Eve As Woman
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Content Type: Fiction, Multi-Part Subject Matter: feminism, gender, religion, romantic relationships |
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Notes: Inspired by a class taken with my wonderful teacher at Eugene Lang College, Katherine Kurs, called Womens' Spirituality and Contemporary Religion. She allowed me to read the entire piece to the class, and generously praised it by comparing it to a midrash. Midrash are Hebrew writings that expand upon the stories of the Bible. Lilith is a figure from midrash. |
III
Instruction did not come only from Adam. The first man could teach her little things, simple things: What to call a tree or a lizard, how to pronounce it, certain matters of behavior that inevitably made life more pleasant for both of them. (‘Do not disturb me when I am busy,’ being foremost among them.) She was in awe of him, for his ready answers and his confident manner. But Adam, for all his pomp, could not instruct her in the ways of morality.
God was an omnipresent force in the world, or so she was taught. There were times when she could feel Him, coddling her with river water, or leading her beyond a small hill so she could dance with the creatures Adam finally decided to Name horses. But there were other times when her awareness of Him dissipated, just enough to let her feel that she had privacy. She did not feel the lack of Him, for He was always in the same place when next she wanted Him: a stone’s throw from her heart.
It was God who made the laws by which they lived. These were few, for what great unhappiness could they have that required such laws? But those He did issue were unequivocal, and not to be negotiated.
When God made laws, He would first approach Adam. “First Man, thy wife must lie below you.” Then Adam would come to Isha, and repeat to her God’s words. “He has said that you must lie below.” And these words would puzzle her for some time, as she wondered why anyone might think to do otherwise, until the situation arose in the flesh, and then it seemed that God’s pronouncements were very wise indeed.
Although she could not know it, there had been other laws made before her entry into the world, spawned from Adam’s chest. Adam had heard these rules with his own ears, and presumed that Isha, being then a part of him, had absorbed their meaning as well.
It was thus that Isha came to believe that every plant in the Garden was made for eating. Every green leaf she tasted was fresh on her tongue, every fruit burst forth with sweetness. It was quite by accident that her relish in finding new foods came to be her first duty. As Adam relayed it, God had said to Adam, “Thou should not be alone. I shall make a helpmeet for thee.” Adam had explained this to her on the day of her creation. It took her some time to understand what a ‘helpmeet’ was. To help him—but with what? Her first clumsy attempts to help him had not met with approval (“Isha, I am busy!”), much in the same way her intrusion upon the ants had gone poorly. He did not want her intruding on his ability to Name and so her suggestions were unwelcome. He grew impatient when she lurked some feet away, waiting for him to need her. But what he did enjoy was returning to her to find that she had already amassed food enough for them both. Isha wandered far from their home in search of new vegetables, sometimes leaving in the morning only to return that evening, just as they were both growing hungry. Adam fell upon her and the food she brought with elation and gratitude, and so she learned quickly enough that being a helpmeet did not always been hovering nearby or inserting herself into his business, but could mean anticipating his needs instead. Adam was a good person to feed. He liked everything she brought him, whether green or gold, red or black. It became her unceasing wish to gift him with new delights, and thus it was that she, in pursuit of her duties, came upon the Tree.
It stood in the very center of the Garden, some way from the comfortable hollow of home. She would not have come across it if she had not decided that today she would cross the river. It was not a very deep river, but it was wide. That morning, Adam joined her on the near bank to sort through the many creatures that lived and prospered in and around the water. She wandered into the flow, as she did each time she felt the whim, and let her hands float just below the surface. Her torso was buffeted by the current, a not unpleasant coercion to wander downstream with it. She glanced toward the shore, where Adam knelt over a small, armored creature that raised its two pincers in greeting. He would not miss her again until much later in the day, and she had yet to find them food.
Isha looked about her for a new direction in which to explore. She had already followed the sun west, and sought out its beginning in the east. The south was no mystery, covered as it was by fields of wildflowers and wheat. She faced the north, barely half a riverbed away, and forged toward the opposite bank. It would not have been a pleasant thing to do if she had forced herself to cross on a day on which she had not already wanted to swim. But today wading felt good; the sun was still climbing in the sky, and her dark hair was already growing hot. She ducked below the surface for a moment to cool it, running her fingers playfully through the knots. For a moment she considered staying right where she was for the rest of the day, spending it in blissful idleness. But a single glance in Adam’s direction confirmed that he was engrossed in his task. If she did not bring him food, who would? It was possibly he would not even remember to eat without her reminder. Besides which, just as it was his responsibility to name all the living beasts of the Garden, so it was hers to look after him. She forded the river, emerged onto the sandy land, and thought no more of luxuriating in the cold water. She was again in unfamiliar lands, and she happily returned to her favorite task: examining the terrain for hidden wonders.
At first this bank appeared much like the one she had come from, sand leading into grass that became fields edged by forests. She picked her way over outcroppings of gleaming, smooth stones, and took time at the forest’s edge to run her fingers along the petals of new flowers, richly red and velvet against her palms. She had the desire to take this home to Adam, but they were simply too beautiful to pull from their bush. On the ground lay a fallen blossom, its many layers all tilted toward the ground. As she picked it up by the stem it spun in her hand, and a shower of petals sprayed around her feet. “Glorious,” she murmured, savoring the word as she savored the bits of red drifting back to the earth. Surely such a thing was one of God’s finer creations. The next flower she cradled gently between her two hands before continuing further into the Garden.
She walked through midday, when the sun was at its highest and fierce on her skin. She drifted between the trees of the forest, which slowly began to differentiate themselves from those near her home. There, lush leaves made a high canopy of shade, and vines dripped from branches like hair drawn between stretched fingers. The air where she and Adam lived was warm and moist, misty when the sun left and the jungle cooled. But here, so far from the river, the air was drier. She could feel herself rising slowly upward as she walked, though she was unable to identify it as such. The trees were thicker toward the bottom, lower branches obscuring her view of the distance. Never did she fear losing her way home; she had never done so before, and so she never expected to.
She wandered through the strange forest long enough for the sun to begin to dip, until she came to the edge of the tree line. Beyond was light, sky… and a lone tree, rooted at the very top of the slow incline she had just spent hours climbing.
Isha stepped free of the forest, and tipped back her head to see the entire Tree. It was massive, roots twisting and curling into the soil, emerging every so often to trip an unwary traveler. The trunk alone was wider than she or Adam could ever fully reach around—even if they stood on opposite sides, their fingertips could not possibly reach. Its boughs swayed gently in the breeze that was stronger so much closer to the sky, and to her great delight, fat, round, gleaming fruit bobbed about each time their branches jiggled.
Eagerly she ran forward, dodging the roots and fallen leaves. The Nameless red flower dropped from her hands, forgotten. A startled squirrel leapt away into the forest, making the bric-a-brac rattle. Isha found her way to the great Tree’s base, chest heaving with excitement. Wonderful! These would surely make them a fabulous dinner tonight!
It was then that her pert ears sensed something else disturbing the twigs and leaves of the forest floor. Another squirrel, surely. She perched atop the gnarled roots and stretched, stretched, stretched, for the golden, gleaming fruit!
Something dropped beside her cheek and stayed in her field of vision. Quite instinctively, she turned her round face toward it, and was met with a pair of equally curious eyes.
“Good afternoon, Isssha,” whispered the serpent hanging from the lowest branches of the massive Tree, drawing her name out with luxuriant malaise.
“Good afternoon, Brother Serpent,” she replied calmly, then smiled at her own abilities—she had learned the spoken language well from Adam! She would bring him lots of the pretty fruit to thank him…
“How isss it thou hassst wandered ssso far from thy home and thy mate?” asked the serpent his flat, scaly head tilting to survey her better. The sun highlighted the colors of his skin, sending little spots of red and black and green toward Isha’s eyes. There were other serpents like him near the home she shared with Adam, but none were quite so magnificent as he. His body was long, incredibly long, his neck alone reaching from the bough upon which he was perched down to her face, the rest of him tangled impossibly in the Tree’s crown of greenery. Small arms gripped various branches, steadying the creature so he was free to peer at her without concern. Isha peered back, her own face tipping to better meet his gaze.
“I crossed the river,” she replied, assuming that this could explain all.
The serpent’s dappled head bobbed, nodding. “Of course. And where isss Ish, your man?”
“He is Naming the birds and the fish who live by the river,” Isha said happily, proud at long last to recite Adam’s virtues to another person, someone who did not already know all of Adam’s finer virtues.
“I sssee. And why have you wandered away from him?”
“To find us food for this evening’s meal,” she explained, and her eyes returned to the fruit that looked more and more delicious as every moment passed. A honeybee buzzed past her other ear, on its way to pollinate the Tree, and bring about even more splendid fruit. She could smell them on the breeze that curled temptingly around the heavy trunk. Sweet, slightly tart, and tasting of fresh sunlight and light rain.
But the serpent did not appear to be interested. “The sssun is already sssetting, Isha. If you wish to return to the river before nightfall, you mussst go now.”
The woman started at the suggestion, and turned her attention to the sun. It was indeed nearing the horizon, and would set in less time than it had taken her to come to this hill from the river. Dismay made her stomach flop in her belly. “No! No, no! I must get back. But I haven’t gathered food!” she swiped haphazardly at the fruit, but it was much too high for her fragile human arms to reach. A thin, keening wail escaped her as true fretting set in. Never had she been in such a predicament before!
“Calm thyssself, dear Isha,” said the serpent soothingly. Its body and one thin arm descended, allowing it the luxury of smoothing her tangled hair away from her clean face. “I know of food near the river you may eat. If you run now, you will make it back before your man realizes he is hungry.” She nodded and listened avidly to his instructions, thinking to herself that she had indeed seen such plants when she was by the water that very day. “Those will sssussstain you. Now, return to your man,” finished the creature, something like a smile distorting its hard features.
Isha smiled her thanks in return and placed a gentle hand along the side of its head. “Thank you, friend. I will return tomorrow,” she promised, never doubting that she would With little care for her own person, still unaware of the great damages a single trip could instigate, Isha fled down the hillside, leaving the serpent and the great Tree to see to their own nightly affairs.
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