In Thanksgiving for Eve - Genesis - 2:15-17, 3:1-7

Well friends, here we are again. Lent is upon us, the season in which we spend time in prayer and reflection about our sinfulness. I’ll be honest with you, I’ve been thinking a lot about about my relationship with sin lately, so as usual, Lent arrived right on schedule. A big part of my struggle is that I have gotten into a terrible pattern with the internet. Maybe some of you can relate.

Whenever I get a free moment, I pick up my phone and open Instagram in the hope that one of my friends has sent me a funny meme or video. But before I can get there, I’m immediately distracted by the top posts on my feed which always feature dramatic headlines and terrible news. Before I know it, what I hoped would be a few minutes of giggly rest for my brain has become a half hour of doom scrolling, accompanied by increasing anxiety and shame. At this point, my fitness tracker usually alerts me to my elevated heart rate.

But it’s more than just shock and sadness. When I see headlines about violence or video clips of people spreading messages of hate or misinformation, a cycle begins in my brain. I get overwhelmed by just how much pain exists in the world, and that overwhelm quickly morphs into guilt about the fact that I can’t do anything about it or at least don’t know how. This leads me to worry about whether or not I’m even a good person, which is a depressing thought and makes me want to abandon all motivation and search for sparks of joy on the internet, which of course, starts the cycle all over again.

I’m in dire need of some prayer and faithful reflection about the nature of sin as I enter into Lent this year. suppose that’s the point. But I was surprised this week when my doom scrolling was interrupted by an old friend. Eve and her forbidden fruit entered the chat, as the kids say, at the precise moment I needed her, and rarely have I felt more seen.

The third chapter of Genesis is, I think, one of the most misinterpreted passages in all of Scripture, and I’d like to clarify a few points. First, there is no textual evidence that the serpent who tempts Eve is Satan. Also worth noting, the serpent never lies to Eve. “You will not die,” the serpent says, “for God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” This is true. Adam and Eve do not die when they eat the fruit, their eyes are indeed opened, and, like God, they know - and feel the weight of - good and evil.

Instead of the devil introducing evil into the world by deception, Eve is presented with an authentic offer of knowledge. And she wants it. Badly. I know this feeling in my bones. She cannot look away, the need for information and understanding is insatiable. But in the same moment that she satisfies this need, she is overcome by instant regret. She has seen too much and she can’t un-know it. She is left bereft, all too aware of her own naked insufficiency, no longer able to appreciate the beauty all around her.

My Old Testament professor, Dr. Judy Fentress-Williams, has compelling things to say about our girl, Eve. She calls this story a chronotype rather than a chronology. What she means is that this story is at the beginning of our Scripture not because it happened first in the order of events, but because it is always happening and is of the highest importance to our story of faith.

This reframing makes a lot of sense. Eve’s single action did not doom us all to a world full of sinfulness, because evil was already in the world before she ate her fruit. But millions of people, all over the planet, every single day learning things we can’t un-know and then regretting it? This sounds like a foundation of brokenness in the world to me.

We use the word sin to describe the difference between us and God. Sin is not an exhaustive list of prohibited activities. It is not even our natural inclination to behave badly or hurt others. Sin is the simple fact that we are not God and we need God. It’s unavoidable. It’s part of being human. When we, like Eve, forget this and try to be like God, knowing good and evil, we’re headed for heartache.

I realize, of course, that knowledge itself is neutral. And I’m very aware of living in a society that values education, skills, and connections. So my question is, how do we tell the difference between the dangerous, forbidden fruit and the delicious, available fruit in the garden of our day to day lives. I found some inspiration for this quest this week on the internet - of all places. I’m encouraged when this particular tree offers some good in the midst of all the evil.

What I found was a tweet that said, with no other context, “don’t consume more news than you can pray about.” My first thought was that someone out there is gunning for my job. By my second reaction was a flood of relief. This is the piece that both Eve and I have been missing. Of course we can’t handle all the knowledge of good and evil like God can, because while our capacity for prayer is deep and sufficient, it can’t hold a candle to God’s. Perhaps this is the lens through which we might reflect on sin this Lent.

I’m sure many of you are asking yourselves, “Why doesn’t Hannah just give up social media for Lent and call it a day?” It’s not a bad idea and I’ve done it before to great success on my fitness tracker. But I feel moved this Lent to think about sin and repentance in a new way. Instead of trying to contemplate and eliminate all our bad habits and shortcomings, what if we only gave our energy to those things we have the capacity to pray for?

I’ll give you an example. During Diocesan Convention last week, there was a small committee whose job was to determine where to send the money collected during the church service. Unsurprisingly, the list of causes and institutions that could use more funds was endless, and they quickly got overwhelmed by their choices. In the end, instead of beating themselves up over all the problems they couldn’t contribute to, or trying to quickly analyze which organization would most benefit from our offering, they chose the option that was most present in their current prayer lives. It might not have been everyone’s first choice, but I can’t think of a more faithful way to discern.

So I guess my Lenten discipline this year is to try to align my consumption of media, stimuli, and information with my prayer life. Perhaps I’ll keep a list of things I want to pray for and scroll past any other topics. I might start putting my phone down earlier in the evening to make more time for prayer before bed. I’ll keep you guys updated on this journey. Most importantly, I’m going to try to remember that I am not, in fact, a bad person. I am a beloved child of God whose capacity is limited. I hope you are able to do the same. And if our collective prayer lives find even a little bit of direction over the next 40 days, well, that sounds like a foundation of healing in the world to me. Amen.