Tag Archives: god

9th Grade: Civilization and the Garments of Skin

by Dave Mathwin

Greetings all, I hope that you will enjoy these updates and that you will find them helpful throughout the year.

We began our Ancient History class this week by looking at a biblical framework for understanding what a civilization is and how they function in our lives. Scripture does not spell this out directly, but if we find some illuminating details if we read the early chapters of Genesis closely.

We see in Genesis 2 that Adam and Eve were “naked and unashamed” before God and each other. I urged the students not to understand “nakedness” primarily in physical terms, but in spiritual and psychological terms. They were unclothed (whatever that might have meant), yes, but they lived without masks and artifice. They experienced God, each other, and creation around them directly.

After their sin Adam and Eve hide from God and wear fig leaves. They need a barrier between themselves and God, each other, and the world. In Genesis 3:21 we read that God made for them “garments of skin” as they left Eden. Whatever the nature of these garments might have been, they are obviously a more extensive covering than fig leaves. These garments may have been skins from animals in Eden, meaning that they were clothed in death. We note further that these garments are given

  • As a result of the fall, but
  • Not as part of the curse of the fall.

These garments are, in a sense, a gift from God to help them cope with exile from Eden.

We then see Cain murder his brother Abel. Cain was a farmer, Abel a shepherd. Certainly there is nothing wrong with either occupation. But there varying occupations meant that Abel wandered with his flock while Cain stayed put and worked the ground. When God disciplines us, He does so to draw us back to Him, to reconnect with Him and those around us. This obviously holds true for God’s punishment for Cain.

Cain is told to wander. Why might this be?

  • Cain murdered Abel, and so now God is trying to get Cain to become a wanderer like Abel. He needs to identify with his murdered brother.
  • Cain needs to be “naked” again, to return to something like a paradisal state. In other words, he needs to come to know God again, to become dependant on Him. Cain needs to remove all of his “coverings,” all the barriers he has erected between himself and God.

But Cain clearly does not accept his punishment or obey. Instead, he builds a city! He stays put. First, we have fig leaves, then garments, and now, the biggest covering of all in the form of buildings and other civilizational trappings. Strange as it may seem, Genesis 4 clearly shows us that the implements of civilization come from the line of Cain. We have no connection to the ancient world, but ancient readers would have seen the clues more easily.

  • The lyre (4:21) was a small harp, the strings of which were made from animal intestines.
  • Pipes were often made from the horns of animals

So we see that this “covering” of civilization comes from death, just as the original garments of skin.

Tubal-cain was the father of those who forge bronze and iron, which fits into the general pattern of further exile from Eden in the following ways.

  • First, we know that Eden was on a mountain (Ez. 28:13-14). Exile from Eden meant coming down the mountain of God.
  • There is nothing wrong with farming, obviously. But we should note that farming involves digging into the earth, i.e., descending further into the earth, moving down from the heights. Most of the best farmland is in vallyes, of course, down the mountain slopes.
  • To get the material to forge metal instruments, one has to go much deeper into the earth. We should see this as as Cain’s descendants not just going all the way down the mountain of God, but going under the earth–going further away from God.

The connection between these actions and violence becomes clear directly following this description of the origins of civilization. Lamech, who as the seventh generation from Adam should have represented completeness and rest,* instead stands for a celebration of vengeance and murder. It is telling that in the godly line of Seth in the following chapter, nothing is mentioned about the implements of civilization. Origin stories recorded from other civilizations, such as Hesiod and Ovid, also link metalurgy with violence and war.

This does not mean that civilization is evil, any more than farming, music, or mining is evil. But we should see civilization as another layer of the garments of skin, a “supplement” we now need to get by in the world and interact with one another.

We can perhaps understand the idea of a supplement working both for and against us if we think of something we use every day, such as makeup. Wearing makeup is not wrong. If used in the right way, it can reveal and accentuate beauty. But if you overuse it, makeup becomes a mask we wear to hide ourselves from others–such a person disappears behind the mask they create. What can work for us now works against us. To take an example with guys . . . I go to the gym most mornings before school. Most of the guys I see are there to lose some extra baggage, or get a modest workout. Occassionally, one sees someone so dedicated to improving themselves physically that they no longer look quite normal. Finally, to take an example all of us may relate to, the same can be true of caffeine. We feel tired and we need to get things done, so we drink some coffee. We feel great and can move on with our day. But if we take it too far, coffee becomes something we need even for normal functioning. What once aided us now binds us.

Makeup can be a good thing, and so can coffee. But we might consider that possibly, might it be best of all to use neither? So too, civilization provides many good things for us. It has been the default form of existence for almost everyone who has ever lived. Civilization provides, shelter, social organization, and protection. The specialization inherent in civilization can dramatically increase our standard of living and allows us to build incredible buildings.**

But . . . speaking of buildings, we also have the Tower of Babel. Civilization can do so much for us, in fact, that we can lose our “nakedness” and our dependance on God. To take one example, we don’t feel the need to pray for rain, because if the crops don’t grow where we live, the store can get food from somewhere else. We can easily light a match to make fire, but at the same time, we lose the skill of creating fire on our own. This trade-off happens with many aspects of civilized life.

Just about every city we encounter in the Old Testament is viewed negatively. We have mentioned Cain’s city, and the Tower of Babel, but there is also Abraham’s time in Egypt, Sodom, Jericho, Tyre, Nineveh, Babylon, etc., etc. In fact, I can think of only one viewed differently, Salem, which later becomes Jerusalem. It is Jerusalem which begins the process of the redemption of cities, the incorporation of the garments of skin into the New Heavens and New Earth (Rev. 21).

My goal with introducing this material is to help orient us in our study of the many great civilizations of the past. We should neither get too enamored of them, nor see them as a curse or blight. Rather, we should view them as a blessing that is part of a fallen world, that can become a curse if we’re not careful.

Enjoy the weekend,

Dave

*Compare Lamech to Enoch in Genesis 5, also a seventh generation descendant from Adam through Seth.

**To reinforce the idea of the dual nature of the Garments of Skin, we can see the Tabernacle as a covering akin to a city. God commanded that it be built. It is interesting that the same (or perhaps a very similar word) to describe the main builder of the Tabernacle, Bezalel, is also used to describe Tubal-Cain–a craftsman. Bezalel is a good guy, Tubal-Cain a bad guy. They both used similar skills with similar tools to do similar things towards very different ends.

8th Grade Literature: The Joy of Battle

by Dave Mathwin

This week we continued with The Song of Roland and delved into the topic of the violence in the story.

Those familiar with this story will note partial similarities to Homer’s The Iliad, and perhaps these similarities were intended by the author. Both stories have extended battle scenes with vivid descriptions of the violence, with limbs cracked, armor pierced, heads split, and so on. Both stories have their authors and their characters exulting in the carnage. Here is just one example:

Gradonies was bold and brave, a strong intrepid fighter. Now he finds himself faced with Roland. And though he has never seen him before, he recognizes him by his proud face, noble body, his regard for bearing, and he is filled uncontrollable dread. He tries to escape but fails, for the Count strikes him with such force that the blow splits the helmet, nose piece and all, cleaves through his nose, and his mouth, and his teeth, and his whole body and the coat of linked chain mail encasing it, the gilded saddle, both sides of the silver saddle tree, and deep into the horse’s back. He kills them both. Nothing could have saved them.

And another, this one involving not just a ‘regular’ soldier, but a high ranking clergyman, the Archbishop Turpin:

Nothing can turn [the Archbishop] aside: he charges against Abisme and strikes him on the shield studded with amethysts and blazing rubies, which a devil in Val Metas had given to the Emir Galafres, who in turn presented it to Abisme. Turpin strikes him; he does not spare him; and after one blow I don’t think the shield was worth a farthing. He chops through the body from one side to the other and kicks the corpse onto the bare ground.

The French say: “That was a noble stroke! The cross will not suffer while the Archbishop is there to protect it.”

We might expect such similar language from Homer’s tale of pagan Greece, but The Song of Roland fashions itself squarely within a Christian worldview, and means to communicate a Christian message. We might understand as Christians the need for violence at times. But violence is necessary only when something is wrong in the world. Some might assume that if we must fight, we should conflicted about it and have a heavy heart about our task. Above all, we certainly should not revel in it.

Whatever you may think about this sentiment (and it is one shared by many moderns, Christian or otherwise), it certainly was not one shared by the author, and we should consider why.

I remember years ago my next door neighbor had her grandson living with her on the weekends for a few months. He was in training to be a police officer. When I asked where he hoped to be assigned, she replied, “He wants to be right in the thick of it in downtown Baltimore. He wants to be where the action is.” Naturally this attitude worried his grandmother, but she said most of his academy friends felt the same way.

Some of you may know that one of my sons recently graduated from his training to be a firefighter, and is now working regular shifts at a local station. His first week was slow. Sure, a few interesting things happened on some other shifts, but his shift had it easy. This meant some downtime at the station, and some light days. You might think that a job where not much happened might be appealing, but my son was frustrated. In his view, he didn’t become a firefighter to play cards. He wanted action.

One can have two perspectives on this:

  1. These are the wrong attitudes to have. If one wants “action” as a police officer or firefighter, then one “wants” crime and property destruction to occur. The world would be better without crime or fires or medical emergencies. We do have to deal with them, but we should not be “excited” to deal with such things.
  2. Since crime and fire do exist, we need to have people trained to deal with them. If we need to deal with them, wouldn’t it be better to enjoy the work? Is fighting crime or fire something one can do to the glory of God? If so, they should ideally find joy in the task. Probably, the cop who enjoyed the job is more likely to be better at it than someone who hated it.

One might think that Roland as a character belongs to the past, but not necessarily. He is a type, although one we don’t see much of anymore. In CS Lewis’ autobiography Surprised by Joy he recounts his experiences meeting different kinds of soldiers in the trenches of WW I. He writes,

Perhaps the best of all us was Wallie. Wallie was a farmer, a Roman Catholic, a passionate soldier (the only man I ever met who really longed for fighting) and gullible to the [highest degree]. The technique was to criticize the Yeomanry. Poor Wallie knew that it was the bravest, the most efficient, the hardest and cleanest corps that ever sat on horses. He knew all that inside, having learned it from an uncle in the Yeomanry when he was a child. But he could not get [his words] out. He stammered, and contradicted himself, and always came at last to his trump card: “I wish my Uncle Ben were here to talk to you. He’d tell you.” Mortals must not judge but I doubt whether any man who fought in France who was more likely to go straight to Heaven if he were killed. I would have been better employed cleaning his boots than laughing at him. I may add that I did not enjoy the short amount of time I spent in the company he commanded. Wallie had a genuine passion for killing Germans and a complete disregard of his own or anyone else’s safety. He was always striking out bright ideas at which the hair of us subalterns would stand on end. Luckily, he could be easily dissuaded by any plausible argument that occurred to us. Such was his valor and his innocence that he never suspected us of any but a military motive.

Charlemagne’s battle cry is “Mountjoy!” and his sword is named “Joy” (as translated from the French), so we know his approach. Some might assume that Charlemagne was a war-mongering sadist, but the story will not allow for this interpretation. Among other things, there are the last lines in the book, which read,

The King has gone to bed in his vaulted bedroom. God sends St. Gabriel to visit him, and he says, “Charles summon all of the hosts of your Empire and enter the land of Bire by force of arms, and rescue King Vivien, for the pagans have laid seige to him in the city of Imphe, and the Christians there are pleading and crying out for you.”

The Emperor does not wish to go.

“Oh God,” says the King, “my life is a burden!” And the tears run from his eyes and he rends his white beard.

We should not read this as Charles contradicting himself or his life’s work. Rather, a faithful reading of The Song of Roland causes us to examine our own life critically, just as Charlemagne had to do with his.