Genesis 5 shows us the way of man: Six generations of dying, and then God steps in on the Seventh to show us that He will put an end to it. Enoch does not die.
God‘s ways are better than our ways.
Here, it’s Abram who cleaves the animals. We might agree that this is a destructive act, rather than a creative one. However, we see that God dwells even in those separations, shown as a torch that passes between them. It’s quite powerful imagery: God in the spaces between.
I like to think that God healed those animals that were cleaved, and He brought them back to life so Abram could see that God is Lord over death and life as well.
As for you, you shall go to your fathers in peace; you will be buried at a good old age.
Genesis 15:15 (NASB)
The English renders the Hebrew word “bo” here as “go,” and it makes the place of the dead seem far away, like a distant place to arrive after a long journey through life.
But the rabbis say this word more often means “come.” As in, even in death there is nearness to God.
As the sun was setting, Abram fell into a deep sleep, and a thick and dreadful darkness came over him.
Genesis 15:12 (NIV)
The rabbis say that sleep is a microcosm of death. How would Adam have known to fear death until he was terrorized with unnatural sleep?
And here in Genesis 15, we see it plainly. Darkness hasn’t been mentioned since Genesis 1. This is an echo of Genesis 2.
From death to life. From darkness to light. From hell to heaven.
No sinners’ prayer.
No commandments.
Only faith in a God who makes Promises and keeps them.
But I suspect that much of religion is not the breath of life, but the stench of death.
Perhaps our breath stinks.
You’re going to see yourself cast out of the garden.
Marked for death.
A random name in a list of names.
Left off the boat as the flood rises.
But that’s not the story.
He left the garden with you.
He shielded you from vengeance.
He knows your name.
He carries you in the boat.
It is your story. It is the story of His great love for you.
This is about the grief and suffering of the dying.
We have a vocabulary about death. We say things like “at least it was a quick death,” or “at least they died in their sleep.”
In the sadness of loss, we acknowledge the mercy found in certain kinds of death. This sort of death is… better. Better than suffering.
For the one experiencing the loss of a loved one, these phrases don’t lessen the pain, but it is helpful to know that the words are true, isn’t it? It’s good to know that loved ones who die this way did not experience prolongued agony and pain before they passed.
But it doesn’t lift the grief. It is still sorrowful.
But what about those who do suffer in agony?
I won’t describe any of it, because there are those who know already know people who have died this way, and they don’t want to be reminded. We have witnessed it. We have grieved it. And we have prayed for it to be over. We have prayed for an end of the suffering. For mercy.
And when the end comes, we are left with the most troubling and turmoil-filled spirit. We prayed for the end, but then we grieved the loss. We are relieved that their suffering stopped, but we didn’t want to lose them.
This is sorrow.
In Genesis 6, prior to the flood, the text mentions the “wickedness of man.”
We’ve been taught to read this as written in the English. Humanity is completely wicked, so the Flood waters are a judgement to wipe out the earth in God’s wrath.
But that is not the whole picture.
The word here for “the wickedness” is the noun-form of the word ra’. We translate it as “wickedness” or “evil,” but the word carries the connotation of suffering. So when we read “…and that every inclination of the thoughts of the human heart was only evil all the time,” we are being told something important.
Can you see it?
III. evil, misery, distress, injury
1. evil, misery, distress
2. evil, injury, wrong
3. evil (ethical)
H7451: רַע (raʿ)
The text is not describing a humanity in defiance or disobedience to a holy God who must respond in wrath. That’s not the story. It is describing a humanity that is suffering. They are in misery. And they are dying. The curse of sin (death) has laid hold of all of them.
And when the text says “the Lord regretted that he had made human beings on the earth, and his heart was deeply troubled,” we see it clearly.
This form of “regretted” is compassionate mercy.
1. (Niphal)
1. to be sorry, be moved to pity, have compassion
2. to be sorry, rue, suffer grief, repent
3. to comfort oneself, be comforted
4. to comfort oneself, ease oneself
H5162: נָחַם (nāḥam)
And this form of “grieved” is precisely that feeling of troubling and turmoil-filled sorrow. It is the ending that you wish didn’t have to happen, but you understood that it would be worse if it didn’t.
5. (Hithpael) to feel grieved, be vexed
H6087: עָצַב (ʿāṣaḇ)
This is what our God is showing us with this story.
This stems from Adam and Eve’s eating from the tree of the knowledge of Good & Evil. This evil is the source of the suffering of humanity.
The narrative isn’t pointing to a God who is punishing us for doing the wrong thing. It is about a God grieving our suffering from it.
But God does not leave us in our suffering.
In Noah (whose name means “comfort“), we see God pointing to restoration. We see God making a new covenant and promising that this Flood will not happen again. Perhaps it’s because He will one day end all of our suffering.
During those days people will seek death but will not find it; they will long to die, but death will elude them.
Revelation 9:6 (NIV)
Because early Genesis feels… “eternally prophetic” (was/is/is-to-come), this passage in Revelation has me thinkin more deeply about the Flood as a story of mercy.
It’s interesting to see the ages of the patriarchs graphed out. If we read Genesis 5 literally, Adam lived to see Noah’s father born.
I suppose the blessing here is that during Adam’s life, he does not see any of the promised lineage below him die. Not to say that nobody died (Cain did kill Abel, after all), but nobody in this specific genealogy dies before Adam.
Maybe that’s a story of hope.