There once
was a beautiful walled garden that stood by itself in the middle of the world. In
this garden grew every kind of beautiful flower and tree. Peaceful animals
lived in it; birds and butterflies and innocent horses and sheep and squirrels
flew and fluttered and roamed and grazed and scurried through the garden to
their hearts’ content.
The garden was
tended by a man and a woman. They both lived and worked in the garden and had
always lived and worked there. They took care of the flowers and shrubs and
trees and were friends with the animals and made pets out of some of them. The
people were very beautiful and happy, like the animals and flowers and trees.
Everyone was happy in the garden because the garden was perfect, and nobody knew
anything else.
Then one
day, a new animal arrived from somewhere outside of the garden. No one had ever
seen anything like him before. He was very long and thin and instead of walking
on all fours, like the horses, or on two legs, like the people, he wiggled on
the ground because he had no legs. Everyone welcomed this strange creature into
the garden, and he seemed relieved to be there. The people picked him up and
put him into the knothole of a giant and beautiful tree, the tree that the
people called The Tree of Life, since the main part of their diet was made of
its fruit. The animals wanted to
know what he called himself.
“I am
called a serpent,” he said. He curled up in his knothole with a happy sigh and
fell asleep. He slept for many days. The woman came to check on him every day
and left him some berries and grass and nuts to eat. She was worried that he
might get hungry while he slept.
On the third
day, the serpent woke up. The woman saw that he was awake and was delighted. She
asked him how he felt.
“Much
better,” he said with a sigh and shook his head sadly. “This is a beautiful
place. What is it called?”
“Eden,”
said the woman. “Thank you. We think it is a beautiful place. Where did you
come from, serpent?”
The serpent
sighed. “I would rather not think about where I came from. It was not a
beautiful place. It was horrible.”
“What does
horrible mean?” asked the woman.
The serpent
looked at the woman and shook his head. “If you don’t know what horrible means,
I’m not going to be the one to tell you.”
So the
woman told the man and the other animals that night that the serpent was from a
place called Horrible, but that he didn’t want to talk about it.
“He is our
guest, so we must honor his desire to not speak of his home, although it is
very strange. Everyone knows that home is the best place in the world,” said
the woman. The man and the other animals agreed.
However,
the woman was very curious about the serpent’s home and about the outside
world. She had never been outside of the garden walls because . . . actually,
she wasn’t sure why. So the next day, she went to the Tree of Life to talk to
the serpent and found him sunning himself on a branch near his knothole.
“Serpent,
tell me about your home,” she said.
The serpent
shuddered. “I told you, I can’t tell you about my home. Even if I wanted to
tell you about it, you couldn’t understand. I want to forget about my home. Now
don’t ask me again.” Then, as he saw that he had hurt her feelings, he added, “But
if you would be so kind, tell me about your home, this garden. I would like to
hear of good things.”
So the
woman told him about the Garden and the flowers and shrubs and trees, and the birds
and butterflies and innocent horses and sheep and squirrels that made their
home in the garden, and how she and the man took care of everything, and lived
happily under the shade of the giant trees. The serpent listened to her
speaking and saw how good and kind and innocent she was herself.
“This is a
good place. You should never leave this place,” said the serpent, when she had
finished.
The woman
blushed. “How did you know that I want to leave it?”
The serpent
shook his head. “You should never leave this place. This is paradise.”
“What is
paradise?” asked the woman.
The serpent
looked at the woman and smiled sadly. “If you do not know what paradise is, I’m
not going to be the one to tell you.”
And so that
night the woman told the man and the other animals that the serpent had said
that they should never leave the garden because it was Paradise.
“Why would
we want to leave it?” said the man. “It is home, and everyone knows that home
is the best place in the world.”
The animals
all agreed, but the woman was silent. She was frowning. A new thought had come
to her.
“How do I know that home is the best place in the
world if I’ve never been out in the world?” she thought. “How silly they all
are, thinking they know everything! They know nothing, and neither do I.” She felt
irritable and restless, stayed awake all night while the man slept and the
butterflies and birds fluttered and twittered through the branches of the Tree
of Life.
The next
day, the woman slowly walked to the Tree of Life. She looked very sad.
“Serpent,”
she said. “I have made up my mind. I have to leave the garden.”
The
serpent, sunning himself on a branch near his knothole, almost fell off in his
surprise. “My friend,” he cried, hanging upside down from the branch by his
tail, “what are you talking about? How can you even think such a thing?”
The woman
gently lifted the serpent back onto his branch and looked into his shiny black
eyes, which were full of concern.
“I can’t
help it. Ever since you came I haven’t been able to stop wondering about the
rest of the world. You know so much, and I don’t know anything about anything. I
want to understand the world better, like you do. I want to explore it and find
out what kind of a place it is. I’m tired of being stuck here.” She waved her
hand at the living green walls around her.
“My
friend,” said the serpent, agitated, “you cannot leave this garden. You do not
know what kind of a world it is out there. You do not even know the words to
describe what kind of world it is out there. Your home is here, and the one thing you do know is true: Home
is the best place in the world.”
The woman
stamped her foot impatiently. “How do I know
that home is the best place in the world when I have never been out in the
world?”
When the
serpent saw that the woman was thinking this way, he realized that it was
useless to argue.
“It was
better for you to be ignorant,” he thought. “It is my fault. If I had not come,
you would have been content here inside these walls. Now you can’t be content
here anymore. And you have lost your home, although you don’t know it yet.”
“My friend,”
said the serpent slowly, “What will you do? Will you leave the man and the
animals?”
“Yes, I
have to,” she said. “But that is why I am sad today. I have never been apart
from them before.”
That night,
the woman told the man and the animals what she planned to do. They were
distraught and tried to persuade her not to go. The man even started to cry.
The woman put her arms around him to comfort him and then he said, “If you go,
I must go too. I have never been separated from you before.”
The woman
smiled and her eyes shone with hope. “We will find something wonderful, I know
it! We will find what the serpent said . . . Paradise!”
“Perhaps we
will find Horrible, too,” said the man, trying to be excited.
“All the
better,” cried the woman. “I want to find it all!”
The next
day the woman and the man got ready to leave the garden. All the birds and
butterflies and innocent horses and sheep and squirrels and the serpent came to
see them off. The woman went from animal to animal and said goodbye with a
tender kiss and a pat on the head. She was calm, but glowing with excitement
and purpose. Finally, she stopped at the Tree of Life and affectionately rubbed
the serpent between his beady black eyes with her forefinger.
“So you are
really going?” said the serpent gloomily.
“Of course
I am!” she said.
The serpent
did not smile back. “If you are going to go, you need to know one thing.” He
sounded so serious that everyone became quiet and stared at him. “There is no Tree of Life in the world.
Don’t try to look for it. If you try to look for it, you will go hungry looking.
But there is another tree; it grows abundantly throughout the world. It is
called the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. Its fruit is edible.”
“How will
we recognize it?” asked the man, who was feeling frightened at the thought of
not being able to eat from the Tree of Life.
“You will
know it when you see it,” said the serpent, and he slid back into his knothole.
There was
nothing left to do or say, so the woman and man walked out of the garden to look
at the world and see what kind of place it was.
The day
after they left, the animals woke up confused and anxious. They went to the
serpent and said, “Brother, help us! You are wise, and we need a leader now
that the woman and man are gone.”
“Leave me
alone,” said the serpent from inside his knothole. “I am no leader, and I am
not wise.”
“But you
have been throughout the world and have seen so many things,” said the animals.
“We must have someone to lead us.”
Still the
serpent said nothing and stayed inside his knothole, for he was consumed with
guilt over what had happened to the man and woman. The animals wandered around
the Tree of Life all morning and could not eat or rest. Finally, a horse said
to the other animals, “We should follow our two people. What is this place
without them?”
So the
animals left the garden to search for their people. But the serpent did not
follow; he stayed in his knothole in the Tree of Life.
And so the
serpent spent a very lonely year in the walled garden. He missed the company of
the kind woman and the simple man and the animals. He rarely left the Tree. He lived
his quiet days eating fruit and sunning himself on the branch by his knothole. One
day, as he slithered out to breakfast, he looked around the garden and noticed that
things had started to change. The more delicate and fragrant flowers were
wilting, the trees and shrubs were turning brown, the grass was scraggly and
tangled, and the heavy vines were beginning to grow out of control. Strangest
of all, the garden walls, which had stood for centuries without maintenance or
repair, were beginning to crumble. The serpent sighed and went inside his
knothole and did not come out again for a very long time.
One day,
years after the people had gone away, the serpent looked to the east and saw someone
walking towards him. He thought it strange that anyone should be in the region
at all. There was nothing to see there, for all that remained of the once
verdant and pleasing landscape was harsh, dry brush encircled by a perimeter of
fallen stones. The garden had vanished; the Tree of Life stood green and alone
in a deserted wasteland.
“It must be
some poor lost soul,” thought the serpent.
The figure
came closer and grew in size until the serpent could see that it wasn’t a man,
but a woman. Then, with a little start of surprise, he realized and it was she, his old friend. She walked slowly towards
him, head down, back bent forward a little, as though she carried a great
weight on her shoulders. Every now and then she would look up, scan the
horizon, frown, and continue walking wearily towards the Tree. She was hesitant
as she climbed over the fallen stones, and picked her way around the dry bushes
as though she couldn’t understand how they had gotten there.
When the
woman walked into the shade of the Tree, she looked up into its branches and noticed
the serpent. She stopped and stared at him, her eyes blank and wondering. Then
she blinked. “Serpent?”
“Hello
friend,” said the serpent.
“What are
you doing here?” she asked. “Why aren’t you in the garden?”
“I am in
the garden,” said the serpent. “Well, anyway, and I am where the garden used to
be.”
“No, this
is not the garden,” she cried. “There is no garden here, and never has been.” She
took a step back and stared. But she looked and looked at the Tree of Life and
realized there could be no mistake. It was the same Tree, and she was standing
in the middle of her old garden.
“No, this
can’t be,” she said to herself. “I did this? I did this? How could I do this? How could this happen?”
“The
punishment rarely fits the crime,” said the serpent. “That is the way of the
world.”
“But I
committed no crime!” cried the woman. “What crime did I commit? What law did I
break? I was curious and restless. Is that a sin?”
The serpent
said nothing.
She looked
around her, tears streaming down her face. “All I wanted was to come home,” she
thought. “And this isn’t home anymore, but there is no where else for me. Where
else can I go?”
“I don’t
know,” the serpent said. “I don’t know. This is my fault. If I hadn’t come, you
would have been content.”
Suddenly
the air turned gold and white, there was a rushing wind, and a sound of
roaring, and God appeared before them, in gold, white and pink robes. He was
too bright to see, but his voice was strong and made the ground around the Tree
of Life tremble. The serpent hid his face, but the woman looked through her
squinting eyes, although she knew it was perhaps dangerous, because she wanted to
see God.
“I
sent the serpent to the garden,” said God. “Do you think he could have come otherwise?”
“Why,”
asked the woman. Although she was afraid, she was also angry. “Why would you do
that?”
“You
wanted to leave,” said God. “You were unhappy. You were restless and curious.
You were meant to be all of those things.”
“But
the garden was so beautiful, and now it is gone!”
“There
have been and will be many gardens,” said God. “Each has its time, and each comes
to an end. You may mourn for it, for you loved it. But it is not a calamity. ”
“But
the world is a horrible place,” said the serpent, still not looking at God.
“And now this innocent woman and man have to live in it, and make a way in it,
and deal with all of its trials and horrors and pains. It is not fair, and you
know it!”
“Serpent,”
said God. “You are a catalyst of change; this is your function in the world. Remember
that you do not know things that you have not been given to know. You bring
knowledge, but not wisdom. The woman will find wisdom another way. It would be
best if you would not speak of things you do not understand.”
The
serpent was quiet.
“Woman,
where is the man?” God asked.
“I
don’t know,” she said, looking confused. “We had a fight—I wanted to come back
to the garden and he didn’t want to. I haven’t seen him for a long time.”
“Woman, it
is time for you to build a new home,” said God. “You will always be able to
come back to the Tree, for it is yours. It will live without tending, and it
will welcome and refresh you when you need it. But you leave it again for now
and find the man, for he cannot live without you. This is your first
necessity.”
The
woman said, “You forgive me then? For leaving the garden?”
“Why
do you ask for my forgiveness?” said God, and the cloud disappeared.
