The Lost World of Genesis One (9 page)

DAY ONE

Why didn't God simply call light "light"? This was one of the
questions that first got me started on the journey that has resulted
in the interpretation of Genesis 1 presented in this book. It was
not the function orientation found in the ancient Near Eastern
literature that changed my way of thinking about Genesis 1-it
was the text of Genesis 1. The whole process begins with verse 5,
the concluding verse of the account of day one:

God called the light "day" and the darkness he called "night."
And there was evening and there was morning-the first
day. (Nwv)

First of all it should be observed that light is never treated as a
material object in the ancient Near East, despite our modern
physics. It is rather thought of as a condition, just as darkness is.
So even if light were being created, one would not be able to make
the claim that this is a material act. In fact, however, light itself is
not the focus of this day's activities. What is the text talking about when it indicates that God called the light "day"? After all, that is
not what light is. The solution is not difficult to find. Some would
even consider it transparent and hardly worth even noticing. If
something connected with light is named "day" we can deduce
that it is not light itself, but the period of light, for that is what
"day" is. Since "day" is a period of light, and "day" is the name
given, we conclude that we are dealing with a rhetorical device
called metonymy in which a noun can reasonably be extended to
a related concept.' In this case then, the author intends for us to
understand the word "light" to mean a period of light. Otherwise
the verse would not make sense. As a result, "God called the period of light `day' and the period of darkness he called `night."'z

With this information from verse 5, we can now proceed backward through the text to verse 4. There we are told that "God
separated the light from the darkness." Again we note that this
statement does not make any sense if light and/or darkness are
viewed as material objects. They cannot logically be separated,
because by definition they cannot exist together in any meaningful scientific or material way. The solution of verse 5 works equally
well here as the verse takes on its obvious meaning with God
separating the period of light from the period of darkness. These
are the distinct periods that are then named day and night in verse
5. So far so good.

Now comes the clincher. If "light" refers to a period of light in
verse 5 and in verse 4, consistency demands that we extend the
same understanding to verse 3, and here is where the "aha!" moment occurs. We are compelled by the demands of verses 4 and 5
to translate verse 3 as "God said, `Let there be a period of light."'
If we had previously been inclined to treat this as an act of material creation, we can no longer sustain that opinion. For since what
is called into existence is a period of light that is distinguished
from a period of darkness and that is named "day," we must inevi tably consider day one as describing the creation of time. The
basis for time is the invariable alteration between periods of light
and periods of darkness. This is a creative act, but it is creation in
a functional sense, not a material one.

This interpretation solves the long-standing conundrum of why
evening is named before morning. There had been darkness in the
precreation condition. When God called forth a period of light and
distinguished it from this period of darkness, the "time" system
that was set up required transitions between these two established
periods. Since the period of light had been called forth, the first
transition was evening (into the period of darkness) and the second
was morning (into the period of light). Thus the great cycle of time
was put in place by the Creator. As his first act he mixed time into
the features of the cosmos that would serve the needs of the human
beings he was going to place in its midst.

A second conundrum that this resolves is the detail that many
have found baffling over the ages as they ask, How could there be
light on day one when the sun is not created until day four? Two
observations can now be made: First, this is less of a problem
when we are dealing with "time" in day one rather than specifically with "light." But this does not really resolve the problem
without the second observation: If creation is understood in functional terms, the order of events concerns functional issues, not
material ones. Time is much more important than the sun-in
fact, the sun is not a function, it only has functions. It is a mere
functionary. More about this in the next chapter.

DAY Two

Day two has been problematic at a number of different levels. In
antiquity people routinely believed that the sky was solid.' As history progressed through the periods of scholasticism, the Renaissance, the Copernican revolution and the Enlightenment, verse 2 became more difficult to handle. For if the Hebrew term is to be
taken in its normal contextual sense, it indicates that God made a
solid dome to hold up waters above the earth. The choice of saying the Bible was wrong was deemed unacceptable, but the idea of
rendering the word in a way that could tolerate modern scientific
thinking could not be considered preferable in that it manipulated
the text to say something that it had never said. We cannot think
that we can interpret the word "expanse/firmament" as simply the
sky or the atmosphere if that is not what the author meant by it
when he used it and not what the audience would have understood
by the word. As we discussed in the first chapter, we cannot force
Genesis to speak to some later science.

We may find some escape from the problem, however, as we
continue to think about creation as ultimately concerned with the
functional rather than the material. If this is not an account of
material origins, then Genesis 1 is affirming nothing about the
material world. Whether or not there actually are cosmic waters
being held back by a solid dome does not matter. That material
cosmic geography is simply what was familiar to them and was
used to communicate something that is functional in nature. Instead of objectifying this water barrier, we should focus on the
important twofold cosmic function it played. Its first role was to
create the space in which people could live. The second and more
significant function was to serve as a mechanism by which precipitation was controlled-the means by which weather operated. Order in the cosmos (for people especially) depended on the right
amount of precipitation. Too little and we starve; too much and we
are overwhelmed. The cosmic waters posed a continual threat, and
the "firmament" had been created as a means of establishing cosmic order. That we do not retain the cosmic geography of the ancient world that featured a solid barrier holding back waters does
not change the fact that our understanding of the Creator includes his role in setting up and maintaining a weather system. The material terms used in day two reflect accommodation to the way the
ancient audience thought about the world. But it doesn't matter
what one's material cosmic geography might look like-primitive
or sophisticated-the point remains that on the second day, God
established the functions that serve as the basis for weather.

DAY THREE

It is amazing to notice at this point that some interpreters are troubled by their observation that God doesn't make anything on day
three. We can imagine their quandary-how can this be included
in a creation account if God doesn't make anything on this day? By
this point in the book, the reader can see the solution easily. Day
three is only a problem if this is an account of material origins. If it
is understood as an account of functional origins, there is no need
for God to make something. Instead, we ask what function(s) were
set up, and to that question we find ready answers.

First of all we note that just as day two separated and differentiated cosmic space, so day three differentiates terrestrial space.
The act of separating, a key creation activity from a functional
perspective, continues in prominence. Commonly in the ancient
literature, these same differentiations can be seen.

Even as some commentators ponder the absence of material
creation in day three, others often observe that the day seems to
contain two separate acts (water/dry land and vegetation). From a
functional perspective, the soil, the water and the principle of
seed bearing are all very much related as essential to the production of food. The emergence of dry land from the waters is a common element in Egyptian cosmology, and there it has a definite
referent. That is, the emergence of the primeval hillock in cosmology reflects the yearly reality of the fertile soil emerging in the
aftermath of the inundation of the Nile. Thus it is clear that the emergence of dry land is associated with the growing of food.

Day three reflects the wonder of the ancient world at the whole
idea that plants grew, dropped seed, and that more of the same
plant came from that tiny seed. The cycle of vegetation, the principles of fertilization, the blessing of fecundity-all of these were
seen as part of the amazing provision of food so necessary for
people to survive.

So on day one God created the basis for time; day two the basis
for weather; and day three the basis for food. These three great
functions-time, weather and food-are the foundation of life. If
we desire to see the greatest work of the Creator, it is not to be
found in the materials that he brought together-it is that he
brought them together in such a way that they work. Perhaps we
can feel the same wonder when we consider how, even given all
that we know about the physiology of the eye, that beyond all of
our material understanding, through these bundles of tissue we
can see. We should never lose the wonder of this. Functions are
far more important than materials.

We should not be surprised to find that the three major functions introduced in the first three days of Genesis 1 are also
prominent in ancient Near Eastern texts. These texts have already
been cited in chapter two. Note again the three lines near the
beginning of Papyrus Insinger: