Who Told You That?

• Join us for strawberry shortcake and good company on June 29 from 2-4 for our Annual Strawberry Social and Summer Raffle (Hosted by Dorcas).

Watch the Reflection Video HERE

We’re coming back to a very familiar passage.  It’s one that I think we all know in some way or another.  It’s imbedded in our collective way of looking at the world—whether we’re “churchy” or not.  It’s one that often comes up with new ways of seeing from the lens of our current times.  Maybe it’s not new ways, but ways of allowing the light to shine through in different ways, like a prism.  Nothing fundamental has really changed, but the reflection is brighter, broader, encompassing.  

This is the place of Original Goodness, which is my personal favorite counter-point to Original Sin, which I think gets too much air time and Goodness not enough.  Personal opinion.  If that is challenging…that’s okay.  It’s a prism.  But…  

Who told you that you were naked?  

What an interesting line.  Who told you?  And the unspoken: why did you listen?  There are a great many who believe this to be the moment of personal identity separate from God and that can mean a lot of things.  Suddenly, we aren’t one with God in the Garden.  We are naked and different and separate.  We are vulnerable and unsafe…even with God right there with us.  

We go from being safe and at home and at peace to vulnerable and agitated.  Wait!  What?  I’m naked?  That’s scary and it’s scary that I didn’t realize it before!!  What else have I not realized?  

Who told you that you were naked?  

How often do we listen to what other people tell us and take on the things that others give to us.  We make them a part of who we are, our identities, even when we know: that’s not me and that’s not who I’m supposed to be. That’s not who God wants me to be.  But we make it us. We fit ourselves into the mold.  We fit into the expectations.  And then we carry on.  Sometimes without even noticing.  Sometimes, we’re pulled along by these strings of expectations that we forget who we really are.  

Remember  that this is also the beginning of…shame.  Who told you that you were naked?  The implied: who told you to be ashamed of this?  This moment of shame, of covering, is a turning away from God.  We’re not good enough.

We have division.  Divided.  Judgement.  Isolation.  Not worthy of God.  

It’s not just God either.  There is a sudden division between the humans. It’s no longer us, you and me together on this journey. It’s you and me, separate.  It’s only in separation can we point fingers and cast… blame.   This is your fault.  She made me do it.  He made me do it.  It’s not my fault!

Then, separation divides into bigger gaps.  The finger pointing gets bigger.  We start to compare ourselves with one another.  I like you. I don’t like you.  You’re like me. You’re not like me.  We start to blame the people and things that are different for our problems and the problems.  We seek comfort in the things that are like us. And because we’re still worried about our own nakedness, we keep pointing fingers to keep people from noticing how uncomfortable we are in our own skin.  We don’t trust one another anymore.  How could we with this mess of judgement and blame?  We are no longer worthy of one another.   

We are no longer worthy of the Garden.  We are separated from the natural world.  The snake is divided from the other animals.  Animals are now something to be feared and not a part of the safe Garden.  There are scary animals and the plants (weeds) are now scary.  And we feel this deep sense of unworthiness.  UnBelonging.

It’s the initial separation from God, one another, and the whole beautiful world.

We have no garden.  We have no animals.  We don’t have each other.  We don’t have God.  We are thrown out into our own isolated and scary worlds.  Maybe together, but now, always separate.  This is “your fault” and maybe this is the beginnings of: “I hate you.”  

We are separated into the basic opposing forces and opposition comes in.  Good and Evil. 

I prefer to think of evil as hate.  Evil is a such big, scary door to open and the word itself, and how we use it, is so very troublesome.  We don’t like to look at it, especially in ourselves, and we’re often too quick to throw it at others. Hate is easier to see within ourselves and without.  We know how easy it is to fall into a habit of hate and not remember that hate is evil.  It starts out small, perhaps with hating peas and broccoli.  No biggie.  Then we hate spiders. Then cats.  Then it becomes a habit we don’t even notice anymore.  We begin to hate each other.  The guy in the other car who cut us off. Then, it’s the people right in front of us…

Who told you that you were naked?  

The Garden is pure Original Goodness.  No hate. No opposing forces.  No us versus them.  No separation.  It’s Pure Oneness. Togetherness.  Goodness.  

We become the opposers.  We’re naked and ashamed and looking at each other to avoid our own fault in the story.  Maybe it’s not even the eating of the apple.  It’s the: “this is your fault” that divides us.  When we don’t confront our own guilt, we sink into shame. That’s really uncomfortable and we want to blame someone else.  This can be looked at as a origin story of guilt, shame, and blame—which lead to hate, including self-hatred.  A cycle we all know is terrible and separating.  From ourselves.  From one another.  From God.  

This is also an “explaining story”. Why are things the way they are?  Why do men toil and life is so hard!?  Why is childbirth so painful and hard!?  Why is nature out to get us?!  

Why isn’t there comfort, peace, and ease?  Why is life hard?  Because, let’s face it, we have all the comforts in the world…and life is still hard.  Maybe there’s comfort in this story of loss…it’s a story of grief and what heals grief.  

Perhaps, the punishment has a simple answer.  I sometimes wonder if God was thinking: this’ll take them a week or two to figure out and is utterly surprised that we’re still here outside the Garden.  I sometimes wonder if God sighed and thought: I wonder if I’ll ever see them here again?  

Perhaps the punishment is simply a reminder of how much we need one another in this world.  A reminder to come together.  A reminder to not cast blame and judgement on one another.  To not let others tell us we’re naked and that we should be ashamed of our vulnerabilities (which are often our greatest strengths).  To not point out to others that we think they are naked and should be ashamed.  It is reminder to LOVE each other. 

Hate is “it’s your fault”. 

Love is: “I did that. I’m a part of this.  Let’s make amends and heal.”  

Maybe the garden isn’t so much a place but an action of unity and love.  It’s not a how are we different, but how are we alike.  We all need food and drink and love and security. We all need God (whatever “God” means to you).  Maybe it’s getting rid of our habits of separation that come across as judgement and shame and labels.  

Maybe the garden is working together. A coming together.  Not to see differences, but that we all carry guilt and shame and regret.  We all mess up—life is messy.  Maybe the garden is casting love not stones!!

Goodness is where our differences make us beautiful, like flowers, not different like there’s something wrong with us for blooming differently.  We are only strong together.  Maybe the “punishment” is just a reminder to be kind to one another and maybe it’s a deep, deep reminder to turn our faces to God and trust no matter how naked and vulnerable we feel.