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Chapter 1
THE PRIMEVAL PROLOGUE: RELATIONSHIPS IN WORSHIP
God. No word provokes more feelings. In today's culture, few words have more definitions.1 Even an individual can struggle internally with the word, as the theoretical definition is quite different from the practical one. No doubt this is because how one defines “God” delineates who we ourselves are and because it is easier to be a certain type of person in theory than it is in practice. Perhaps the real problem is that our definitions are too often theoretical instead of practical—outgrowths of knowledge about God, rather than the knowledge of God.2 Is it any wonder that churches struggle with worship? Tozer stated half a century ago, “We tend by a secret law of the soul to move toward our mental image of God. This is true not only of the individual Christian, but of the company of Christians that composes the Church.”3 Worship has been defined in the introduction as the ascription of worth and a relational phenomenon between the created and the Creator that finds expression in both specific events and lifestyle commitments. If this is true, then the understanding one has of God will, in turn, be the heart of one's understanding and expressions of worship.
Thus it is not surprising that the biblical record begins with a universal focus on the nature of God and His relationship with all humanity. In the primeval prologue (Gen 1–11), one encounters texts that paint the grandeur of God with colors unimagined and with insights few could expect. These texts introduce humanity to a God who is not only transcendent, but also immanent; a God who is not only powerful, but also personal; and a God who is not only austere, but also relational.4 The wonder of a God who can overwhelm our categories and yet be a part of our formulations in a meaningful way truly is the starting point of worship.5
The Creator and the Created: The “Confession” of Genesis 1
The first chapter of the Bible is perhaps the most debated single chapter in all of Scripture. From the nature of the first verse to the general questions that arise in relating this text to modern science, a person could make a career studying this one chapter.6 Yet for all the pontificating and study of the text that goes on, more often than not interpreters lose the main purpose in their attempts to either defend or dissuade. This is not to say that the various discussions concerning this chapter are unhelpful, only that it is advisable from time to time to simply step back and look at why it is there in the first place—to create a vision of the grandeur of our God.
As previously pointed out, one of the fundamental questions of correctly interpreting a text resides in the proper identification of its genre. By identifying the genre of a text, the reader is able to more readily understand its purposes and forms of expression as the author intended them to be read and understood. Such an approach is not only logical but also extremely helpful in answering questions and correcting errors. But a problem is created when the genre is not readily identifiable, and such is the case with Genesis 1. While the overwhelming majority of interpreters reject its identification as pure narrative, they are less successful in agreeing what the form actually is.7 These scholars are not motivated by a desire to run away from the issues of conflict with modern science or to turn the text into something less than history.8 Rather, the author's careful use of certain stylistic features,9 organization of the days in corresponding relationship of sphere with occupant,10 and apparent interaction with the contents of other ancient Near Eastern texts drive these observations.
Although it was fashionable in previous generations to talk about the dependence of the Genesis writer on his Babylonian and Egyptian counterparts for his cosmogony, numerous studies have demonstrated that the similarities can hardly be defined as borrowing and are better described as correction by means of polemic.
11 This relationship of texts that manifests itself in both reflection and transformation marks some of the most striking forms of communicating God's greatness anywhere in the Bible. The opening verses portray a God who is not at war with the seas, but who demonstrates control over them merely by His presence.
12 The sun and the moon,
viewed as gods by much of the ancient world, are relegated to mere objects when Moses dares to call them merely “greater light and lesser light” (Gen 1:14) rather than addressing them as
šemeš and
yra.13 To read that the biblical writer—within a world ensnared by polytheism and myth—has made the audacious claims of God's singularity and power in such a simple yet profound way is to be introduced again to the transformational nature of a relationship with the Creator of the world.
14In the end, where are we left regarding the genre of Genesis 1? The passage clearly tells a story, though not in a form even comparable to the chapters that follow. There is certainly a didactic purpose in its structure, repetitions, and language. The text is also evidently covenantal in force and essence.15 Such a conclusion lends itself strongly to the supposition that the first chapter of Genesis is a liturgical work of some sort that finds purpose within the worship of Israel. Perhaps identifying it as liturgical poetry that functions as a confession is the best approach to its genre category because it admits its liturgical and didactic purpose yet maintains its historical reflection.16 In any case, that the biblical record begins with a text designed to incite, inform, and increase worship is telling in and of itself.
The Creator Has Spoken to His Creation
The starting point for discussions regarding God's attributes ought to be the aspects He himself emphasizes. A major conception of the Judeo–Christian worldview is the notion that there is a God and He has revealed Himself to us. This revelation not only begins here in Genesis 1, but is in fact emphasized. It is axiomatic that, when interpreting a text, it is the verbs that emphasize the concepts disclosed by the writer. It might be surprising, however, to discover that in Genesis 1 the primary verbs are not centered in creating or making, but rather in speaking.17 The text is clearly advocating an understanding and perception of God centered on the idea that He communicates with His creation. Man does not have to wander around in darkness wondering what kind of God he serves or owes allegiance to; Yahweh has communicated, and the traits He communicates are worthy of worship.
The Creator Is Lord of His Creation
The discussion above has already alluded to the power of God, but that power is central to the observations of chapter 1 and so deserves further elucidation here. The power of God manifests itself in two distinctive ways: His method of creation and His power over the sea. The method of creation has been the source of considerable debate, centered specifically on the verb
br. Among the aspects that scholars generally agree on are that God alone functions as the subject of this verb and that there are never materials mentioned when it is used.
18 But the idea that the word demands
creatio ex nihilo (creation out of nothing) is somewhat less settled. The classical commentators almost universally suggested that
br demands a position of
creatio ex nihilo, and one can still find some modern commentators willing to take this position. Unfortunately, an exclusive definition of
br in these terms is untenable.
19 Rather, the word
emphasizes the effortless creativity of a sovereign God to whom creation owes its very existence and all its worship.
20Modern readers may miss the significance of God's power over the sea demonstrated in this chapter (Gen 1:2,6–10), but it expresses a conception of eminence unparalleled in the texts of the ancient Near East. In many myths of the ancient world, the gods are said to struggle with the waters. Marduk struggled with Tiamat in order to achieve ascendancy in the Enuma Elish.21 Baal yearly had to battle the sea in order to bring about renewal to the land.22 The gods of the Gilgamesh Epic are said to have “cowered like dogs” before the waters of their flood and fled to the highest heaven.23 It seems that for the ancients, the sea represented that unknown and unconquered aspect of life that haunted their dreams and made their imaginations run wild (perhaps similar to modern views of deep space). In the face of such terror, Yahweh revealed Himself as unrivaled and unchallenged, even by the sea itself. Neither the waters themselves (Gen 1:2,6–10, Exod 14:15–31; 15:8; Job 38:8–11; Ps 77:16–20 [Hb. 77:17–21]) nor the great monsters in the sea (Job 41:1–34; Ps 74:12–15, 89:9–10; Isa 51:9) ever challenge or threaten Israel's God. Objects and beings, which threaten other so–called gods, are merely an instrument in Yahweh's hands or an object with which He does as He pleases.
The Creator Provides for His Creation
A God ...
