Had Eve Come First and Jonah Been a Woman. Nancy Werking Poling

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      Standing on shaky legs, Woman lifted her arms, waving them back and forth in imitation of the branches. As she tried to join the joyful song, she was startled by what came from her mouth. Not sweet chirps, as the creatures sang, but hoarse, grating noises that wavered in pitch. Nevertheless, she kept trying. Over and over she forced sounds from her throat, out through her mouth, until she was satisfied by what she heard, until she too was singing to Creator, but in firm, smooth tones.

      Peering to her left, to her right, up, down, woman was awestruck by the beauty that surrounded her. Trees, some with straight trunks that rose high into the heavens, others with branches reaching out like canopies. Flowers of bright red and yellow and orange, their boldness and brilliance stirring her to leap and laugh. Blossoms of pink and white and lavender, their subdued tones inspiring her to be still and smile inside.

      With careful steps she began to explore this world she’d been propelled into. She followed the trail of a scent until she came upon a lavish vine stretching from bough to bough. She climbed a tree and placing her nose against the vine’s small white blossoms, inhaled the spicy fragrance.

      Life, it seemed, smelled good.

      She came upon a gurgling stream. Seated on a large rock, the sun above warming her shoulders, Woman dipped her bare feet into water so clear she could see the pebbles beneath it. Coolness tickled her toes and sent darts of pleasure up her legs.

      Life, it seemed, felt good.

      She came upon a tree laden with yellow fruit. Plucking one from a branch, she bit into its soft flesh, savoring its mellowness. From a bush thick with red berries, she pulled off a cluster, put them in her mouth, and allowed the sweet juice to run down her chin.

      Life, it seemed, tasted good.

      Woman quickly grew accustomed to living in the wonderful garden, where luxuriant trees stretched to the sky, where everything was pleasing to the senses. She took pleasure in tilling the earth, the soil caked beneath her fingernails. She chained flowers into a necklace, stuck blossoms in her hair, rubbed berry juice onto her cheeks. She ate of the bushes and trees.

      When Woman gazed into the pool of water, she recognized that she was as beautiful as the rest of Creation. She liked the width of her hips and the strong legs that supported her. She liked her round breasts. Yes, she looked at her body and saw that it was good. Wonderful, in fact.

      She became acquainted with the animals with whom she shared the garden, sometimes running alongside them, at other times sitting quietly and scratching their heads. One evening Creator assigned her the task of naming the animals. For many days Woman passed among them, running her fingers through fur and feathers, playfully allowing their tongues to caress her face. She respected the power that came with naming each being and pledged never to forget that they, like she, had been formed by Creator.

      Pulling from the fertile soil life-sustaining fruits and vegetables, romping with the animals, Woman felt at one with the earth. Regularly, toward the end of the day, just as the sun was about to reach the horizon, she paused to sing praises to Creator. She gave thanks for the beauty and bounty that surrounded her.

      Something was missing however. The birds did not stand still long enough to carry on a conversation, the giraffe always had its head in the treetops, and the goat wasn’t interested in what she was thinking.

      One day Woman said to Creator, “I’m lonely.” And she began to cry. Which made Creator sad also.

      While Creator pondered how the problem might be solved, Woman did what she usually did to ease her mind: She tilled the garden. It was upon watching Woman, her hands burrowing in the dirt, that Creator had an idea. Taking a clump of rich soil from the earth and adding to it water from the crystal clear stream, Creator shaped the handful of soil, giving it wide hips and thick legs and breasts. Creator breathed life into this form.

      A girlfriend.

      Survival

      Genesis 6–8

      Because of humanity’s wickedness, God decides to bring a flood upon the entire earth, thus destroying everything. Only Noah and his family are to be spared, along with two of every species, one male and one female. God gives Noah instructions on how to build an ark, so that when the time for the flood comes, his family and the animals are kept safe from the raging waters.

      It isn’t hard to imagine that such a complicated undertaking would require the organizational skills of a woman. Neither is it a stretch to relate to another time when mothers felt at odds with the violent culture and feared the devastation of the earth.

      Whether Noah is female or male, whether God is father or mother, the story is troubling. What parent kills his/her own offspring? What artist destroys his/her creation?

      They were corrupt times, with people using their imaginations for evil and their hands for destruction. God’s creation was treated with disrespect, and in her children’s hearts violence prevailed.

      One woman, however, a woman named Nochat, loved and respected God’s creation. She had no desire for power over others and treated all living things with reverence. As she carried out her daily tasks, she would stop to converse with the goats or sheep, with foraging mice, even with the occasional lion she met while gathering berries. Never did she fail to thank the plants she harvested for providing nourishment.

      The evil times made it hard for a mother to teach her children gentleness and compassion and respect. Nevertheless, Nochat persisted, instructing her daughters and sons to honor God the Mother as she did, by respecting the earth and its bounty, by bringing harm to no living being.

      As a child, Nochat had been mocked by her brothers when she cried over a dead bird or lamb. Her sisters had laughed when they witnessed her exuberance over a sunrise, light feathery clouds, a fresh blossom. Now that she was an adult, her neighbors treated her and her children with scorn. Every family needed a man, they claimed. Besides, she was a strange woman, who drew pictures in the sand and told stories that came from what they mockingly called her deranged mind. Strangest of all, they said, was the way Nochat and her children made friends with animals, stroking the fur of even the wildest ones, running and jumping with the fleetest.

      One day, while Nochat gathered figs with her granddaughters, God called her aside. “I need to talk,” God said. As the two of them walked along a dry river bed, God spoke of how deeply saddened she was by the rebelliousness of her creation. Nochat understood, for she too had witnessed the evil ways of women and men.

      “I wish I’d never given birth to this world,” God said. “My children no longer honor me. They conspire to seize power over each other and kill their sisters and brothers. They exploit the earth and defile its beauty. Day after day I brood over what to do.” God heaved a heavy sigh. After a long silence she continued. “I—I—I—” Again God paused. “I have decided to bring a flood and let it destroy all that is on the face of the earth. Only you and your family will I save.”

      Nochat was dismayed by God’s plan. “It’s wrong,” she argued, “for a loving mother, even when her children disobey, to destroy them. No matter how heart-broken you are, you must hold on to a hope they will change.”

      “And if there are no signs that will ever happen?” God asked.

      Nochat had no answer.

      In the days that followed, the two of them continued to disagree. God said it was more benevolent to take the lives of her children all at once than allow СКАЧАТЬ