Let’s get nerdy; Biblically, historically, liturgically nerdy. Walter Brueggemann, is a celebrated author and theologian who is still going strong at the age of 90. His commentary on Genesis is found in the Interpretation series, and this is what he has to say about Genesis Chapter 1.
“This text is a poetic narrative that likely was formed for liturgical usage [meaning that it was written to use in worship]. It is commonly assigned to the Priestly tradition [one of the three traditions that most scholars agree contributed to the Pentateuch, the first five books of the Old Testament], which means that it is addressed to a community of [Babylonian] exiles. Its large scope moves in dramatic fashion from God’s basic confrontation with chaos (1:2) to the serene and joyous rule of God over a universe able to be at rest (2:1–4a).”
I’m going to give you a minute to take all that in, in case it gave you any spiritual whiplash. Most of us have never really thought about when the creation story was written, especially when so many traditions treat the text as though it were a first-person account recording the actions of God in the act of creation.
Bruggermann, and other scholars like him, suggest that the creation story is not about how God created. Instead, it is about the character and nature of God expressed through the act of creation as it related to a particular people experiencing a particular need for God’s active presence. As for me, I can relate to the need for God’s active presence.
Regardless of how you feel about that, one thing that we know is that this creation story stands in particular opposition of all the rest that came from that region and even those that were later encountered from Greko-Roman influences, and here’s how.
All other “gods” were created as an act of violence and domination and subjugation. This God – THE God – creates through reconciliation, and this story was created as an act of devotion. Just think about the rhythm of it all. Over and over again God separates what seems like polarities in order for there to be harmony, reconciliation, and space for life in all of its complexity – and once each level of reconciliation is accomplished God proclaims it good.
Of course, we know the rest of the story. We know that sin will enter through selfishness. We know that the most basic problem in the world is an orientation based on our limited experience of reality and the desire to safeguard those we love and ultimately our own ability to impact the world.
We may not think of it in such explicit terms, but ultimately we want to know that we are not alone in the universe; that our existence matters; that our suffering has a purpose beyond endurance.
Maybe that’s why we can’t help but build telescopes that peer into the vastness of space and microscopes that seek out the tiniest particles of the fabric of reality. Maybe it’s why this story of creation is so important to us liturgically. [Incidentally, that word literally means “the work of the people” in relation to that act of devotion.]
Certainly this desire for understanding and purpose is why the original authors wanted their worshipers, and I believe God wants us, to know that people are created in the image and likeness of God. The “imago dei” is what I’ve always heard, which is kind of interesting because that’s Latin and our text is translated directly from Hebrew, which is “B’tselem Elohim” [בצלם אלקים]
As we consider what those words mean, it’s hard to miss the plurality of God. V26 says, “Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness.” Some have said the use of “us” is a royal appellation, but there’s no indicator in the context of the Hebrew manuscript to support that usage. Some say it is because there were early traditions that recognized a pantheon of Gods, of which the Hebrew God was the most powerful. Others claim that God exists in a state of the community, and this tradition was recording the belief that God was revealing God’s self most explicitly through humanity.
The rest of vv 26-31 explains what that looks like, including the stewardship of creation and the command to be fruitful and multiply. Some have taken this to mean that we can do what we want with the planet and that the only real purpose of the human partnership is to make more humans, but I would suggest that is both oversimplifying the text and unfaithful to the rest of Genesis 1.
If the example before us is a God who – from the beginning – is working to reconcile the very fabric of reality to create space for life in all of its complexity, then it seems odd that we should do anything different than that.
Karoline Lewis of Luther Seminary says it this way in the Working Preacher podcast, “Bearing God’s image has an insistence on creating and connecting with the created order, all the way from the cosmos to tiny creeping things.”
As for me, I like to say it this way. You were created in the image and likeness of the Creator. You cannot help but to create in some form or fashion. Creating anything requires observation and expects some kind of reception or use that leads to either relationship or ruin if not shared and cared for together.
The beautiful thing is that God created you with the hope that you will extend the creative and generative work of God. That may not be very comforting if you are in a position of need right now, except that maybe you can take heart in knowing that even in captivity God’s people were told of their value, and of the value of their captors, and of the hope that God was active and present in and through them as God’s people.
So it was with the disciples when they received what we call “the great commission” in Matthew’s Gospel. You may or may not have noticed, but there were similar commissioning statements in Acts and John that we’ve explored in the last few weeks. That’s not to downplay this one, but it is to say that there is a consistent message from the creation of the earth through the resurrection of Jesus that God is constantly working to bring order out of chaos and to involve you and me in that work!
Now, what’s so beautiful about that? First off, it starts with the opportunity for forgiveness and moves toward reconciliation. Secondly, God leaves room for our doubts and fears, and finally, we are not left alone to figure it out on our own. God is with us until the end of the line.
Forgiveness assures us that our past does not define us and that we can place our hope and trust in a future lived in God’s presence. Forgiveness does not give permission to wrongdoing, instead, it sets the expectation that we are no longer bound or burdened by mistakes or injuries done by us or to us. This is the reconciliation Jesus offered his disciples - who had returned to their old lives as fishermen - when he broke bread with them on the beach.
Likewise, the text tells us that they worshiped him, but some doubted him. It doesn’t say that he kicked the doubters out before commissioning them. It just says that he told them to go and make disciples. Notice that he didn’t say, “Make sure they practice correct doctrine.” He said, “Teach them to follow what I have commanded.”
And his commands were to love as they had been loved, which included care for the poor, those who suffered, the imprisoned ones, and those deemed to be less human than others.
Finally, he gave the assurance that he would be with them, to the end of the age. As ominous as that may sound, I’ll refer to Karoline Lewis once more who interprets the word we translate as “end” to mean “completion” and suggests that Jesus is promising to be active and present until all that God has in mind comes to pass.
That sounds pretty far off, but this is the promise of every sunset – that God has brought the day to its completion. Come to think of it, a sunset is the perfect example of the reconciling, generative, and creative presence of God. I would imagine that you all might have a memory of a sunset or a sunrise that is tender and dear to you.
Mine comes from Savannah, GA. The church I served before coming here was on Skidaway Island, and there was a causeway surrounded by marshland on the way from my house. If you were on the causeway at sunset the sky lit up like it was on fire. Every car would slow down and pull over beside the marshlands – another great example of God’s negotiation between forms to create and preserve life – and people would step out of their cars and stand in reverence.
Perhaps experiencing the presence of God is as simple as that. Sometimes we just need to slow down, get out of our own way, and recognize the active presence of God in our midst. For God has promised to be with us as we follow in the way of Jesus and encourage others to do the same. Maybe it is just that simple, and just that hard, but maybe…just maybe…even the chaos of life can be the space where we encounter and bear witness to the One who reconciles the created order, redeems all that is broken, and sends us out to do the same.
At least I hope it may be so with me, and with you, and to God be the glory now and always. Amen
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