55 Implications for students of the Bible (Part 1)

While our readers who are scientists will by now, we hope, feel affirmed and inspired, we can imagine that our readers who are students of the Bible may feel distressed. They are no doubt wondering, “How can the Bible be the inspired word of God, and how can we have confidence in anything else it says, if it presents such glaring inaccuracies on its very first page?”

We should note that while this question seems similar to the one we addressed in some earlier posts, it is actually different. The question there, asked in the context of the larger question, “What is the basis of our confidence in the Bible’s moral authority?” was whether we could establish that the Bible is the word of God by appeal to the uncannily prescient information its authors supposedly had about the inner workings of the universe.

We have seen once more in these most recent posts that they did not actually possess such information. That is, the Genesis author specifically does not demonstrate knowledge far beyond what he could have had in the time and culture in which he lived. Like his contemporaries, he had little idea how vast and complex the universe actually is. He wrote from the perspective of an earth-bound observer. So we cannot ground our confidence in the Bible as the word of God in his observations. That confidence comes rather from the supporting authorities of tradition, reason, and experience, as we established earlier.

But now we are addressing a different concern. We may instructively contrast two statements:

  • Because the Bible is scientifically accurate, it’s the word of God.
  • Because the Bible is the word of God, it’s scientifically accurate.

The first statement is the one we discussed in the earlier series of posts; the second is the one we are now addressing. It essentially expresses the expectation that the “word of God” will reflect the divine omniscience of its ultimate Author. The mind of God, not the mind of man, will be its knowledge base. Anyone who has been led to hold this expectation will therefore wonder, “How could the Bible be the word of God—how could it have an omniscient author—if it’s so demonstrably wrong about cosmology?” Such a person might actually assert, “If the Bible is not scientifically accurate, it cannot be the word of God.”

But is this a reasonable expectation to have of the Bible? What is a fair test to apply? It is really only fair to judge the Bible by the standard it sets for itself. If the Bible did seek to ground its own identity as the word of God in an omniscient knowledge base, there would be a real problem. But the Bible rather describes itself as having been delivered through human authors. The implication is that while the author may have been given wisdom and insight, the human limitations on his knowledge were not supernaturally lifted.

Peter, for example, describes the inspiration of Scripture in this way: “Men and women moved by the Holy Spirit spoke from God” (2 Peter 1:21). He does not say, “God took over the minds of people and used their hands to record His omniscient thoughts.” Later in that same epistle Peter describes Paul’s letters as “Scripture,” but listen to how he describes their composition process: “So also our beloved brother Paul wrote to you according to the wisdom given him” (2 Peter 3:15)—not “through the substitution of the divine mind for his own.”

A Coptic icon of the apostles Peter and Paul. The two are often shown together in Christian icons to illustrate the harmony of their lives and teachings.

Indeed, when we look at Paul’s letters themselves, we find that, even as inspired Scripture, they do not just show that there were limitations on Paul’s knowledge (as we saw in an earlier post). They actually show that Paul himself was aware of the limitations on his knowledge, compared with God’s knowledge:

“For we know only in part, we prophecy only in part; but when the complete comes, the partial will come to an end. . . . For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known” (1 Cor. 13:9-10, 12).

“Now I know only in part.” Fine words for an inspired biblical author to utter, if the expectation of omniscience is warranted! But what we see here in this passage is rather that this expectation is not warranted. We see a biblical author, in the very act of writing Scripture, contrasting his partial knowledge with the divine omniscience. We should therefore not conclude that if the Bible is the word of God, it will demonstrate omniscience—among other ways, by transcending observational limits in its description of the natural world—and that if it does not, it cannot be the word of God.

Paul himself writes instead that “all Scripture is inspired by God and is useful for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness, so that everyone who belongs to God may be proficient, equipped for every good work” (2 Tim. 3:16-17). The Bible itself, in other words, does not claim to be useful for knowing the distance to the sun, or the cure for malaria, or the distinction between a star and a planet. Its goal is to make us people whose lives reflect God’s intentions. And it can do that even within the limitations of observational description. (That’s a good thing, because we needed godly people around long before our descriptions became scientifically objective.)

We may press the point even further. Unlike Paul, the Genesis author does not seem to be aware of the limitations on his own knowledge. In other words, not only does he not know; he does not know that he does not know. While his description of creation and cosmology is observational, he believes it to be objectively accurate. Moreover, his readers would have understood it as such, and his fellow biblical authors certainly did: As we have seen, the rest of the Bible follows this same observational cosmology. Nowhere in the Bible is it “corrected.”

So even if we are comfortable with the idea that the Bible can be the word of God even if its descriptions are observational, it may still bother us that the authors didn’t know that the cosmos isn’t actually as it appears. They weren’t writing from the position: “We don’t know what it’s really like, so we’ll just tell you what it looks like” (intentional phenomenology). They thought it really was like what it looked like (unintentional phenomenology), and in this respect they were wrong. So how can this be the word of God?

We may simply reply that if the authors of the Bible really had known what they didn’t know, then the human limitations on their knowledge actually would have been lifted. Ordinarily humans hold some beliefs uncertainly and others with certainty, but they are almost always wrong about some of the things they feel certain of. Moreover, they discover in their lifetimes that some of the things they thought to be correct were not, but there are other things they go through their entire lives believing to be correct that only later generations will discover to have been inaccurate.

To expect the biblical authors to have had this perspective of later generations is once again expecting them to have been uncannily prescient. If you know everything, you’re omniscient; and if you know exactly what you do know and exactly what you don’t know, that’s also being omniscient, in another sense. But as we have already noted, the Bible itself does not ascribe omniscience to its authors, and this would be true in either sense. They were rather people who were “moved by the Spirit,” who received wisdom and insight from God.

So not only didn’t they know everything, they didn’t know what they didn’t know. There were some things they thought to be correct that weren’t. This conclusion is consistent with the Bible’s own description of its composition process.

54 Implications for scientists

Once we recognize that the Genesis cosmology reflects what we have called, without prejudice, a “naïve” observational perspective, we are in a position to compare that cosmology with others that have been articulated throughout the centuries. To begin with, we may instructively contrast it with the cosmology that Aristotle articulated in the fourth century B.C. We must acknowledge that the Aristotelian cosmology displays a level of complexity significantly beyond that of Genesis, in that it recognizes, for example, the existence of planets that are distinct from stars. Moreover, the Aristotelian cosmology correctly recognizes that there are no “waters above” the sky and that the sun, moon, and stars don’t move below the sky.

Nevertheless, a modern observer making even a casual inspection of the Aristotelian cosmology will immediately spot one of its gravest flaws – its geocentric view of the universe. Nicolaus Copernicus improved on both the biblical and the Aristotelian cosmologies in the sixteenth century A.D. by correctly recognizing that the sun occupies the center of our solar system. However, there were also flaws in the Copernican system, such as the assumption (really made on theological grounds) that the planetary orbits had to be circular. This was corrected by Johannes Kepler, who deduced that planetary orbits were elliptical. Further breakthrough insights into cosmology were achieved by Newton in the seventeenth century and Einstein in the twentieth, with countless other scientists filling in important pieces along the way.

The planet Neptune as photographed by Voyager 2 from about four million miles away. When the planet Uranus was discovered, deviations in its orbit from what Newton’s gravitational laws would have anticipated allowed scientists to predict the existence, mass and position of another planet beyond it. The same night that this theoretical prediction reached the Berlin Observatory, astronomers there found Neptune, within one degree of its expected position. But despite its explanatory and predictive power, Newton’s cosmology has since been eclipsed (so to speak).

The history of cosmology has thus seen paradigms continually refined and even overthrown at intervals, as observation, measurement and analysis have steadily increased in accuracy. Yesterday’s cosmology is not today’s, nor is today’s likely to be tomorrow’s. Nevertheless, significantly, with all of the refinements that have been introduced and all of the overthrows that have occurred, scientists have never returned to an older cosmology when flaws have been demonstrated in an existing one. Rather, newly synthesized and conceived models have always proven to explain the data in more satisfying ways.

So here is the question: As a scientist, even if you are also a believing Christian, which cosmology would you prefer to use as a springboard for your quest to understand the origin and nature of the universe and the origin and diversity of life on this planet? The naïve observational cosmology of Genesis, with its solid sky, “waters above,” pushed-back seas and light without the sun? The geocentric Aristotelian cosmology? That of Copernicus, with its perfectly circular planetary orbits?   Some other older cosmology? Or our present understanding of the nature and structure of the Universe, which, while admittedly still subject to refinement, nevertheless incorporates all of the objective observations and measurements made over the centuries into a reasonable working model?

We doubt that any of our readers would want to begin their scientific investigations in any field with the premise that the earth is flat and the sky is a solid dome above it. As Christians, we are not obligated to try to put new wine into old wineskins. There is nothing to be gained by trying to force all of the information that is now available to us about the nature of the universe into a world view that must by now be recognized as phenomenological (i.e. observational).

Believing Christians who are working in other scientific fields do not feel that they have to begin with the Bible’s descriptions of their subject matter and take those as the foundation of their work. In meteorology, mineralogy, medicine, anatomy, and countless other fields, we applaud the work of those who diligently pursue their research and synthesize their findings into a reasonable model. We do not expect them to derive their conclusions from a reading of the Bible. So why should there be a double standard for fields such as geology, paleontology and cosmology? (There shouldn’t!)

One way to summarize our argument is this: If you feel that you must believe in a young earth on the basis of a commitment to a literal reading of Genesis, you must also believe in a flat earth on that same basis. But if, as is no doubt the case, you do not feel that you have to believe in a flat earth, even though it has now been shown that this is what Genesis literally presents, then you may already have articulated for yourself the reasons why you don’t need to believe in a young earth, either. This certainly does not have to be your starting point. You are free to let the data speak for itself.

“It is the glory of God to conceal a matter; it is the glory of kings to search out a matter” (Proverbs 25:2). King Solomon, who wrote these words, was noted for his natural-scientific investigations: “He described plant life, from the cedar of Lebanon to the hyssop that grows out of walls. He also taught about animals and birds, reptiles and fish” (1 Kings 4:33). In these days when many of us enjoy the kind of leisure for cultural, artistic and scientific pursuits that only kings formerly enjoyed, we may paraphrase Solomon’s words in this way: “God has hidden countless fascinating and wonderful things in his creation, and he wants us to delight in discovering them.” When we do, we bring God pleasure by fulfilling his purposes. So all those who are called to scientific enterprise should pursue that calling without fear or doubt, but rather with joy and enthusiasm. There is no script that you need to follow, no predetermined conclusion that your results need to square with. If there were, God would not really have “hidden” these treasures for us to find.

They’re out there—go get them!

53 Day 4 according to ancient cosmology

And God said, “Let there be lights in the expanse of the sky to separate the day from the night, and let them serve as signs to mark seasons and days and years, and let them be lights in the expanse of the sky to give light on the earth.” And it was so. God made two great lights-the greater light to govern the day and the lesser light to govern the night. He also made the stars. God set them in the expanse of the sky to give light on the earth, to govern the day and the night, and to separate light from darkness. (Genesis 1:14-18).

When we reach this fourth day of creation, if we have been reading in sympathy with the naïve observational perspective of the author, we are no longer troubled by what we described earlier in this book as a “very good question.”  We will no longer wonder how there could have been light on the earth starting from the first day, if the sun was only made on the fourth day.

Instead, we will find here confirmation that the “light” created on the first day was not understood to be the light of the sun, but rather the light that appears in the sky each day with or without the sun. Indeed, the sun is not described here as the source of all the light in the sky, including (as we would understand today) the light of the moon. Rather, the sun is believed to have more limited functions: With the moon, it “separates” the day from the night; it allows people to mark the passage of time and to establish fixed times; and it gives light on the earth.

The second and third functions are relatively easy to understand from the author’s perspective. Before clocks and calendars, months were marked off by the phases of the moon, and a year’s circuit by the sun’s return to a given inclination above the horizon. A time and date for a meeting could be set by the height of the sun in the sky and by the shape of the moon. The earth is much more brightly illuminated when the sun appears, even though there is always light during the day.

But what did the author have in mind when he said that the sun and the moon would “divide the day from the night” (v. 14) or “the light from the darkness” (v. 18)? “Division” or “separation” into realms is the basic principle of creation in this account; the dome “separates” the waters above from the waters below (vv. 6-7), and God distinguishes the light by “dividing” it from the darkness (v. 4). But what further do the sun and moon add to this accomplishment? We might say that the sun keeps the darkness from encroaching on the light by ensuring that it is always light during the day, but this explanation breaks down when we consider conversely that (1) the moon does not, for its part, maintain the night in a state of darkness and (2) it does not even stay within the realm of night. That is, we often see the moon in the daylight sky.

Put another way, the time-realm of the sun and the time-realm of the moon are not synchronized so as to remain mutually exclusive. We may picture either the sun encroaching on the moon’s realm, or the moon encroaching on the sun’s realm, but either way, even if we begin observation at a point when the two are distinct, eventually we will see them become concurrent and then diverge again, over and over. If it is nevertheless intended that the sun and moon “divide” the day and night by marking those time periods, respectively, by their presence, then the best we can say is that we do tend to notice the sun during the day and the moon during the night, and thus to think of day as “sun-time” and of night as “moon-time.” These associations, in fact, fill popular verse and song to such an extent that we must admit that the sun and the moon do, in our collective imagination, mark and distinguish day and night.

But these are not the only ways in which the account of the fourth day confounds our modern cosmological expectations. Perhaps even more important is the effect of a small preposition: “in.” Genesis tells us that God set the sun, moon and stars in the dome of the sky (vv. 14, 15, 17).

We today would instead place them beyond the sky – outside our atmosphere. Even if we grasp the idea that the Genesis author is picturing a solid sky, we might still imagine these lights shining through from the back. But the account says quite clearly that they are in the dome. The particular means by which they are attached is not specified; nor is the means by which they move through the sky. But there can be no doubt about where they are, and it is not where modern cosmology would put them. Nevertheless, it is exactly where they appear to be, to the naïve observer.

With the sun, moon and stars in place above the earth, the cosmic superstructure is complete. And so our exercise does not require us to go farther than this fourth day. (But illustrations of the remaining two “work days” of creation will be shown below, to complete the picture.) Indeed, we should recognize that from the author’s perspective, the superstructure was actually complete after the third day, once the division into realms had been completed: day and night; sky and sea; sea and land. The heavenly luminaries, like the creatures of the fifth and sixth days, actually populate realms already marked out. It is only because we now think in terms of a “solar system” that we consider the sun and moon with the interest of an architect, rather than that of an interior decorator deciding on track lighting!

By now we should realize that Genesis, when understood as originally intended, does not present an objective scientific account of the origins of the universe. It rather presents a phenomenological account—that is, it describes how things appear and how they appear to have been made. We may now proceed to consider the implications of this realization, first for the scientist, and then for students of the Bible.

The fifth day of creation: Birds fly in the sky and fish swim in the sea.

The sixth day of creation: Animals and humans populate the land.

52 Day 3 according to ancient cosmology

And God said, “Let the water under the sky be gathered to one place, and let dry ground appear.” And it was so. God called the dry ground “land,” and the gathered waters he called “seas” (Genesis 1:9-10).

When, from the perspective of our modern cosmology, we picture land emerging from the sea, we understand this to occur by the land increasing in elevation. An undersea volcano will eventually form an island, for example, if it grows high enough. The process is driven by gravity: Water flows downhill, and so if the hill is high enough, with a sufficiently large catch-basin at the bottom, the top will be dry.

But the Genesis account does not appeal to gravity. That is, it says neither that the land was raised, nor that the sea was made deeper. The waters were simply “gathered together”—pushed to one side, out of the way. The proper analogy to draw is to something that happens when one is making a white sauce in a large flat skillet. Once it thickens, it can be pushed to one side with a swift movement of the spatula, momentarily revealing the dry bottom of the pan. The only difference is, in the Genesis account, the waters stay put when moved aside.

 

Other Old Testament accounts of creation confirm this understanding. Psalm 33:6-7 says, for example, “By the word of the Lord were the heavens made, their starry host by the breath of his mouth. He gathers the waters of the sea as into a heap; he puts the deep into storehouses.” (This is an alternative translation that the NIV suggests in a footnote; it’s cited here to show the parallel with the Old Testament passages cited next, which use the same term.) The “heap” in question truly is a wall of water. This is seen clearly from Exodus 15:8 and Psalm 78:13, where the term describes how the Red Sea parted to allow the Israelites to pass through, and Joshua 3:13 and 16, where it describes how the Jordan River’s upstream flow heaped up to allow the Israelites to enter the promised land. God thus commands the waters into what is, to us, a gravity-defying position, not just temporarily at the time of the exodus and conquest, but durably at creation itself.

Other Old Testament creation accounts appeal to God’s power and command as the force holding back these walls of water:

I was there when he set the heavens in place,
When he marked out the horizon on the face of the deep,
When he gave the sea its boundary
so the waters would not overstep his command,
And when he marked out the foundations of the earth. (Prov. 8:27-29).

Who shut up the sea behind doors when it burst forth from the womb,
When I made the clouds its garment and wrapped it in thick darkness,
When I fixed limits for it and set its doors and bars in place,
When I said, “This far you may come and no farther,
Here is where your proud waves halt”? (Job 38:8-11)

The same force is understood to be at work in Genesis 1, since it is at the command of God that the waters are “gathered together.”

This is another case in which we can share the phenomenological viewpoint of the Genesis author through intentional naïve observation. If we take a walk by the seashore, we will recognize that the waters indeed appear to be higher than the earth (an optical illusion that results from a distortion of perspective), as if they had been pushed back off its surface. And the tides and waves that arise incessantly appear to be waters trying to reclaim the earth. But each time, they retreat back to within their boundaries.

The idea of waters being pushed back into a pile at the edge of the land does not square with what we understand about gravity, but if we can nevertheless grasp the notion in our minds, we will be well on our way to appreciating the observational perspective from which the Genesis creation account is actually written. Only when we achieve such an appreciation can we understand the implications for us today of the fact that the passage is written from this perspective.

51 Day 2 according to ancient cosmology

And God said, “Let there be an expanse between the waters to separate water from water.” So God made the expanse and separated the water under the expanse from the water above it. And it was so. God called the expanse “sky.” (Genesis 1:6-8)

When we take these statements literally—as it has often proven difficult for literally-minded interpreters to do—they have profound cosmological implications. According to the Genesis account, God’s creative activity on the second day consisted of inserting a hollow, but solid, dome-shaped object in the midst of the waters, with the result that some of the waters were then “below” this dome while the rest were “above” it.

The Hebrew word for this object is raqiya, derived from a verb meaning “to spread out” or “to beat thin” (as one might do with metal). The picture is of a tent being stretched out on poles, or of metal being poured or pounded into the shape of a dome. This was the Hebrew understanding of how God had made the sky. Thus Elihu challenged Job, “Can you join God in spreading out the skies, hard as a mirror of cast bronze?” (Job 37:18). Several other Old Testament writers similarly refer to God “stretching out” the sky (Psalm 104:2, “like a tent”; Isaiah 40:22, “like a canopy”; Jer. 10:12, Zech. 12:1). Further evidence that ancient peoples understood the sky to be solid may be found in the account of the Tower of Babel, whose builders expressed the expectation that they could build right up to the dome (Gen. 11:4).

The King James Version renders this word as “firmament,” but a solid object is definitely in view. (The latest update to the NIV [2011] changes its previous reading “expanse,” quoted above as in the printed version of our book, to “vault.”)

A solid sky is already one significant departure from our modern cosmology. But there is another: The author of Genesis clearly believed that there was a quantity of liquid water above this solid sky. From the text, there is no reason to conclude that these “waters above” were in any way different from the “waters below” (the seas). In other words, the Genesis author is not describing water vapor or clouds, as a modern reader might surmise. Those would be waters in the sky (or more literally before the face of the sky, i.e. just this side of the dome, which is where the birds are said to fly in Gen. 1:20). This account instead describes waters above the sky, which we should understand as the “seas above,” that is, the remnants of the primordial watery chaos.

As the book of Genesis continues, we discover that some time after the creation, these “waters above” are called upon to serve God’s further purposes. Wickedness has spread pervasively among all of the creatures on the land, and God has determined that He must destroy the creatures by destroying the land on which they live, in order to restrain this wickedness (Gen. 6:13). To generate the flood that swamps the dry land, God opens the “windows of the sky” (Gen. 7:11, 8:2) and lets the “seas above” flow through the dome on to the dry land.

The term translated “windows” here refers to an opening such as a ceiling lattice through which smoke escapes (Hosea 13:3), or the holes in the side of a dove cote that let in light and air (Isaiah 60:8). It is not used in the Hebrew Bible to mean “window” in the sense that we usually understand that word, an opening in the wall of a human habitation. (Indeed, a different term is used for the “window” of the ark in Gen. 8:6.)

We may rather understand it by analogy to the floor grates built into old houses that were heated by basement coal furnaces. The furnace would heat the air of the entire basement and the floor grates were then opened to let this warm air rise throughout the house. But perhaps the best analogy we can draw is to the floodgates built into dams that allow water backed up behind the dam to be sent downstream, either for irrigation or to keep the dam from overflowing. The “windows of the sky” in Genesis 7:11 and 8:12 are literally “floodgates” that allow the “seas above” to flow through when opened.

The vision of the second day of creation, therefore, is of a hollow but solid dome with seas beneath and above. To think of the “firmament” or “expanse” of the sky as a gaseous atmosphere is to read our present understanding anachronistically back into an ancient text.

50 Day 1 according to ancient cosmology

Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters (Genesis 1:2).

Since Genesis 1:1 is a “headline,” Genesis 1:2 is where the story actually begins. The author is taking the reader back to a time when neither the land nor the sky existed. Saying that the land had no shape or contents is equivalent to saying that it had not yet been differentiated from the waters. It’s a kind of verbal shorthand, in which something the listener already knows to exist is described before it existed. It’s like saying, “The New York Yankees were called the Highlanders for the first few years of their franchise.”   The “Yankees” were not really called the “Highlanders” then, because there were no “Yankees,” and never had been. What is intended is this: “The team that eventually became known as the Yankees was at first called the Highlanders.” In the same way, the Genesis account begins by explaining that what would eventually become the land had not yet been differentiated or populated. The case is the same with the sky, which will eventually separate the “waters above” from the “waters below.” Right now it’s just “waters” – “the deep,” covered in darkness But the Spirit of God is hovering over it all, sizing up the possibilities and making a plan . . .

And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light (Genesis 1:3).

During the time he was re-reading the Genesis account and reflecting on its intended meaning, Dr. Godfrey spent one early morning on a beach on the Chesapeake Bay, watching and photographing the sky before and during sunrise. Standing there with what he describes as child-like excitement, he was impressed at how much “light” filled the sky and how well he could see everything around him before the sun rose. When the sun did appear, it was a bright but tiny circle in the sky. It brightened everything up considerably, but he realized that if he had not known that this diffuse dawn and dusk light came from the sun, there would have been no reason for him to believe that it did. After all, the sun was a very bright spot, whereas the dawn and dusk light were soft and diffuse and lit up the whole sky even when the sun was not visible. Each of us can similarly witness the dawn and so experience this light that Genesis is referring to as the light God created on the first day.

It actually makes good sense, from the perspective of ancient readers, that the “days” of Genesis should be defined on the basis of this light, rather than on the appearance or non-appearance of the Sun. After all, this first light is more reliable than the sun; it always appears in the sky even when the sun does not (due to complete cloud cover, or to dust storms, sand storms, volcanic ash and the like). This may, in fact, be what Job was referring to when he said of God, “He commands the sun, and it does not rise” (Job 9:7). When we do not imagine that the light in the sky comes from the sun, we can picture God having the sun take a “day off” from time to time. But there is always light.

As we have noted earlier in this book, the fact that Genesis describes light on Day 1, but the creation of the sun only on Day 4, has long puzzled readers who are expecting an account of origins that can be verified scientifically. Some have asserted that “light” in Genesis 1:3 means matter, or electromagnetic radiation, or static electricity, or a divine light that no longer exists. But the simplest explanation is that it means the light that appears in the sky before the sun rises and remains in the sky after the sun sets, fading away until it can be seen no more. We now know that this light comes from our sun, but the Genesis author clearly believed that it was an independent entity that was present before the sun existed, and which appears even on those days when the sun is absent. Dr. Smith remembers a joke from grade school:

– Which is brighter, the sun or the moon?

– The moon, because it shines at night when it’s dark. The sun only shines in the day, when it’s light anyway!

In a simple but profound way, this joke captures the naïve cosmology of the Genesis account, although it admittedly does not also capture its reverential spirit.

49 In the beginning, God created the sky and the land

A close reading of Genesis 1

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth (Genesis 1:1, NIV).*

When we read this statement, because of the way we understand the words “heavens” and “earth,” an image comes to mind of our terrestrial sphere suspended in the unimaginable vastness of space. But this is not what the Genesis author intended.

The word translated “heavens” in Genesis 1:1, shemayim, is actually the very same word that the NIV and most other English versions translate as “sky” in several other places in this account:

God called the vault “sky” (1:8)
The water under the sky (1:9)
Lights in the vault of the sky (1:14, 15)
God set them in the vault of the sky (1:17)
Across the vault of the sky (1:20)
The birds in the sky (1:26, 28, 30)

Only in Genesis 2:1 do our translations once again render shemayim as “heavens.” But there is no reason to change the reference of the word from “sky” to something suggesting “outer space” in 1:1 and 2:1, unless we expect that the Genesis author is trying to furnish us with an objective scientific account of the universe’s origins. We should read the Bible for what it actually says, not for what we expect it to say. (This is difficult much of the time!) And so shemayim should be translated as “sky” consistently throughout this account.

The case is the same with the word translated “earth” in Genesis 1:1, eretz. The author clearly does not have in mind a spherical planet floating in deep space. Why not? Because the word translated “earth” here connotes instead “the dry land,” as we learn from the way it is translated in several other places as “land” or “ground”:

God called the dry ground “land” (1:10)
Let the land produce vegetation (1:11)
Plants and trees on the land (1:11)
The land produced vegetation (1:12)
Let the land produce living creatures (1:24)
Creatures that move along the ground (1:24, 26, 28)
[The NIV phrase “move along the ground” in vv. 24,25 represents a different term, adamah.]

However, the NIV translates the term eretz as “earth” in some other cases:

To give light on the earth (1:15, 17)
Let birds fly above the earth (1:20)
Let the birds increase on the earth (1:22)
Fill the earth and subdue it (1:28)
The face of the whole earth (1:29)
The beasts of the earth (1:30) [The NIV renders this same phrase as “livestock” in vv. 24,25; in our translation we have “wild beasts” each time.]
Thus the heavens and the earth were completed (2:1).

Once we know that the same term is used in all of these places, we recognize that the NIV, like most other English translations, is seemingly reflecting a modern cosmology. When we render the term eretz consistently as “land,” we get a much better picture of what the account is more likely picturing. Genesis 1:1 really says, In the beginning God created the sky and the land.

Since the account later describes how these two entities were specifically created (the sky on Day 2 and the land on Day 3), we should realize that this statement is like a newspaper headline: It is a summary of what will be described in the entire account. We should not think of it as describing the creation of the universe and planet earth, with some detail work to follow. Everything is to follow. We should therefore understand an implied “and this is how he did it” with this opening statement.


*To illustrate how English translations are influenced by the “paradigm effect” and so suggest a modern cosmology in an ancient book, we will introduce each section of this account by quoting it in the New International Version. We have chosen the NIV because it is a widely-read version with which, we expect, many of our readers will already be familiar. We are not singling out the NIV for criticism; every English translation similarly exhibits the influence of the “paradigm effect” in this passage. (This discussion has been updated from our 2005 book to interact with the latest update to the NIV, released in 2011.)

48 Genesis cosmology and its implications

CONCLUSION

(Stephen J. Godfrey and Christopher R. Smith)

In the beginning, God created the sky and the land. At first there was no land, with any shape or with anything on it. There was just water, and darkness. But God’s Spirit hovered over the waters.

And God said, “Let there be light!” And there was light. And God saw that the light was good. God separated the light from the darkness. God called the light “Day,” and the darkness He called “Night.” There was evening, and there was morning, the first day.

And God said, “Let there be a dome in the midst of the waters, and let it separate the waters from the waters.” And it was so. God made the dome, and separated the waters that were below the dome from the waters that were above the dome. And God saw that it was good. God called the dome “Sky.” There was evening, and there was morning, a second day.

And God said, “Let the waters under the dome be gathered into one place and let what is dry appear.” And it was so. The waters under the dome were gathered together and what is dry appeared. God called what was dry “Land,” and the gathering of the waters he called “Sea.” And God saw that it was good.

And God said, “Let the land sprout greenery: plants that bear seeds openly, and fruit trees whose seed is in their fruit, upon the land.” And it was so. The land brought forth greenery, plants that bore seeds according to their kind, and trees whose seed was in their fruit according to their kind. And God saw that it was good. There was evening, and there was morning, a third day.

And God said, “Let there be lights in the dome of the sky, to separate the day from the night, and let them be for signs, and to set appointed times, and to mark days and years, and let them be for lights in the dome of the sky, to give light upon the land.” And it was so. God made the two great lights—the greater one to rule the day, and the lesser one to rule the night – and the stars. God set them in the dome of the sky to give light upon the land, and to rule over the day and over the night, and to separate the light from the darkness. And God saw that it was good. There was evening, and there was morning, a fourth day.

And God said, “Let the waters swarm with swarms of living things, and let flying things fly above the land, across the dome of the sky.” And it was so. God created the great sea creatures and the teeming living things with which the waters swarm according to their kinds, and every winged flying thing according to its kind. And God saw that it was good. And God blessed them, saying, “Be fruitful and multiply and fill the waters of the sea, and let flying things multiply upon the land.” And there was evening, and there was morning, a fifth day.

And God said, “Let the land bring forth each living thing according to its kind, cattle and teeming things and wild beasts according to their kinds.” And it was so.  God made the wild beast according to its kind, and the cattle according to its kind, and everything that teems upon the ground according to its kind. And God saw that it was good.

And God said, “Let us make humanity in our image and according to our likeness, and let them rule over the fish of the sea, and over the things that fly in the sky, and over the cattle and the wild beasts and all the teeming things that teem upon the land.”

And God created the human in His image;
In the image of God He created him;
Male and female He created them.

God blessed them and God said to them, “Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the land and tame it, and rule over the fish of the sea, and over the things that fly in the sky, and over the beasts and the cattle and the teeming things on the land.”

And God said, “Behold, I have given to you humans as your food every seed-bearing plant that is upon the face of the whole land, and every tree whose fruit makes it a seed-bearing tree. And to every wild beast and to everything that flies in the sky and to everything that teems upon the land, in which is the breath of life, I have given every green plant for food.” And it was so. And God saw everything he had made, and behold, it was very good. And there was evening, and there was morning, a sixth day.

And that is how the sky and the land, and everything in them, were completed.

God ceased, on the seventh day, from the work that he did;
He rested on the seventh day from all the work that he did.

And God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it God rested from all his work of creating.

After many years of reflecting on the question of origins from the perspective of both the Bible and science, we have each concluded that the original audience of the Genesis creation account would have heard and understood that account in the way just presented. Dr. Smith has already related how his biblical research and teaching, combined with an extended opportunity to view natural scenes, led him to this conclusion. Dr. Godfrey had a similar experience shortly afterwards.

In preparing for a debate with a young-earth creationist, he decided—after several years of avoiding the Genesis creation account because of painful experiences associated with it—to reacquaint himself with it by reading it through many times. In so doing, he made a startling discovery. He realized that to that point he had not been able to make sense of what was written because he had automatically but subconsciously been interpreting the text based on a 21st-century cosmological understanding. His reading was suffering from the proverbial “paradigm effect.”

Therefore, in rereading the creation account, he made a conscious effort to forget what he knew about the structure of our solar system and the universe beyond. Some information from Dr. Smith about what certain words in the account meant helped in this effort. The result of this experience was a radical new appreciation for what this account actually says.

We hope, in the posts that follow, to enable you to have the same experience of seeing this passage with new eyes. We will walk through the first several days of the Genesis creation account slowly, showing that it presents an observational cosmology, rather than an objective scientific one. Once we have established this, we then will explore the implications of this discovery for the scientist and for the student of the Bible. Read along with us . . .

“And God saw everything he had made, and behold, it was very good.

47 Has the creation been getting better or worse? (Part 2)

A student of the Bible might object that however true everything we’ve said so far on this subject might be, we are still introducing a naturalistic definition of the curse, which the Bible portrays instead as a spiritual influence pervading and corrupting an originally good creation. But when we re-visit the Genesis account of the fall, we discover that the curse described there consists not so much in a radical reorganization of the natural world as in disordered relationships among already-existing entities.

Whereas the animals previously enjoyed a harmonious relationship with humans, for example, there will now be perpetual “enmity” between the serpent and the woman and between their descendants. Later in Genesis, after the flood, this is expanded to include all the other creatures: “The fear and the dread of you shall rest on every animal of the earth, and on every bird of the air, on everything that creeps on the ground, and on all the fish of the sea.” The first pair, for their part, had originally enjoyed a relationship so transparent and blissful that they were “naked and unashamed.” But now, the account of the fall states, that relationship will degenerate into a contest for domination. The man and the woman used to enjoy the fellowship of God “in the cool of the evening,” but now they are driven out of his presence. Even the man’s relationship to the soil becomes disordered: Whereas the ground formerly nourished him, now it will take his life away, as he will have to work himself to death simply to stay alive. So the biblical understanding of the curse is that it consists primarily in disordered relationships, in the fracturing of God’s shalom.

Some physical changes do result immediately from the curse, according to Genesis, but they do not necessarily represent a dramatic reconfiguration of creation. The snake will now have to crawl on his belly, but does this mean that he formerly had legs that were then taken away? Or is the understanding of the Genesis author rather that he retained the same body shape but moved to a different form of locomotion? There is certainly no explicit statement that the serpent once had legs.

We are told that the woman’s pain in childbirth will be “multiplied” or “increased.” This may be an idiom that means God will punish her with “great pain” in childbearing, but read more literally it suggests that God will be increasing pain (physical discomfort) that she actually would have experienced even if there had been no fall. (Those to whom this seems implausible might ask whether they believe humans did not have the same kind of nervous system before the fall as they do now. If Adam had dropped a rock on his foot, would it have hurt?) This change, in other words, may be quantitative rather than qualitative.

We are also told, finally, that the ground will now bring forth “thorns and thistles” as humans seek to cultivate it for their daily bread. But literal interpreters will have to admit that this, too, does not represent a dramatic new development, since God had already created “every kind” of seed-bearing plant, on the third day. Thorns and thistles already existed. This part of the curse may simply mean, therefore, that instead of dwelling in a well-watered orchard, humans will now be living on the plains, tilling the soil and fending off encroaching weeds.

In none of the foregoing do I wish to minimize the importance of the “fall” as a theological doctrine. I do not believe we can understand the human condition rightly if we do not posit an essential disordering of relationships with God, others, and self that has had cumulative devastating effects on our physical, social, mental, emotional, and spiritual well-being, effects that are leading us to have an equally devastating effect on the world around us. I rather wish to combat the minimization of the “fall” through essentially physical definitions of it as something whose extent we could trace in the rocks of the earth.

Much more could doubtlessly be said about this question, as about all of the questions I have discussed in recent posts and other questions of a similar theological nature. But I hope that what I have written has been sufficient to show that adopting an evolutionary paradigm for natural history is not inconsistent with believing in the story of redemption as it is narrated in the Bible.

46 Has the creation been getting better or worse? (Part 1)

We may conclude our “fishing in the middle of the lake” by taking up the question of how, if the world has come about through an uninterrupted evolutionary process that has led to greater and greater complexity, we are to understand the Bible’s teaching that the world has rather “fallen” from a formerly pristine state, because of human disobedience. Has the creation been getting better and better all this time, or has it been getting worse and worse?

We should specify that what we are addressing here is a theological question, not a chronological one. We are not asking how human actions could have affected all of natural history if humans have appeared only at the very end of that history. Creationists would respond to this question by placing humans at the beginning of natural history, while biologists with methodologically-naturalistic commitments would ask a different question: Do we find evidence in the fossil record that the natural order was qualitatively different before there were people? There is no such evidence, and so the question we must ask is the theological one: Can there be any validity to the biblical notion of a “fall” if natural history tells the story of an uninterrupted increase in complexity and capability?

Our first response to this question must be to observe that those who speak of increasing complexity and those who speak of a “fall” are actually using two different definitions of “better.” These definitions differ to such an extent, in fact, that the world can have been getting both better and worse at the same time.

If we are to assign value judgments within biology (which we may perhaps allow ourselves to do from our mid-lake vantage point), we may say that increases in complexity which permit species to have greater brain capacity, sensory acuity, agility and the like result in “better” or “higher” life forms. From the biblical perspective, however, “better” does not mean more complex or capable; it means more in keeping with God’s intentions, which are for rightly-ordered relationships among all creatures. The Genesis account of creation, it will be recalled, describes “a place for everything and everything in its place.” This is God’s vision of shalom or community welfare: all things in right relationship to one another. We can see, therefore, how things could be getting both better and worse at the same time. They might be getting more complex and capable, but also into more and more disordered relationships.

In fact, this is precisely the story the subsequent stories in Genesis tell about human civilization. After its “fall” and expulsion from the Garden of Eden, the human race develops into a civilization whose cultural achievements are increasingly more complex, but in which relationships become more and more disordered. These stories describe how humans pursued the arts of metallurgy, architecture and animal husbandry, how they built great cities and accumulated large flocks, how they wrote music and poetry. At the same time, these stories tell about murder and violence, of the lust for power and fame, and of the earth being so filled with wickedness that God was sorry he had made humans. Increasing cultural complexity and badly disordered relationships: Human society became both better (by one definition) and worse (by another) at the same time.

Pieter Bruegel the Elder, “The Tower of Babel” (1563). The book of Genesis describes the building of this tower as both an unprecedented architectural achievement and as an expression of human arrogance and the lust for fame.

But did the same process occur in the natural world? Our concern has specifically to do with the effect that humans have had on the rest of creation, since it is the consequences of human actions that are in view when we talk of the “fall.” And when we contemplate these consequences, we realize that humans have indeed been making the natural world around them both better and worse at the same time.

Selective breeding has accelerated the process of genetic variation to produce a great variety of useful and beautiful natural products. More recently, genetic engineering has achieved even more dramatic results, although the character of its ultimate effects remains to be determined. Humans have also expanded the habitat of many species through irrigation, land reclamation, greenhouses, and other measures. In some cases, humans have even saved some species from extinction and helped rebuild their populations.

At the same time, however, it must be admitted that the overall effect of human activity on the rest of creation has run counter to the process that biologists hold to have brought about the great variety of life forms on our planet. In other words, human activity as a whole has had a tendency to produce homogeneity rather than heterogeneity. The homeowner who uses chemicals ruthlessly to eliminate the biodiversity of his lawn in favor of plain grass is a fitting symbol for humanity in general. We have converted entire ecosystems into single-product cash crop farms; we have razed rain forests to create grasslands for fast-food beef; we have introduced plants such as kudzu into new environments where they have choked out the former inhabitants. If we do believe that it pleased God to cause a great variety of life forms to flourish through processes such as genetic variation, then anyone looking for the “curse” humans have brought to the ground need look no farther than our relentless tendency to eliminate biological diversity.