THIS short book is a series of reflections on the creation narratives in Genesis, described by the author as the most misused and misunderstood parts of the Bible. They are not intended to be definitive, but invite further discussion. The two accounts are both different in emphasis and even contradict each other.
Runcorn rightly recognises that the Hebrews did their theology by stories: stories that need to be listened to in their own right without any preconceptions of their relevance or not to later Christian doctrine. While they may relate to the past, they are to be appropriated in the present, “remembered in our living”. Creation defines God’s nature. It is not an exercise of power, but an act of love by a self-emptying, non-possessive God.
In his journey through the text of the seven-day creation account, he offers many important insights. For instance, commenting on God’s creation of the two great sea monsters, he points out that, while God created out of “a turbulent, jittering nothingness”, from the first, order and chaos existed in tension. Life is neither perfectly ordered nor random. It is a world of risk.
Nevertheless, while Runcorn recognises that this creation story was written for the exilic generation, he neither considers that the narrative may have been borrowed and adapted nor identifies the significance of the sabbath as its climax. Since the only people in the world who keep the sabbath are the Hebrews, making the sabbath a fixed part of the creation process means that they were in God’s mind from the beginning. Despite their current fragile position, they, too, are as permanent as all else created by God in those seven days. This accounts for the placing of this narrative at the beginning of the Bible. Despite the Babylonian conquest, Israel’s election cannot be voided, provided she has faith.
The Eden story, which the author dates to Solomon’s reign, is examined in much the same way. It starts with God’s “playing in the mud”. We are but dust, “but desired dust”. Throughout the subsequent examination of the narrative, Runcorn challenges popular interpretations. For instance, he dismisses the idea that the story provides “a definition of marriage”, rejects the concept of a single “Fall”, and condemns the way, in religious history, women have been blamed. He sees the man and the woman’s disobedience as a breakdown in trust. Sin is to try to be like God. Yet life beyond the garden in our world is revealed as a place of mercy.
In the final chapters, Runcorn considers the uncertainty of life, the problem of unjust suffering, and the journey of becoming who one is, as well as the nature of God, the cost of creating, and the essence of love. He then meditates on the incarnation as described by John — “The Creator has entered the world as creature” — as well as two resurrection narratives, before concluding with the Easter liturgy’s proclamation “O happy fault that won for us so great a salvation!” There is much to ponder here, preferably in group discussion.
Canon Anthony Phillips is a former headmaster of The King’s School, Canterbury.
Playing in the Dust: A pilgrimage with the creation stories
David Runcorn
Canterbury Press £13.99
(978-1-78622-629-7)
Church Times Bookshop £11.19