What would a look at the Bible’s Genesis reveal if we look at it from the perspective of its “mythos” or myth?
In the first part of this series, we discussed the difference between mythos and logos, and in the second part, we went on to discuss how our culture’s favoring of logos has led to science infringing upon religion’s domain.
What ‘Genesis’ Has to Teach Us
In “Genesis,” we learn first, appropriately, that there was a “first”: “In the beginning … .” Something similar exists in Egyptian literature where it talks of the god Amun who evolved on “the first occasion.” Time, in other words, starts; it’s not just space that has to be created but also a framework in which space can be contained. That framework is time.
God initiates time and space. We have the first clue, therefore, that creation of heaven and earth is some sort of massive construction involving an equally massive architectural feat.
Before time existed, the earth it says (but not heaven), was “formless and void,” and dark and deep—a sort of fathomless chaos. But, critically, the Spirit of God moves over its “surface” or its “face,” which are described as “waters.”
Literally speaking, water is the potential and necessary source of life; poetically speaking, waters symbolically represent monsters and danger, whether emotional or literal (leviathan and Job or a large fish and Jonah); excess and punishment (Noah and the Flood); washing and death to sin (baptism); and fertility (Moses drawn from the waters by his foster mother). And here the word “deep” in Hebrew is grammatically feminine.
Thou from the first Wast present, and with mighty wings outspread Dove-like satst brooding on the vast Abyss, And mad’st it pregnant
But when we talk of the deep as water, we need to realize that this too is a metaphor. For “form and void” can also be translated as “waste and emptiness.” Emptiness is simply a way of saying “absolutely nothing.” Weirdly, it is very difficult for us to conceive of absolutely nothing, even Milton couldn’t. His description of chaos includes a personification which he calls that “Anarch old.” It worked dramatically for him, of course, because that Anarch old helps facilitate Satan’s journey to earth to tempt humanity. They have a nice conspiratorial chat!Returning to “nothing,” though, as soon as we realise that this is the raw material of God, we immediately get a sense not only of the architect, and of the Sire (who is God of all). And so for a moment we can contrast the awesomeness of being with the emptiness of not being. And we also get a sense of the incredible power that had to be released “in order” for anything at all to exist.
From Nothing Came Order
What is the power that God releases? It is his “words” that speak light into existence: “Let there be, … and there was.”
The pagan writer Longinus (circa A.D. 213–273) noted that this Hebrew scripture was an example of the sublime: something worthy to be compared with Homer’s epics. Longinus also commented that “we may say with strict truth that beautiful words are the very light of thought.” Sublimity is the highest form of beauty; it is a beauty that astonishes and overwhelms us with its power.
But consider, too, his expression: “The light of thought.” That is, words produce light! Wow! We see light, then, not just as physical light that can differentiate day and night but also as a light of understanding, of thought itself. For what we are talking about here is the sense unfolding of that key word: order.
Creation of Beauty and Meaning
To see beauty at all, we do need physical light; but we also need intellectual light. As C.S. Lewis wrote: “If the whole universe has no meaning, we should never have found out that it has no meaning: just as, if there were no light in the universe and therefore no creatures with eyes, we should never know it was dark. Dark would be without meaning.”
The work (through God’s words) of God is creating meaning—in the cosmos but within us too, since we are in his own “image” (although we are only dealing with chapter 1 in this article).
It Was Good
The parts were good, as it were, but the whole is very good. Therefore, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. In a profound way, this point too is important: God is the kind of craftsperson who sees ahead—sees that the final product will be even greater than the parts that constitute its construction. God is, in short, visionary.
Also, this word “good” is a translation from the Hebrew word “tov” (as in the Jewish expression: Mazel Tov or Good Luck in English) and it seems to have many implications: It can mean moral goodness. So, from the outset of creation there is a moral dimension built into things.
That said, things originally are good, but clearly, therefore, they could be not-good or bad. Tov seems also to mean functional goodness. In other words, that the creation does what it’s supposed to do; it’s well-made in other words.
Tov can also refer to harmony, itself an expression of good sound or good proportions, and of peace, as when we say people live in harmony. Further, tov may also connote completeness, wholeness or perfection, and what this implies is that the creation lacks nothing in its fullness. Finally, tov can also mean beauty and delight: the fulfilment of aesthetic and sensuous qualities; and we have already touched on this beauty of creation in an earlier paragraph.
We could write a book, could we not, on just these five ways of thinking about the good we see God investing in the universe. But, instead, in our final article on this interpretation of Genesis chapter one through mythos, rather than logos, we will consider, in particular, “moral goodness” baked into the heart of the universe and what it might mean for us in today’s world.
