Genesis 2-3

The story gets a little strange here. I received it from two different butterfly lines, and they couldn’t agree on some details. They didn’t agree about some of Creation, in what order it happened and when. One of my great-great-ever-so-many-great aunts told how God created butterflies, the story I already told you. This version is from one of my great-great-ever-so-many-greats uncles that has come down through thousands of generations. I’m just going to call them my aunt and my uncle, without the ‘greats’.”

Another difference in the stories is that my aunt used the single word “God,” but my uncle’s name for the Creator was “the Lord God.”

According to my uncle, there isn’t any vegetation yet. The Lord God needs someone to work the ground. Taking some dust, the Lord God shapes it into a man and breathes into it and puts the man in the garden called Eden.

The garden comes with grass and flowers and bushes and trees, including the Tree of Life and the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. Adam has only one rule: Do not eat the fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. He will surely die if he does. Of course, at that point, none of the new creatures knows what “die” means.

Our ancestors love the trees, but they aren’t sure if that warning includes them too. They stay away from those two trees. They like the flowers better anyway.

After deciding to have Adam name all the creatures, the Lord God notices the man standing alone in the middle of all the pairs of animals. “It is not good for the man to be alone.”*

Maybe some creature already present would be a proper helper. So the Lord God has all the land animals and flying creatures line up so Adam can name each pair. His vocabulary expands as he labels each as horse, cow, elephant, serpent, lizard, turtle, robin, hawk, eagle, and so on. Somewhere in there, the insects hover in front of the namer, about eye level.

Adam stares at the two butterflies. Now he has commented on other creatures. He’s amazed at the size of the elephants, the shells of the turtles, the ability of the hawks to fly both high and low. But when our little ancestors look him in the eye, Adam is quiet. Finally, he smiles. “I just gave the name ‘flies’ to a pair of flying things, but you are better than those two. I’ll call you ‘betterflies.’ ”

A frantic buzzing behind him seems to speak to Adam.

“OK, the flies don’t like that. I’ll make it ‘butterfly.’ ”

He turns to the little black flies behind him. “Will that work?”

Apparently it does, because that becomes our name.

Adam continues naming animals and birds. The Lord God takes him to the ocean, where he names the sea creatures as they swim past him.

Finally, naming complete, Adam takes a nap, a long nap. His newborn brain is exhausted.

While he sleeps, the Lord God ponders. Land and sea creatures now have names, but none of them seems to be suitable as a helper for Adam. Our ancestors flutter near the Lord God. “Hmm. I created all the others as pairs, as partners. Adam needs someone like him too.”

The Lord God takes a rib from Adam as he sleeps and closes the cut. Adam wakes up to find a woman standing before him. He names her Eve. Like the rest of creation, their bodies have no covering.

For a while, harmony reigns. The people spend their time playing with the animals. As baby animals are born, Eve checks them all out, petting parents and newborns alike. Adam likes to teach the animals to do tricks. The wolf learns to fetch a stick. Adam, of course, throws farther than Eve, so she throws more often. The horses learn to carry them wherever they want to go, sometimes slowly, other times they run. Our ancestors flutter around the garden, enjoying the sunshine and sipping nectar from the flowers.

Then one day, things change. The two people are riding the horses, Eve in front. She turns and laughs at Adam. For some reason, Adam takes it as a challenge. Is her horse faster than his? How can he make his horse catch up and pass her?

For the first time, his stallion feels heels beating his sides. Startled, he runs faster, passing Eve and her mare. Adam turns and laughs at Eve. Competition has been born.

Another day, Eve asks Adam a question. “You said we shouldn’t eat of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. What does ‘knowledge’ mean?”

Thinking he has already explained the rule to her, he answers curtly, “It’s what you know, dummy.”

Whether she knows the word “dummy” or she recognizes the emotion behind the tone of voice, she drops her head and walks away before asking him about “good” and “evil.”

A few days later, Adam suggests another contest: who can lift the most one-handed? They find big rocks and take turns. Adam starts with smaller ones which Eve has no trouble lifting. The bigger ones cause her more difficulty. Finally, she can no longer lift the rock he has given her. Enraged, she grabs it with both hands and throws it as far as she can.

Unfortunately, she does not look where to throw it safely, and the rock hits the head of a young lion in the bushes, killing it instantly. The two stop their game and walk away.

A few days later, the serpent sidles up to Eve on his four legs. He has seen and heard the change in the relationship between the man and the woman. He hopes to take advantage of it.

“Did God really say, ‘You must not eat from any tree in the garden’?”*

She shakes her head. “We may eat fruit from the trees in the garden, but God did say, ‘You must not eat fruit from the tree that is in the middle of the garden, and you must not touch it, or you will die.’ ”*

The serpent scoffs. “You will not certainly die, for God knows that when you eat from it, your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.”

That was the other question she wanted to ask Adam. Maybe he didn’t answer the first because he didn’t know either.

The serpent plucks an apple and holds it out to her.

Eve thinks for a moment. Would this be a way to find out about “good” and “evil”? Was it important to know? And what does “die” mean?

Just then Adam appears. “I’ve been looking for you. Let’s go for a ride. Maybe your mare can beat my stallion this time.”

Still thinking about “good” and evil,” Eve takes the apple and bites into it. As she chews, she realizes that what Adam says sometimes makes her feel bad, and that hurting another person is evil. He should know that too, so she hands the apple to him.

Adam hesitates. The Lord God said not to eat it, but the words “good,” “disobedience” and “evil” are not yet in his vocabulary.

He looks at the serpent, who nods and smiles at him. Maybe this will take the two people off God’s special list, and they will be treated like everyone else.

When Adam chews his bite of the apple, he looks at Eve. She’s naked! A new feeling surges through him as he drops the apple.

“We’re naked,” he tells Eve. “We shouldn’t be! We have to make coverings for ourselves.”

The two gather fig leaves and sew them together.

Our first butterfly ancestors are confused. They don’t see any animals or birds or sea creatures wearing any outer layers. In fact, our ancestors feel they are beautiful the way they are. Nor would many of the other creatures want to cover the beauty the Lord God gave them.

But Adam and Eve look at each other, now “properly” covered. “That’s better,” says Adam. That feeling when he first realized she was naked does not return.

Shortly thereafter, they hear the sound of the Lord God walking through the garden. Adam grabs Eve. “Quick! We have to hide. The Lord God will know what we did.” They duck behind some bushes.

The Creator calls out in a lilting voice, “Where are you?”*

Adam hesitates, but he stands up and pulls Eve up beside him. “I heard you in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid.”*

The tone of the Divine Voice changes. “Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten from the tree that I commanded you not to eat from?”*

Adam looks down at his feet and then at Eve. “The woman you put here with me—she gave me some fruit from the tree, and I ate it.”*

The blame game has begun.

Her new sense of guilt fills Eve as the Lord God asks, “What is this you have done?”*

She looks down at her feet and then at the serpent standing by the tree. “The serpent deceived me, and I ate.”*

Two can play that game.

The serpent looks around. There’s no one else to blame. Maybe the Tree? No, the Lord God won’t believe that.

With the serpent’s curse, his long legs curl up and disappear, leaving his belly smooth and flat on the ground. He slithers away.

Eve receives the curse of severe pain in childbirth and being ruled over by her husband. Adam’s curse is thorns and thistles in his crops. Finally, they hear the explanation of the word “die.” “For dust you are, and to dust you will return.”

God is angry, but these are the first people. They do not know better. God takes the hide from the dead lion and creates clothing for them.

But, of course, Adam and Eve may not stay where they are.

Before this, Adam just drops seeds into the ground, and they grow. Fast, so everyone can eat, because back in my aunt’s story, the Lord God limited their food to every seed-bearing plant and every tree with fruit with seed. Not just for Adam and Eve, but for all God’s creatures: lions and lady bugs, bears and bees, cats and caterpillars. Only plants and the fruit of trees for food for all of them.

But after the apple, weeds appear wherever he plants his seed: thorns and thistles, dandelions and dock, poison ivy and poison sumac, and many others.

As everyone leaves the garden, the Lord God takes my two ancestors aside. “I feared this might happen. That’s why I created you. I’m giving you a special power, to change the direction of a storm. But not just a weather storm. You can suggest good solutions to their problems and warn them when they make bad choices, changing the storms they create.”

But we don’t have mouths. We can’t speak.

“No, do just like you’re doing with me, through your thoughts.”

Will they listen to us?

The Lord God offers them a sad smile. “About like they listened to me. … Now catch up with them.”

My ancestors flew past the animals, past the cherubim wielding a flashing sword, and fluttered near Adam and Eve.

“I told you we shouldn’t do that.”

Eve’s butterfly tries out her new power.

Eve, tell him blaming someone else is a sin. He had a choice. Both of you did. And you each made bad ones.

Eve turns to Adam. “Adam, blaming someone else is a sin. You had a choice. We both did. And we each made bad ones.”

But you can each help each other do better.

“But we can help each other make better choices.”

And sometimes they did, but other times they didn’t.