The real point of Genesis
The first chapter of Genesis cut through the murk of ancient mythology with a shaft light that the whole world lives by now, so that we can scarcely picture its effects when it first shone forth. The universe was proclaimed a natural order created and unfolded by one Force and set going like a vast machine to proceed under its own power. There were no manlike gods. Nor were the animals gods, nor were the gods animals. There was no sun god, or moon god, or love god, or sea god, or war god. The world and mankind were not the product of titanic incest and sodomy among monsters in the skies. Sun, moon, wind, seas, mountains, stars, stones, trees, plants, beasts were all part of nature, without any magic of their own. Mumbo-jumbo was a mistake. The gods and priesthoods which demanded burnt children, or hearts cut from living men, or ghastly obscenities, or endlessly draining gifts, were useless, silly, doomed libels on the universe. The childhood nightmares of mankind were over. It was day.
The Genesis account of creation cut the cancer of idolatry out of human discourse. It took a long time to prevail; but at last even the charming Greek and Roman gods withered under the stroke. Genesis is the dividing line between contemporary intelligence and primitive muddle in the realm of first and last things. As such, I do not see how it will ever be superseded…
Men still prize Genesis. Modern thinkers now take it for granted – as the rabbis long ago suggested – that Genesis is a mystic vision of the origin of things, put in the purest and strongest words, intelligible to the child, inspiring to adult genius, clear enough to survive in primitive eras, and deep enough to challenge sophisticated cultures.
