New year means a restart of a bible reading plan. I’ve never written in a public space any reflections/discoveries/curiosities that come from my reading plans but maybe I’ll share more this year.
Naked and nakedness
Today in M’Cheyne I was reading Genesis 2 and 3 (chapter 3 is tomorrow but I figured I just read it today just to follow the narrative) and I became curious about the words for naked. The LORD asks them, “Who told you that you were naked?” and I wondered, Who needs to be told they’re naked? Surely something else is going on here. What does it mean in the biblical context?
Clearly there’s an element of not having clothing, but as I continued to dig I discovered that Strong actually has two separate entries for “naked” between chapter 2 and 3. At the end of Genesis 2, we have עֲרוּמִּים (from עָרוֹם ʿārôm H6174), and and throughout Genesis 3, we have variations of עֵירֹם ʿêrōm (H5903). They have the same root, but why two different entries?
In chapter 2, before “the fall,” it says, “And the man and his wife were both naked (עָרוֹם ʿārôm) and were not ashamed.” When I looked at other uses of עָרוֹם ʿārôm in the Hebrew scriptures, I found that they seemed to be more descriptive. עָרוֹם ʿārôm described a state without a value judgment. In some of the prophets, the usage is a bit more connected with a negative value of “lack,” but overall the word seems neutral.
In contrast, the repeated use of עֵירֹם ʿêrōm in chapter 3 (verse 7, 10, 11) are connected to the act of hiding. There is a single use in Deuteronomy and the rest are all from Ezekiel, all of them having a negative bent. Nakedness as judgment in Deuteronomy and being naked and bare (in need of hiding or in need of a covering) in Ezekiel.
And I’m wondering if the “naked” state of humanity after the fall would be better translated as “naked AND ashamed” to contrast with chapter 2. In art, it’s often merely depicted as being without clothing before the fall, and then with clothing (leaves or animal hides) after. But they were already naked (without clothes) before and it was fine! The difference was the shame. On the outside they looked the same as before, but on this inside, they had this sense that they were incomplete — lacking in a profound way.
I wonder if their newly acquired “knowledge of good and evil” enabled them to see the truth of what they were not: they were not the LORD. And thus in the presence of the LORD they felt inadequate. The were supposed to be “like god” but because they weren’t equal to the LORD and that left them feeling… less. And they could not bear being less. They had to cover up their being (נֶפֶשׁ nep̄eš, “neh’fesh”) for they were ashamed of themselves.
Hiding our souls
At the end of chapter 3, the LORD God made “garments of skins” (v.21) for them. Now, what will follow here is something that came from this morning’s meditation; it is not the typical interpretation I’ve heard for this passage. Usually I have heard this passage showing how blood had to be spilled to “cover” for their sins as evidenced by the “garment of skins.” I still believe there’s weight to this interpretation so my reflection from this morning is not meant to be an exclusive alternative but merely another lens on what this passage has to say about the human soul.
In my meditation, I started to wonder if garment of skin could also refer to their actual human skin, such that humanity’s external appearance began to cover their internal soul (nep̄eš) — that prior to this, their inner nep̄eš was knowable, both by others and by the self; but after they became “naked and ashamed,” even the person could not see his own soul but merely the outer garment of skin. The LORD provided proper skin so we could bear with ourselves. It would a while before we would be able to peer into our own souls — to know our soul/being (nep̄eš) without shame. Shame sometimes shows up as that “ick” we feel when we are exposed.
In my journey of meeting my soul, I remember feeling both seen and exposed at the same time; I wanted to be seen yet at the same time didn’t want to be seen. When someone else sees me, I am relieved… but I’m also anxious because I do not know what they will do now that they see me. I have no control. I want to be seen but also respected. If they see all of me, I fear they will think less of me. To use the Genesis narrative as a metaphor, I hear the sound of others walking in the garden and I hide from them.
Did the Genesis man and woman fear that the LORD would ridicule them? abandon them? disown them? Genesis seems to be tapping into a common desire of the human soul: we long to be seen with confident assurance of acceptance.
As I continue to reflect I am grateful that in Jesus we find both: absolute exposure with unconditional acceptance and love. This is probably why the woman at the well exclaimed to the town, “Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done!” and the people of town “left the city and were on their way to him.” Jesus was and is compelling enough that I would leave my city (what is a city if not a “covering” of our inadequacy?) to see him.