him say, “We have a couple of members of our church who do not believe Adam and Eve were historical people.”
“What?” I thought. “And you let them remain members?”
“Don’t get me wrong,” he said. “I believe Adam and Eve were historical people, because the bible does not tell lies. But these members think the story may have been metaphor. Since they are great Christians, I don’t think this small disagreement is enough to matter.”
The pastor continued by saying that some people consider parts of the bible that appear historical to be simply stories with a moral lesson. They believe that when Jesus told the Parable of the Prodigal Son, he did not intend us to think that there existed an actual prodigal son person with an address and Social Security number. It is not the historical fact of the tale that is important—it is the underlying message that counts. If Jesus can make up stories, why can’t other biblical writers? Some people think the story of Adam and Eve was a Hebrew parable created by the ancient Israelites to explain the origin of the sinful human race, and the moral lesson is what is important, not the physical existence of two protohumans, with or without navels.
I was shocked by this kind of talk. Liberal talk. The fundamentalist mindset does not allow this latitude. To the fundamentalist there is no gray area. Everything is black or white, true or false, right or wrong. Jesus reportedly said: “I wish that you were cold or hot. So because you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of my mouth.” (Revelation 3:15-16, and not a very nice image.) As a fundamentalist, I used to dislike liberals more than atheists, because with atheists, you at least knew where they stood. (This was a principle only: I didn’t actually know any atheists—well, I probably did, but I didn’t know that I knew any atheists. That ought to tell us something right there.) Atheists are cold and true Christians are hot, but liberals are lukewarm. Liberals have “a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof” and offer more of a temptation away from devout faith than any atheist could pose. I felt that attempting to learn what a liberal Christian believes was like trying to nail Jell-O to a tree.
The next time you talk with an extreme fundamentalist, beware. If you use gray talk—relativistic, situational, provisional, tentative—that will translate to black. That is why the issue of Adam and Eve was so distressing to me. I’m embarrassed to admit this now, but it was a big deal back then, and still is to bible literalists. (Yes, even fundamentalists know there is metaphor in the bible. When Jesus said “I am the door” we did not think he had hinges or a doorknob. But in the absence of any indication or justification for treating the plain words of the text figuratively, we had to take it at face value.)
In order to maintain a fellowship with Christians who had a slightly different view, I made this little shift in my mind, a move that to most readers would seem simple enough, but to me was a huge and dangerous leap. I did not jettison the historical Adam and Eve—that would have been too much and impossible at the time. What I did was say, “Okay, I believe Adam and Eve were historical, of course, because the bible does not indicate Genesis is a parable or metaphor, but that should not stop me from fellowshipping with believers who might feel differently about it.” Those Christians who had a tiny variance from my theology were not bad people. They worshipped God and promoted Christianity. They were not going to hell for a sincere difference of opinion. I could still call them brothers or sisters in Christ. That was a little nudge in the direction of tolerance, but a gargantuan spiritual (and psychological) concession to make. I discovered that I could live with a small amount of gray. Not that I liked it, but I could do it.
That was the first
“What?” I thought. “And you let them remain members?”
“Don’t get me wrong,” he said. “I believe Adam and Eve were historical people, because the bible does not tell lies. But these members think the story may have been metaphor. Since they are great Christians, I don’t think this small disagreement is enough to matter.”
The pastor continued by saying that some people consider parts of the bible that appear historical to be simply stories with a moral lesson. They believe that when Jesus told the Parable of the Prodigal Son, he did not intend us to think that there existed an actual prodigal son person with an address and Social Security number. It is not the historical fact of the tale that is important—it is the underlying message that counts. If Jesus can make up stories, why can’t other biblical writers? Some people think the story of Adam and Eve was a Hebrew parable created by the ancient Israelites to explain the origin of the sinful human race, and the moral lesson is what is important, not the physical existence of two protohumans, with or without navels.
I was shocked by this kind of talk. Liberal talk. The fundamentalist mindset does not allow this latitude. To the fundamentalist there is no gray area. Everything is black or white, true or false, right or wrong. Jesus reportedly said: “I wish that you were cold or hot. So because you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of my mouth.” (Revelation 3:15-16, and not a very nice image.) As a fundamentalist, I used to dislike liberals more than atheists, because with atheists, you at least knew where they stood. (This was a principle only: I didn’t actually know any atheists—well, I probably did, but I didn’t know that I knew any atheists. That ought to tell us something right there.) Atheists are cold and true Christians are hot, but liberals are lukewarm. Liberals have “a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof” and offer more of a temptation away from devout faith than any atheist could pose. I felt that attempting to learn what a liberal Christian believes was like trying to nail Jell-O to a tree.
The next time you talk with an extreme fundamentalist, beware. If you use gray talk—relativistic, situational, provisional, tentative—that will translate to black. That is why the issue of Adam and Eve was so distressing to me. I’m embarrassed to admit this now, but it was a big deal back then, and still is to bible literalists. (Yes, even fundamentalists know there is metaphor in the bible. When Jesus said “I am the door” we did not think he had hinges or a doorknob. But in the absence of any indication or justification for treating the plain words of the text figuratively, we had to take it at face value.)
In order to maintain a fellowship with Christians who had a slightly different view, I made this little shift in my mind, a move that to most readers would seem simple enough, but to me was a huge and dangerous leap. I did not jettison the historical Adam and Eve—that would have been too much and impossible at the time. What I did was say, “Okay, I believe Adam and Eve were historical, of course, because the bible does not indicate Genesis is a parable or metaphor, but that should not stop me from fellowshipping with believers who might feel differently about it.” Those Christians who had a tiny variance from my theology were not bad people. They worshipped God and promoted Christianity. They were not going to hell for a sincere difference of opinion. I could still call them brothers or sisters in Christ. That was a little nudge in the direction of tolerance, but a gargantuan spiritual (and psychological) concession to make. I discovered that I could live with a small amount of gray. Not that I liked it, but I could do it.
That was the first
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