Re-examining the meaning of sacred space and the Garden within Eden.

For years, I’ve wrestled with the story of Genesis 1, 2, and 3, from my days in prison to where I stand now. But only in the last year or so have I realised I’ve been reading it wrong. What I once understood as a simple act of disobedience, a mere moral transgression, now reveals itself as something far more profound: a contamination of sacred space. This realisation has shifted my entire perspective on the Genesis narrative.

Building on this understanding, I’ve gained fresh eyes to look at the human condition, and also my own relationship with God. I’ve begun to recognise that the fundamental problem of humanity lies in how we take what has been set aside for God, by God, and choose to utilise it in a way that benefits ourselves. In doing so, we diminish the sacred nature of sacred space, not the divine itself, which remains untouched, but by replacing God with idols, praying to a more comfortable version of the divine that justifies the choices we make in life. This act of idolatry is, at its core, another form of contaminating sacred space.

This leads us to consider that by solely focusing on the moral dimension, we risk engaging in virtue signalling, pointing fingers at those we deem less moral than ourselves. But when we understand the Fall as a violation of sacred space, and grapple with what it means to have and protect sacred space, we begin to see things in a different light. For example, when Jesus commanded us to love one another as he has loved us, he was creating sacred space in our relationships. Therefore, when we turn on each other, when we hate, harm, or use each other, when we fail to see the other through the eyes of God, we are taking that sacred space and twisting it into something dark and disturbing. This desecration of relationships is yet another manifestation of the contamination of sacred space.

To further illustrate this point, consider the creation of Adam. Where do we find him formed? Not within the confines of the Garden of Eden, but in the natural world, the realm of the common, not the sacred. He is then invited into Eden, and further, into the Garden of Eden itself. This reveals a progression: from the world of nature to the world of Eden, and finally to the garden within Eden. Each step is a step closer to sacred connection, to intimacy with the divine. Adam, formed in the natural world, is invited into sacred space, underscoring that entering this space is an act of invitation, an act of grace. This invitation highlights the inherent value of sacred space and the privilege of entering it.

Before we proceed further, it’s crucial to address some definitional nuances. What exactly was the Garden of Eden, and how did it differ from Eden itself? A careful analysis of Genesis 2 reveals that the term ‘garden’ comes from a Hebrew word suggesting a fenced-off or walled-off area. Within this enclosed space, several key features stood out: the Tree of Life, the Tree of the Knowledge of Function and Dysfunction, and the designated meeting place where God, Adam, and Eve would gather in their innocence and vulnerability. This garden was not merely a beautiful landscape; it was a sacred, holy place, set apart for divine encounter. It was a place where God dwelt, much like the inner sanctum within the Temple of Jerusalem. The creation story in Genesis 1 is all about God bringing order out of chaos, establishing function. The act of eating from the Tree of the Knowledge of Function and Dysfunction was a choice for dysfunction, a choice that ultimately contaminated the sacred space of the Garden, disrupting its intended harmony and purpose.

To further contextualise our understanding, let’s examine the Hebrew meaning of Adam and Eve’s responsibilities within the Garden. Genesis 2:15 tells us that God placed Adam in the Garden ‘to work it and take care of it.’ However, the Hebrew words avad (עבד) and shamar (שמר) carry deeper connotations than mere labour. Avad implies service, cultivation, and even worship, while shamar implies guarding, protecting, and keeping watch. Thus, Adam and Eve were called to serve, worship, and protect this sacred space, to cultivate its beauty, maintain its order, and guard it from any threat or corruption. This is further emphasised by the fact that the Garden was a walled-off place where God dwelt, making it not just a place of work, but also a place of worship, very much aligned with the imagery of the Temple and other sacred spaces. Furthermore, the Garden was a place of unparalleled beauty and abundance, where every tree and plant was both pleasing to the eye and delicious to the taste, a stark contrast to the natural world from which Adam had come.

The creation of Eve, or more precisely, the forming of Eve from Adam’s side, reveals a purpose beyond mere companionship. While she was indeed created to complement Adam, she was also intrinsically linked to the task at hand: the tending of the Garden of Eden. Together, they entered this invited sacred space as a complementary pair, united in their love for each other and for God, and dedicated to the worship, care, and protection of this sacred space. Thus, even within this foundational relationship, we observe that the male and female were designed to be mutually supportive in fulfilling the responsibilities and enjoying the privileges associated with their divinely appointed space.

The term ‘helper,’ used to describe Eve in Genesis, warrants closer examination. The Hebrew word ezer carries a weight of meaning that extends far beyond simple assistance. Ezer implies strength, aid, and even power. It denotes a source of support and empowerment, not a position of inferiority. Indeed, ezer is often used in the Old Testament to describe God’s role as the one who helps his people. Therefore, Eve was created not as a subordinate, but as a vital source of strength and support for Adam, empowering him to fulfil their shared purpose within the Garden, standing alongside him as an equal partner. Theirs was a partnership of equals, each contributing unique strengths to the stewardship of their sacred space.

Therefore, we see a clear progression: from the world of nature, where Adam was created, to the broader realm of Eden, and finally to the sacred Garden of Eden, a space set apart within Eden itself. Adam, created in the natural world, was invited into this sacred space, highlighting its distinct and elevated nature. Within this Garden, Adam and Eve played roles akin to priests and caregivers, tending to its unique needs and maintaining its sacredness. This sacred space was defined by four key elements: the protective wall that set it apart, the life-giving Tree of Life, the Tree of the Knowledge of Function and Dysfunction, and the regular, intimate presence of God, who visited with Adam and Eve in the cool of the evening, creating a space of vulnerability and open engagement.

Within the sacred space of the Garden, God bestowed upon Adam and Eve an extraordinary degree of freedom. Everything was available to them, to be enjoyed and shared in a spirit of sacred connection and participation with God. However, this freedom was not without boundaries. One thing, and one thing only, was forbidden: the fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Function and Dysfunction. This prohibition, in my view, stemmed from the fact that this particular tree and its fruit were a symbolic representation of God’s inherent knowledge of what is functional and dysfunctional, what brings life and what brings death, what brings order and what brings chaos. It was a reminder that true and complete knowledge belongs to God alone. While everything else was shared, given, and made available, this one element served as a sacred emblem within the Garden, demanding the utmost respect and protection, precisely because it symbolised the unique and all-encompassing knowledge of God. To interpret this prohibition as a mere test trivialises the sacred nature of the Garden, reducing it from a space of intimate connection with God to a proving ground. Ultimately, the act of disregarding this prohibition would lead to a contamination of the sacred space, disrupting the harmony and order that God had established.

In Genesis 3, we find Adam and Eve enjoying an intimate relationship with God within the sacred space of the Garden. This was a place set apart and treated as special, enclosed by a protective wall. However, this harmony is disrupted by the arrival of the serpent.

The serpent, representing nature or the common world outside inappropriately asserting itself within a space not designed for this, should not have been within this walled Garden. Its presence signifies nature attempting to break into and claim the sacred space, to make it common and accessible to all, thereby dismantling the boundaries that God had established. The serpent, not seeking to test their moral character, but rather to claim sacred space for itself, tempts Eve to partake of the forbidden fruit. The serpent understands that if Adam and Eve partake of that which belongs solely to God, they will introduce function and dysfunction into the inner sanctum of their sacred space. The moment Adam and Eve participate in eating the fruit, they are not merely stealing from God; they are taking that which is ultimately sacred, the very essence of God’s unique knowledge, and making it common. In doing so, they break the established order and introduce dysfunction into their world. The intrusion of nature into the sacred leads to dysfunction and the contamination of the sacred space, disrupting the harmony and order that God had established.

Therefore, the central issue at hand is the corruption of sacred space, the attempt to make that which has been set apart by God common to all. While such a thing is ultimately impossible, the consequences are profound. The two primary actions that emerge from this narrative, taking precedence over any moral considerations, are: first, the degrading of the sacred; and second, the replacement of the true sacred with a false sacred, an idol. When we analyse the Genesis 1, 2, and 3 account through this lens, we see that the sacred is being reduced to the common, and God is being replaced with a new, distorted version of Himself. This results in a contaminated temple, a space no longer fit for God, for true worship, or for the sacred emblems that should reside within it.

History provides a compelling parallel to the contamination of sacred space we see in Genesis with the account of Antiochus Epiphanies IV and his desecration of the Jewish Temple. Josephus, in The Wars of the Jews, describes Antiochus’s initial assault: ‘Now Antiochus was not satisfied either with his unexpected taking the city, or with his pillaging and destroying it…but as he saw that there was a vast quantity of gold and silver, and dedicated ornaments, in the temple, he had the impudence to break the treaty he had formerly made, and to pillage the temple himself…’

But the desecration went further. In Antiquities of the Jews, Josephus recounts the shocking acts that rendered the Temple impure: ‘And when he had built an idol altar upon God’s altar, he slew swine upon it; which neither our law permitted, nor did they ever think it lawful to sacrifice; and he sprinkled the temple with the broth of their dead bodies…and this was done to the temple three years and six months.’

This contamination of the Temple, this violation of sacred space, could not stand. As Josephus writes, Judas Maccabees ‘gathered the people together, and told them what great benefits God had done to them…on which account he exhorted them to purify themselves, and offer sacrifices to God. And when he had purified the temple, he made a new altar…’

This pattern of desecration and contamination of sacred space is not unique to the account of Antiochus Epiphanies IV. Even in biblical history, when the Babylonians conquered Israel, they too committed similar acts, defiling the Temple and desecrating the innermost sanctuary, the Holy of Holies. Thus, we see historical events mirroring the narrative of Genesis, and biblical stories reflecting historical accounts. Both the distant past and the biographical history of the Jewish people reveal how sacred space, the inner sanctum, the Garden of Eden, can be contaminated by human choices, by the choice of function and dysfunction, order and chaos. In so doing, humanity creates ruin and destruction, setting aside that which is sacred. It is a breaking of relationship with God, a breaking of relationship with sacred space, and most certainly a breaking of relationships with one another.

Therefore, let us recognise that the narrative of Genesis 1, 2, and 3 is, at its heart, a story about the contamination of sacred space. It is a story that resonates throughout history, echoing in the desecration of temples and the violation of sanctuaries. But it is also a call to action, a summons to rebuild what has been broken. Our task, as we look forward, is to restore sacred space: to cultivate a sacred relationship with God through Jesus Christ, to foster sacred connections with one another, to honour the sacredness of nature and the world around us, and to sanctify our time and space. It is to become, once again, the caretakers, tenders, and protectors of the sacred space we build within our connections with God, the world, time, space, and each other. It is to reclaim the intimacy for which we were designed, and to live as stewards of the sacred in every aspect of our lives.

We must shift our focus away from viewing the story of Adam and Eve solely as a moral failing. While moral considerations are present, they are secondary to the primary condition: the contamination of sacred space. How this contamination occurs is multifaceted, but the reality of this contamination is the central concern. We must remind ourselves that we were created for a particular relationship. Yet, we possess the capacity to introduce disorder, chaos, and even dysfunction and death into what ought to be something more special, something more thriving. When not guided in the right direction, human nature tends towards a harmful and degrading chaos, hindering our ascent towards the heights of human potential – leaving us, for example, mired in conflict and division rather than striving for unity and understanding.