“…and they hid from the Lord…”
--Genesis 3:8
The other night I was visiting a friend’s wife in the hospital. She had been in the ICU for 2 weeks and he just
needed a break. He asked me if I would just come and sit with her for a few
hours while he got away. He assured me
that she would probably be asleep, but he just didn’t want her to be alone. So, I grabbed my Bible and a book of poetry
and headed up—expecting to have some time to read. But, as fate would have it, the patient was awake
and though she couldn’t speak above a whisper (her breathing tube had been
removed but had left her throat very sore), she wanted to talk—or at least wanted
to hear talking. So, I sat, held her
hand, and we whispered back and forth for a while; about everything and
anything: her husband, my family, the weather, the discomfort of hospital beds,
and feeding tubes, and the blessing of family and friends who wouldn’t let her alone. When our conversation dwindled down to a
series of silent pauses punctuated by the beep of medical equipment, I offered
to pray a rosary. In part, I thought it might give her comfort, but I also half
imagined it might help her fall asleep.
When I finished she seemed to be asleep, but as I put my
beads away she opened her eyes. She
looked afraid. I assured her I wasn’t
going anywhere and offered to read to her and picked up my Bible. But then I remembered a poem in the book I’d
brought and offered to read it to her. She shrugged and nodded okay, as if to
say: well, if that’s all you got to offer…
But, I thought she might enjoy it and assured her we could
read a Gospel next, if she liked. Anyway,
the poem was by W. S. Merwin, and it was about Adam and Eve leaving the Garden
of Eden. In the poem an angel is told to
give them something before they go. The
angel doesn’t know what it is, or what it is for, only that (despite the fact
that they can’t keep it) he is supposed to give it to them. The poem is called “The Present,” and it ends
with Adam and Eve simultaneously reaching for the gift:
“… they both reached at once
for the present
and when their hands met
they laughed”
When I finished, she asked me to read it again. I did.
And then as she looked at me, expectantly, I felt a need to talk about
why I liked the poem so much. It’s because
of that laughter at the end. “Their
hands met,” and “they laughed.” There is something profoundly simple in that little
bit of theological insight. A picture of community: their hands met—and renewal:
they laughed. For me, what I keep thinking
about is the Genesis image of Adam and Eve hiding from God. They isolate
themselves, separate themselves from His presence and finally even from each
other: It’s her fault. She made me do
it! But, the snake made me do it! The
complete unity of the garden, the harmony of Eden, breaks down because of sin; sin
that isolates and divides. Yet in this beautiful little 14-line poem there is hope
held out, a gift from God that can help Adam and Eve survive, and what is it?
It is community. Their hands come
together, and they laugh.
What I hear in this poem is an implied lesson about Eden, original
sin, and the consoling power of community.
Of just being together. Though I did most of the talking, she nodded,
she smiled, she asked me to read the poem again. And as we talked, even laughing at one point,
I felt the truth of Merwin’s words lived out right there in that hospital room:
the consolation and comfort of community—of friendship, of love, is truly a healing
gift from God.
And I realized that the opposite is true too, and is implied
in the poem’s allegory: division, separation, isolation, loneliness are somehow
linked to the very nature of sin, from the very beginning.
And I began to wonder if there wasn’t a lesson here about
God’s very nature: about the Trinity, even.
If sin is to turn away from God, to separate ourselves from Him, divide ourselves from Him by choosing what is not God, then
perhaps the unity of the Trinity isn’t so much a mystery as it is an example. “Be perfect, as your Father in Heaven is
perfect…” Jesus says (Mt. 5:48). And maybe that doesn’t just mean: follow all the rules; but maybe it really means something like: love one another, take care of each other, you
were made to be community --Just like Your Heavenly Father.
