Sermon, Sun 18 Sept, Wk 4: 'Paradise Lost'...WMTRBW

Having jumped across to the Gospel of John's creation comments last week, we return to the garden...

1st READING: Ps 32
2nd READING: Philippians 2:3-11
3rd READING: Genesis 3

SERMON
Let’s pray: may the words of my mouth, and the meditations
of all our hearts, be acceptable in your sight,
O Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

Imagine...
everywhere you look:
beauty.
Creation...is good.
Creation...is green and growing,
gliding and growling...
stunningly, awesomely, shimmeringly alive.
...A paradise.
And, in this paradise, you walk freely:
every living creature lives in harmony –
all is at peace,
all is well.
In this paradise, you are bidden,
by the One who spoke you into being,
to flourish,
to prosper,
to know no shame,
...to enjoy.
To make use of what you need, when you need it...
to eat of any fruit you see.
Well, apart from one –
the Creator of this paradise asks you not to eat the fruit of just one tree...
one tree in the whole of this teeming, abundant, beautiful garden.
Everything else, however, is yours to tend, and to make use of,
and, you get to enjoy it with a partner who you care about,
who can share in the work of naming and tending;
who you can talk with, while you both look up at the
glimmering stars and planets as you rest at night;
and, who can walk with you, companionably,
through the mossy glades in green-dappled daylight,
and, with you, meet - face to face - the One who created you,
and who also likes to walk in the garden, enjoying his handiwork.
A harmony of relationships:
with God,
with humans,
with all of creation.
Paradise.

But, in this paradise,
there is a subtle and crafty creature –
cunning and clever,
curious and ...questioning.
In the first verse of chapter three of Genesis,
this creature, called ‘the serpent’,
insinuates itself into the story,
insinuates itself between God and the humans,
insinuates itself between
the man and the woman.
And, as it does so,
it begins the task of slyly undermining trust:
‘Did God really say “You must not eat from any tree in the garden?”’
Note the use of ‘any’...
And with that opening gambit from the serpent,
the woman helpfully tries to clarify what it is that God has asked of them –
which is, that they are not to eat the fruit of that one tree in the middle of the garden...
And then, she offers up a further, helpful clarification for this curious serpent,
noting that God had warned them:
‘You must not eat fruit from the tree...and you must not touch it, or you will die.’

And even as she’s pondering on the fruit of this one tree,
this one tree out of all of the trees and plants in the garden...
it is as if, this one, single tree is now very sharply in her focus,
while the teeming abundance of the rest of the garden is now...barely noticed.
And as she considers it, she notices that it is a particularly lovely tree.
Might it even be the loveliest of all the trees in the garden?
The shape, and colour, and smell of the fruit is so...pleasing.
How odd, that something so beautiful, magnificent,
so...utterly lovely
is so...out of reach.

She continues to gaze upon it,
as a gentle breeze moves the delicate leaves.
It’s as if nothing else exists in this moment,
apart from a quiet voice beside her,
insinuating itself into her thoughts:
‘You won’t die...’
Insinuating that God has lied.
Insinuating that the One who has made her,
and everything around her, out of sheer love...
is somehow playing false.
The first chink in a harmonious relationship appears.
An odd sensation of...what to name this feeling?
‘Doubt.’
This...is a new experience.
Unsettling.
The separation is already beginning.
And then, the next suggestion:
‘If you eat it, you will be like God...knowing good and evil’
... ‘You   will be    like   God’...
And a strange notion of... what – a yearning for power? –
sends a shiver through her.
To be like God...
and yet, forgetting, that of all of the creatures,
both she, and the man, are like God:
created in God’s image.
Another chink in the relationship.
The crack of separation widens.
She begins to question God’s integrity,
she begins to yearn for knowledge...
and knowledge,
as the saying goes, is power.

She is so close to the tree now:
she can almost feel its energy.
She has listened to God...
and now, has listened to the serpent –
clever, clever serpent,
with such reasonable questions.
It seems inordinately helpful, looking out for her best interests.
Of course it makes sense to eat this fruit –
why shouldn’t she?
She wants it,
it’s useful.
The food looks good
and she will access wisdom and knowledge
immediately, instantly,
....and be like God.
And you can almost, but not quite, hear a sly hiss of encouragement:
‘Go on, you know you want to...
Go on, for not knowing will drive you mad forever, if you don’t.’

And, all the while that this conversation is happening,
it is not two that are there - the woman and the serpent;
there are three.
The man is with them, watching, listening.
His eyes see her fingers outstretched,
reaching to the ever-so-desirable fruit.
A gentle ‘snap’
and it is in her hand.
And with the severing of the fruit from branch, and the eating,
so, another severing:
as the once harmonious relationship between God and humans is broken.
And now, so many strange sensations,
feelings...and, knowledge too:
it’s as if they suddenly see things in a very different way:
‘their eyes are opened, and they know things...
but they still have human eyes, not God’s cosmic perspective, so they can’t see the whole truth’
[Teri Peterson]

Another old saying:
‘a little knowledge is a dangerous thing.’
They look at each other and see their nakedness –
their utter, open trust and vulnerability,
as well as their physical differences
-  and it’s just too much for them.
They are exposed and they need to cover themselves –
psychologically and physically:
and for the first time in the world, another new sensation -
shame.
Their new-found knowledge shows them just how far they fall short of God.
God’s immensity,
God’s very being, overwhelms them,
and they know now that they can never
walk with God,
talk face to face with God, as they did before.
The shame and embarrassment of it all just makes them want to curl up and die...
or, at least, run away and hide –
for how could God bear to look at them?
And then, horror of horrors, they hear the sound of the Lord God,
walking in the garden calling for these creatures
he has fashioned and has made a friendship with.
And God’s voice echoes through the garden...
a strangely silent garden now.
‘Where are you?’ calls God,
and eventually the man shuffles out of hiding,
expresses another feeling unknown before the eating of the fruit:
fear.
‘I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid.’
‘Who told you that you were naked? ...Have you eaten...?’
In response, we get the first known case of passing the buck:
before he admits what he’s done, added to shame, is blame.
The man quickly points the finger at the woman –
‘she gave it to me.’
And God looks at the woman, who points the finger of blame at the serpent –
‘the serpent deceived me.’
Both, essentially admitting what they’ve done, but crying ‘it’s not my fault!’
Neither taking responsibility.

I wonder...
how this story would have worked out if the man and the woman
had looked at God sadly, and simply took responsibility for their actions,
simply said:
‘We did this thing, we are to blame, and oh, we are so very, very sorry.’
 But they don’t.
And so, the garden is now
paradise lost.
And the act of eating the apple does result in death eventually –
for, in their exile from the garden, they can no longer eat of that other famous tree:
the tree of life.

This is a story that tries to explain
why human beings are broken
and why bad things happen.
The ancient followers of faith, told the story to show
how the relationship between God and humans was ruptured;
how relationships between human and human could so easily fracture;
how the relationship between human beings and creation got so out of kilter.
Where once was harmony,
at some point, disharmony entered into the way of things.
Distrust, and shame,
and greed confused with need,
the desire for power, and for instant gratification –
just eat the fruit and you’ll immediately know everything –
all of it leading to focusing upon everything else but... God,
for in a sense, here we have a story that shows us an
essential part of the human condition:
that we are often too busy trying to be God –
and, not necessarily be like God.

A friend of mine observed the strange paradox
that ‘our attempt to become like God only highlights how humans are not God. 
Our attempts to use this newfound knowledge,
when we have a perspective bound by being part of creation 
rather than the breadth of God’s vision, 
inevitably lead us to a sense of shame and inadequacy which then force us to keep 
trying to be self-sufficient, which is why the first people hide from God.’ [Teri P]
There’s a reflection of this response of shame and inadequacy within our worship:
we begin with praise and adoration –
and, as we begin to move into the sense of
how astonishing, how gracious, how lovely God is,
we find ourselves changing focus momentarily –
we realise as we see God, that we are not God,
we realise this through the choices we’ve made:
you know, the many and varied pieces of fruit
we’ve taken from all sorts of trees that would better have been left alone...
but we took the fruit because
...well, why shouldn’t we?
And, if I don’t, somebody else will,
and I won’t have any...
and a myriad of other justifications.
And so, in worship, from adoration,
we move to confession –
for, in knowing the old, old story of the garden,
we know something the first two humans didn’t:
that the best course of action to ensure that a relationship can be healed and mended,
is to take responsibility,
to take the blame,
not shift it.
To ‘fess up and say
‘I was wrong when I did that – I’m so sorry. Will you forgive me?’
And in the honest, asking,
in the laying yourself on the line and being open, and vulnerable,
and not hiding before God -
God’s response is always
‘yes’.

Even as they’re exiled from paradise -
although, they’ve effectively exiled themselves -
note the love and care shown by God:
garments of skin are made by God and given to them:
God clothes them for that journey out.
And, I think the exile is an act of mercy, as well.
With the knowledge they have, but not knowing how to use it properly,
to live forever seeing only their eternal shame would be...eternally horrible.
A bitter fate.
Perhaps the exile is not just a matter of punishment,
but protection for the humans.

And then, after many centuries of God calling in the wilderness,
of God wanting to restore the severed relationship,
then, in love...there is Jesus.
Jesus, who shows human beings what it is to be in full relationship with God.
Jesus, or whom it's said, in Philippians,
‘did not consider equality with God something to be grasped...
but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant...
he humbled himself...
therefore, God exalted him.’

Jesus, shows us the love of God, and God’s desire for restored relationship:
between God and humans,
humans with other humans,
humans with the whole of creation.
Jesus, showing us what the kingdom of heaven on earth can be –
as we turn our focus back to the One
who created all things in love, and with joy;
who created us to live in love and with joy;
who calls to us, even now,
to be builders of the kingdom –
to be restorers of relationships
and,in so doing,  
to discover paradise, no longer lost,
but paradise found.  Amen.