Kass is an admirer of Mr. Leo Strauss and a former bioethics adviser to Mr. George W. Bush. His reading of Genesis is ponderously long, and it never misses a chance to announce that you and he are embarked on a 'wisdom-seeking' approach to the text. Still interested? Well, page after page Kass and his seminar pals (he doesn't cite much secondary literature, but he does quote his students liberally) generate dozens of straightforward, non-tendentious insights into the text. Ultimately, the wisdom-seeking or Straussian approach seems to amount to two appealing views. First, Genesis is best read as a piece of philosophical anthropology. (That is, as an account of human nature and human institutions, not as revelation, not as redaction, and not -- my own tendency -- as a repository of very gnarly tales.) Second, it sustains a good deal of very close reading.
Here's an example. When the woman (she is not yet Eve) responds to the serpent, she seems to make two interesting mistakes. First, she says that God has forbidden her to eat from the tree "in the middle of the garden." But according to 2:9, it is the tree of life that has been planted there, not necessarily the tree of knowledge (whose location is left ambiguous). This would have seemed to me a quibble were it not that, second, the woman says that God has forbidden her not only to eat from the tree, but to touch it as well. And yet in 2:17, God's interdiction refers to eating alone. Do these observations add up to anything? They do serve to remind us that the woman was not present when God gave the command, and they thereby suggest that the woman may have misunderstood or been misinformed by the man. And this, in a small but not uninteresting way, opens up to us, in advance of the Fall, something like the possibility of language failing us (this is different from the serpent's manipulation) or of people simply failing one another.
With these points in mind, moreover, it is interesting to reconsider the decision to eat from the tree: "So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate" (3:6). For one, the woman's claims are again at variance with what the reader knows about the garden. She "sees" that the tree is good for food. But 2:9 seems to distinguish the trees of life and knowledge from those that are "pleasant to sight and good for food" rather than to include them in their number. But second, and more importantly, Kass notices that the woman has determined in advance of moving to eat from the tree that the tree is good. (Good for food.) It is in fact her own ability to recognize goodness simply on the basis of the visual evidence (presumably, she is comparing this tree to others which it resembles and which are themselves good for food), and thus not the serpent's ambiguous claims, that justify her decision to eat. And the thing Kass observes here -- and, who knows, I am sure he is not the first, but Jack Miles certainly missed it, and so did my Sunday School teacher -- is that the whole point of eating from the tree was to gain knowledge of good and bad. In claiming to know that the tree is good before she has learned what goodness is, the woman is thus committing a profound sort of error. And Kass seems right to say that the error is her implicit assumption that her use of reason -- observing, comparing, sorting, classing -- is a reliable path to truth. One might go on to say that her attempt to reason herself into the very pursuit of reasoning, into the knowledge of good and evil, shows us something profound about the risks of foundationalism in philosophy or (a related case) of the difficulties we run into when we try to give ourselves reasons to be rational. But that would take us pretty far out of Eden.