So he drove out the man; and he placed at the east of the garden of Eden Cherubims, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to keep the way of the tree of life.
And he placed at the east of the garden of Eden х wayashkeen (H7931)] - literally, he caused to dwell; stationed. (The root of the expression Shechinah is to be found in this verb.) х hakªrubiym (H3742)] "The cherubim," so mentioned, as objects with the form of which the Hebrew people were familiar.
And a flaming sword - literally, the flame of a sword, which, by a common enallage may be rendered a sword-like, or pointed flame.
Which turned (turning) every way - darting its resplendent beams around on every side, so as to present an effectual bar to all access by the old approach to the garden. The justice and judgment of God were on the one hand exhibited by this awe-inspiring and destructive element, while on the other mercy and reconciliation were indicated by the appointment of the cherubim to keep the way of the tree of life, or, rather, 'to the tree of life' х lishmor (H8104) 'et (H854) ... derek (H1870)]. To "keep the way" is uniformly employed in the sense of observing or preserving (cf. Genesis 18:19; Judges 2:22; Psalms 105:45). The whole passage may be thus rendered. (With a view to debar a return to the primeval paradise) 'He placed at the east of (or before) the garden of Eden the cherubim, and a sword-like flame, which turned every way, to keep the way to the tree of life.' What were the cherubim? Were they real beings having a personal existence, or mere figures of religious symbolism? That they were actual realities was the opinion which generally prevailed in the ancient Church; and it is a very current idea in the religious world still, that the word describes the delegated presence of angels, standing as sentinels, with a flaming sword, to prevent any presumptuous attempt to re-enter the precincts of Eden. That they were not angels, however, appointed for such a purpose, seems clear from the fact that they continued to be pictorially represented long after the deluge had swept away all vestiges of the terrestrial paradise. But, since angels are beings which have a local and real existence in heaven, any attempt, to represent them in a visible form would have been obviously at variance with the principles of the true religion. Moreover, the cherubim are described both by Ezekiel and by John, in the Apocalypse, not as angels, but as creatures worshipping God, and expressing gratitude for the blessings of salvation. Further still, since the historian deemed it unnecessary or superfluous to do more than name the cherubim, they must have been objects well known to his countrymen; and surely, figures which were considered so important that the dispensation under which Adam was placed after the Fall, the law of Moses, as well as the Christian economy, are all equally marked by their exhibition, must, it is obvious, have a direct and intimate connection with the religion that is revealed for sinners. On all these accounts, then, many eminent writers in the present day, both in Britain and on the Continent, are inclined to regard them as mere emblems, from the symbolical character which attaches to them in all the later books of Scripture-emblems of such moral qualities as are exemplified by the intelligence of man, the courage of the lion, the swiftness of the eagle, the patient and persevering obedience of the ox.
They were, in short, compound emblems of the highest forms of created life, especially the human, affording a high conception of regenerated, enlightened, and sanctified people, who are described as resting neither day nor night from engaging in the divine service, and pointing to the glory of God as manifested in the face of Christ Jesus. Viewed in such a light, this description of the original institution of the refulgent flame, with the cherubic figures, was the grand prototype of the Shechinah, which appeared so frequently to patriarchs, prophets, and apostles, and of which a permanent model was placed in the tabernacle and the first temple. The influence of this primeval prototype, which probably differed somewhat from the later descriptions of the cherubim, spread far and wide, and, being preserved by tradition from age to age, was reproduced among pagan nations in the sphinxes of the Egyptians, the winged lions of the Assyrians, the dragons of the Greeks, the griffins of the Indians and other nations of Asia.
All these bear a resemblance to the cherubim both in form and signification; because they are always described as fictitious creatures, compounded from various animals, and placed as guardians of things or places, access to which was forbidden. But here is the grand and essential difference between the Scriptural cherubim and those compound symbols in pagan countries. Cherubim, as they occur in representations of the Bible, from its earliest chapters to the closing visions of John, are not mere guards or watchers, blocking the approach to some forbidden object. In the text (Genesis 3:24), which more than others will at first sight favour such interpretation of their functions, it is not asserted that the cherubim were placed outside the garden; neither is it said that they were planted on that sacred soil to "watch" it merely; because if "watching" was in any sense ascribed to them as well as to the sword-like flame, the word employed will show that these were watchers only as the first man was a watcher: they were doing there what he had signally failed to do (Genesis 2:15). And, in like manner, the position of these emblems in the tabernacle and temple afterward had never been upon the threshold of the sanctuary, nor even before the mercy-seat, but in immediate contact and connection with the throne of God Himself (Exodus 25:18).
A careful survey of these facts will suffice to repel the notion that the cherubim were emblems only of exclusive and prohibitory power; and if we seek, as we are bound to do, the fuller illustration of their form and import in the copious visions of Ezekiel, and especially among the wonders of the Apocalypse, it is evident that, though the pagan symbols, like the Scriptural cherubim, were composite in structure, the figures which make up the symbol, as well as the purposes to which they were devoted, were unlike in the two cases.
How, following in the steps of Scripture, may we characterize the cherubim? Each cherub was a group of figures, or, rather, was one compounded figure, consisting of four parts. The leading or most prominent shape resembled a human being, while the rest were like some portions of the ox, the lion, and the eagle. The whole emblem, it is true, might have been somewhat different at the different points of Hebrew history; but two or more of these distinctive elements had always been the recognized members of cherubic combinations. Now, we gather from Ezekiel that the fundamental thought embodied in such emblems was the property of life: they were emphatically "the living ones;" they represented, therefore, several of the noblest forms of creaturely existence, each excelling in its province, each contributing to the production of a group in which the human form predominated, and the four together constituting an ideal image of all animated nature.
So interpreted, we readily understand, not only their position in the sacred garden, but their office in the sanctuary of God on earth, and also their proximity to God Himself in visions of the blessed. The planting of the cherubim on the ground which man had once inherited, but had failed ere long to cherish as his best possession, was suggestive of the truth that he, and all whose fortunes had been linked with his, had still, in virtue of some gracious mystery, a part and interest in Eden. The appearance of the cherubim in the holiest place of all was further proof of such an interest: it prolonged the hopeful pledge afforded to the Hebrew by traditions of his forefathers; it told him that the representatives of man, and of creation generally, had still their place allotted to them on the mercy-seat of the Most High; and in the glowing scenes of the Apocalypse, when Adam's family have re-assembled around the throne of God, to sing the praises of the great Redeemer, the same mystic creatures show the ardour which that anthem has excited in their bosom by a rapturous Amen (Revelation 5:14). Whatever, therefore, may be urged in proof of some external correspondence, in the Mosaic age, between the cherubim, as already known to members of the sacred family, and the figures sculptured and placed in the approaches to the ancient pagan temples, there can be no doubt that the two emblems were associated in these different systems of religion with very different thoughts. The one might serve to symbolize the best conceptions which a pagan mind could form of properties possessed by favourite kings, or by some nobler inmates of the crowded pantheon; while the other was designed to be a complex image of created nature in its highest, most ideal form, yet always bowing in distinct subordination to the great Creator, and, as such, ascribing "glory, and honour, and thanks to Him that sat on the throne, who liveth forever and ever" (Revelation 4:9).' (Hardwick).
Remarks: This chapter contains information, of painful interest and vast importance, not to be obtained from any other source accessible to us. Ever since men began to think and to speculate, the existence of moral evil under the government of a wise, holy, and benevolent Being has engaged the attention of intelligent and reflecting minds; but it is still an unsolved problem, and, notwithstanding the great scientific attainments of the present age, it probably will remain a mystery which it will baffle the utmost efforts of philosophy to investigate. Whatever may be our ignorance, however as to the origin of evil in the universe, we are in none respecting the introduction of sin into our world, since this chapter informs us, in a most distinct and graphic manner, both when and how man fell from his state of original righteousness.
It is not a myth, although Rosenmuller, Eichhorn, and a host of Rationalists, both at home and abroad, view it in that light; because the supernatural element that enters into the early portion of the narrative, instead of diminishing, confirms its credibility, such an element being inseparable from a scene of temptation in the special circumstances of the primitive pair. Neither is it an allegory, designed to exhibit, under the form of a fictitious story, the philosophic truth, that an ill-regulated, hankering desire for the enjoyment of interdicted good was the bane of man and the cause of his ruin. It must be regarded as a real transaction, because the account of it occurs in a historical book, in the midst of a number of other historical facts; it was followed immediately by disastrous effects on the destiny of the fallen pair; and by regarding it in the character of historical verity, we are furnished with a key to a satisfactory explanation of the strange and sad anomalies in the moral character and condition of the human race. The traditions of every country coincide more or less with the sacred narrative: they all preserve the memory of a golden age, when man was in a higher, purer, and happier state; and in various regions of the East, especially Arabia, Persia and India, these traditions ascribe his sad lapse from original dignity to the successful stratagem of a malignant serpent or dragon. But the purely dogmatic or ethical character of the Scripture narrative, contrasted with the local peculiarities, or grotesque circumstances associated with the Oriental fables, make it easy to distinguish the Hebrew story as the original whence those distorted legends were derived.
The record contained in this chapter, then, is so far removed from the character of a myth or an allegory, that it does not possess the elements of either; because, on the principles laid down in defending the literal sense of the preceding chapter (see Remarks), everything else must be mythical or allegorical, if the serpent be declared to be so. It must be considered a veritable history, giving the only true account of what would be otherwise inexplicable in the present economy of the world, and, above all, furnishing key to the plan of redemption; because if this chapter be divested of its historical character, the whole system of Christianity, as a remedial scheme of Providence, is destroyed, Man, as he now appears, is not in his normal condition, but in a state of sin, degradation, and misery; and this narrative, which is designed alike for the instruction of philosophers and peasants, accounts for the loss of his primitive character in a way consistent with the honour of the divine character, as well as with the principles of the divine government.
It was calculated to preserve the Hebrews from the Manichean heresy of supposing two antagonistic deities-an evil one opposed to the good-since it distinctly traced the disobedience of man to the artifice of a wicked creature, who instigated him to apostatize. Nor did the fall of man, as related in this narrative, indicate any creational defect in his constitution. Though made perfect in the full complement of his physical, mental, and moral powers, he was capable of being governed by the influence of motives; and being a voluntary agent in every thought, feeling, and act, he had to determine between the alternatives of following his own inclination or of bringing his will into complete subjection to the authority of God. Had he been a mere automaton, or a piece of inanimate matter, the divine power might have been directly put forth to prevent his going out of his appointed sphere. But since he was a rational creature, placed under no stern necessity, but free to choose and to act for himself, it was morally impossible to prevent his fall. And how disastrous was that fall in its consequences! It may be supposed to have been easy for God to have overlooked, forgotten, or cancelled the first sin when it had been committed. But that is a superficial view of an offence which in its very nature severed the relations between the creature and his Creator, and, in the moral disorder of man's nature occasioned by it, brought into operation new agencies by which his condition was suddenly changed from a state of happiness to a state of misery.
Moreover, it was the fall not of one individual or of two individuals simply, but of the progenitors of a race; and hence it was, in the very nature of the case, an event affecting all humanity. The posterity of Adam and Eve are placed in circumstances very different from those in which their parents were at the era of creation. Even their immediate children were universally excluded from paradise; nor was there any injustice in this arrangement of Providence, because God offered Eden to none but to the primeval pair, who, having forfeited all title by disobedience, were expelled from its violated bowers; and their children, though born in the exiled condition of their parents, were deprived of no temporal blessing to which they had any natural or inherent right, though they lost high privileges which they would have enjoyed had their parents not sinned. But the loss of Eden is but a small evil compared with other parts of the painful inheritance which the fallen pair bequeathed to their descendants.
The whole race is bearing the penalties of the first transgression; and, without entering into theological theories respecting the transmission of sin, as to whether it is laid on men by imputation from their generic union with Adam as the federal head and representative of the human family, or it is conveyed in the ordinary course of natural propagation, it may be sufficient to observe that both Scripture and experience unite in attesting that all people are sufferers both in soul and body from their connection with Adam; being doomed to live in a world blighted by a curse, being placed under heavy conditions of labour and discipline, subjected to the law of mortality, and inheriting a corrupt and vitiated nature, which makes them necessarily prone to sin, and consequently liable to its penal consequences, both here and hereafter. In short, mankind, through the loss of original righteousness, and by the withdrawal of the image and the favour of God, are universally a race of sinful creatures.
This is so painful a view of the wide-spread and fatal effects of the primal transgression that many are disposed to regard the history of the fall as entirely a myth; and yet rationalists and infidels, when they reject the Scriptural account of the origin of sin as unhistorical, involve themselves in greater difficulties by their fruitless efforts to reconcile the actual state of man and the disorders of the moral world with the attributes of a wise and benevolent Creator. It has been asked, Could not God have prevented the entrance of sin by destroying the sinning pair, and filling their places by the creation of a new race of human creatures. But another Adam and Eve, had they been left to the exercise of their free-will, would have fallen before a new temptation.
If God did not inflict merited death immediately upon the criminals, the alternative might have been to let them live, and successive generations of their posterity come into the world, the degraded objects of His permanent and unmitigated abhorrence. But He spared them for purposes infinitely more worthy of His character; and one of these apparently was, that out of many possible forms of government for this world, the existence of sin in it would afford a larger scope than any other for the exhibition of a new and unparalleled display of divine benevolence. Accordingly, the announcement of a Deliverer was immediately consequent upon the fall of man. The reign of grace commenced with the entrance of sin into the world; and thus the great scheme of mercy, by which, in a way that would illustrate the glory of all His other perfections, God was to accomplish the restoration of the rebellious race, was not, as has been alleged, an after-thought, an expedient for repairing the failure of the divine plan; for it had been designed in the councils of eternity, and this world was prepared as the platform on which the destined interposition of divine love was to be manifested. How far the first promise was understood by Adam and Eve, or their afflicted and despairing spirits were comforted by it, it is impossible to say.
It is not likely, unless they were specially instructed, that they formed any intelligent ideas of the event to which it pointed, or that the obscure terms in which it was expressed left any impression upon their minds beyond a vague but strong assurance that their cause would be vindicated, and deliverance from the sad consequences of their fall obtained through one of the descendants of Eve, who would prove the noblest champion against evil, the most valiant bruiser of the serpent's head. The individuality of this Deliverer was not, indeed, asserted, but it is distinctly implied in the terms of the promise. That they carefully treasured this promise in their own memories, and transmitted the knowledge of it to their children, appears from the fact that the advent of a personal Redeemer continued to be an object of earnest hope and lively expectation in the family of the first pair (cf. Genesis 4:1; Genesis 4:25); and collateral evidence of the deep root it took in the minds of their descendants in early ages is afforded by the traditions everywhere prevalent among the pagan.
Thus, in the Egyptian mythology, Pthah was represented with a distorted foot, implying lameness, with allusion to the bruised heel of the seed of the woman. The Hindu mythology represents, by sculptured figures in their old pagodas, Krishna-an avatar or incarnation of their mediatorial deity, Vishnu-in one instance trampling on the crushed head of the serpent, and in another, the latter entwining the deity in its folds, and biting his heel. In the Scandinavian mythology, Thor, the first-born of the Supreme Deity, and holding an intermediate place between God and man, is said to have engaged in a mortal struggle with a gigantic serpent, to have bruised his head and finally killed him. And in classic mythology, Hercules appears in conflict with the dragon which assailed the daughters of Atlas after they had plucked the golden apples in the garden of the Hesperides: he wields a formidable club, and his right foot rests on the head of the writhing monster. All these, which are distorted traditions of the first promise, not only, by their antiquity, attest the truth of the Scripture narrative, but indicate, to use the words of Hardwick, 'a yearning in the heart of man after some external Saviour-a pre-sentiment that such a Saviour would eventually stoop down from heaven, and, by an act of grace and condescension, master all our deadliest foes, and re-instate us in our lost inheritance.' However obscure and indefinite the first promise might be, and whatever the actual amount of hope and comfort our first parents derived from it, it was a kind of proto-evangelion-a faint proclamation of the Gospel, not designed for the immediate hearers only, but having a world-wide significance.
Moreover, it was destined to have a progressive fulfillment, being the germ which every future promise served only to develop and mature-the primary rock, the substratum on which God, at sundry times and in divers manners (Hebrews 1:1), laid all the subsequent strata of revelation. In fact, this narrative of the fall, and the original promise and prophecy connected with it, form the basis of the whole religion of the Bible; and they are the principles of unity which make one consistent whole of the various dispensations of Providence in the Church. The patriarchal revelations, the call of Abraham, the promises made to him and to his descendants, the Mosaic economy, the mission of the Hebrew prophets, and the introduction of Christianity, are each and all only separate parts, successive developments of one grand remedial scheme for the recovery of fallen man by the discipline of revealed religion and the merits of a Redeemer. 'The fall is the fact which lies at the foundation of the whole superstructure, and unites the various parts; which, without reference to a ruin by man's disobedience, and to a restoration by God's mercy, in a manner consistent with His justice, have no agreement or consistency the one with the other. Insomuch, that it is impossible to conceive that any man can, in good earnest, believe the Gospel, who can find no vestige in this third chapter of Genesis of a seducing Devil or a redeeming Saviour.'
If it should be asked, Why was the fulfillment of the promise deferred for the long period of 4,000 years after its announcement, and what became of the vast numbers of mankind who died before the advent of Christ? The answer is: That the benefits of His expiatory sacrifice reached backward as well as forward; and that the people of former ages obtained salvation through faith in a Messiah to come, as those of later ages do in a Saviour who has come. The promise of His advent, so immediately consequent on the occasion occurring for His interposition, must obviate all objections founded on the delay of His appearance; and many weighty reasons rendered a protracted delay necessary. An early advent would have obscured the evidences of his character and mission; and not until full scope had been allowed for the experiment, and unmistakable proof had been furnished that no natural nor ordinary means could remedy the disastrous effects of the fall; not until civilization and philosophy had utterly failed, and the ignorance, superstition, and wickedness of mankind had reached their acme; not until the Jewish dispensation had been seen to be unprofitable and inadequate; not until a host of prophecies had been fulfilled, all of which concentred in one eminent personage; not until the political state of the world was, by an extraordinary combination of circumstances, settled for the first time in universal peace;-not until then did the proper season for the Redeemer's advent and death arrive (Romans 5:6).
It remains only to notice that there is a striking correspondence between the close of the Bible and this opening portion of the sacred book. The objects that were withdrawn from view after the fall are reproduced upon the scene: Paradise is restored, the ends of the sacred history are united, and the glorious circle of revelation completed. The tree of life, whereof there were but faint reminiscences in all the intermediate time, again stands by the water of life, and again there is no more curse. But a great advance has been made during the interval. Even the very differences of the forms under which the heavenly kingdom re-appears are deeply characteristic, marking, as they do, not merely all that is won back, but won back in a more glorious shape than that in which it was lost, for won back in the Son. It is no longer paradise, but the New Jerusalem-no longer the garden, but now the city of God, which is on earth. The change is full of meaning: no longer the garden, free, spontaneous, and unlaboured, even as man's blessedness in the state of a first innocence would have been; but the city-costlier, indeed, more stately, more glorious, but, at the same time, the result of toil, labour, and pain-occupied, not by a single human pair, but by a vast multitude, "whom no man can number," - reared into a nobler and more abiding habitation, yet with stones which, after the pattern of "the elect corner-stone," were each, in his time, laboriously hewn and painfully squared for the places which they fill (Trench, 'Hulsean Lectures')>.