05 February 2024
So far, my reading in Pageau's The Language of Genesis is consistent with what I spent five decades learning about the biblical Hebrew metaphysics. Like Heiser, he brings a stronger and broader knowledge of things I could see only in glimpses, bits and pieces through the veil of human frailty. These men were appointed by God to tear away the veil and pull everything out into full view. My heart already knew these things, and now my mind is catching up.
Pageau makes a couple of points worth sharing here. First, the symbolism of a tree as the essence of God's provision and order. It is rooted in the ground; it is a response below to divine provision coming from above. Yet it reaches into the above and provides a connection between above and below that we can emulate in our souls. It represents a fit response to God's will.
This symbolism is part of the narrative of the Fall -- Trees of Knowledge/Judgment and of Life. It also shows up in the ancient pagan habit of turning certain trees into shrines. The symbolism predates the birth of biblical Hebrew culture, but manifests in Hebrew culture and literature. Do you recall the prophetess Deborah, who sat under a tree as her office? How about Saul holding court under a tree early in his reign? Do you remember that Nathaniel was hiding under a tree before he first met Jesus? It's all over the place. The Ancient Near Eastern attitude about trees was far richer than our modern day utilitarian regard.
The symbolism of water is also vastly larger. The world began as watery, subject to the cyclical control of time. It was unstable, chaotic, a "void" in Genesis. Time is primitive and fluid. But time's opposite, space, was inserted into the scene. The "firmament" between the waters above and below was the insertion of space, an element of stability in which human life could be fostered. Land was pulled up to divide the waters, holding the chaos of entropy at bay.
This imagery holds throughout the Bible and into Revelation. John mentions seas and chaotic waters, the image of destructive entropy. The Hebrews never forgot their instinctive dread and distrust of the sea, even when they began to sail on it regularly. The attitude of Jonah's boat crew in the storm was quite familiar to him. Nobody knew what lurked in the deep waters.
While the image of the tree participates in the splitting of waters, so does the mountain. Plopping either one down in the sea divides and calms them, bringing stability in the midst of change. Indeed, the image of a mountain is a vast anchor against the chaos and entropy of cyclical change. Thus, mountain tops also became common sites for shrines. It was part of why the ancient Mesopotamians built brick mountains (ziggurats) for their shines, because there were no mountains in the midst of the plains.
Keep in mind the imagery is that God's actions on the second day of Creation could be easily undone -- the chaotic waters were always hungry to overcome the land again. It's a constant battle, time seeking to swallow space, while space intrudes and divides. Our role is quite limited.
Comments
Jay DiNitto
Time and space as being opposites is interesting. I need to explore that further.
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