Let me show you how this has happened. These stories were originally told by storytellers but they've come to be read in a detached, objective manner as sources of theological doctrine. So let me tell you the story and then later I’ll read you the story.

"Now, the serpent was the shrewdest of all the creatures that the Lord God had made. And he said to the woman, "Did God say you shall not eat of the fruit of the trees of the garden?" But the woman said, "We may eat of the fruit of the trees." But God said, "You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, neither shall you touch it lest you die." And the serpent said, "Ha, ha, ha. You won't die for God knows that in the hour you eat of it, you will become like gods knowing good and evil." And so when the woman saw that the fruit was good for food, that it was a delight to the eyes and that it was to be desired to make one wise, she took and she ate it and she gave it to her husband who was with her and he ate it. And their eyes were opened and they knew that they were naked and so they sewed together fig leaves for themselves and made loincloths."

Now, the hearing of this story in its original context was an experience of involvement in the attractiveness of the fruit and of implication in eating and rebelling against God. The telling of the story communicates what I call "the rhetoric of implication". In the story, the listeners are invited to identify deeply with a highly sympathetic character who does something radically wrong. Anyone who experiences such a story deeply is required by that experience to examine their own conscience and the sources of that wrong in themselves. The story of the man and the woman in the garden is then a classic instance of this rhetoric of implication.

But this rhetoric is also dangerous rhetoric because listeners, especially more literate listeners, like us, are prone to stand apart from the story and not to fully identify with such a character as, for example, the woman. This danger is increased when the story is read aloud in a detached tone. And when this happens, a story with the rhetoric of implication can be heard as a rhetoric of blame and condemnation. And that's precisely what has happened with this story. Let me show you:

"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 and she also gave some to her husband who was with her and he ate. And then the eyes of both were opened and they knew that they were naked and they sewed fig leaves together and made loincloths for themselves."

Now, this story which was intended to teach us that we who are involved in rebellion against Yahweh and tend to worship other gods has become a story of condemnation of the woman as the one responsible for sin. The consequences of this transformation of tone which are so subtle and yet so immeasurable in impact. How often in the history of the last 3,000 years have men used this story as the basis for the subordination and oppression of women? We will never know. This story has been the source of condemnation of women as less righteous than men for centuries. That we know.

Now, let me show you how this transformation of meaning has happened with the story of the Pilate trial. This is the story:

"Now at the feast he used to release to them any one prisoner whom they asked. And there was a man in prison whose name was Barabbas who was bound with those who had committed murder during the insurrection. But coming up, the crowd began to demand that he observe the custom and Pilate said to them, "Do you want me to release for you the King of the Jews?" For he had perceived that it was out of envy that the chief priests had handed him over, but the chief priests incited the crowd to ask for Barabbas instead. And so Pilate asked them, "What then shall I do with the one you call King of the Jews?" And they shouted, "Crucify him." Pilate said, "Why? What evil has he done?" But they shouted all the louder, "Crucify him." And so Pilate, wanting to satisfy the crowd, handed Barabbas over to them. And having flogged Jesus, he handed him over to be crucified."

Now, what has happened? The story of the Pilate trial was a story about how we were implicated in the death of the Messiah. It was structured to evoke the response, "Lord, have mercy on us for we have sinned." It is a Jewish story about the king of the Jews who died for the people of Israel and for the people of the world. And because we the people, the crowd, are implicated, we must examine ourselves. How could we do this? How could we be involved in such an enormous wrong as to demand the death of the Messiah? It is an appeal for recognition of our sinfulness. Now, when the story is read, it sounds very different. Let me show you:

"So the crowd came up and began to demand that Pilate do for them according to his custom. Then he answered them, "Do you want me to release for you the King of the Jews?" for he realized that it was out of envy that the chief priests had handed him over. But the chief priests stirred up the crowd to have him release Barabbas for them instead. Pilate spoke to them again, "Then what do you wish for me to do with the one you call King of the Jews?" They shouted back, "Crucify him." Pilate asked them, "Why? What evil has he done?" But they shouted all the more "Crucify him." And so Pilate, wishing to satisfy the crowd released Barabbas for them. And after flogging Jesus, he handed him over to be crucified."

Now in the course of history this story has come to mean, "They did it! The Jews, they killed Christ." The rhetoric of this story has shifted from the rhetoric of implication to the rhetoric of blame.

The consequences of the transformation of meaning in this sacred story have also been immeasurable. For the past fifteen centuries, Christians have heard and used this story as the basis for the oppression, persecution, and in its most horrible result, in the Nazi Holocaust in which millions of Jews were killed. Now there are many factors that have caused anti-Semitism and, in particular, Christian anti-Semitism. But the hearing of this story as a story of condemnation of Jews has been a major factor in this tragic history. The Christian interpretive tradition is implicated in the deaths of millions of Jews over the centuries because of what has been heard in the hearts and minds of Christians who have heard this story wrongly.

But how could this happen? How could a story’s meaning become so profoundly different? How could these two stories change from meaning "We were involved; we are implicated in sin against God" to "They did it"? It is a change in the direction of a finger that is pointed inside to a pointed finger at others. It is a change from hearing from noticing my own implication in wrong to building up anger and resentment and blame at others. How could this happen?

Well, in the case of the Pilate trial, a factor has been a change in the religious and ethnic identity of the story’s audience. The story was originally heard by Jews and by Gentiles who readily identified themselves as Jews. But in the aftermath of the formation of Christianity as a separate religion, Christians who heard this story no longer thought of themselves as Jews. Jews were not "us," they were "them". And yet at the same time, Christians have continued to hear this story over the centuries as being a story about everyone, about all of us, so that we're all involved in the death of the Messiah. The story has had a profoundly ambiguous meaning, indeed, at some fundamental level a contradictory meaning.

Now, in these stories when they are internalized, when we pray with them, when we hear them, tell them, we can experience the rhythm of grace. It is a rhythm that begins with delight, with joyful identification with persons who are like us: the woman, the crowd. And the beat of the story moves to our being implicated in a great wrong, an experience of sin that is unmistakable and unambiguous. And the beat then moves to forgiveness from God and the promise of new life. In the story of the man and the woman, God makes clothes for them, takes care of them. In the Gospels, Jesus is raised from the dead and reconciled with his disciples who forsook and denied him. All those who identified with the crowd are invited to accept God’s grace and forgiveness and to become Jesus’ followers.

But the rhetoric of condemnation is always just around the corner. I am amazed at the way that Christianity, the Bible, and the Church are so often associated with blaming other people, with the condemnation of whole groups. In fact, there are times when I am ashamed to be associated with people who call themselves Christians in the public discourse of our country. Does the story of the man and the woman in the garden mean that women are responsible for sin? No. It means that both genders, men and women, are implicated in a vicious circle of rebellion against God that results in their being ashamed. And does the story of the trial before Pilate mean that Jews are responsible for the death of the Messiah? No. The story means that all human beings are implicated in the death of Jesus. In fact, Christ died that we might recognize and turn away from sin, the personal sins of our daily lives but even more, these structural sins built into the very fabric of human history. May God have mercy on us! Christ have mercy! Lord have mercy!

Implicit in these foundational stories of the Bible is then an invitation to recognize this rhythm of grace in our relationships with God and with other people. Whenever we sense ourselves preparing to blame others, we can examine our conscience and see to what degree we are implicated. Indeed the rhythm of grace is to accept God’s invitation to move from "They did it" or "She did it" or "He did it" to "Lord, have mercy on us." In that place, we can receive God’s abundant grace and freedom for triumphant life.

Floyd Brown: Tom, a powerful message. How can we apply your message to our everyday lives?

Thomas Boomershine: Well, there are a couple things that come to mind, Floyd. First is that the stories of the Scriptures are intended for us to learn by heart, to internalize them, not to keep them at a distance. And so the invitation of the stories is to let them get inside us. And the second is to check ourselves.

Brown: Check ourselves we will.

Boomershine: In relation to blame, and recognition.