1. Adam, Eve, and the Boys: From Eden to the Tower of Babel
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ADAM, EVE, AND THE BOYS
From Eden to the Tower of Babel
The Bible begins with biography. The opening summary of creation quickly zeros in on Adam and Eve. The astronomer, the geologist, the botanist, or the zoologist looking for specialized facts finds the record wanting. But the biographer fares far better.
Perhaps the most striking feature of Adam and Eve is that they have no history. They have no conversations that begin with Remember when . . . Nor do they have a context apart from the unpopulated haven in which they live. They name animals and eat from fruit stands in the Garden, but there is no chitchat about neighbors or the weather. Nor do they have aches and pains to discuss—no bickering or boasting in that perfect paradise. Life might seem mundane to a modern observer, but they know nothing else.
Before they die, however, when they are centenarians many times over (Adam, navigating his tenth century), they have a shared history. They have memories of joys and sorrows. Life has been anything but a free ride in Paradise. They have children and grandchildren (perhaps to twenty generations) and neighbors.
Noah, too, has a history—an entire half millennium before his life’s calling begins. He has ancestors and neighbors, and he worries about the weather. Life is anything but mundane.
After the flood, Noah’s family of eight starts all over again. It is an opportunity for a new beginning. But hardly are they back on dry land when the sinning resumes, this time without the aid of a serpent. How different, in comparison to the Garden, is the mucky land and all its post-flood wreckage. This is surely no paradise for Noah’s family. But they soldier on and populate the earth and build cities and a magnificent Tower until once again God is pushed to the limit.
The introductory chapters of Genesis present God as personally proactive with humankind. God walks in the Garden in the cool of the evening and indeed gets up close and personal when Adam and Eve disobey. God is also in the thick of it when Cain kills his brother. In fact, there are five times prior to the call to Abraham when God’s judgment, with far-reaching consequences, falls on human beings: on Adam and Eve and the serpent, on Cain, on the whole earth at the time of Noah, on Canaan (Ham’s son), and on the earth’s inhabitants when the Tower was built.
Nothing, however, bears consequences comparable to the first sin in the Garden. That Adam and Eve disobeyed God would appear on the surface to be less than noteworthy. Turn on the evening news; sin is featured in almost every story. In comparison, the sin in the Garden appears petty. But their succumbing to temptation is anything but trivial. It upended their world. Indeed, their story of disobedience will be told to the end of time as a deterrent to all those who would defy God.
This story of sin, however, is much more than a morality tale. The kicker in God’s punishment (as it was in the initial warning) is death. Adam and Eve will return to the dust of the ground. Bad enough. But it would be left to the apostle Paul to reveal the cosmic repercussions. Paul proclaims point-blank: “By one man sin entered into the world.”[1] Because of their colossal—and original—sin, neither Adam nor Eve has fared well since Paul’s writing.
It is interesting to note that the story of Adam and Eve is never again mentioned in Scripture, except by Paul in passing. He states in 1 Timothy 2 that Eve was the one who was deceived and became the sinner (while Adam apparently sinned knowing full well what he was doing). Elsewhere he states that “just as Eve was deceived by the serpent’s cunning,” all Christians are vulnerable to being “led astray from . . . sincere and pure devotion to Christ.”[2]
Nor, for all its significance to the antediluvian world, is the story of Noah and the flood mentioned again in the Old Testament.[3] In the New Testament Jesus compares the end times to “the days of Noah,” and Peter refers to Noah in both of his epistles and the writer of Hebrews champions him for his faith.[4]
Adam and Eve, not surprisingly, merit no mention in Hebrews or elsewhere for any admirable traits. A closer look at this first couple, however, should challenge us to rethink our preconceptions of them. Hitler, Stalin, and Osama bin Laden are rightly identified by their sins. Not Adam and Eve. They are us—in the mirror and in God’s image. We see our own reflections in them more than in any other male/female partnership in the Bible.
Adam and Eve: Paradise Lost
The story of Adam and Eve is the culmination of the creation account told in the first chapters of Genesis—the world created in six days, humankind being the capstone. There are two versions of this fashioning of man and woman. In the first account, found in chapter 1, the human being—male and female—is created in God’s own image and charged with the responsibility of being fruitful in populating the earth as well as caring for it. There is not yet any mention of the Garden or of sin lurking just around the corner. All is good—so good that on the seventh day the Lord rests from his six days of labor.
The second creation story, as told in chapter 2 of Genesis, makes reference to the lack of vegetation and then jumps directly to the more personalized creation of the male Adam. This is the most familiar account—no doubt because it is such a mesmerizing story.
The Creator forms the man out of dirt and then breathes life into him. In the twinkling of God’s eye, Adam is alive and aware of his luxuriant surroundings.
This lush oasis is all Adam knows. He has no idea that there is another whole world outside the Garden, a wild rocky arid range where loneliness and perils abound. Here in the Garden there is abundance—a verdant arboretum overflowing with shade trees and palms and vines and ferns and moss and berry bushes and hanging fruit and fragrant flowers. Here he is soothed by the sounds of rippling brooks and waterfalls and songbirds, and the sight of newborn speckled fawns. Here in the Garden the man enjoys his very own paradise.
Adam has no boyhood. No nursing at a mother’s breast, no toddling from bench to bench, no climbing trees or building forts. His consciousness begins as a fully formed man. His first recollections are of God taking him and putting him to work in a glorious botanical garden with a river running through it. Work is his first activity. He is the groundskeeper.
With work comes hunger. He hears God’s voice telling him that the plump, ripe fruit hanging from the trees is there for his nourishment. He can eat anything he likes except the fruit from the Tree-of-Knowledge-of-Good-and-Evil. It stands in the middle of the Garden in plain sight. If he eats from it, he will die. Adam might have responded with the most-often-asked child’s question, why? Or he might have asked God what he meant by the word die. But maybe he simply shrugs whatever and goes back to his work.
Eve tempts Adam with forbidden fruit
The next time Adam encounters God, he is watching what seems like the equivalent of a circus parade. Unbeknownst to Adam, God has decided that he is not complete without a mate. So God lines up the living creatures and parades them in front of Adam. Life is now getting a lot more interesting as he studies them, comprehending for the first time that these creatures and he have common characteristics: eyes, ears, mouth, legs. Adam does what comes naturally. He forms a word for each and every animal he sees. He names the birds as well.
As Adam names the creatures he is also unconsciously sizing up each one as a potential mate. Nothing he sees is remotely suitable. So, interesting as this parade has been, he is left with a hollow feeling inside. He’s not sure what he wants, but whatever it is, he has not as yet laid eyes on it. In the midst of his contemplation, he falls asleep. In his deep slumber, God performs surgery, fashioning Eve from one of his ribs.
The next thing he knows he’s shaking his head and blinking his eyes in the recovery room—actually the spot on the ground where he dozed off. But this was something more historic than a nap or night’s rest. He reaches for his side and pulls away, wondering what’s happened to his rib cage. What’s going on? At that moment, she is standing before him in all her naked beauty. Wow! He immediately recognizes her as bone of his bone, and flesh of his flesh. She is woman because she is part of him.
Even though they have never met before and are both stark naked, neither one reaches for a fern or a giant tropical hibiscus for covering. They have no shame, and with no rings, no veil, no tux, they become husband and wife.
Whether or not there is conversation between them is not disclosed. But sometime later Eve finds herself talking with a serpent. That a snake would talk does not appear to surprise her. Why not? She barely comprehends the particulars of God’s incredible creation. The snake asks her a question that to her seems innocuous. She does not know that the serpent is more crafty than his speech reveals. Indeed, he appears to be no more than curious. “Do I understand,” he casually asks, “that God told you not to eat from any tree in the garden?”[5]
The woman responds by telling the serpent that his understanding is wrong. They, in fact, are permitted to eat from any and all of the fruit trees in the Garden, with the exception of the tree growing right in the middle, which she does not identify by its full seven-word name. That one, she tells him, they dare not eat or even touch, or they will die. Why did she add the touching restriction? Had Adam embellished the rule for her just to add weight to God’s words?
The snake, clever as he is, tells the woman with all the calm confidence he can muster: “You won’t die. God knows that the moment you eat from that tree, you’ll see what’s really going on. You’ll be just like God, knowing everything, ranging all the way from good to evil.”[6] He is pitting her against the Creator. God has his selfish reasons, he is telling her, but they do not coincide with your own best interests.
Knowledge is not Eve’s (nor Adam’s) strong suit. As a fully formed woman, she does not have the advantage of twenty years of living and learning. There are so many facts and figures and philosophical conundrums that she no doubt would love to have at her fingertips. If the serpent is right, the fruit on this tree just might be the key to wisdom. And the name—Knowledge of Good and Evil—surely does make the tree alluring.
So she succumbs to the serpent’s wiles. She takes the fruit in her hand. Nothing happens when she touches it, as she had been led to believe. So far, so good. Then she takes a bite and gives some to Adam, who also eats it. He apparently has been standing right there all the while, making no protest.
At that moment something happens—something both psychological and spiritual. Neither one could have articulated exactly what transpired, but they now see themselves for who they are. They are suddenly ashamed of their nakedness—so ashamed they tie together fig leaves so as to cover their private parts. No sooner have they done that than they hear God rustling the branches as he moves through the Garden.
The breezy sound is something they had no doubt heard before and easily took for granted. This time, however, they are afraid and try to conceal themselves from God. Then they hear his voice. This, they quickly realize, is no game of hide and seek. God is dead serious. He calls them up short by simply asking, Where are you?
They know immediately they’re in trouble. Adam admits that he had heard God in the Garden but that he was too fearful to respond because he was naked. So God asks him straight up who had informed him he was naked. How did he even come up with the concept of nudity? (Did his eating the fruit give him this insight?) Then God goes directly to the heart of the matter: “Did you eat from that tree I told you not to eat from?”[7]
A straightforward answer would have been yes. But Adam blames “the Woman you put here with me.”[8] She was the one who took the fruit, ate it, and then handed it to him. So God asks the Woman what this is all about. She blames the serpent, insisting he deceived—or seduced—her.
At this point Adam talks no more. He only listens as God pronounces curses, first to the serpent, who had apparently come back around in the cool of the evening when God was having his less-than-pleasant conversation with Adam and Eve. Adam and Eve hear God say to the serpent that he will be the most cursed of the creatures, slithering on his belly and eating dirt.
Then it is the Woman’s turn to hear her penalty for disobedience. She will now have pain in childbearing, as she apparently otherwise would not have had. And she will now be under the rule of her husband. Even though she wants to please him, he will seek to dominate her.
Finally they hear God pronounce Adam’s portion of the curse. Because he did not obey God and refuse to eat the fruit his wife offered him, the ground will be cursed, bringing forth thorns and thistles and weeds of all sorts. He will sweat and toil all day long just to get a decent harvest. He will endure long years of arduous labor in the process of providing sustenance for his family. But at the end of his life, he as well as the Woman will die and return to the earth: “You started out as dirt, you’ll end up dirt.”[9]
In all the circumference of Expression, those guileless words of Adam and Eve never were surpassed, “I was ashamed and hid myself.”
Emily Dickinson, cited in Kathleen Norris, Cloister Walk
They had eaten from that tree, and they now have a vast sense of understanding that they would not have otherwise had. Did the Woman imagine she would have babies painlessly, or did she not even know there was such an experience as childbirth until this time? Does she dread the idea of Adam’s ruling over her—indeed, lording it over her? What does Adam think when he hears he will be attempting to dominate her? And can he even imagine the kind of work God is assigning him? Until now he has enjoyed all the sustenance he needs without undue hardship in tilling the hardscrabble soil.
And death? Had he even known he had been molded from the dust of the ground? Having apparently assumed that he and the Woman would live forever, he now hears that he will die and end up as dirt. And does he now realize how much pain and sickness they will endure?
What they were thinking is pure conjecture, but they take the penalties in silence—no complaints, no excuses. Instead Adam turns to the Woman and gives her a name: Eve. He now realizes the incredible role she will play as the mother of all the living.
Things appear to be happening quickly. Eve, now with her new name, suddenly has a new wardrobe, as does Adam—fashioned in leather by God. A nice gift. But before they have time to look at themselves in the river’s reflection, they are on a forced march. Unbeknownst to them, God has been concerned about their trying to take advantage of him—perhaps even with the serpent’s help. Musing to himself, God says: “The Man has become like one of us, capable of knowing everything, ranging from good to evil. What if he now should reach out and take fruit from the Tree-of-Life and eat, and live forever? Never—this cannot happen!”[10]
Adam and Eve are banished from the Garden of Eden. They will meet with fierce opposition if they attempt to return. At the east entrance is stationed an angel waving a fiery sword. As for them, the unspoken message is: Get to work. You made your bed, now lie in it.
Cain killed Abel, and the blood cried out from the ground—a story so sad that even God took notice of it.
Marilynne Robinson, Housekeeping
Cain and Abel: The Blood Cries Out
So Adam and Eve relocate outside the Garden, perhaps constructing a makeshift dwelling before tilling the soil. The hunting and gathering and homemaking roles are agreed upon as they struggle to make ends meet. In the course of coming to terms with their new life, they have sexual relations—even as they may have enjoyed in Eden. Eve becomes pregnant and bears a son. She sees him for the first time and thinks of her husband: “I’ve gotten a man.” She is, however, quick to add—“with GOD’s help.”[11] They name him Cain.
Her second child, also a man, they name Abel. The boys grow up, and Cain’s interests lie in planting and harvesting. He tills the soil by the sweat of his brow. Abel is into animal husbandry. Perhaps they work together, one growing the crops and the other tending the herds.
One day, with no apparent prompting, Cain comes to God with an offering. He harvests some of his produce and offers it to God. Abel also brings an offering—his being the choicest of the firstborn in the herd. God is pleased with the meat offering of Abel’s but is displeased with Cain’s offering of vegetables and grain. Cain becomes very upset. God is not impressed. “Why this tantrum?” he asks. “Why the sulking? If you do well, won’t you be accepted? And if you don’t do well, sin is lying in wait for you, ready to pounce; it’s out to get you, you’ve got to master it.”[12]
Cain’s anger is directed not only at God but also at Abel. They are out in the field together when Cain unloads his fury on his brother. How Abel might have reacted is not revealed, but one thing leads to another, and in the end Abel is dead, Cain the killer.
Everyday Life
Sheepherding and Truck Farming
Cain—minus the truck—was the first truck farmer: a horticulturalist who raises grain and vegetables primarily for market. Neither Cain nor Abel appears to have been a subsistence farmer, each with a small garden and few sheep. Rather they specialized, and perhaps traded their produce and flocks with each other and on a wider scale, Cain trucking his produce to market with a donkey.
“The Stone Age people of the Middle East were becoming farmers—the first farmers in the world,” writes Jared Diamond in Guns, Germs, and Steel. “Without realizing it, these new farmers were changing the very nature of the crops around them. With every round of planting and harvesting, they’d favor ears of wheat and barley whose seeds were the biggest, tastiest or easiest to harvest.”
The account of Cain and Abel does not fit the hunter/gatherer description of life that still exists in remote areas of the world today. “The transition to farming was clearly a decisive turning point in human history,” continues Diamond. “People who remained hunter/gatherers couldn’t produce anywhere near as much food as farmers, and also couldn’t produce much food that could be stored” (Guns, Germs, and Steel, “Episode 1: Out of Eden,” http://www.pbs.org/gunsgermssteel/show/transcript1.html).
In ancient times, donkeys were the trucks and tractors, performing myriad agricultural and mercantile tasks, essential to commerce and daily life.
Jon Katz, The Dogs of Bedlam Farm, 81
Sheepherding, beginning in Asia Minor some four thousand years before Christ, is also a very old vocation. Because the animals needed large grazing lands, herdsmen were typically nomadic. As now, the wool provided clothing, and the meat, nourishment; also important, however, was their milk and their favored use for religious sacrificial rites.
When flocks increased in size, hired hands were employed to tend the sheep. These lowly shepherds lived solitary lives, sleeping in the open under the stars or in tents—the very sort of humble laborers who would welcome the arrival of Jesus in Bethlehem.
Cain angered by Abel’s sacrifice
Cain departs in a fury, leaving Abel behind with no apparent effort to revive him. What will he tell his folks? But before he has opportunity to make up a lie for them, he is approached by God: “Where is your brother Abel?” Cain, still mad at God, snaps back: “I don’t know. Am I my brother’s keeper?”[13]
God, of course, knowing exactly where Abel is, tells Cain that his brother’s blood is crying out to him from the ground. Then God pronounces a curse on Cain. He is driven away from the ground he once tilled and will get no more than curses from the soil he tries to work. He will continue to plant crops, but they will not thrive. More than that, God tells him he will be a restless drifter without a home.
Cain does not tell God he is sorry for the horrible crime he has just committed. Rather, he is concerned about himself. He cries out to God that his penalty is too harsh. What will he do with no fields to till and harvest? Worse than that, he fears he himself will be killed—a fear common to homeless people. God, however, is not about to end Cain’s line. He promises that if he is murdered, the guilty one will suffer seven times over. For protection, God puts a mark on him to ward off any attacks.
So Cain goes off to a desolate area east of Eden where he is no longer in the presence of God. Adam and Eve are surely heartbroken when they learn what has happened. Their sons had somehow compensated for the pain and toil they encountered outside Eden. Now they have lost both of them. The sorrow seems almost too much to bear, though they may have had other children who brought comfort. And then joy comes back into their lives when Eve becomes pregnant again. Adam is 130 when she gives birth to Seth, who grows up and at age 105 gives them a grandson, Enosh, and later on more grandchildren of both sexes.
Through intercourse with her companion the woman conceived and bore two sons. But when God received the sacrifice of the one with honor, the other was inflamed with envy; he rushed on his brother, overcame and killed him, becoming the first parricide by shedding a brother’s blood. Then the whole race rushed into accursed crime, except the just Enoch, who walked in the ways of God.
Gregory of Tours, History of the Franks (AD 594)
The marriage of Adam and Eve is a long one by any standard, and they have more children, daughters as well as sons. Adam lives on to be 930. Eve’s death is not recorded.
In the meantime, Cain finds a wife, and she gives birth to a son, whom they name Enoch (not to be confused with Enoch in Seth’s line). After a time they have a grandson, Irad, and in their old age a great-grandson, Mehujael, whose grandson Jubal took to making and playing musical instruments, particularly the flute and the lyre.
Noah: Shipbuilder for God
Noah’s ancestors go back eight generations to Seth and then to Adam and Eve. When he was born his father Lamech, then 182, made a pronouncement: “He will comfort us in the labor and painful toil of our hands caused by the ground the LORD has cursed.”[14] At age 500, Noah has three sons: Shem, Ham, and Japheth.
Noah is perhaps the only household name to be associated almost entirely with an object. His name is inextricably linked to the ark. Moses is associated with the burning bush, Jonah with a whale (or big fish), but only as one aspect of their stories. For Noah, the ark is essentially what defines his life.
Think of all the squabbles Adam and Eve must have had in the course of their 900 years. Eve would say, “You ate the apple,” and Adam would retort, “You gave it to me.”
Martin Luther, Table Talk
Taken at face value, the story of the flood is horrific. It is a tsunami of historic proportions. There are no survivors apart from Noah’s immediate family. The aunts and uncles and cousins—and even grandparents—die in this deluge.
Noah is the first biblical prophet, identified in the New Testament as “a preacher of righteousness.”[15] Like most prophets, he no doubt appears to his neighbors and kinfolk to be more than slightly deranged. He not only calls his hapless (and wicked) neighbors to repent and warns of dire consequences if they do not, but he also demonstrates that he believes his own prophecy. He devotes all his resources, time, and energy to carrying out God’s instructions.
Although Lamech made an optimistic prediction about his son, there is no evidence that Noah made farming any easier for his contemporaries. Lamech would live on nearly six hundred years (dying only five years before the flood), and during that time he would witness the world becoming more evil every century. It seemed everyone was in on it—people trying to outdo each other in contriving ways to act out the most disgusting and immoral behaviors possible.
And the evil does not involve humans only. Life is most strange during this era. Creatures known as Sons of God are looking down on the increasing numbers of sexually alluring girls coming to maturity. So they come down and have sexual intercourse with them, and the offspring turn out to be giants—“the mighty men of ancient lore.”[16] (Perhaps mighty women as well.) As mighty as these men were, they were anything but impressive in the eyes of God:
When human beings began to increase in number on the earth and daughters were born to them, the sons of God saw that the daughters of humans were beautiful, and they married any of them they chose. Then the LORD said, “My Spirit will not contend with humans forever, for they are mortal; their days will be a hundred and twenty years.”[17]
This evil and intermingling is simply not what God had intended. Initially he cuts back the human life span. Then he becomes so disgusted that he regrets the whole creation thing altogether and says: “I will wipe from the face of the earth the human race I have created—and with them the animals, the birds and the creatures that move along the ground—for I regret that I have made them.”[18] Everyone is evil. There is simply no hope for a revival. There is not one righteous man—except for Noah.
Noah wants no part of the cesspool of sin engulfing every town and hamlet. He is basically a decent man. He does not lie, cheat, brawl, and carouse around like his neighbors do. He worships God, and God takes note of that. In fact, the two of them commune together. Noah is aware of how dire moral conditions are, but as yet he is not aware that God has come to his wits’ end and plans to make a clean sweep of his creation.
The clean sweep God is talking about is a flood that will cover the entire earth—destroying absolutely everything. Before Noah has a chance to respond in horror, God tells him that he is making a covenant with him. Noah and his wife, his three sons, and his daughters-in-law will be spared.
Then God tells him to construct a huge boat that will be a refuge for not only his immediate family but also every living creature, both male and female—“two of every species of bird, mammal, and reptile.”[19] The scope of this project is surely daunting. What on earth is God thinking? Indeed, Noah may have envied those who would be carried away in the clean sweep.
Noah is a farmer, and there is no indication that he had ever actually been a general contractor or builder of any kind. Nor is there any report of him being a wealthy man. How could he possibly be responsible for such a massive undertaking? God gives him guidelines, but nothing resembling a detailed blueprint.
The size of the ship alone must have made Noah dizzy. It is to be 450 feet long—the length of a football field and half again. The width is to be 75 feet, and the height 45 feet—the height of a four-story house, though the boat is to have only three stories, or decks. This gigantic structure must have a roof, a window, and a door, as well as an unspecified number of rooms. The materials list alone would have stopped anyone but Noah dead in his tracks. He must secure enough teakwood for the entire skin of his watercraft, perhaps the frame also. And the immense amount of sealer seems astronomical. It is to be coated both inside and out with pitch.
But Noah apparently doesn’t blink. He simply does what he is told to do. It is hard to imagine, however, that he didn’t have doubts. Did he ever wonder if the voice of God had been no more than a figment of his imagination? The Euphrates River certainly was known for flooding, and in his five hundred years he would not have been oblivious to such floods. But the flood of which God has warned is no mere flowing over the banks. This one would be cosmic in proportions.
There is no further communication until the work is fully accomplished. Then God tells Noah to get on board with his family and with the animals. If Noah had thought it an impossible task to corral two of every kind of creature, he now learns that the two-of-a-kind requirement refers only to unclean animals. He is to make room in his boat for seven pairs of clean animals as well as birds. But the animals seem to cooperate in this embarkation, moving up the ramp in pairs with apparently little prodding.
It’s easy to understand the fame of the Euphrates. More than seventeen hundred miles long, it is one of the longest rivers in the world. In the spring, the melting snow from the Armenian mountains can cause it to flood twelve feet over its banks.
Charlotte Gordon, The Woman Who Named God: Abraham’s Dilemma and the Birth of Three Faiths
The time frame God gives him for collecting the animals seems utterly inadequate—a measly seven days. He had upwards of one hundred years to build the boat, but gets only one week to gather together the creatures. Working day and night, he gets the job done. Then the eight of them get on board. The waters begin surging from below even as the heavens open up with rain pouring down from above.
Soon the boat is afloat. Noah and his family are safe and sound inside. But surely he must be desperately trying not to think about all the kinfolk and neighbors outside caught up in the floodwaters. What a life it has been. He’s less than a year shy of his six hundredth birthday. The rain and the groundwater eruptions continue for forty days and nights straight. This is the mother of all floods. Even the peaks of the tallest mountains are covered.
Then everything becomes calm and the huge ship simply drifts on the water. Month after month the flood recedes. Finally the waters evaporate to the point that the bottom of the ship stabilizes on land—turns out, however, that it is caught on a mountain in the Ararat range. Noah repeatedly scans the horizon, and at last, after some nine months, he is able to see the peaks of the range. Then some weeks later he lets loose a raven, later a dove, but neither can find a landing perch. A week goes by and he sends out the dove again, and it returns with a twig from an olive tree. The next time he sends out the dove, good news. It does not return.
When the earth is at last dried up, Noah and his family get off the boat, followed by the parade of animals. How they accomplished this while perched on a mountain range is not revealed. But the ordeal is finally over. The first thing Noah does is to make an animal offering to God. God is pleased and promises never again to destroy everything on the face of the earth. In fact, God promises to never again send a flood of such biblical proportions. That promise is sealed with a sign: “I have set my rainbow in the clouds, and it will be the sign of the covenant between me and the earth.”[20]
After properly worshiping God, Noah gets down to business and back to his day job of farming. He plants a vineyard. After the vines have grown, he harvests the grapes and enjoys his first taste of wine in years. One sip leads to another until he is out cold, naked, and drunk.
Noah’s son Ham goes into the tent to check on his father and sees him stark naked. He tells his brothers; they’re mortified. So they together walk backward into the tent, and without accidentally stepping on their father, they cover his naked body with a blanket. The next day when Noah sobers up, he learns that Ham had seen him exposed and he curses him, or rather Ham’s son Canaan. Shem and Japheth receive a blessing, but Canaan is cursed to be a slave.
As for Noah, despite the stress he has endured, he lives on for more than three hundred years, dying at the age of 950.
Medieval depiction of the Tower of Babel
In the generations after the flood, there is a population explosion among Noah’s descendants. But the world is anything but a paradise. Amid warring factions, a singular individual elbows his way to the top of the heap. Before Nimrod, there were no powerful leaders. Certainly not Adam or Cain—or Noah. Noah obeyed God, but he failed, if indeed he tried, to rally others (besides his small family) to his cause. But Nimrod comes along and is described as a mighty warrior and hunter, or perhaps better rendered “a mighty despot.”
His realm is massive, eventually encompassing not only Babel but also several other population centers in Shinar and far beyond into Assyria, where he ruled over several more cities, including Nineveh. The Genesis text reveals nothing more of Nimrod, but according to various traditions, Nimrod was the force behind the building of the Tower of Babel. It is not a stretch to make that assumption, because the account of the Tower of Babel follows soon after the mention of Nimrod.
The Tower is one of the most fascinating little stories to find its way into the pages of Scripture. People are moving east onto the vast plain of Shinar. At that point in time everyone on the face of the earth is speaking the same language and apparently sharing the same cultural traditions (perhaps under the tight rule of Nimrod). So they spread the word, perhaps at the prompting of their leader, that they should all come together in a bond of unity to build a great city. But more than that, they are determined to build the highest skyscraper ever known to humanity—a tower that touches the very edge of heaven. “Let’s make ourselves famous,” was the rationale, “so we won’t be scattered here and there across the Earth.”[21]
But then God comes down and checks things out. The people are up to no good. One thing leads to another, and who knows what will come of it? So God garbles their speech. Their words sound more like babbling than ordinary language. The structure becomes known as the Tower of Babel. The people are unable to carry on with further building projects, and they are all scattered, speaking different languages.
The scrambling of speech and the scattering of the people are the last recorded acts of God before he calls Abraham to leave his country and move to a new land. The span of time between Adam and Abraham as laid out in the genealogies covers some two thousand years, nearly half the time span of the entire Bible.
Concluding Observations
Incredible things happen in the eleven-chapter whirlwind introduction to the Bible. Adam and Eve inhabit the Garden; they fall into sin; one son murders another; things go from bad to worse until the whole of humankind, but for Noah and his wife and children, are wiped out in a flood. When it’s all over, Noah gets drunk and a son is cursed. The creation begins anew, only to be scrambled and scattered by God.
Here in the brief biblical brochure, God creates, destroys, re-creates, and jumbles languages. In fact, no other eleven chapters of the Bible cover so much time and have made such an indelible impact on Western culture—and world culture, for that matter. The names and events are easily recognized in art, music, theater, literature, and pop culture. Who doesn’t know about Adam and Eve, Cain and Abel, Noah and the ark, and the Tower of Babel?
For the reader, the two thousand years between the In the beginning of the first verse of the Bible and the call of Abraham in Genesis 12 fly by quickly. But for the participants the years must have dragged on. Life is incredibly hard in this era. A life span of more than nine hundred years—in an age before memory-foam mattresses, antibiotics, thermal socks, shuffleboard, and early-bird specials—can feel like forever.
Life had begun, however, in paradise. The Garden has all the comforts of home and more—no need or desire to travel. But on the outside, Adam and Eve and all their descendants will never feel fully at home again. From the Garden Adam and Eve are banished to make their dwelling east of Eden, Cain in the land of Nod. Noah floats higher on water than any human being before or since. The Tower generation is scattered. But it will be left to Abraham to journey far beyond his homeland. That journey will continue through the pages of Scripture, and from there around the globe until it ends one day in the garden along the crystal river of the New Jerusalem in John’s Revelation.
Further Reading
Cassuto, Umberto. From Adam to Noah: A Commentary on the Book of Genesis. Jerusalem: Hebrew University, 1961.
Mathews, Kenneth A. The New American Commentary: Genesis 1–11:26. Nashville: Holman, 1996.
Thompson, John L. Genesis 1–11: Reformation Commentary on Scripture. Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity, 2012.