The Lost World of Genesis One: Ancient Cosmology and the Origins Debate

by John H. Walton

As I teach language students, I am still always faced with the challenge of persuading them that they will not succeed simply by learning enough of the language to engage in translation. Truly learning the language requires leaving English behind, entering the world of the text and understanding the language in its Hebrew context without creating English words in their minds. They must understand the Hebrew as Hebrew text. This is the same with culture. We must make every attempt to set our English categories aside, to leave our cultural ideas behind, and try our best (as limited as the attempt might be) to understand the material in its cultural context without translating it.

One can find all of this in our literature, but we didn’t learn it from our literature—it is simply part of our culture that we absorb, often with no alternatives even considered.

God did not think it important to revise their thinking.

If we were to say that God’s revelation corresponds to “true science” we adopt an idea contrary to the very nature of science. What is accepted as true today, may not be accepted as true tomorrow, because what science provides is the best explanation of the data at the time. This “best explanation” is accepted by consensus, and often with a few detractors.

We gain nothing by bringing God’s revelation into accordance with today’s science. In contrast, it makes perfect sense that God communicated his revelation to his immediate audience in terms they understood.

In modern language we still refer to the heart metaphorically as the seat of emotion. In the ancient world this was not metaphor, but physiology. Yet we must notice that when God wanted to talk to the Israelites about their intellect, emotions and will, he did not revise their ideas of physiology and feel compelled to reveal the function of the brain. Instead, he adopted the language of the culture to communicate in terms they understood. The idea that people think with their hearts describes physiology in ancient terms for the communication of other matters; it is not revelation concerning physiology.

Deity pervaded the ancient world. Nothing happened independently of deity. The gods did not “intervene” because that would assume that there was a world of events outside of them that they could step into and out of. The Israelites, along with everyone else in the ancient world, believed instead that every event was the act of deity—that every plant that grew, every baby born, every drop of rain and every climatic disaster was an act of God. No “natural” laws governed the cosmos; deity ran the cosmos or was inherent in it. There were no “miracles” (in the sense of events deviating from that which was “natural”), there were only signs of the deity’s activity (sometimes favorable, sometimes not). The idea that deity got things running then just stood back or engaged himself elsewhere (deism) would have been laughable in the ancient world because it was not even conceivable.

We must take the text on its own terms—it is not written to us.

Its message transcends the culture in which it originated, but the form in which the message was imbedded was fully permeated by the ancient culture. This was God’s design and we ignore it at our peril.

Most of us never consider alternative ontologies. Our culture has given us our beliefs about what it means for the cosmos to exist (material ontology; existence is material; creation is a material act) and many of us would not realize that these beliefs are the result of a choice. It is a testimony to the pervasive influence of culture that this material ontology seems so obvious as to prevent any thought that it is open to discussion.

this book I propose that people in the ancient world believed that something existed not by virtue of its material properties, but by virtue of its having a function in an ordered system. Here I do not refer to an ordered system in scientific terms, but an ordered system in human terms, that is, in relation to society and culture. In this sort of functional ontology, the sun does not exist by virtue of its material properties, or even by its function as a burning ball of gas. Rather it exists by virtue of the role that it has in its sphere of existence, particularly in the way that it functions for humankind and human society.

In a functional ontology, to bring something into existence would require giving it a function or a role in an ordered system, rather than giving it material properties. Consequently, something could be manufactured physically but still not “exist” if it has not become functional.

the ancient world, what was most crucial and significant to their understanding of existence was the way that the parts of the cosmos functioned, not their material status.

we follow the sense of the literature and its ideas of creation, we find that people in the ancient Near East did not think of creation in terms of making material things—instead, everything is function oriented. The gods are beginning their own operations and are making all of the elements of the cosmos operational. Creation thus constituted bringing order to the cosmos from an originally nonfunctional condition. It is from this reading of the literature that we may deduce a functional ontology in the ancient world—that is, that they offer accounts of functional origins rather than accounts of material origins. Consequently, to create something (cause it to exist) in the ancient world means to give it a function, not material properties.

here at the beginning of the creation process, there is already material in existence—the waters of the deep. These primeval cosmic waters are the classic form that nonexistence takes in the functionally oriented ancient world.

When the ancient texts talk about how something functions in an ordered system, the system under discussion is not a cosmic or ecological system. It is a system inhabited by beings.

throughout Genesis 1 the refrain “it was good” expressed the functional readiness of the cosmos for human beings. Readers were assured that all functions were operating well and in accord with God’s purposes and direction.

cosmic creation in the ancient world was not viewed primarily as a process by which matter was brought into being, but as a process by which functions, roles, order, jurisdiction, organization and stability were established. This defines creation in the ancient world and in turn demonstrates that ontology was focused on something’s functional status rather than its material status.

That we do not retain the cosmic geography of the ancient world that featured a solid barrier holding back waters does not change the fact that our understanding of the Creator includes his role in setting up and maintaining a weather system. The material terms used in day two reflect accommodation to the way the ancient audience thought about the world. But it doesn’t matter what one’s material cosmic geography might look like—primitive or sophisticated—the point remains that on the second day, God established the functions that serve as the basis for weather.

So on day one God created the basis for time; day two the basis for weather; and day three the basis for food. These three great functions—time, weather and food—are the foundation of life. If we desire to see the greatest work of the Creator, it is not to be found in the materials that he brought together—it is that he brought them together in such a way that they work.

We should never lose the wonder of this. Functions are far more important than materials.

Perspectives on the material universe will vary from era to era and culture to culture. It would be no surprise then that God’s creative work should be proclaimed relative to those issues that serve as the universal foundation of how people encounter the cosmos.

Even today we can consider it true that the sky is blue, that the sun sets and that the moon shines. But we know that these are scientifically misleading statements. Science, however, simply offers one way of viewing the world, and it does not have a corner on truth.

This does not mean to suggest that there are many truths, but that there are many possible different perspectives that can each offer truthful information.

It is the wonder of creation that new generations of the same kinds of creatures are born from parent creatures. This is the same sort of marvel as the system that allows the plants to grow from seed.

whereas in the rest of the ancient world creation was set up to serve the gods, a theocentric view, in Genesis, creation is not set up for the benefit of God but for the benefit of humanity—an anthropocentric view. Thus we can say that humanity is the climax of the creation account.

In Genesis people represent God to the rest of creation. So the focus moves from the divine realm, through people, to the world around them. It would be like the difference between the employees in the plant who serve the company in the manufacturing process (like people in the ancient Near East) and the employees engaged in sales and marketing who represent the company to the outside world (like people in Genesis).

in the ancient world rest is what results when a crisis has been resolved or when stability has been achieved, when things have “settled down.” Consequently normal routines can be established and enjoyed. For deity this means that the normal operations of the cosmos can be undertaken. This is more a matter of engagement without obstacles rather than disengagement without responsibilities.

When we thought of Genesis 1 as an account of material origins, creation became an action in the past that is over and done with. God made objects and now the cosmos exists (materially). Viewing Genesis 1 as an account of functional origins offers more opportunity for understanding that God’s creative work continues

The horizontal axis in the temple was arranged in the same order as the vertical axis in the cosmos. From the courtyard, which contained the elements outside the organized cosmos (cosmic waters and pillars of the earth), one would move into the organized cosmos as he entered the antechamber. Here were the Menorah, the Table of Bread and the incense altar. In the Pentateuch’s descriptions of the tabernacle, the lamp and its olive oil are provided for “light” (especially Ex 25:6; 35:14; Num 4:9). This word for light is the same word used to describe the celestial bodies in day four (rather than calling them sun and moon). As the Menorah represented the light provided by God, the “Bread of the Presence” (Ex 25:30) represented food provided by God. The altar of incense provided a sweet-smelling cloud across the face of the veil that separated the two chambers. If we transpose from the horizontal axis to the vertical, the veil separated the earthly sphere, with its functions, from the heavenly sphere, where God dwells. This latter was represented in the holy of holies, where the footstool of the throne of God (the ark) was placed. Thus the veil served the same symbolic function as the firmament. To review then, the courtyard represented the cosmic spheres outside of the organized cosmos (sea and pillars). The antechamber held the representations of lights and food. The veil separated the heavens and earth—the place of God’s presence from the place of human habitation.[12]

Genesis 1 can now be seen as a creation account focusing on the cosmos as a temple. It is describing the creation of the cosmic temple with all of its functions and with God dwelling in its midst. This is what makes day seven so significant, because without God taking up his dwelling in its midst, the (cosmic) temple does not exist. The most central truth to the creation account is that this world is a place for God’s presence.

Though all of the functions are anthropocentric, meeting the needs of humanity, the cosmic temple is theocentric, with God’s presence serving as the defining element of existence.

At this point a very clear statement must be made: Viewing Genesis 1 as an account of functional origins of the cosmos as temple does not in any way suggest or imply that God was uninvolved in material origins—it only contends that Genesis 1 is not that story. To the author and audience of Genesis, material origins were simply not a priority. To that audience, however, it would likewise have been unthinkable that God was somehow uninvolved in the material origins of creation. Hence there wouldn’t have been any need to stress a material creation account with God depicted as centrally involved in material aspects of creation.

The theological point is that whatever exists, be it material or functional, God made it. But from there our task as interpreters is to evaluate individual texts to see what aspect of God’s creation they discuss.

believe that if we are going to interpret the text according to its face value, we need to read it as the ancient author would have intended and as the ancient audience would have heard it. Though the literary form of expression and the theological foundation are undeniable, I believe that study of the ancient world indicates that far more is going on here than that.

compared Genesis 1 to other ancient literature have sometimes suggested that the biblical text intends to be polemical—to offer a view in opposition to that of the rest of the ancient world. Again, it cannot be denied that Genesis offers a very different perspective than other creation texts in a number of ways. Here there is only one God, and there is no conflict to overcome. Since Genesis allows only one God, the account does not explain other gods being brought into existence and thus it breaks the close association between the components of the cosmos and the gods. All of this is true, and could be viewed as polemic. But it must also be noticed that the author of Genesis 1 is not explicitly arguing with the other views—he is simply offering his own view. His opposition to other ancient views is tacit.

The problem with concordist approaches is that while they take the text seriously, they give no respect to the human author.

God has communicated through human authors and through their intentions. The human author’s communication is inspired and carries authority. It cannot be cast aside abruptly for modern thinking. The human author gives us access to the divine message. It has always been so. If additional divine meaning is intended, we must seek out another inspired voice to give us that additional divine meaning, and such an inspired voice can only be found in the Bible’s authors. Scientific theory does not qualify as such an inspired voice.

validation would come in answer to the question, Is this really how God set up the world to run, and is he the one who set it up? This stands in stark contrast to the validation that asks, Is this a scientifically accurate account of how the material universe came into being?

In this view, science cannot offer an unbiblical view of material origins, because there is no biblical view of material origins aside from the very general idea that whatever happened, whenever it happened, and however it happened, God did it.

Chapter one already discussed the issue that the distinction between “natural” and “supernatural” is not readily evident in the Old Testament and its world. One could go through passages such as Psalm 104 or Job 38 and see that the things attributed to God can also be explained in “natural” terms. The ancients were not inclined to distinguish between primary and secondary causation, and everything was attributed to deity. We can see, then, that the pie model is characterized by a distinction that is essentially unbiblical.[1]

Empirical science is not designed to be able to define or detect a purpose, though it may theoretically be able to deduce rationally that purpose is logically the best explanation.[6]

Whatever mechanisms can be demonstrated for the material phase, theological convictions insist that they comprise God’s purposeful activity. It is not a scientific view of mechanism (naturalism) that is contrary to biblical thinking, but exclusive materialism that denies biblical teaching. Naturalism is no threat—but materialism and its determined dysteleology is.[8]

One form of this practical deism is particularly noticeable in some permutations of “theistic evolution” in which God is seen as responsible for “jump-starting” the evolutionary process and then letting it unwind through the eons. Alternatively God is sometimes viewed as involved more regularly at critical junctures to accomplish major jumps in evolution. The problem is that these approaches not only potentially remove God from ongoing operations in nature, but they even write God out of most of the origins story. The deism view gives too much to the ongoing functions of creation as well as rendering them too independent from God. The interventionist view treats the functionality of natural proc-esses too lightly, as being inadequate to accomplish God’s purposes. Potentially, the processes left to run on their own might very well fail to achieve God’s purposes, but this possibility reveals the all-or-nothing assumption behind these two views—that what happens in natural history is either all due to natural processes running on their own or is due to direct divine intervention in the natural operations. That God might be working alongside or through physical and biological processes in a way that science cannot detect is one possibility that this either-or assumption ignores.[1]

The relationship between creation and other aspects of God’s work such as covenant, redemption and eschatology is that each of these also involves God in the process of bringing order to disorder. He also did this for the cosmos in his creating work and continues to do it in sustaining the cosmos. But these—covenant-making, redemption and so on—are more related to his role in progressive revelation than to his Creator role.

if the Bible does not offer an account of material origins we are free to consider contemporary explanations of origins on their own merits, as long as God is seen as ultimately responsible. Therefore whatever explanation scientists may offer in their attempts to explain origins, we could theoretically adopt it as a description of God’s handiwork.

What we identify as natural laws only take on their law-like quality because God acts so consistently in the operations of the cosmos. He has made the cosmos intelligible and has given us minds that can penetrate some of its mysteries.

If God’s work of creation is considered only a historical act that took place in the past, it is easy to imagine how people might not think in terms of God being active today. We have lost the view that nature does not operate independently from God. He is still creating with each baby that is born, with each plant that grows, with each cell that divides, with each nebula that forms. We might find it easy to look at some majestic view like a glorious sunset or the grandeur of the mountains and ponder the magnificence of God’s handiwork. But this sense needs to extend beyond the “wow” moments to encompass all of our experience of his world. We have the same problem when we only recognize God in some incredible occurrence in our lives and forget that he provides for us, cares for us and protects us moment by moment, day after day. God did not just create at some time in the past; he is the Creator—past, present and future.

The biblical way of thinking counters materialism when it insists that the most important part of the equation is God’s purposes.

When we “rest” on the sabbath, we recognize him as the author of order and the one who brings rest (stability) to our lives and world. We take our hands off the controls of our lives and acknowledge him as the one who is in control. Most importantly this calls on us to step back from our workaday world—those means by which we try to provide for ourselves and gain control of our circumstances. Sabbath is for recognizing that it is God who provides for us and who is the master of our lives and our world. We are not imitating him in sabbath observance, we are acknowledging him in tangible ways.