God and the Snake
We were bored and he was flipping through channels as quickly as he could. Flick! A picture of two people about to kiss. Flick! A car commercial. Flick! Judge Judy!
He only stopped at a Christian channel. Two people at a desk were talking and then there was a visual of a snake slithering around an apple tree.
"Change the channel, this is boring," I said, tossing a popcorn kernel at the screen.
"You would say something like that. I bet you would like to see a car crash with thousands of explosions instead."
I grinned. "Something like that."
He looked at the screen thoughtfully, where two obviously unhappy actors were hiding behind bushes. "I actually think God was the snake."
"Really?" When he said nothing to this, I stuck my tongue out at him. "That's because you're an idiot." He turned a different shade of pink.
"No, I'm serious!" he said. "God was the snake."
"You must have fallen asleep during catechism then. God was clearly the voice who told them not to eat the apples. Remember?" Then, with a booming voice that was almost vaguely male, I said, "Horatio, do not eat the apple. It has a worm in it."
This seemed to annoy him. "I do know the story, you know," he said. "But it doesn't make sense that the snake is Satan. It just doesn't. God had to be. And I have evidence."
"Oh? Evidence?" I sat back, an amused smile on my face. "Do tell."
"Okay." He leaned forward to me, looking around carefully, as if he was afraid that someone else was listening and then spoke clearly, a strange glint sparkling in his eyes. "Think about it! If God were all about truth and light and everything special like that, then why would he have a problem with knowledge? That is," he said, waving his arms around for further emphasis, "if God is the centerpiece for everything, then why would he condemn Adam and Eve for touching God in this way?"
"You mean to say that they touched him inappropriately? That's got to be awkward."
"No, no! You're not listening to me! Listen to me. Why would God punish Adam and Eve for trying to seek out knowledge?"
"Because they disobeyed him, of course."
"No, that still doesn't make sense. If He loved them without question, then he wouldn't have ever punished them. How many times have your parents forgiven you?" When I didn't say anything to this, he added, "Jesus said forgiveness was key. With forgiveness comes understanding and with understanding comes wisdom. Why would God ever condemn a reach for knowledge? For wisdom?"
I snickered. "You make it sound like God killed them."
"Same difference. He threw them out and made them feel pain. And then he let them die alone, without His interference. Only until Jesus Christ came around were people actually promised a second chance. Do you honestly think that God, if he were truly merciful, would allow so much time to pass before he made amends?"
I shrugged. "I don't think God really has a sense of time."
"Maybe not, but why would he punish them for reaching out for wisdom when wisdom is essential for forgiveness?"
"But that was after they left the Garden of Eden," I said. "Before, they were already perfect and didn't even have to have forgiveness."
"Bullshit. Everyone needs to know how to forgive."
"Even God?"
He was about to say something, but a quick look at my face disarmed him. He gave a weak smile and relaxed, flicking through the channels again. "I don't understand," he admitted, passing through a Gilligan's Island rerun. "It just doesn't make sense, no matter how I try to think of it. Or maybe I'm thinking too hard?"
"I don't know." For a moment it was quiet and the only sound was TV. For some reason, the program had switched to a political debate between two stuffy candidates with tight collars. I threw some more popcorn at the screen. "Maybe he didn't want us to grasp for artificial knowledge," I finally said. "Maybe he didn't think we could just eat something and gain it. Maybe he wanted us to know the only knowledge we could get was not through a tree, but through him."
A commercial started; it was selling some sexual enhancement drug. He joined me in throwing popcorn.
"I still think God was the snake," he muttered.
I only laughed.