Roots
The Lord God planted a garden toward the east, in Eden; and there He placed the man whom He had formed. Out of the ground the Lord God caused to grow every tree that is pleasing to the sight and good for food; the tree of life also in the midst of the garden, and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Genesis 2:8-9 NASB
Planted a garden – With characteristic illumination, Heschel writes, “The tree of knowledge and the tree of life have their roots in the same soil.”[1] Perhaps you never thought about this truth. God planted a garden (yiṭṭāʿ gan). Both the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil and the Tree of Life drew their sustenance in the soil of that Garden. The soil was the direct result of God’s decision to plant. Perhaps the two Trees aren’t as diametrically opposed as we have been taught. There is something common to both; something essential to both.
Classical theology tends to overlook this fact, treating the verse as if it is merely an anthropomorphism. “The verb nāṭaʿand its derivatives are often used metaphorically of Yahweh, the one great’ Planter (cf. the participle nôṭēaʿ in Jer 11:17) in Israel. One of the first anthropomorphic expressions in the [Old Testament] is in Gen 2:8;”[2] This, of course, is the result of adopting a philosophically transcendent God so that any expressions of direct involvement or human-like actions is dismissed as anthropomorphic. I rather doubt the prophets felt that way. God’s planting means, if nothing else, God’s direct and deliberate involvement in whatever is found in the Garden. Our investigation must consider not only what kind of “soil” nourishes both trees but also why God would want to plant both trees in His Garden.
Notice that every tree God plants “is pleasing to the sight and good for food.” But how can this be? Isn’t the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil bad? That’s what we’ve typically thought, right? This particular tree is forbidden. That must mean it isn’t good in any sense. But that’s not what the text says. In fact, the woman actually validates God’s assessment after the conversation with the serpent, before she eats. She notes that the Tree is aesthetically pleasing and good for food. In other words, it is just like all the other trees, fulfilling its purpose designed by God. What kind of twisted logic allows this Tree to occupy such a tragic place in the history of humanity and, at the same time, be something God intended to be pleasing and good?
First, obviously, the Tree is there as a test. Its purpose is to provide a tangible symbol of obedience. It doesn’t have to be horrid in order to be challenging. In fact, the more it looks like all the other trees, the more it challenges commitment. If the tree smelled bad, looked ugly, and was filled with thorns, it wouldn’t be nearly so tempting. The Tree blends in. There is nothing particularly unusual about it. The same, by the way, should be noted about the Tree of Life. Unlike representations in movie like Avatar, the Tree of Life doesn’t glow with supernatural powers. It’s just another tree, or that’s the way it looks. In fact, it’s probably quite difficult to tell these two trees apart, because it isn’t the tree that is important here. It’s what God invests in the tree. That seems to be the case today. How do you know the difference between the two options, life or death? It isn’t always clear, is it? Since we cannot know the full consequences of any particular choice, we can’t know from which of the two trees we are eating—unless someone tells us. In fact, without outside direction it often appears that there is no difference. Bad things happen despite “good” choices. Good things seem to accrue to bad people. The moral equation of the world is unpredictable. Both trees look pleasing.
What kind of soil nourishes such contradictions? The only possible answer is the soil God made. The prophet Isaiah said it this way, “ I form the light, and create darkness: I make peace, and create evil: I the Lord do all these things” (Isaiah 45:7 KJV). The story tells us that “Evil” isn’t a separately existing reality. It’s not some supernatural power resident in another divine being. There isn’t any Marduk and Tiamat in Hebrew cosmogony. God, the only God, is responsible for it all. His purposes are contained in it all. The soil for both trees is the existence of God.
Our journeys are weaned in God’s care. That care is present regardless of our choices. The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil is just as important in God’s world as the Tree of Life. One does not exist without the other. What we do with them creates another factor in the complicated equation of justice, but perhaps not the determining factor from God’s perspective. Yes, God has a design in mind. Yes, He has intentions for each of us. And yes, our choices truly matter. But the plan of the Lord cannot be thwarted. The soil is His creation too. Everything that grows from it pushes in His direction, and everything that matters to us grows from it. Maybe the journey isn’t as simple as “be a good boy” after all. Did you ever consider that those “bad” choices you made when you ate from the forbidden Tree were somehow woven into the intentions of God anyway? Did you ever wonder how the forbidden Tree drew its life from the same soil as the other tree? Oh, and by the way, so do you.
Topical Index: Garden, soil, tree, Isaiah 45:7, Genesis 2:8-9
[1] Abraham Heschel, Man Is Not Alone, p. 14.
[2] Wilson, M. R. (1999). 1354 נָטַע. R. L. Harris, G. L. Archer Jr., & B. K. Waltke (Eds.), Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament (electronic ed., p. 575). Chicago: Moody Press.
