Albert Barnes Commentary


Albert Barnes Commentary
"And the heavens and the earth were finished, and all the host of them. And on the seventh day God finished his work which he had made; and he rested on the seventh day from all his work which he had made. And God blessed the seventh day, and hallowed it; because that in it he rested from all his work which God had created and made." — Genesis 2:1-3 (ASV)
צבא tsābā' “a host in marching order,” a company of persons or things in the order of their nature and the progressive discharge of their functions. Therefore, it is applied to the starry host (Deuteronomy 4:19), to the angelic host (1 Kings 22:19), to the host of Israel (Exodus 12:41), and to the ministering Levites (Numbers 4:23). κόσμος kosmos.
חשׁביעי chashebı̂y‛ı̂y. Here השׁשׁי hashshı̂y is read by the Samaritan Pentateuch, the Septuagint, the Syriac, and Josephus. The Masoretic reading, however, is preferable because the sixth day was completed in the preceding paragraph. To finish a work on the seventh day, in Hebrew phrasing, means not to do any part of it on that day but to cease from it as a thing already finished. Furthermore, “resting,” in the subsequent part of the verse, is distinct from “finishing,” as it is the positive of which the latter is the negative.
שׁבת shābat “rest.” ישׁב yāshab “sit.”
קדשׁ qādı̂sh “be separate, clean, holy, set apart for a sacred use.”
In this section we have the institution of the day of rest, the Sabbath שׁבת shabāt—on the cessation of God from His creative activity.
And all the host of them. (Genesis 2:1) All the array of luminaries, plants, and animals by which the darkness, waste, and solitude of sky and land were removed, has now been called into unhindered action or new existence. The whole is now finished; that is, perfectly suited finally for the convenience of man, the high-born inhabitant of this fair scene. Since the absolute beginning of things, the earth may have undergone many changes of climate and surface before it was adapted for the residence of man. But it has received the finishing touch in these last six days.
These days accordingly are to man the only period of creation, since the beginning of time, of special or personal interest. The preceding interval of progressive development and periodical creation is, for him, condensed into a point of time. The creative work of the six days is accordingly called the “making,” or fitting up for man, of “the skies and the land and the sea, and all that in them is” (Exodus 20:11).
Then finished. (Genesis 2:2) To finish a work, in Hebrew conception, is to cease from it, to have done with it. “On the seventh day.” The seventh day is distinguished from all the preceding days by being itself the subject of the narrative. In the absence of any work on this day, the Eternal is occupied with the day itself, and does four things in reference to it. First, He ceased from His work which He had made. Secondly, He rested. This indicated that His undertaking was accomplished. When nothing more remains to be done, the purposing agent rests contented. The resting of God arises not from weariness, but from the completion of His task. He is refreshed, not by the recruiting of His strength, but by the satisfaction of having before Him a finished good (Exodus 31:17).
(Genesis 2:3) Thirdly, He blessed the seventh day. Blessing results in the bestowal of some good on the object blessed. The only good that can be bestowed on a portion of time is to dedicate it to a noble use, a special and pleasing enjoyment. Accordingly, fourthly, He hallowed it or set it apart for a holy rest. This consecration is the blessing conferred on the seventh day. It is devoted to the rest that followed when God’s work was done, to the satisfaction and delight arising from the consciousness of having achieved His end, and from the contemplation of the good He has realized. Our joy on such occasions is expressed by mutual visitation, congratulation, and hospitality. None of these outward demonstrations is mentioned here, and would be, as far as the Supreme Being is concerned, altogether out of place.
But our celebration of the Sabbath naturally includes the holy convocation or solemn meeting together in joyful mood (Leviticus 23:3), the singing of songs of thanksgiving in commemoration of our existence and our salvation (Exodus 20:11; see also Exodus 20:10 and Deuteronomy 5:15), the opening of our mouths to God in prayer, and the opening of God’s mouth to us in the reading and preaching of the Word. The sacred rest which characterizes the day precludes the labor and bustle of hospitable entertainment. But the Lord at set times spreads for us His table laden with the touching emblems of that spiritual fare which gives eternal life.
The solemn act of blessing and hallowing is the institution of a perpetual order of seventh-day rest, in the same manner as the blessing of the animals denoted a perpetuity of self-multiplication, and the blessing of man indicated further a perpetuity of dominion over the earth and its products. The present record is sufficient proof that the original institution was never forgotten by man. If it had ceased to be observed by mankind, the intervening event of the fall would have been sufficient to account for its discontinuance.
Indeed, it is not the manner of Scripture, especially in a record that often deals with centuries of time, to note the ordinary recurrence of a seventh-day rest or any other periodical festival, even though it may have taken firm hold among the hereditary customs of social life. Yet, incidental traces of the keeping of the Sabbath are found in the record of the deluge, when the sacred writer has occasion to notice short intervals of time.
The measurement of time by weeks then appears (Genesis 8:10; Genesis 8:12). The same division of time appears again in the history of Jacob (Genesis 29:27–28). This unit of measurement can be traced to nothing other than the institution of the seventh-day rest.
This institution is new evidence that we have arrived at the stage of rational creatures. The number of days employed in the work of creation shows that we have come to the times of man. The distinction of times would have no meaning for the irrational world.
But apart from this consideration, the seventh-day rest is not an ordinance of nature. It makes no mark in the succession of physical things and has no palpable effect on the merely animal world. The sun rises, the moon and the stars pursue their course, plants grow, flowers bloom, fruit ripens, and the animal seeks its food and provides for its young on this day as on other days. Therefore, the Sabbath is founded not in nature but in history. Its periodical return is marked by the numeration of seven days.
It appeals not to instinct, but to memory, to intelligence. A reason is assigned for its observance; and this itself is a step above mere sense, an indication that the era of man has begun. The reason is thus expressed: “Because in it He had rested from all His work” (Genesis 2:3). This reason is found in the procedure of God; and God Himself, as well as all His ways, man alone is competent, in any measure, to apprehend.
It is consonant with our ideas of the wisdom and righteousness of God to believe that the seventh-day rest is adjusted to the physical nature of man and of the animals which he domesticates as beasts of labor. But this is subordinate to its original purpose, the commemoration of the completion of God’s creative work by a sacred rest, which has a direct bearing, as we learn from the record of its institution, on metaphysical and moral distinctions.
The rest here, it should be remembered, is God’s rest. The refreshment is God’s refreshment, which arises rather from the joy of achievement than from the relief of fatigue. Yet the work in which God was engaged was the creation of man and the previous adaptation of the world to be his home. Man’s rest, therefore, on this day is not only an act of communion with God in the satisfaction of resting after His work was done, but, at the same time, a thankful commemoration of that auspicious event in which the Almighty gave a noble origin and a happy existence to the human race.
It is this which, even apart from its divine institution, at once raises the Sabbath above all human commemorative festivals, and imparts to it—to its joys and its ways of expressing them—a height of sacredness and a force of obligation which cannot belong to any mere human arrangement.
Therefore, to enter upon the observance of this day with intelligence, it was necessary that the first human couple should have been acquainted with the events recorded in the preceding chapter. They must have been informed of the original creation of all things, and therefore of the eternal existence of the Creator. Further, they must have been instructed in the order and purpose of the six days’ creation, by which the land and sky were prepared for the residence of man. They must in consequence have learned that they themselves were created in the image of God and intended to have dominion over all the animal world.
This information would fill their pure and infantile minds with thoughts of wonder, gratitude, and contented delight, and prepare them for entering upon the celebration of the seventh-day rest with understanding and heart. It is hardly necessary to add that this was the first full day of the newly-created pair in their terrestrial home. This would add a new historical interest to this day above all others.
We cannot say how much time it would take to make the parents of our race aware of the meaning of all these wondrous events. But there can be no reasonable doubt that He who made them in His image could convey into their minds such simple and elementary conceptions of the origin of themselves and the creatures around them as would enable them to keep even the first Sabbath with propriety. These conceptions would then develop into more enlarged, distinct, and adequate notions of the reality of things along with the general development of their mental faculties.
This implies, we perceive, an oral revelation to the very first man. But it is premature to pursue this matter any further at present.
The recital of the resting of God on this day is not closed with the usual formula, “and evening was, and morning was, day seventh.” The reason for this is obvious. In the former days the occupation of the Eternal Being was definitely concluded in the period of the one day. On the seventh day, however, the rest of the Creator was only commenced, has since then continued to the present hour, and will not be fully completed until the human race has completed its course.
When the last man has been born and has arrived at the crisis of his destiny, then we may expect a new creation, another exertion of the divine energy, to prepare the skies above and the earth beneath for a new stage of man’s history, in which he will appear as a race no longer in process of development, but completed in number, confirmed in moral character, transformed in physical constitution, and so adapted for a new scene of existence.
Meanwhile, the interval between the creation now recorded and that foretold in subsequent revelations from heaven (Isaiah 65:17; 2 Peter 3:13; Revelation 21:1) is the long Sabbath of the Almighty, as far as this world is concerned, in which He serenely contemplates from the throne of His providence the strange workings and strivings of that intellectual and moral race He has called into being, the ebbings and flowings of ethical and physical good in their checkered history, and the final destiny to which each individual in the unfettered exercise of his moral freedom is incessantly advancing.
Therefore, we gather some important lessons concerning the primeval design of the Sabbath. It was intended, not for God Himself, whose Sabbath does not end until the consummation of all things, but for man, whose origin it commemorates and whose end it foreshadows (Mark 2:27). It not obscurely hints that work is to be the main business of man in the present stage of his existence. This work may be either an exhilarating exercise of those mental and corporeal faculties with which he is endowed, or a toilsome labor, a constant struggle for the means of life, according to the use he may make of his inborn liberty.
But between the sixfold periods of work is interposed the day of rest, a free breathing time for man, in which he may recall his origin from and meditate on his relationship to God. It lifts him out of the routine of mechanical or even intellectual labor into the sphere of conscious leisure and occasional participation with his Maker in His perpetual rest. It is also a type of something higher. It whispers into his soul an audible presentiment of a time when his probationary career will be over, his faculties will be matured by the experience and the education of time, and he will be transformed and translated to a higher stage of being, where he will hold uninterrupted fellowship with his Creator in the perpetual leisure and liberty of the children of God.
This paragraph completes the first of the eleven documents into which Genesis can be separated, and the first grand stage in the narrative of the ways of God with man. It is the keystone of the arch in the history of that primeval creation to which we belong. The document which it closes is distinguished from those that succeed in several important respects:
It is a diary, while the others are usually arranged in generations or life-periods.
It is a complete drama, consisting of seven acts with a prologue. These seven stages contain two triads of action, which match each other in all respects, and a seventh constituting a sort of epilogue or completion of the whole.
Though Scripture takes no notice of any significance or sacredness inherent in particular numbers, we cannot avoid associating them with the objects to which they are prominently applied. The number one is especially applicable to the unity of God. Two, the number of repetition, is expressive of emphasis or confirmation, like the two witnesses. Three marks the three persons or hypostases in God.
Four notes the four quarters of the world and therefore reminds us of the physical system of things, or the cosmos. Five is the half of ten (the whole) and the basis of our decimal numeration. Seven, being composed of twice three and one, is especially suited for sacred uses; being the sum of three and four, it points to the communion of God with man. It is, therefore, the number of sacred fellowship.
Twelve is the product of three and four and points to the reconciliation of God and man; it is therefore the number of the church. Twenty-two and eleven, being the whole and the half of the Hebrew alphabet, have somewhat the same relation as ten and five. Twenty-four points to the New Testament, or completed church.
The other documents do not exhibit the sevenfold structure, though they display the same general laws of composition. They are arranged according to a plan of their own, and are all remarkable for their simplicity, order, and clarity.
The matter of the first differs from that of the others. The first is a record of creation; the others of development. This is sufficient to account for the diversity of style and plan. Each piece is admirably adapted to the topic it addresses.
The first document is distinguished from the second by the use of the term אלהים ‛Elohiym only for the Supreme Being. This name is here appropriate, as the Everlasting One here steps forth from the inscrutable secrecy of His immutable perfection to crown the latest stage of our planet’s history with a new creation adapted to its present conditions. Before all creation He was the Eternal, the Unchangeable, and therefore the blessed and only Potentate, dwelling with Himself in the unapproachable light of His own essential glory (1 Timothy 6:15).
From that ineffable source of all being came the free fiat of creation. After that transcendent event, He who was from everlasting to everlasting may receive new names expressive of the various relations in which He stands to the universe of created being. But before this relation was established, these names could have no existence or significance.
Neither this last nor any of the former distinctions provides any argument for diversity of authorship. They arise naturally out of the diversity of subject matter and are such as may proceed from an intelligent author judiciously adapting his style and plan to the variety of his topics. At the same time, identity of authorship is not essential to the historical validity or the divine authority of the elementary parts that are incorporated by Moses into the book of Genesis. It is simply unnecessary to assume multiple authors without cause.
"These are the generations of the heavens and of the earth when they were created, in the day that Jehovah God made earth and heaven. And no plant of the field was yet in the earth, and no herb of the field had yet sprung up; for Jehovah God had not caused it to rain upon the earth: and there was not a man to till the ground; but there went up a mist from the earth, and watered the whole face of the ground. And Jehovah God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul." — Genesis 2:4-7 (ASV)
תולדות tôledôt “generations, products, developments.” That which comes from any source, as the child from the parent, the record of which is history.
יהוה yehovâh. This word occurs about six thousand times in Scripture. It is obvious from its use that it is, so to speak, the proper name of God. It never has the article. It is never changed for construction with another noun. It is never accompanied by a suffix. It is never applied to any but the true God. This sacred exclusiveness of application, indeed, led the Jews always to read אדוני 'adōnāy in its place—or, if 'adōnāy preceded it, they read אלהים 'ĕlōhîm—to indicate which the vowel points of one of these terms were written beneath it.
The root of this name is חוה chāvâh—an older variety of היה hāyâh—which, as we have seen, has three meanings: “be” in the sense of coming into existence, “be” in the sense of becoming, and “be” in the sense of merely existing. The first of these meanings has no application to God, who had no beginning of existence.
The last applies to God but offers no distinctive characteristic, as it belongs equally to all objects that have existence. The second is proper to God in the sense, not of acquiring any new attribute, but of becoming active from a state of repose. But He becomes active to the eye of man only by causing some new effect to be, which makes its appearance in the world of perceptible things. He becomes, then, only by causing to be or to become.
Hence, He who becomes, when applied to the Creator, is really He who causes to be. This name, therefore, involves the active or causative force of the root from which it springs. It designates God in relation to the system of things He has called into being, and especially in relation to man, the only intelligent observer of Him or of His works in this world below. It distinguishes Him as the Author of being, and therefore the Creator, the worker of miracles, the performer of promise, the keeper of covenant. Beginning with the י (y) of personality, it points out God as the person whose habitual character it has become to cause His purpose to take place. Hence, אלהים 'ĕlōhîm designates God as the Everlasting, the Almighty, in His unchangeable essence, as He is before as well as after creation. יהוה yehovâh distinguishes Him as the personal Self-existent, and Author of all existing things, who gives expression and effect to His purpose, thereby manifests Himself as existing, and maintains a spiritual intercourse with His intelligent creatures.
The vowel marks usually placed under the consonants of this word are said to belong to אדוני 'adōnāy; and its real pronunciation, which is supposed to be lost, is conjectured to have been יהוה yehōvâh. This conjecture is supported by the analogy of the supposed ancient third singular masculine imperfect of the verb הוה hāvâh, and by the Greek forms ΙΑΩ (IAŌ) and ΙΑΒΕ (IABE) which are found in certain authors (Diodorus Siculus 1.94; Macrobius, Saturnalia 1.18; Theodoret, Quaestiones in Exodum 15). It is true, indeed, when it has a prefix, all its vowels coincide with those of אדוני 'adōnāy. But otherwise, the vowel under the first letter is different, and the qamets at the end is as usual in proper names ending in the Hebrew letter ה (h), as in others.
יהוה yehōvâh also finds an analogy in the word ירחם yerochām. In the forms ΙΑΩ (IAŌ) and ΙΑΒΕ (IABE), the Greek vowels doubtless represent the Hebrew consonants, and not any vowel points. The Hebrew letter ה (h) is often represented by the Greek letter α (a).
From יהוה yahevâh we may obtain יהוּ yehû at the end of compounds, and therefore expect יהוּ yehû at the beginning. But the form at the beginning is יהו yehô or יו yô—which indicates the pronunciation יהוה yehōvâh as current with the punctuators. All this supports the suggestion that the coincidental agreement of the two nouns Yahweh and Adonai in the principal vowels was the circumstance that facilitated the Jewish endeavor to avoid uttering the proper name of God except on the most solemn occasions.
The pronunciation Yahweh, moreover, rests on precarious grounds. The Hebrew analogy would give יִהְוֶה yihveh, not יְהוָֹה yehōvâh, for the verbal form. The middle vowel cholem (o) may indicate the intensive or active force of the root, but we place no stress on the mode of pronunciation, since it cannot be positively ascertained.
שׂדה śādeh “plain, country, field,” for pasture or tillage, in opposition to גן gan—“garden, park.”
נשׂמה neśāmâh “breath,” applied to God and man only.
We meet with no division again in the text until we come to Genesis 3:15, when the first minor break in the narrative occurs. This is noted by the intervening space being less than the remainder of the line. The narrative is therefore thus far regarded as continuous.
We are now entering a new plan of narrative. We therefore need to particularly note a principle of Hebrew composition where one line of events is continued without interruption to its natural resting point. After this, the writer returns to address a related series of incidents.
These incidents are equally necessary for clarifying his main purpose, even though their insertion in chronological order would have damaged the symmetry and clarity of the previous narrative. The account now to be given is, as a whole, later than that already given as a whole; however, the first incident to be recorded now is somewhat earlier than the last event in the preceding document.
Up to this point, we have adhered closely to the form of the original in our translation and so have used some inversions which are foreign to our prose style. From now on, we shall deviate as little as possible from the King James Version.
The document we are now entering extends from Genesis 2:4 to the end of Genesis 4. In the second and third chapters, the author uses the combination יהוה אלהים yehovâh 'ĕlōhîm, “the Lord God,” to designate the Supreme Being; in the fourth, he drops אלהים 'ĕlōhîm, “God,” and employs יהוה yehovâh, “the Lord,” alone.
Therefore, as far as the divine name is concerned, the fourth chapter is as clearly separable from the second and third as the first document is from the present one. If diversity of the divine name were a proof of diversity of authorship, we should here have two documents due to different authors, each of them different also from the author of the first document. The second and third chapters, though agreeing in the designation of God, are clearly distinguishable in style.
The general subject of this document is the history of man to the end of the line of Cain and the birth of Enosh. This falls into three clearly marked sections: the origin, the fall, and the family of Adam.
The difference of style and phraseology in its various parts will be found to correspond with the diversity in the topics it addresses. It reverts to an earlier point of time than that at which we had arrived in the former document and proceeds with a new plan, exactly adapted to the new occasion.
The present section discusses the process of nature which was simultaneous with the later part of the supernatural process described in the preceding document. Its opening paragraph refers to the field.
This verse is the title of the present section. It states the subject it addresses: the generations of the skies and the land. The “generations” are the posterity or the progress of events relating to the posterity of the party to whom the term is applied (Genesis 5:1; Genesis 6:9; Genesis 10:1; Genesis 11:10; Genesis 37:2). The development of events is here presented under the figure of the descendants of a parental pair, the skies and the land being the metaphorical progenitors of those events, which are brought about by their joint operation.
It then notes the date at which the new narrative begins: In their being created. This is the first or general date: namely, after the primary creation and during the course of the secondary creation. Since the secondary creation occupied six days, some processes of nature began before these days had passed.
Next, therefore, is the more special date: in the day of Yahweh God’s making land and skies. Looking back at the preceding narrative, we observe that the skies were adjusted and named on the second day, and the land on the third. Both, therefore, were completed on the third day, which is accordingly the opening date of the second branch of the narrative.
The uniqueness of the present section, therefore, is that it combines the creative with the preserving agency of God. Creation and progress here go hand in hand for a time. The narrative here, then, overlaps half the time of the former, and at the end of the chapter has not advanced beyond its end.
יהוה אלהים yehovâh 'ĕlōhîm—“the Lord God.” This phrase is introduced here for the first time.
אלהים 'ĕlōhîm, as we have seen, is the generic term denoting God as the Everlasting and therefore the Almighty, as He was before the world began and still continues to be, now that He is the sole object of supreme reverence to all intelligent creatures.
Yahweh is God’s proper name in relation to humankind: He is self-existent, the author of existence to all persons and things, and manifests His existence to those whom He has made capable of such knowledge.
Hence, the latter name (Yahweh) is appropriate to the present stage of our narrative. God has become active in a way worthy of Himself, and at the same time unique to His nature. He has exercised His creative power in calling the universe into existence. He has now reconstituted the skies and the land, clothed the land with new vegetation, and peopled it with a new animal kingdom.
Especially, He has called into being an inhabitant of this earth made in His own image, and therefore capable of understanding His works and holding conversation with Him.
To humankind He has now revealed Himself and His power through certain acts. And to humankind He has accordingly become known by a name that signifies that new creative process of which humanity forms a prominent part.
Yahweh—He who causes the successive events of time to occur in the sight and for the benefit of humankind—is a name whose special significance will become clear on future occasions in the history of God’s dealings with humankind.
The union of these two divine names, then, indicates Him who was before all things and by whom all things now consist. It also implies that He who is now distinguished by the new name Jehovah (יהוה yehovâh) is the same who was previously called Elohim.
The combination of the names is especially suitable in a passage that records a concurrence of creation and development. The historian continues the apposition of the two names through this and the following chapter. The abstract and primordial name then gives way to the concrete and historical one.
The skies and the land at the beginning of the verse are given in order of their importance in nature, the skies being first as grander and higher than the land; at the end, in the order of their importance in the narrative, the land being before the skies, as the future scene of the events to be recorded.
This title, we see, presupposes the former document, as it alludes to the creation in general, and to the things made on the second and third days in particular, without directly narrating these events. This way of referring to them implies that they were well known at the time of the narrator, either by personal observation or by testimony.
Personal observation is out of the question in this case. Therefore, they were already known by the testimony of God, and the preceding record is that testimony. The narrator of the second passage, therefore, even if not the same as the narrator of the former, almost certainly had the first document in mind when composing the second.
This verse corresponds to the second verse of the preceding narrative. It describes the field or arable land in the absence of certain conditions necessary to the growth of vegetation. Plant and herb here comprise the whole vegetable world. Plants and herbs of the field are those which are to be found in the open land. A different statement is made concerning each.
Regarding the statement, Not a plant of the field was yet in the land, we must remember that the narrative has returned to the third day of the preceding creation. At first sight, then, one might suppose that the vegetable species were not created at the particular time of day to which the narrative refers. But it is not stated that young trees were not in existence, only that plants of the field were not yet in the land. Of the herbs, it is only said that they had not yet put forth a bud or blade.
The actual existence of both trees and herbs is implied in what follows. The reasons for the previously described state are the lack of rain to water the soil and of man to cultivate it. These conditions would only allow for growth if the vegetable seeds, at least, were already in existence.
Now, the plants were made before the seeds (Genesis 1:11–12), and therefore the first full-grown and seed-bearing specimens of each kind were already created. Hence, we infer that the state described in the text was this: the original trees were confined to a center of vegetation, from which it was intended that they should spread in the course of nature.
At that juncture, then, there was not a tree of the field—that is, a tree of propagation—in the land. Even the created trees had not sent down a single root of growth into the land. And if they had dropped a seed, it was only on the land, and not in the land, as it had not yet struck root.
Concerning the phrase, And not an herb of the field yet grew, the herbage seems to have been more widely diffused than the trees. Hence, it is not said that they were not in the land, as it is said of field trees. But at that moment, not an herb had exhibited any signs of growth or put forth a single blade beyond the immediate product of creative power.
Rain upon the land and man to till it were the two needs that hindered vegetation. These two means of promoting vegetable growth differed in their importance and in their mode of application. Moisture is absolutely necessary, and where it is supplied in abundance, the shifting wind will in the course of time carry the seed. Browsing herds will also aid in this diffusion process.
Man serves merely as an aid to nature in preparing the soil and depositing seeds and plants for optimal rapid growth and abundant fruitfulness. The narrative, as usual, notes only the main things. Rain is the only source of vegetable sap; man is the only intentional cultivator.
As in the former narrative, so here, the remainder of the chapter is used to record the removal of the two hindrances to vegetation. The first of these is removed by the establishment of the natural process by which rain is produced. The atmosphere had been adjusted enough to admit some light.
However, even on the third day, a dense mass of clouds still obscured the heavenly bodies from view. But on the creation of plants, the Lord God caused it to rain on the land. This is described in the present verse: A mist went up from the land.
It had been ascending from the steaming, moist land ever since the waters receded into the hollows. The briny moisture, which could not promote vegetation, dried up. And now He causes the accumulated clouds to burst and dissolve into heavy showers.
Thus, the mist watered the whole face of the soil. The face of the sky is thereby cleared, and on the following day the sun shone out in all its cloudless splendor and nurturing warmth.
On the fourth day, then, a second process of nature began. The bud began to swell, the tender blade to emerge and take on its green hue, the gentle breeze to stir the full-sized plants, the first seeds to be shaken off and carried to their resting place, the first root to strike into the ground, and the first shoot to rise towards the sky.
This enables us to determine with some probability the season of the year when the creation took place. If we look at the ripe fruit on the first trees, we presume the season is autumn. The scattering of seeds, the falling of rains, and the need for a cultivator, as suggested in the text, all point to the same period.
In a mild climate, the process of vegetation begins with the falling of the early rains. Man would naturally be led to gather the abundant fruit that fell from the trees, thus unintentionally providing a store for the non-bearing period of the year. Moreover, it is probable that he was formed in a region where vegetation was little interrupted by the coldest season. This would be most favorable for the preservation of life in his state of original inexperience.
These presumptions are in harmony with the numbering of the months at the Flood (Genesis 7:11), and with the outgoing and the turn of the year at autumn (Exodus 23:16; Exodus 34:22).
The second obstacle to the favorable growth of the plant kingdom is now removed: And the Lord God formed the man of dust from the soil. This account of man’s origin differs from the former one because of the different purpose the author has in mind.
In the previous account, his creation as an integral whole is recorded with special reference to his higher nature, by which he was suited to hold communion with his Maker and exercise dominion over the lower creation. Here, his constitution is described with particular attention to his suitability as the cultivator of the soil. He is a compound of matter and mind.
His material part is dust from the soil, out of which he is formed as the potter molds the vessel out of the clay. He is אדם 'ādām, “Adam,” the man of the soil, אדמה 'ădāmâh, “adamah.” His mission in this respect is to draw out the capabilities of the soil to support by its produce the multitudes of his descendants.
His mental part is from another source: And breathed into his nostrils the breath of life. The word נשׂמה neśāmâh is invariably applied to God or man, never to any non-rational creature. The phrase “breath of life” is special to this passage.
It expresses the spiritual and primary element in man, which is not formed, but breathed by the Creator into man’s physical form. This rational part is that in which he bears the image of God and is suited to be His representative on earth. As the earth was prepared to be the dwelling, so the body was prepared to be the organ of that breath of life, which is his very essence, himself.
Regarding the phrase, And the man became a living soul, this term “living soul” is also applied to the water and land animals (Genesis 1:20–21; Genesis 1:24). As by his body he is connected to the earth and by his soul to heaven, so by the vital union of these he is associated with the whole animal kingdom, of which he is the appointed sovereign. This passage, therefore, aptly describes him as suited to dwell and rule on this earth. The fullness of his glory will be revealed later in his relation to the future and to God.
The line of narrative here reaches a resting point. The second lack of the fertile soil is here supplied. The man to till the ground is presented in that form which exhibits his fitness for this appropriate and necessary task. We are therefore free to return to another series of events which is essential to the continuation of our narrative.
"And Jehovah God planted a garden eastward, in Eden; and there he put the man whom he had formed. And out of the ground made Jehovah God to grow every tree that is pleasant to the sight, and good for food; the tree of life also in the midst of the garden, and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. And a river went out of Eden to water the garden; and from thence it was parted, and became four heads. The name of the first is Pishon: that is it which compasseth the whole land of Havilah, where there is gold; and the gold of that land is good: there is bdellium and the onyx stone. And the name of the second river is Gihon: the same is it that compasseth the whole land of Cush. And the name of the third river is Hiddekel: that is it which goeth in front of Assyria. And the fourth river is the Euphrates." — Genesis 2:8-14 (ASV)
8. גן (gan) “garden, park,” παράδεισος (paradeisos) — “an enclosed piece of ground.” עדן (‛ēden) “Eden, delight.” קדם (qedem) “fore-place, east; foretime.”
11. פישׁון (pı̂yshôn) Pishon; related: “flow over, spread, leap.” חוילה (chăvı̂ylâh) Havilah. חול (chôl) “sand.” חבל (chebel) “region.”
12. בדלם (bedolam) — ἄνθραξ (anthrax) — “carbuncle,” (Septuagint) Βδέλλιον (bdellion) — a gum of eastern countries, Arabia, India, Media (Josephus, etc.). The pearl (Kimchi). שׁהם (sohām) πράσινος (prasinos) — “leeklike,” perhaps the beryl (Septuagint), ὄνυξ (onux) — “onyx, sardonyx,” a precious stone of the color of the nail (Jerome).
13. גיחון (gı̂ychôn) Gihon; related: “break forth.” כוּשׁ (kûsh) Kush; related: “heap, gather?”
14. חדקל (chı̂ddeqel), דגלא (dı̂glā') Dijlah, “Tigris.” חדק (chād) — “be sharp. rapidus,” פרת (perat) Frat, Euphrates. The “sweet or broad stream.” Old Persian, “frata,” Sanskrit, “prathu,” πλατύς (platus).
This paragraph describes the planting of the garden of Eden and determines its situation. It goes back, therefore, as we conceive, to the third day and runs parallel with the preceding passage.
And the Lord God planted a garden in Eden to the east (Genesis 2:8). It is evident that the order of thought is here observed. For the formation of man with special allusion to his animal nature immediately suggests the means by which his physical needs are to be supplied. The order of time is an open question so far as the mere conjunction of the sentences is concerned. It can only be determined by other considerations.
Here, then, the writer either relates a new creation of trees for the occasion or reverts to the occurrences of the third day. But though in the previous verses he declares the field to be without timber, yet in the account of the third day the creation of trees is recorded. Now, it is unnecessary, and therefore unreasonable, to assume two creations of trees at so short an interval of time.
In the former paragraph, the author advanced to the sixth day, in order to lay before his readers without any interruption the means by which the two conditions of vegetative progress were satisfied. This brings man into view, and his appearance provides an occasion to speak of the means by which his needs were supplied.
For this purpose, the author drops the thread of events following the creation of man and reverts to the third day. He describes more particularly what was then done. A center of vegetation was chosen for the trees, from which they were to be propagated by seed over the land. This central spot is called a garden or park.
It is situated in a region which is distinguished by its name as a land of delight. It is said, as we understand, to be in the eastern quarter of Eden. For the word מקדם (mı̂qedem) “on the east” is most simply explained by referring to some point indicated in the text. There are two points to which it may here refer: the place where the man was created, and the country in which the garden was placed.
But the man was not created at this time, and, moreover, the place of his creation is not indicated; and hence, we must refer to the country in which the garden was placed.
And put there the man whom he had formed. The writer has still the formation of man in thought, and therefore proceeds to state that he was subsequently placed in the garden which had been prepared for his reception, before going on to give a description of the garden. This verse, therefore, forms a transition from the field and its cultivator to the garden and its inhabitants.
Without the previous document concerning the creation, however, it could not have been certainly known that a new line of narrative was taken up in this verse. Neither could we have discovered what was the precise time of the creation of the trees. Hence, this verse furnishes a new proof that the present document was composed, not as an independent production, but as a continuation of the former.
Having located the newly-formed man of whom he had spoken in the preceding paragraph, the author now returns to detail the planting and the watering of the garden (Genesis 2:9). And the Lord God made to grow out of the soil every tree likely for sight and good for food. We look on while the ornamental trees rise to gratify the sight, and the fruit trees present their mellow fare to the craving appetite. But pre-eminent among all, we contemplate with curious wonder the tree of life in the midst of the garden, and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. These will come under consideration at a future stage of our narrative.
Here is a river the source of which is in Eden (Genesis 2:10). It passes into the garden and waters it. And thence it was parted and became four heads. This statement means either that the single stream was divided into four branches, or that there was a division of the river system of the district into four principal streams, whose sources were all to be found in it, though one only passed through the garden.
In the latter case, the word נהר (nâhār) may be understood in its primary sense of a flowing of water in general. This flowing in all the parts of Eden resulted in four particular flowings or streams, which do not require to have been ever united. The subsequent land changes in this district during an interval of five or six thousand years prevent us from determining more precisely the meaning of the text.
(Genesis 2:11, Genesis 2:12) The Pishon waters in its subsequent course the land of Havilah. This country is noted for the best gold, and for two other products, concerning which interpreters differ. Bedolach is, according to the Septuagint, the carbuncle or crystal; according to others, the pearl, or a particular kind of gum.
The last is the more probable, if we regard the various Greek and Latin forms of the word: Βδέλλα (bdella) — Βδέλλιον (bdellion) — Josephus Antiquities 3.1.6; οἱ δὲ μάδελκον (hoi de madelkon), οἱ δὲ Βολχὸν καλοῦσι (hoi de bolchon kalousi), Dioscorides 1.71; alii brochon appellant, alii malacham, alii maldacon, Pliny Natural History 12.9. Pliny describes it as black, while the manna, which is compared with it (Numbers 11:7), is white; but עין (‛ayı̂n) the point of resemblance may refer not to color, but to transparence or some other visible quality.
This transparent, aromatic gum is found in Arabia, Babylonia, Bactriana, Media, and India. Shoham is variously conjectured to be the beryl, onyx, sardonyx, or emerald. The first, according to Pliny, is found in India and about Pontus.
As the name Pishon means the gushing or spouting current, it may have been applied to many a stream by the migratory tribes. The Halys perhaps contains the same root with Havilah; namely, הול (hvl) (Rawlinson’s Herodotus 1, p. 126); and it rises in Armenia (Herodotus 1.72). The Chalybes in Pontus, perhaps, contain the same root. The Pishon may have been the Halys or some other stream flowing into the Black Sea.
(Genesis 2:13, Genesis 2:14) Gihon, the second river, flows by the land of Kush. It is possible that the name Kush remains in Caucasus and in the Caspian. The Gihon is the stream that breaks or bursts forth; a quality common to many rivers. The name is preserved in the Jyhoon, flowing into the sea of Aral.
Here it probably designates the leading stream flowing out of Armenia into the Caspian, or in that direction. Hiddekel, the third, goes in front, or on the east of Asshur. The original Asshur embraced northern Mesopotamia, as well as the slopes of the mountain range on the other side of the Tigris. Perath, the fourth, is the well-known Frat or Euphrates.
In endeavoring to determine the situation of Eden, it is evident we can only proceed on probable grounds. The deluge, and even the distance of time, warrant us in presuming great land changes to have taken place since this geographical description applied to the country. Let us see, however, to what result the simple reading of the text will lead us.
A river is said to flow out of Eden into the garden. This river is not named, and may, in a primary sense of the term, denote the running water of the district in general. This is then said to be parted into four heads—the upper courses of four great rivers. One of these rivers is known to this day as the Frat or Euphrates.
A second is with almost equal unanimity allowed to be the Dijlah or Tigris. The sources of these lie not far apart, in the mountains of Armenia, and in the neighborhood of the lakes Van and Urumiah. Somewhere in this region must have been the celebrated but unnamed stream.
The Hiddekel flowed east of Asshur; the primitive portion of which seems therefore to have been in Mesopotamia. The Gihon may have flowed into the Caspian, on the banks of which was the original Kush. The Pishon may have turned towards the Euxine, and encircled the primitive Havilah, lying to the south and east of that sea.
It may be said that the Kush and Havilah of later times belong to different localities. This, however, is no solid objection, on two grounds:
Geography affords numerous examples of the transference of names from one place to another along the line of migration. Thus, Galatia in Asia Minor would be inexplicable or misleading, if history did not inform us that tribes from Gallia had settled there and given their name to the province. We may therefore expect names to travel with the tribes that bear them or love them, until they come to their final settlements.
Hence, Kush may have been among the Caucasian glens and on the Caspian shores. In the progress of his development, whether northward or southward, he may have left his mark in Kossaea and Kissia, while he sent his colonies into southern Arabia, Aethiopia, and probably India.
Countries agreeing in name may be totally unconnected either in time or place. Thus, in the table of nations we meet with two persons called Havilah (Genesis 10:7, Genesis 10:29); the one a Kushite, who settled probably in the south of Arabia, the other a Joctanite, who occupied a more northerly locality in the same peninsula. A primitive Havilah, different from both, may have given his name to the region southeast of the Euxine.
The rivers Pishon and Gihon may have been greatly altered or even effaced by the deluge and other causes. Names similar to these may be found in various places. They cannot prove much more than resemblance in language, and that may be sometimes very remote.
There is one other Gihon mentioned in Scripture (1 Kings 1:33), and several like names occur in secular history. At first sight, it seems to be stated that the one stream branched into four.
If so, this community of origin has disappeared among the other changes of the country. But in the original text the words “and thence” come before the verb “parted.” This verb has no subject expressed and may have its subject implied in itself. The meaning of the sentence will then be, “and thence,” after the garden had been watered by the river, “it,” the river, or the water system of the country, “was parted into four heads.” We cannot tell, and it is not significant, which of these interpretations correctly represents the original fact.
According to the above view, the land and garden of Eden lay in Armenia, around the lakes Van and Urumiah, or the district where these lakes now are. The country here is to this day a land of delight, and very well suited in many respects to be the cradle of the human race. There is only one other locality that has any claim to probability from an examination of Scripture.
It is the alluvial ground where the Euphrates and Tigris unite their currents, and then again separate into two branches, by which their waters are discharged into the Persian Gulf. The neck in which they are united is the river that waters the garden. The rivers, before they unite, and the branches, after they separate, are the four rivers.
The claim of this position to acceptance rests on the greater contiguity to Kissia or Susiana, a country of the Kushites, on the one side, and on the other to Havilah, a district of Arabia, as well as its proximity to Babel, where the confusion of tongues took place. These claims do not constrain our assent. Susiana is nearer the Tigris itself than the present eastern branch after the separation. Havilah is not very near the western branch.
If Babel is near, Armenia, where the ark rested, is very far away. Against this position is the forced meaning it puts on the text by its mode of accounting for the four rivers. The garden river in the text rises in Eden, and all four have their upper currents in that land. All is different in the case here supposed.
Again, the land of Shinar is a great wheat country and abounds in the date palm. But it is not otherwise distinguished for trees. It is a land of the simoon, the mirage, and the drought, and its summer heat is oppressive and enfeebling. It cannot therefore claim to be a land of delight (Eden), either in point of climate or variety of produce.
It is not, consequently, so well suited as the northern position, either to the description in the text or the requirements of primeval man.
It is evident that this geographical description must have been written long after the document in which it is found might have been composed. Mankind must have multiplied to some extent, have spread themselves along these rivers, and become familiar with the countries here designated. All this might have taken place in the lifetime of Adam, and so have been put on record, or handed down by tradition from an eyewitness. But it is remarkable that the three names of countries reappear as proper names among the descendants of Noah after the flood.
Hence, a question of great interest arises concerning the composition of the document in which they are originally found. If these names are primeval, the document in its extant form may have been composed in the time of Adam, and therefore before the deluge. In this case, Moses has merely authenticated it and handed it down in its proper place in the divine record.
And the sons of Noah, from some unexplained association, have adopted the three names and perpetuated them as family names. If, on the other hand, these countries are named after the descendants of Noah, the geographical description of the garden must have been composed after these men had settled in the countries to which they have given their names. At the same time, these territorial designations apply to a time earlier than Moses; hence, the whole document may have been composed in the time of Noah, who survived the deluge three hundred and fifty years, and may have witnessed the settlement and the designation of these countries.
And, lastly, if not put together in its present form by any previous writer, then the document is directly from the pen of Moses, who composed it out of pre-existing memorials. And as the previous document was solely due to inspiration, we shall in this case be led to ascribe the whole of Genesis to Moses as the immediate human composer.
It must be admitted that any of these ways of accounting for the existing form of this document is within the bounds of possibility. But the question is, which is the most probable? We are in a fair position for discussing this question in a dispassionate manner, and without any anxiety, since on any of the three suppositions Moses, who lived long after the latest event expressed or implied, is the acknowledged voucher for the document before us.
It becomes us to speak with great moderation and caution on a point of so remote antiquity. To demonstrate this may be one of the best results of this inquiry.
The following are some of the grounds for the theory that the names of countries in the document are original and antediluvian:
It was impossible to present to those after the flood in later terms the exact features and conditions of Eden, because many of these were obliterated. The four rivers no longer sprang from one. Two of the rivers remained, indeed, but the others had been so materially altered as to be no longer clearly distinguishable.
The Euxine and the Caspian may now cover their former channels. In circumstances like these, later names would not answer.
Though the name Asshur represents a country nearly suitable to the original conditions, Havilah and Kush cannot easily have their postdiluvian meanings in the present passage. The presumption that they have has led interpreters into vain and endless conjectures.
Supposing Kush to be Aethiopia, many have concluded the Gihon to be the Nile, which in that case must have had the same fountain-head, or at least risen in the same region with the Euphrates. Others, supposing it to be a district of the Tigris, near the Persian Gulf, imagine the Gihon to be one of the mouths of the united Euphrates and Tigris, and thus, give a distorted sense to the statement that the four streams issued from one.
This supposition, moreover, rests on the precarious hypothesis that the two rivers had always a common neck. The supposition that Havilah was in Arabia or on the Indian Ocean is liable to the same objections. Hence, the presumption that these names are postdiluvian embarrasses the meaning of the passage.
If these names are primeval, the present document in its integrity may have been composed in the time of Adam; and this accounts in the most satisfactory manner for the preservation of these traditions of the primitive age.
The existence of antediluvian documents containing these original names would explain in the simplest manner the difference in the localities signified by them before and after the deluge. This difference has tended to invalidate the authenticity of the book in the eyes of some; whereas the existence of antiquated names in a document, though failing to convey to us much historical information, is calculated to impress us with a sense of its antiquity and authenticity.
And this is of more importance than a little geographical knowledge in a work whose paramount object is to teach moral and religious truth.
It is the habit of the sacred writers not to neglect the old names of former writers, but to append to them or conjoin with them the later or better known equivalents, when they wish to present a knowledge of the place and its former history. Thus, Bela, this is Zoar (Genesis 14:2, Genesis 14:8); Kiriath-Arba, this is Hebron (Genesis 33:2); Ephrath, this is Bethlehem (Genesis 35:19).
These names would be originally personal; and hence, we can see a sufficient reason why the sons of Noah renewed them in their families, as they were naturally disposed to perpetuate the memory of their distinguished ancestors.
The second hypothesis, that the present form of the document originated in the time of Noah, after the flood, is supported by the following considerations:
It accounts for the three names of countries in the easiest manner. The three descendants of Noah had by this time given their names to these countries. The supposition of a double origin or application of these names is not necessary.
It accounts for the change in the localities bearing these names. The migrations and dispersions of tribes carried the names to new and various districts in the time intervening between Noah and Moses.
It represents with sufficient exactness the locality of the garden. The deluge may not have greatly altered the general features of the countries. It may not be intended to represent the four rivers as derived from any common head stream; it may only be meant that the water system of the country gathered into four principal rivers.
The names of all these are primeval. Two of them have descended to our days, because a permanent body of natives remained on their banks. The other two names have changed with the change of the inhabitants.
It allows for primeval documents, if such existed of so early a date. The surviving document was prepared from such pre-existing writings, or from oral traditions of early days, as yet unalloyed with error in the God-fearing family of Noah.
It is favored by the absence of explanatory proper names, which we might have expected if there had been any change known at the time of composition.
The hypothesis that Moses was not merely the authenticator, but the composer of this as well as the preceding and subsequent documents of Genesis, has some very strong grounds:
It explains the local names with the same simplicity as in the preceding case (1).
It allows for primeval and successive documents equally well (4), the rivers Pishon and Gihon and the primary Havilah and Kush being still in the memory of man, though they disappeared from the records of later times.
It notifies with fidelity to the attentive reader the changes in the geographical designations of the past.
It accounts for the occurrence of comparatively late names of localities in an account of primeval times.
It explains the extreme brevity of these ancient notices. If documents had been composed from time to time and inserted in their original state in the book of God, it must have been a very voluminous and unmanageable record at a very early period.
These presumptions might now be summed up and compared, and the balance of probability struck, as is usually done. But we feel bound not to do so for the following reasons:
We have not all the possibilities before us, neither is it in the power of human imagination to enumerate them, and therefore we have not the whole data for a calculation of probabilities.
We have enough to do with facts, without elevating probabilities into the rank of facts, and thereby hopelessly embarrassing the whole premises of our deductive knowledge. Philosophy, and in particular the philosophy of criticism, has suffered long from this cause. Its very first principles have been overlaid with foregone conclusions, and its array of seeming facts has been impaired and enfeebled by the presence of many a sturdy probability or improbability in the solemn guise of a mock fact.
The supposed fact of a set of documents composed by successive authors, duly labeled and handed down to Moses to be merely collected into the book of Genesis, if it was lurking in any mind, stands detected as only a probability or improbability at best. The second document implies facts, which are possibly not recorded until the fifth.
And, lastly, there is no impossibility or improbability in Moses being not the compiler but the immediate author of the whole of Genesis, though it is morally certain that he had oral or written memoranda of the past before his mind.
"And Jehovah God took the man, and put him into the garden of Eden to dress it and to keep it. And Jehovah God commanded the man, saying, Of every tree of the garden thou mayest freely eat: but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it: for in the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die." — Genesis 2:15-17 (ASV)
נוּח (nûach): “rest, dwell.” עבד (‛ābad): “work, till, serve.” שׁמר (shāmar): “keep, guard.”
We have here the education of man summed up in a single sentence. Let us endeavor to unfold the great lessons that are taught here.
The Lord God took the man. — The same omnipotent hand that made him still held him. “And put him into the garden.” The original word means “caused him to rest,” or dwell, in the garden as an abode of peace and recreation. “To dress it and to keep it.” Plants of nature, left to their own course, may degenerate and become wild through the poverty of the soil on which they alight, or the gradual exhaustion of a once rich soil.
The hand of rational man, therefore, has its appropriate sphere in preparing and enriching the soil, and in distributing the seeds and training the shoots in the way most favorable for the full development of the plant, and especially of its seed or fruits. This “dressing” was needed even in the garden. The “keeping” of it may refer to the guarding of it by enclosure from the depredations of cattle, wild beasts, or even smaller animals. It also includes the faithful preservation of it as a trust committed to man by his bountiful Maker. There was now a man to till the soil. The second need of the world of plants was now supplied. Gardening was the first occupation of primeval man.
And the Lord God commanded the man, saying. — This is a pregnant sentence. It involves the first principles of our intellectual and moral philosophy.
The command here given in words brings into activity the intellectual nature of man. First, the power of understanding language is called forth. The command here addressed to him by his Maker is totally different from the blessings addressed to the animals in the preceding chapter. It was not necessary that these blessings should be understood in order to be carried into effect, since He who pronounced them gave the instincts and powers required for their accomplishment. But this command addressed to man in words must be understood in order to be obeyed.
The capacity for understanding language, then, was originally embedded in the constitution of man, and only required to be called out by the articulate voice of God. Still, there is something wonderful here, something beyond the present grasp and readiness of human apprehension. Except for the blessing, which may not have been heard, or may not have been uttered before this command, these words were absolutely the first that were heard by man.
The significance of the sentences they formed must have been at the same time conveyed to man by immediate divine teaching. How the lesson was taught in an instant of time we cannot explain, though we have a distant resemblance of it in an infant learning to understand its mother tongue. This process, indeed, spans two years; but still there is an instant in which the first conception of a sign is formed, the first word is apprehended, the first sentence is understood. In that instant, the knowledge of language is virtually attained.
With man, created immediately in his full though undeveloped powers, and still unaffected by any moral taint, this instant came with the first words spoken to his ear and to his soul by his Maker’s impressive voice, and the first lesson of language was at once thoroughly taught and learned. Man is now master of the theory of speech; the conception of a sign has been conveyed into his mind. This is the passive lesson of elocution: the practice, the active lesson, will quickly follow.
However, not only the secondary part, but at the same time the primary and fundamental part of man’s intellectual nature is here developed. The understanding of the sign necessarily implies the knowledge of the thing signified. The objective is represented here by the “trees of the garden.” The subjective comes before his mind in the pronoun “you.” The physical constitution of man appears in the process of “eating.” The moral part of his nature comes out in the significance of the words “mayest” and “shalt not.” The distinction of merit in actions and things is expressed in the terms “good and evil.” The notion of reward is conveyed in the terms “life” and “death.” And, lastly, the presence and authority of “the Lord God” is implied in the very nature of a command.
Here is at least the opening of a wide field of observation for the emerging powers of the mind. He, indeed, must bear the image of God in perceptive powers, who shall scan with careful eye the loftiest as well as the lowest in these varied scenes of reality. But as with the sign, so with the thing signified, a glance of intelligence instantaneously begins the interaction of the susceptible mind with the world of reality around, and the enlargement of the sphere of human knowledge is merely a matter of time without end. How rapidly the process of apprehension would proceed in the opening dawn of man’s intellectual activity, how many flashes of intelligence would be compressed into a few moments of his first consciousness, we cannot tell. But we can readily believe that he would soon be able to form a just yet an infantile conception of the varied themes which are presented to his mind in this brief command.
Thus, the susceptible part of man’s intellect is awakened. The conceptive part will quickly follow, and display itself in the many inventions that will be sought out and applied to the objects which are placed at his disposal.
Next, the moral part of man’s nature is here called into play. Mark God’s mode of teaching. He issues a command. This is required in order to bring forth into consciousness the until now latent sensibility to moral obligation which was embedded in the original constitution of man’s being. A command implies a superior, whose right it is to command, and an inferior, whose duty it is to obey. The only ultimate and absolute ground of supremacy is creating, and of inferiority, being created. The Creator is the only proper and entire owner; and, within legitimate bounds, the owner has the right to do what he will with his own. Giving this command, therefore, brings man to the recognition of his dependence for being and for the character of that being on his Maker. From the knowledge of the fundamental relation of the creature to the Creator springs an immediate sense of the obligation he is under to obey implicitly the Author of his being.
This is, therefore, man’s first lesson in morals. It awakens in him the sense of duty, of right, of responsibility. These feelings could not have been evoked unless the moral susceptibility had been embedded in the soul, and only waited for the first command to awaken it into consciousness. This lesson, however, is only the incidental effect of the command, and not the primary reason for giving it.
The special command here given is not arbitrary in its form, as is sometimes hastily supposed, but absolutely essential to the legal adjustment of things in this new stage of creation. Before the command of the Creator, the only absolute right to all the creatures resided in Him. These creatures may be related to one another. In the great system of things, through the wonderful wisdom of the grand Designer, the use of some may be necessary for the well-being, the development, and perpetuation of others. Nevertheless, no one has a shadow of right in the original nature of things to the use of any other. And when a moral agent comes into existence, in order to define the sphere of his legitimate action, an explicit declaration of the rights over other creatures granted and reserved must be made.
The very giving of the command proclaims man’s original right of property to be, not inherent, but derived.
As might be expected in these circumstances, the command has two clauses — a permissive and a prohibitive. “Of every tree of the garden thou mayst freely eat.” This displays in clear terms the goodness of the Creator. “But of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil thou shalt not eat.” This indicates the absolute right of the Creator over all the trees, and over man himself. One tree only is withheld, which, whatever were its qualities, was in any case not necessary to the well-being of man. All the others that were attractive to sight and good for food, including the tree of life, are given to him freely. In this original provision for the vested rights of man in creation, we cannot but acknowledge with gratitude and humility the generous and considerate bounty of the Creator.
This is not more conspicuous in the giving of all the other trees than in the withholding of the one, the participation of which would lead to evil for mankind.
The prohibitory part of this rule is not a matter of indifference, as is sometimes imagined, but essential to the nature of a command, and, in particular, of a permissive act or declaration of granted rights. Every command has a negative part, expressed or implied, without which it would be no command at all. The command, “Go work today in my vineyard,” implies you must not do anything else; otherwise the son who does not work obeys as well as the son who works. The present address of God to Adam, without the restrictive clause, would be a mere license, and not a command.
But with the restrictive clause it is a command, and equivalent in meaning to the following positive injunction: You may eat of these trees only. A permissive decree with a restrictive clause is the mildest form of command that could have been imposed for the trial of human obedience. Some may have thought that it would have been better for man if there had been no tree of the knowledge of good and evil.
But second thoughts will correct this rash and wrong conclusion. First, this tree may have had other purposes to serve in the order of things of which we are not aware; and, if so, it could not have been absent without harm to the general good. Second, but without any supposition at all, the tree contained no evil whatever to man in itself. It was in the first instance the instrument of great good, of the most precious kind, to him. It served the purpose of revealing out of the depths of his nature the notion of moral obligation, with all the related ideas of the inherent authority of the Creator and the innate subordination of himself, the creature; of the original right of the Creator alone in all the creatures, and the complete absence of any right in himself to any other creature at all.
The command concerning this tree thus set his moral convictions in motion, and awakened in him the new and pleasing consciousness that he was a moral being, and not a mere clod of the valley or brute of the field.
This is the first thing this tree did for man; and we shall find it would have done a still better thing for him if he had only made a proper use of it. Third, the absence of this tree would not at all have secured Adam from the possibility or the consequence of disobedience. Any grant to him at all must have been made “with the reserve,” implicit or explicit, of the rights of all others. “The thing reserved” must in fairness have been made known to him. In the present course of things it must have crossed his path, and his trial would have been inevitable, and therefore his fall possible. Now, the forbidden tree is merely the thing reserved.
Besides, even if man had been introduced into a sphere of existence where no reserved tree or other thing could ever have come within the range of his observation, and so no outward act of disobedience could have been committed, still, as a being of moral susceptibility, he must come to the acknowledgment, express or implied, of the rights of the heavenly crown, before a mutual understanding could have been established between him and his Maker. Thus, we perceive that even in the impossible Utopia of metaphysical abstraction there is a virtual forbidden tree which forms the test of a man’s moral relation to his Creator. Now, if the reserve is necessary, and therefore the test of obedience inevitable, to a moral being, it only remains to inquire whether the test employed is suitable and appropriate.
What is here made the matter of reserve, and so the test of obedience, is far from being trivial or out of place, as has been imagined; it is the proper and the only object immediately available for these purposes. The immediate need of man is food. The kind of food primarily designed for him is the fruit of trees. Grain, the secondary kind of vegetable diet, is the product of the farm rather than of the garden, and therefore was not yet in use. As the law must be laid down before man takes something for himself, the matter of reserve and consequent test of obedience is the fruit of a tree. Only by this can man at present learn the lessons of morality. To devise any other means, not arising from the actual state of things in which man was placed, would have been arbitrary and unreasonable.
The immediate sphere of obedience lies in the circumstances in which he actually stands. These provided no opportunity for any other command than what is given. Adam had no father, or mother, or neighbor, male or female, and therefore the second table of the law could not apply. But he had a relation to his Maker, and legislation on this could not be postponed. The command assumes the kindest, most intelligible, and convenient form for the infantile mind of primeval man.
We are now prepared to understand why this tree is called the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. The prohibition of this tree brings man to the knowledge of good and evil. The products of creative power were all very good (Genesis 1:31). Even this tree itself is good, and productive of indescribable good in the first instance to man. The understanding of merit arises in his mind by this tree. Obedience to the command of God not to eat from this tree is a moral good. Disobedience to God by eating from it is a moral evil. When we have formed an idea of a quality, we have at the same time an idea of its contrary. By the command concerning this tree man became aware of the concepts of good and evil, and so, theoretically, acquainted with their nature.
This was that first lesson in morals of which we have spoken. It is quite evident that this knowledge could not be any physical effect of the tree, since its fruit was forbidden. It is obvious also that evil is yet known in this fair world only as the negative of good. Hence, the tree is the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, because by the command concerning it man comes to this knowledge.
“In the day of thy eating thereof, die surely shalt thou.” The divine command is accompanied with its solemn sanction—death. The man could not at this time have any practical knowledge of the physical dissolution called death. We must, therefore, suppose either that God made him supernaturally acquainted with it, or that He conveyed to him the knowledge of it simply as the negation of life. The latter hypothesis is to be preferred, for several reasons. First, it is the more efficient method of instruction. Such knowledge may be imparted to man without anticipating experience. He was already conscious of life as a pure blessing.
He was therefore capable of forming an idea of its loss. And death in the physical sense of the cessation of animal life and the disorganization of the body, he would come to understand in due time by experience. Secondly, death in reference to man is regarded in Scripture much more as the loss of life in the sense of a state of favor with God and resulting happiness than as the mere cessation of animal life (Genesis 28:13; Exodus 3:6; Matthew 22:32). Thirdly, the presence and privilege of the tree of life would enable man to see how easily he could be deprived of life, especially when he began to take in its life-sustaining juices and feel the flow of vitality rushing through his veins and refreshing his whole physical nature.
Take away this tree, and with all the other resources of nature he must eventually droop and die. Fourthly, the man would thus regard his exclusion from the tree of life as the pledge of the sentence which would come to its fullness, when the physical body would eventually sink down under the wear and tear of life like the beasts that perish. Then would follow for the dead but perpetually existing soul of man the complete loss of all the joys of life, and the experience of all the sufferings of penal death.
Man has here evidently become acquainted with his Maker. On the hearing and understanding of this sentence, at least, if not before, he has arrived at the knowledge of God, as existing, thinking, speaking, permitting, commanding, and thereby exercising all the privileges of that absolute authority over people and things which creation alone can give. If we were to draw all this out into distinct propositions, we should find that man was here provided with a whole system of theology, ethics, and metaphysics, in a brief sentence. It may be said, indeed, that we need not suppose all this conveyed in the sentence before us. But, in any case, all this is implied in the few words here recorded to have been addressed to Adam, and there was not much time between his creation and his location in the garden for conveying any preliminary information. We may suppose the substance of the narrative contained in Genesis 1:2-3 to have been communicated to him in due time.
But it could not be all conveyed yet, as we are only in the sixth day, and the record in question reaches to the end of the seventh. It was not, therefore, composed until after that day had passed.
It is to be noticed here that God reserves to Himself the administration of the divine law. This was absolutely necessary at the present stage, as man was but an individual subject, and not yet multiplied into many people. Civil government was not formally constituted until after the deluge.
We can hardly overestimate the benefit, in the rapid development of his mind, which Adam thus derived from the presence and communion of his Maker. If no voice had struck his ear, no articulate sentence had reached his intellect, no authoritative command had penetrated his conscience, no perception of the Eternal Spirit had been presented to his understanding, he might have been long in the silent, undeveloped, and imperfectly developed state which has sometimes been ascribed to primeval man.
But if contact with a highly-accomplished master and a highly-polished state of society makes all the difference between the savage and the civilized, what instantaneous expansion and elevation of the primitive mind, while yet in its virgin purity and unimpaired power, must have resulted from free communion with the all-perfect mind of the Creator Himself! To the clear eye of native genius a starting idea is a whole science. By the instilling of a few fundamental and foundational ideas into his mind, Adam instantly rose into the full height and compass of a master spirit prepared to scan creation and adore the Creator.
"And Jehovah God said, It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a help meet for him." — Genesis 2:18 (ASV)
Here man’s intellectual faculties proceed from the passive and receptive to the active and communicative stage. This advance is made in the review and designation of the various species of animals that frequent the land and skies.
A new and final need of man is stated in (Genesis 2:18). The Creator himself, in whose image he was made, had revealed himself to him in language. This, among many other effects, awakened the social affection. This affection was the index of social capacity. The first step towards communication between kindred spirits was accomplished when Adam heard and understood spoken language. Beyond all this, God knew what was in the man whom he had formed.
And he expresses this in the words, It is not good for the man to be alone. He is formed to be social, to hold converse not only with his superior, but also with his equal. As yet, he is but a unit, an individual. He needs a mate, with whom he may take sweet counsel. And the benevolent Creator resolves to supply this need. I will make him a helpmeet for him—one who may not only reciprocate his feelings, but take an intelligent and appropriate part in his active pursuits.
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