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Ask Theophilus: The Tree of Knowledge of Hey Whatever, Etc.

BETRAYAL

Dear Professor Theophilus:

My Dad had an affair. I know this because he confessed to the family and the church last weekend. He stepped down from being a deacon. I think our pastors are going to be counseling him.

Oddly enough, I'm not angry with him. I know I should be, but I can't find it in me. We're so much alike that all I can feel is pain, pain, pain — for him, for my Mom, for me.

I won't ask how we can get past this, because so far as I can tell, my brothers and sisters (ages 4 to 14) are all getting on with their lives, and my Mom has taken the blow in stride. Our family doesn't talk much. Terrible as it sounds, the only times I've ever heard my parents say "I love you" is when something terrible happens, like this.

My question is how I can get past this. I don't think my faith is shaken. I just can't stop obsessing. Worrying. I can't even concentrate when he's at work. Whoever the woman was, he met her there. I know he's repented and he's trying to change, but I can hardly talk to him. Every time I do, I think, "How can this be happening? How can we just sit here and talk about normal things, like nothing's changed?"

My Dad and I haven't been exactly close since I was nine, but I feel like I should be feeling something more than this uncomfortable numbness — like I should be insulted that the world has just gone on in the usual way.

Reply

Usually when people write to ask me "How can I get past this?" they mean that they feel too much anger or pain to endure, and want to feel less. You mean something different. You say that you feel too little to endure; you're numb and you want to feel more. Not more pain, because you have plenty of that. More what, then? Apparently, more anger.

Some readers will want me to sermonize, saying that you shouldn't be angry. I won't do that. To be sure, there is a wrong kind of anger — the kind that refuses to forgive, that desires evil instead of good, that damages souls. But there is a right kind, too — the kind that signals that there is something to forgive, that evil has been done, that souls have been damaged, that things aren't right.

I have a surprise for you. You're a lot angrier than you think. What you call your numbness is a way of protecting yourself from your anger's full force. Perhaps you're so afraid of the wrong kind of anger that you won't admit feeling the right kind either. The evidence is all over your letter. You say you want to be angry, that you should be angry, that you ought to be insulted that the world has gone on. These are indirect ways of saying that you are angry, that you're right to be angry, that you are insulted that the world has gone on.

You say that you and your Dad are "alike," but you also say that you can't talk with him and that you aren't close to him. I couldn't help noticing the precision of that last remark. You don't just say "we haven't been close for years" — you say "we haven't been close since I was nine." What happened between you, I wonder, at that tender age?

In short, you think your Dad is getting off too easy. He betrayed your mother, your family, and your church — among others, you — and life goes on as usual. Shouldn't there be conditions for forgiveness? Doesn't repentance require that the wrongdoer show he is sorry? You want to know what your Dad is doing to heal all the hurt that he's caused. The life of your family this week seems less like genuine reconciliation to you than like plowing the sin over and pretending it never happened.

That's how it seems to me, too. Each of you is in a sealed jar, separated by vacuum from the others, unable to say what is really on your mind. By the way, the other members of your family aren't "taking the blow in stride" any more than you are. Your mother may not talk with you about it, but believe me, she's hurting. Only God knows what the younger kids are thinking. Why your father dumped the confession of adultery that he owed to his wife on all of you, right down to the four-year-old, is beyond me. Frankly, that is one of his sins. I hope these are some of the things that your pastors are talking to him about.

What am I telling you? That you should rage, scream, and hate him? No. You're right to be angry, but you're right to love him, too. What you need to do pops right off the page of your letter. "How can we just sit here and talk about normal things," you ask, "like nothing's changed?" Good question. Here's another. If it's not right to talk like nothing's changed, then shouldn't you start talking like something has? Isn't it plain that you and your Dad need to start doing that right now? Why don't you tell him what you've been telling me? You don't have to speak hatefully; speak truthfully. Not speaking truth isn't love.

I'm afraid that your father doesn't know how to begin that conversation. That doesn't mean that he isn't willing to have it with you. Start it yourself. I'm sure it will be awkward; there's no way around that. Pray for light from the Father of Lights, then begin.

Peace be with you,
PROFESSOR THEOPHILUS

THE TREE OF KNOWLEDGE OF HEY WHATEVER

Dear Professor Theophilus:

In Genesis 2, God forbids Adam and Eve to eat from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. A friend of mine objects. If Adam and Eve don't have knowledge of good and evil before they eat from the tree, how can they still be held morally responsible for doing so? I'm not sure how to answer.

Reply

Check your oxygen tanks. We're diving.

Here is the easy part. Your friend is too literal. Suppose he had asked, "Since Jesus didn't walk on all fours and eat grass, how could He be the Lamb of God?" You would have answered, "You misunderstand. 'Lamb of God' is a symbol. We have to look into it more deeply." Eating from the Tree of Knowledge is also a symbol. So what does it symbolize?

I'll tell you what it doesn't symbolize. Christian tradition has never taken the prohibition of eating from the Tree to mean that our first parents were ignorant of the meaning of good and evil and commanded to stay that way. If they had been, they couldn't have known what God meant by His warning and command. Besides, He made us in His image. That means we are personal beings with minds, made to pursue the true, good and beautiful in loving communion with other personal beings. It was only because Eve did desire these things that she dared to substitute her own understanding of the moral significance of her action for God's. As the story says, "when the woman saw that the tree was good for food" — there is the desire for the good — "and that it was a delight to the eyes" — there is the desire for the beautiful — "and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise" — there is the desire for the truth — "she took of its fruit and ate."

But consider how the Tempter got her to disobey. He held out the false promise that if only she would eat, she would be like God. That's the key. Did you check your tanks when I told you to? This is where we go down.

In one sense, of course, we are already like God, because we are created in His image.¹ But in another sense we aren't like Him and never can be, because we are only His images — copies, not originals. Apparently, being like God in the first way wasn't enough for Eve. She wanted to be Creator, not creature, original, not image. She wanted to know the good not the way we know it, but the way God does.

Well, what way is that? God knows good because He knows Himself. All of the glory of creation is a dim reflection of His own uncreated glory. By contrast, we know good only by catching His reflection in the things He has made. That is what Eve rejected by eating of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. As I said, she wanted to know good like God knows. She wanted good to be her reflection, even though it was already His.

You might say she tried to go behind God's back, behind the back of the Source of All that Is, to make herself the source. Of course that's impossible. It's like trying to make yourself your own father. But she pretended. To put it crudely, she wanted to make up for herself what would count as good and evil — and have it count as true.

There you have it: The original temptation. It seems to be at the bottom of all temptations. We hear it in the motto of the pagan thinker Protagoras, who said, "Man is the measure of all things." We hear it in the motto of our own pop culture, "You have your truth, I have mine." I heard it a few months ago in the letter that asked, "What makes God's standard better than yours, mine or my cat's?"

We don't want God to be God; we keep wanting to be God ourselves. Lord Jesus Christ, deliver us from ourselves, and establish your reign in our hearts.

Peace be with you,
PROFESSOR THEOPHILUS

DELAYED REACTION

Dear Professor Theophilus:

I just wanted to take a second to thank you for your old, old Ask Theophilus column, "What If We Love Each Other?" I came across it one night when the title caught my eye as I was searching for something else. As I read the letter (over and over again) I thought that this couple was my boyfriend and me. Their story, for the most part, was ours. I read your advice and then went to sleep, troubled and feeling guilty. The next day, after much postponing, I managed to address my boyfriend about our physical relationship and I also referred to your biblical and sensible advice. We decided we needed to stop sinning, to stop having sex. Thank you for opening up my eyes to what God has said about sexuality. It's going to be a tough challenge to stick with our newly defined boundaries, but it's going to be worth it in the end and I feel free now.

Reply

Thanks for writing; you've refreshed my spirit today. I'm especially glad that you wrote about how you feel free now. Doesn't it just kill you that people think it's the other way around? The world tells us that if only we'd stop talking about sin, we'd be free. But the first step to freedom is forgiveness; the first step to forgiveness is repentance; and the first step to repentance is acknowledgement of sin. Along the road we discover that purity isn't just a negative, not sinning, but a positive, the way of life.

You're right, it isn't easy, but it gets a lot easier, and there are two things you can do to help that happen. First, avoid the things that make it hard, like spending a lot of time alone together, and like doing the things that get your motor running. I'm sure you know what I mean. Second, cultivate your relationship with God. The water of life comes from Him, not from us.

Peace be with you,
PROFESSOR THEOPHILUS