) in the pluperfect sense, "he had known."
[4]
Maimonides, Mishna Torah Sepher Ha-Madah, "Hilkot Teshuva," ch.
3:5.
[5]
Sifre Deuteromony, par:45.
[6]
Babylonian Talmud, Sanhedrin: 37a
[7]
Ibid.
[8] Midrash Tanhuma Pekudei 3 (end).
[9]
There are many references to animals praising God in Talmudic literature. See
Avodah Zarah 24b; Rosh Hashanah 8a.
[10]
Bereshit Rabba 16:5.
[11] Ginzberg cites
Seder Rabba d 'Bereshit, 7-8 and Pirke Rabbi Eliezer
19 for the midrashic sources here. See Louis Ginzberg, The Legends
of the Jews (Phildelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1925)
p.110, n.101 and p. 112, n.103.
[12]
Bereshit Rabba, 16:6.
Title Page | Archive
© 2004, Society for Scriptural Reasoning
|