Signs and Wonders

by Bernard Evslin

  One morning Eve saw that the tree was quivering with light. Loops of golden light twined about the trunk and touched the fruit with fire. An enormous serpent unwound himself from the tree and glided toward her. His scales were red and gold and he burned like the morning star. His eyes were pits of blue fire. His voice was like the wind moving through the trees.

  “You are Eve,” he said.

  “How is it you speak, O serpent?”

  “I was like other beasts, without language. But I ate the fruit of a marvelous tree, and knowledge came to me.”

  Eve could not answer. She was stricken with wonder.

  “Do not be frightened, Eve. I see into the secret desire of your heart. It is good and natural, and you shall do it.”

  “Do what?”

  “Eat the fruit you have not tasted, the red fruit named the apple.”

  “It is forbidden.”

  “How can fruit be forbidden? It is made to be eaten.”

  “If we eat it, we die, God says.”

  “He also promised that you would live forever. How can both things be true? Behold! I ate the apple. Am I dead?”

  “Who are you? What is your name? Why do you shine there like the morning star, troubling me with light?”

  “I have many names, but you are not ready to know them. My secret will be revealed when you eat the apple. Let us speak of you, Eve. You are the first of your kind, and of a beauty never seen.”

  “I do not understand.”

  “Do you not know that you are beautiful?”

  “I know nothing so far but what I have been told. The names of flowers and trees and animals. Adam’s name and Adam’s ways. And that I must obey. I must obey God and I must obey my husband, Adam, who tells me what God wants.”

  The serpent, who was Satan, shifted his glittering coils closer to Eve and looked upon her with starry eyes, and said: “Do you not also hear another voice, an inner voice, whispering, ‘Eat the apple. Eat the apple’?”

  “Yes.”

  “Perhaps that is God’s voice, echoing in the deep of you. Perhaps it is you who sense His intention, not Adam.”

  “I have thought so. But can it be?”

  “Yes-s-s-s.”

  “I am confused. I do not know what to believe.”

  “I am here to instruct you. I am here to give you the gift of knowledge, a greater gift than any you have been given. Knowledge hangs on that tree.”

  Eve looked at the tree. Globes of red fire burned among its dark-green leaves. She looked away.

  “Look at me,” the serpent whispered.

  Eve gazed into the blue flame of the serpent’s eyes. Fragrance of flowers swelled about her. She felt herself melting into particles of light; there was a taste of honey in her mouth.

  “Yes-s-s,” whispered the serpent. “That sweetness in your mouth is a foretaste of the apple.”

  “To eat is to die, God said.”

  “But I, who am His messenger, tell you that you shall not die. When you eat the apple you shall be as gods yourselves, accepting both good and evil.”

  “Tell me this, O shining serpent whose name I do not know: Does not the Lord God wish His commandment obeyed?”

  “His ways are mysterious,” said the serpent. “But I know Him better than anyone else. What would please Him most is for you to see behind His words to His real meaning, and to teach it to Adam.”

  “When God says ‘Do not,’ He means ‘Do!’ Is that His meaning?”

  “In the matter of the apple, yes. He has created you man and woman, lords of the earth. Shall anything be forbidden to you that beasts may do? This apple I have eaten, shall you not eat it, also? It gave me speech. How much more will it do for you who already speak?”

  “What is knowledge, serpent? I burn to know. What are good and evil? What do these words mean?”

  “More than I can tell you. Only the apple itself will reveal the wonderful fullness of their meanings. I can tell you this: Attaining such knowledge, you will become like gods and fulfill God’s unuttered wish. For, becoming godlike, you will walk with Him and converse with Him and assuage His gigantic loneliness.”

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Please God, Eve. Obey the hidden intention that dwells behind His words. Go to the tree. Reach up your hand. Grasp the fruit. Put it in your mouth—and eat.”

  Eve went to the tree, took an apple, and ate.

  Adam came into the garden and saw her eating the apple. She had taken just one bite. He seized her arm.

  “Stop!”

  “Too late. I have tasted the apple, and it is good. It is very good.”

  “How dare you break God’s law? Now you must die.”

  “We shall be as gods. We shall not die.”

  “Forbidden! Forbidden! The apple is forbidden! God told me so.”

  “That was a test, Adam. He wanted you to read the true meaning behind His words. He was testing your love.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “God sent a messenger to tell me.”

  “What messenger?”

  “A serpent, beautiful as the morning star.”

  “What does beautiful mean?”

  “Look at me. Am I beautiful?”

  “You are Eve.”

  “Eat of the apple, Adam, please.”

  “I dare not.”

  “You must eat of the apple or I shall know things beyond your understanding. Here. Take one bite.”

  “God has forbidden it.”

  “Then I shall live alone, for you will not know enough to be my husband. And if I have misunderstood God’s will, then I shall be punished alone, and die alone. And you will dwell in your garden alone, as you did before I came.”

  “Give me the apple.”

  Adam ate. He looked at Eve and saw that she was beautiful—and that she was naked. He looked upon himself and knew his own nakedness, which seemed changed now, all strange.

  “We are naked,” he said. “You are naked and different. And I am naked and afraid.”

  She smiled at him. “Do not fear. We can clothe our nakedness in fig leaves. This is the beginning of such knowledge as the gods have. We do not know how to use it yet, but we will teach each other. And perhaps the wise serpent will come again and instruct us.”

  “Where is he now, this messenger who brought you the true meaning of God’s word?”

  “There he is, crouching in the grass behind the tree.”

  But the serpent had vanished.

  Now the sun was falling, and the shadows closed in. They heard the voice of the Lord God, who was walking in the garden in the cool of the day. When Adam heard that voice he hid himself among the trees. He heard God say, “Adam, where are you?”

  “I am here among the trees.”

  “Why are you hiding from me?”

  “I am afraid.”

  “Why are you afraid? Come here.”

  Adam came from among the trees and Eve followed him.

  “Why are you clad in leaves?”

  “We saw that we were naked,” said Adam. “And we clothed our nakedness.”

  “You have eaten of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil,” said God. And His voice was like thunder coming out of the blue sky. “Man and woman, you have defied my will and eaten of the forbidden fruit. Why did you disobey me, Adam?”

  “She told me to,” said Adam. “The woman you gave to be my wife told me to eat the apple.”

  “The serpent told me to!” cried Eve. “Forgive me, Lord, but he came gliding out from among the trees, all glittering, and said he was your messenger, sent by you to tell me your true will. He told me to eat the apple.”

  God answered, saying, “No messenger was he, but the foul fiend who put on the form of a serpent to tell you lies. Prince of Darkness is he, and Lord of Lies. His name is Satan.”

  By this time, Adam and Eve were crouched on the grass, whimpering with terror.

  “Arise now, and listen to me,” said God. “Hear your punish
ment. Because you have disobeyed me and eaten of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, seeking to be wise as gods, you must leave this garden and the life you know. Everything is changed now. Because you have caused me such sorrow, you, Eve, shall know your greatest pain at the moment of your greatest creation. In pain and suffering shall you bear your children, and so shall all women after you, and that pain shall be the sign of your disobedience. For even the Lord of Lies could not make you believe what you did not wish to believe. You lusted in your heart for the forbidden fruit before Satan came; you made his way easy. But your way shall be hard.

  “And you, Adam, first of your kind, you listened to your wife and ignored the word of your God. For this I sentence you to hard labor all the days of your life. You shall leave this garden, where everything grows without toil, and go to a place where the earth is dry, where only thorns and thistles grow. There in that cursed place little rain will fall. You shall water the earth with sweat and tears to grow a little food. And when you die, and die you must, you shall return to the earth. For of dust you were made, and to dust you shall return. Do you understand?”

  They were weeping and could not speak.

  “You understand,” said God. “You have eaten of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, and its fruit is bitter. You must go now. Leave this garden and go where you will.”

  So God drove Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden. And to keep them from coming back he set an angel at the gate of Eden. This angel had four wings and four faces. His wings were made of brass, and his faces were those of lion, ox, man, and eagle. In his hand he held a flaming sword, which no one could pass.

  CAIN AND ABEL

  ADAM AND EVE WENT to live in another place. It was a dry stony place, where they toiled together, digging rocks out of the ground. When night came they fell into an exhausted sleep.

  Adam prayed to God to forgive his disobedience and allow him to return to Eden. God answered, “You lost the Eden I had prepared for you. Now, if you wish another, you will have to make it for yourself.”

  Adam said to Eve: “By the God who made us, I shall not despair! His answer means that our heavy toil will bear fruit at last.”

  But now Eve could not help Adam because she faced a labor of her own. She was about to bear a child. Adam had to toil alone in the held, prying out rocks and breaking the ground so that it could take seed. He had to dip pails of water from a tiny stream and bear the pails back on a yoke across his shoulders to water the earth he had planted with seed. For in that place little rain fell.

  Eve spoke to God secretly in her own fashion: “I know that it is too soon for you to forgive me. But, Lord God, hear my prayer. You have condemned me to bear my child in pain. And I can endure such pain without complaint, but in your mercy allow me to live to see my child.”

  God answered her with a secret sign, and she labored her child in suffering, and bore a son. And Adam and Eve knew the first joy they had known since leaving Eden, and named their son Cain. His hair was red; his brows were tufts of fire.

  He grew into a tall, strong boy, level-eyed and unsmiling, who followed his father everywhere and did as his father did. Soon he was a great help to Adam in the work of the field. He wanted to help in the heavy work of prying rocks out of the ground and digging up stumps, but he was too young. He grieved so at not being able to help that Adam gave him the task of bearing water and chopping weeds. And Cain was content.

  Then Eve bore a second son, whom they named Abel. This boy she kept close. He was a beautiful child. His cheeks were red, and his hair was dark, and his eyes brown as a lamb’s. His voice was soft, and he was gentle in all his ways.

  This second son, Abel, did not follow his father into the fields. His mother had given him a lamb as a pet, and he became skillful with sheep. He kept flocks of fat sheep, grazing them on the hillside. He sheared their wool and gave it to Eve to make clothes for the family.

  Now Cain had grown into the full strength of his manhood. He was a mighty farmer, and his crops flourished. In the joy of a rich harvest he built an altar to the Lord and offered Him the first fruits.

  Each morning he visited the altar to see if God had taken the offering, but the fruit lay there withered and dry. Cain saw that his offering had not pleased God, and he did not know why.

  Then Abel raised an altar and offered the firstborn of his flock. Before his wondering eyes the wood burst into flame and the lamb was consumed. Abel rejoiced. And Adam and Eve rejoiced in the favor that had been shown him.

  But Cain took fire. A murderous rage burned in his heart.

  God said: “Why are you angry? Do you question my will? If I refuse your offering it is because I am not pleased, and you must study how to do better. And beware! If you close your heart to my will, you will be opening your heart to Satan, who squats always beyond the door. Put aside your pride, Cain, and heed not that fatal whisper.”

  Cain’s wrath was not cooled. He said to Abel: “Let us walk in the fields.”

  They walked in the fields. Abel spoke of this and that, but Cain said nothing.

  “You are silent, brother,” said Abel.

  Cain did not answer, but strode across the darkening field holding Abel tightly by the arm. The sun was falling, sending out shafts of light that were like spear shafts dripping with blood.

  “Where are we going?” said Abel.

  “Into the hills.”

  “Why must we go so far?”

  “I have a heavy matter to impart. I do not wish to be near where we dwell.”

  “Brother, I am weary.”

  Cain did not answer, but strode up the slope of the hill toward the sun, which was bloodying the whole western part of the sky.

  “Brother, you look so strange. I am afraid.”

  Cain said nothing. He tightened his grasp on Abel and strode up the hill.

  “I am weary,” said Abel. “I go no farther.”

  Cain turned on him and said: “Why did the Lord God refuse my offering and take yours?”

  “I do not know.”

  “I know,” said Cain. “And the knowledge is sore. You are a thief, born to steal whatever I have.”

  “No,” whispered Abel.

  “Yes! Oh, yes. I was happy until you came. I dug the fields with my father, and the earth prospered under my care. No one harmed me, and I harmed no one. But then, cursed day, you were born, and everything changed. For you immediately began to steal. First you stole my mother’s love, then my father’s. And now you have robbed me of God’s favor—all in the same soft, false way and with that lying smile. Now I must punish you.”

  “Cain, stop! Do not raise your hand against your brother.”

  But Cain had seized Abel by the throat and held a rock raised over his head.

  “Cain, forgive me. I did not mean to steal their love. I mean you no harm. I love you. You are my only brother.”

  “I hate you. You are my only brother and my only enemy. You must die.”

  Abel fell to his knees, sobbing. But Cain had no mercy. He smashed the rock down on Abel’s hands, which were covering his head. The hands slid away, and Cain smashed the rock down again and again on the bowed head, until it was a mush of blood and bone. Then he took up rocks and covered Abel with them so that he could not be seen. Only a rim of the sun clung to the edge of the sky now. Cain reached his bloody hands to the bloody light and laughed a wild, bitter laugh. Far off across the valley he heard the lost voices of Abel’s sheep. Then suddenly he was afraid.

  God came down and said: “Where is Abel?”

  “I do not know,” said Cain. “Am I my brother’s keeper?”

  God said: “What have you done? Your brother’s blood calls out to me from the ground.”

  Under God’s glance the rocks fell away, revealing the broken body of Abel.

  “You have murdered your brother,” said God. “You have dared to take life from him whom I have given life. Now the earth itself shall curse you, because you have made it drink your brother�
��s blood. From now on that earth will be barren to your touch. You will till it and water it and plant it with seed, but it will not bear for you because you have blighted it with your brother’s blood. You shall leave this place. A fugitive and wanderer you shall be till the end of time.”

  Cain said: “My punishment is more than I can bear. You drive me from your sight and from my home. I must go among strangers, who will kill me.”

  “No,” said God. “Your death belongs to me. Whoever kills you will be punished with seven deaths.”

  Then God branded Cain’s forehead with the letter M, meaning “murderer,” also meaning “mine,” so that all men would know that Cain was reserved for God’s vengeance, and they would not kill him.

  Cain traveled eastward. It was a terrible journey. The sun beat down on him. When he sought shade against rock or tree, the shade shrank away from him and he had no shelter from the burning sun. He was too thirsty to eat, and when he tried to drink the water shrank away from his lips. He was about to die, but God was not ready to accept his death. God clouded the sun and allowed a little rain to fall so that Cain might drink, and He allowed Cain to pick some fruit to eat.

  Cain traveled to a land named Nod, which means “home of the wanderer,” and there found a wife and fathered sons—who became fathers themselves. One became the father of all those who live in tents and raise cattle. Another became the first to play the harp and fathered all who play the harp and the pipes. A third, named Tubal-cain, became the first man to work in metal. He invented the forge, the sickle, and the plow, and became the father of blacksmiths. Cain lived to be very old, but the bloody sign never faded from his forehead, and he never saw Adam and Eve again.

  NOAH’S ARK

  HUNDREDS OF YEARS passed. Men multiplied upon the earth, but they had learned nothing from the curse put upon Cain. For they still killed their brothers and other men’s brothers—and sisters and mothers and children. They robbed and murdered and did all manner of wicked things.

  God grew very angry. “This race of man offends me,” He said. “Their thoughts are evil, their deeds are evil, and I am sorry I ever put such creatures upon earth. So I will wipe them from the earth. I will wash them off with a cleansing flood of waters. Not one man shall be left, nor beast nor fowl that have breathed the air that man has corrupted. Yes, even the memory of a man’s false and filthy habits will I wash away.”