As you (the ancient Israelite you) begin to read the lines describing the sixth day of creation, you have certain expectations in your mind, based on the unfolding poetic structure of the poem as a whole. As you already know, there are some very complex rhythms of parallelism echoing through this passage, but the large-scale pattern can be sketched out like this, including some vague expectations the poet has given you for day six:
| First Sentence: | In the beginning (time) | The sky and the earth (space and environment) |
| Chaos Symbols: | Darkness | The waters of the deep |
|
The First Three Days: (parallel the first sentence and the chaos symbols) |
Day 1: Light, marking the first day, and the creation of time. |
Day 2: The waters divide to produce Sky |
|
The Next Three Days: (parallel the first three days) |
Day 4: Lights inhabit day and night, marking the larger times and seasons |
Day 5: Birds inhabit the Sky; Fish, the Sea |
As you begin to read, you are not disappointed.
And gods said, Let the earth bring forth the living creature after his kind, cattle, and creeping thing, and beast of the earth after his kind: and it was so.
And gods made the beast of the earth after his kind, and cattle after their kind, and every thing that creepeth upon the earth after his kind: and God saw that it was good.
Not only does the pattern fit your expectations, but here, just as on day five, the categories introduced fit the dietary categories of Israel perfectly. (For a detailed description of how this plays itself out in the culture of ancient Israel—and a fascinating read, in general—see Purity and Danger, by Mary Douglas)
The pattern is completing itself in a very satisfying way. All that remains is for the land animals to bring forth some new and different part of themselves—to put the icing on the cake, the way that the earth bringing forth vegetation embellished the dry land.
And gods said, Let us make human in our image, after our likeness:
and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea,
and over the fowl of the air,
and over the cattle,
and over all the earth,
and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth.
Impressive. The final flourish on creation is us—humans beings. We are part of the land animals, and yet new and different. But there's more to be worked out here. As strange as it has been, the term "gods" has been used as a singular straight through this poem, and yet, here, suddenly, it's used with the word "us". That doesn't make sense. If god's is singular, who else is involved in this creation? What other image are humans made in? And where is the parallel to verse three, where the new element—plant life—is not created simply by gods, but the earth (parallel to the land animals here) brings it forth?
You contemplate these puzzles for a short time, perhaps, before you realize that they answer each other. Gods is calling on the land animals to bring forth humans, just as he called on the earth to bring forth the plants. And humans are made in the image of both the animals and gods, aren't we? Our bodies are certainly animal bodies, but, as the passage says, we have dominion, like gods.
And the following lines picks up this theme:
So gods created man in his image,
In the image of gods created he him;
Made in gods' image, but also:
Male and female created he them.
And gods blessed them,
And gods said unto them,
Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth
Made in the image of animals, males and female, bearing offspring after their kind to fill the earth. But then, immediately, back to:
and subdue it:
and have dominion over the fish of the sea,
and over the fowl of the air,
and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth.
The theme of dominion—the image of gods again.
And then the text ties this all into the parallel vegetation from day three:
And gods said, Behold, I have given you
every herb bearing seed, which [is] upon the face of all the earth, and
every tree, in the which [is] the fruit of a tree yielding seed;
to you it shall be for food.
And then, immediately, to further stress the human commonality with the animals, this idea paralleled for animal life:
And to every beast of the earth,
and to every fowl of the air,
and to every thing that creepeth upon the earth, that has life,
every green herb for food.and it was so
And gods saw every thing that he had made,
and it was very good.
And the evening and the morning were the sixth day.
You contemplate this, and realize that there are many ways humans are made in the image of animals—beyond the need to eat, and the ability to procreate. This leads you to wonder if there are other ways we are like gods. We are creatures of word and spirit, like gods in this passage. We make distinctions, dividing the world up through the word, the structure of language. And these are exactly the characteristics that give humans dominion over the world.
Like gods, in this passage, we create, we make—not only art and artifacts, but culture. In a real sense, we make the world we live in, like gods. Just as the plants, though part of the earth, partake of life, like the bird and the fish and the land animals, humans, though animals, partake of the creativity of gods.
You read on...
Thus the heavens and the earth were finished, and all the host of them.
And on the seventh day gods ended his work which he had made;
and he rested on the seventh day from all his work which he had made.
And gods blessed the seventh day,
and sanctified it:
because that in it he had rested from all his work which gods created and made.
Yes. Not only does this resting, on the seventh day, once again affirm the customs of Israel, but it also affirms your contemplation on human nature. Gods rests like humans—on the seventh day, from the creative work of the week. This is clearly implying that human work parallels the work of gods.
You feel a sense of completion here, but also a sort of dissatisfaction. The poem has left your mind abuzz with insights, but also with questions. In many subtle ways it affirms the culture of Israel—building the dietary customs into the structure of creation, using the waters of chaos as a fundamental symbol, and thus echoing the familiar story of Noah, and of the crossing of the red sea and the creation of Israel.
But it is also strangely abstract—why "gods" instead of "Yahweh", for example? You have some idea that the author is aiming for something more universal, perhaps, something that is true of all gods, even those of competing nations, but you are uncomfortable with the strangeness of it, and even the style of the poem pushes the familiar parallelism to new levels. It's so convoluted, so complex, and yet, oddly, so sterile.
Then your eyes fall on the scroll again, and you read the next line:
In the day that Yahweh gods made the heavens and the earth,
You are astounded. The poem is not over. There's a second movement, and one that you are already familiar with. This (without the word "gods") is how the folk version of the creation story begins—the version you heard at your mother's knee.
But it just now occurs to you, for the first time, that the strange first line of the poem you have just read ("In the beginning, gods created the sky and the earth") parallels the first line of the folk version perfectly.
Will the next lines parallel as well?
You read on...
