Proto-Evangelion: The Promise

“I will put enmity between you and the woman,

and between your offspring and her offspring;

he shall bruise your head,

and you shall bruise his heel.”

- Genesis 3:15

Behold. Look. See. A lush and precious Garden lies before you. The hills and valleys of the Creator’s fingertips are still fresh and visible. Above you are celestial bodies roaming through the heavens and below you is the soil, the dirt you were made from. The beasts of the field are tame, from the lion to the leopard to the ostrich and osprey— all kinds, wild yet wonderfully made. The streams of Pishon are teeming with colorful fish— bluegills and yellow tangs. Euphrates, also, swarming with newly created snappers and sharks and cichlids. And what more indescribable monsters of the deep hide within Gihon and the Tigris. Elephant ears and monkey flowers abound. Daisies and marigolds flourish before they were labeled as weeds. Roses without thorns, poppies that could never die, sunflowers that never sulked. And what more beauty can be described? Mountains and waterfalls, rare gemstones and gold, galore. The sweetness of the morning dew, all precious in God’s sight. All, all these creatures give glory to God.

And trees. Massive creatures all beautiful and all kind towards Man whose His hands pluck their dangling fruits so that He might eat. The Orchard with her apples. The Pyrus and her pears. And other trees that from them bud mangoes and guavas and kiwis. But the tree that towers above them all, both in stature and majesty, is the Life-giving Tree. A Tree whose roots are sturdy, full of a youth’s strength and an elder’s wisdom. His bark glows with brio, his leaves wax with zeal. His branches are healthy with vigor and upon its vines come forth a fruit that explodes with flavorful and rich vitality. This Tree was made for Mankind.

And yet, with all His brilliance, one other Tree— planted right next to it— shares the spotlight at the center of the Garden. It is not its rival; it is not Evil. Quite the contrary, for the Creator made it and called it Good. But this Tree was ordained for a different purpose. Its fruit was designed to test Mankind, and in the opinion of this humble writer, I believe it hoped for Man to pass the test. Again, this Tree is not Evil, but it possesses Evil’s knowledge. It can discern between Evil and Good, and whoever eats of its fruit will acquire this knowledge. God has forbidden Man to eat of it, lest they perish— a word they can hardly grasp.

Now, look, see, consider. Woman. Bone of Man’s bone. Flesh of Man’s flesh. She wanders through the Garden. She enjoys the fruit and watches the birds. She finds herself at the heart of Eden, brimming in innocence. And there, She sees a Serpent crawling upon the bark of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. Curiously, She approaches. The Serpent speaks, slipping its silked tongue in and out of its lips. “Did God really say...?” it asks Woman. And Woman spirals down into a tricky dialogue that leads to a dreadful sequence of events. She sees, plucks, and ultimately bites into the fruit which the Creator forbade. Her eyes open. And so do the eyes of her Husband, for He, too, partakes. And before they could blink, they suffer the pain of guilt, shame, and nakedness. All at once, they feel the terror of a strange foe, one that would haunt them and their children, and their children’s children perpetually—Death.

They make loincloths out of fig leaves. But even so, they cannot hide their nakedness and shame. They hear their Creator and try to hide from Him. But His voice booms with brilliance and awesome wonder. He calls for them; they obey, and behold, the first trial between God and Man commences.

He asks them questions; they answer with woe. He punishes Man and Woman, and their punishment remains to this day. Woman and Her volition become subservient to Man and His volition. She will suffer labor pains, an act that was to be dressed in joy has now been shrouded with affliction. Man is to labor hard for His food. He sweats as He toils the groaning earth which fights back against His will to survive. And the worst punishment of all, indeed, Man will die and once more go to the dirt He came from. His breath will escape Him and He will be no more.

And then, for the first time, they encounter Death. The Creator catches an unblemished lamb, and in a moment, what once pranced among the valleys of the Garden now lays lifeless and skinned. They shut their eyes, but they cannot unsee what they have just witnessed. Their eyes are forever open. They are given the innocent lamb’s skin, which will clothe Mankind for the rest of His days— and they are speedily thrown out of the Garden they once called Home.

But something else took place that day. A Curse and a Promise were uttered. The Curse was given to the Serpent. The Serpent was to be the lowest of all creatures. It was to crawl on its belly for the rest of its life and eat dust evermore. And the Promise… well, the Promise was draped in mystery, but it was given to Woman. Woman and the Serpent will be enemies with one another and this enmity will pass down to their offspring. But it is the offspring of Woman who will ultimately crush and conquer this Ancient Serpent. He will step on its head ending its terrible reign, but not before feeling the sting of its bite on His heel. Nevertheless, this wounded Man—this Second Adam— will be victorious and undo the bitter curse that was brought down by His parents.

So, then, this Promise was passed down from Eve to Her firstborn, Cain, but Cain had erred and murdered his brother Abel. Cain was to restore life, not produce more death. So, if not Cain, if not Abel, then who? For years Man has wandered and asked this question, clinging onto this Primitive Promise, this good news, amidst destruction, disease, and Death, but to no avail, every offspring fails the test and sins. Seth sins and dies. His sons follow suit. Noah, Shem, Haran, and Terah— they all sin and die. Who would be this offspring that would undo this curse!

God intervenes and aids Mankind. He calls Abraham and renews this Promise. The Promised offspring will come from his lineage but not culminate in Isaac or Jacob or Judah. No. But to Judah it is revealed this Promised offspring will be kingly. Many years later, a woman named Hannah confirms this prediction. She says the Promised offspring would be Anointed; he would be Messiah. Her son Samuel then anoints the shepherd boy David, and he becomes the great king who unifies Israel and gives her Jerusalem as capital. But David also sins and dies. So does Solomon and Rehoboam. But the prophets prophesy continually — Isaiah, Jeremiah, Zechariah— unraveling more about this Promised Messiah, until alas, the God of Creation ceases speaking and the sons of Adam and Eve suffer in silence for four hundred years.

Behold, now. Mary. A daughter of Eve. A virgin betrothed. Meek and favored. A young girl from the tribe of Judah. She is not royalty; she has neither wealth nor prestige. But in her womb develops a babe who months ago was told by an angel that He would receive David’s throne and be called the Son of God. She’s present at the birth of her nephew. She sees the neighborhood women ask the mute father for his newborn’s name. The father writes John and at once he is unmuted. He speaks and rejoices. Seeing his cousin Mary, and with a smile upon his face, he begins to prophesy:

Blessed be the Lord God of Israel,

    for he has visited and redeemed his people

and has raised up a horn of salvation for us

    in the house of his servant David,

as he spoke by the mouth of his holy prophets from of old,

that we should be saved from our enemies

    and from the hand of all who hate us;

to show the mercy promised to our fathers

    and to remember his holy covenant,

the oath that he swore to our father Abraham, to grant us

     that we, being delivered from the hand of our enemies,

might serve him without fear,

    in holiness and righteousness before him all our days.[1]

At last, the Promise is being fulfilled.

[1] Luke 1:68-75

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