What’s In A Name?
As the Bible’s first book, Genesis does exactly what it says on the scroll. The title’s an Ancient Greek word meaning beginning or origin, and the stories within reflect this theme. The book’s original Hebrew name (Beresheet) is literally the opening word which translates as In the beginning. Of course, every story has to have a beginning, even The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. However, not many stories start with THE beginning. The reason for this is perhaps obvious. If the subject matter’s too grand, it’s all too easy to slip into abstraction. Keeping a story grounded enables universals to shine through naturally.
It should be the case that the writers of Genesis bit off more than they could chew. Somehow, though, story after compelling story casts an ever-revealing light upon a broad range of archetypal realities – the nature of God; the origins of the universe; the meaning of life, family, kinship and human relationships; deception, temptation, sin and betrayal, suffering, death, disaster and disorder; identity, tribalism and national consciousness; communication, language, society, hospitality and common courtesy; prayer, sacrifice and covenant; journey, trust, reconciliation and salvation, (to name but a few).
Going this big in any story and so soon is, then, normally a recipe for narrative disaster. It’s a sign to the reader that there’s no small genius at work in the weaving of these accounts, especially given that they appear to be gathered from a diverse range of sources over a vast sweep of human history.
The Golden Thread
It’s possible to make a distinction between the character of chapters one to eleven, and twelve to fifty. These first chapters have the more mythic qualities of primordial history where figurative stories serve to express powerful universal truths. The second part begins with Abram and ends with Joseph, his great grandson, and so feels more fleshed-out as it follows the lives of a tribal family with all their daily dramas. Still, both parts are about origins: the first, the origins of everything; the second, the origins of God’s chosen people. There’s a word in the original Hebrew that carries this connective feel – toledoth, meaning generations. In other words, God generates everything: He begins the story and then is present in and through the generations of His faithful and even unfaithful people.
Absolutely Fabulous?
So, God is real from the get-go; for these writers He’s bread and butter, (or wine). It’s often disquieting that the characters in Genesis are so intimate with Him as to have ongoing conversations. Even for a believer this can be astonishing. The modern reader might assume God’s role within the narrative is deliberately fabulous – a cipher or story device. Yet, to an extent that seems hard to concoct, He’s somehow both very real and beyond reality, familiar and mysterious. The text provokes the thought: how is such intimacy with God even possible? It takes the rest of the Bible to answer that fully, but it’s a great question to raise and leave hanging.
A Revealing Style
A little research on the early chapters of Genesis shows the authors making use of literature from surrounding civilisations and cultures. Had they simply offered a modified re-telling of these tales, their accounts might have survived as comparative curiosities. However, they select only those story elements deemed fit for purpose and often, through subtle allusion, use them in ways that corrects perceived falsehoods.
Genesis is not, in fact, presented as a collection of alternative stories, cosmic confections or astral projections of the best of our imaginings. Everywhere the writers communicate a clear and unique sense of the Divine origins of their accounts – as unvarnished gobsmacking revelations – and the reader senses this challenge from the very first word.
The unsettling genius of Genesis, as the Bible’s opening vision, consists in having the sheer temerity to begin telling God’s own story.
Header photo by Jannis Lucas on Unsplash
This is strange. I re-found this post by searching for it through the Substack app in the search bar; and in this view, I can leave a comment. Apologies for duplicating what was left on your other post. But, here is the comment again:
This was magnificent, Adrian. I listened to your recording of this article, which really brings it to life. Interestingly, the letter “b” in both Hebrew and Arabic is a preposition meaning “in”; and Muslim and Jewish scholars in the middle ages drew parallels to the fact that both the opening of the Torah (beresheet) and Qur’an (bismallah) open with it.