John Chrysostom
Recently, we have thoroughly discussed the tree, illustrating your affection for why the sacred Scriptures refer to it as the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Today, I wish to focus on what follows, so you may grasp the incomprehensible humanity of God and the divine compassion He demonstrated in His concern for our humanity. Indeed, He crafted and governed all things in such a way that the intelligent being He created would receive every honor, not lacking in life compared to the angels, and would also gain their immortal nature. When He recognized that both progenitors had, due to their personal shortcomings, transgressed His command despite being warned, He did not withdraw His humanity; rather, He remained steadfast in His kindness.
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Like a loving father who, seeing his son fall from his high dignity into utter disgrace due to carelessness, does not abandon him but endeavors to restore him to his former glory out of deep parental love, the benevolent God looked upon humanity with compassion. Even after being led astray by his wife, with devilish counsel through the serpent, God approached man as a healer tends to a sick individual in need of various remedies.
To understand God's profound condescension, we ought to note the Scripture's accounts. It states that they heard, "the voice of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day," and Adam and his wife hid from His presence among the trees of the garden. Let us not pass over, dear ones, the significance of what the divine Scriptures express; rather, let us reflect on how such straightforward phrases are employed to cater to our frailty, as everything is ordained for our salvation. Consider that, if we choose to take the words literally, believing only what is outwardly stated without grasping the divine message, many truths would indeed seem perplexing.
Let us examine the beginning of our reading. They heard, we are told, "the voice of the Lord God walking in the garden during the cool of the day," and they were filled with fear. What does this imply? Does God literally walk? Shall we ascribe human feet to Him? Should we not recognize something greater? Certainly, God does not walk as we do—how could He, who is omnipresent and fills all creation, whose throne is heaven and the earth a mere footstool, possibly walk in the garden? What rational being would suggest that?
So, what does it mean that they heard the voice of the Lord God walking in the garden during the cool of the day? He intended to provoke in them an awareness of His imminent presence, which indeed made them anxious, leading them to seek concealment. Sin and transgression brought shame upon them. Their unfriendly judge, the conscience, arose, cried out loudly, and revealed to them the severity of their wrongdoing. Thus, the Lord, who is full of love for mankind, created humanity at the beginning and imbued them with conscience as an internal admonisher that cannot be deceived. Even if one who sins manages to escape human judgment, they cannot escape this internal witness that endlessly disturbs, torments, and punishes them. This reminder of sin pursues them at home, in public, and in every gathering, holding them accountable for their actions while exposing the gravity of their sins and the punishment awaiting them. Like a diligent physician, it continues to offer remedies, even when it knows it will not be heeded, never relenting and perpetually tending to their condition. It performs its role by constantly recalling sin, ensuring the sinner never forgets past transgressions in hopes of discouraging a return to those wrongful paths.
If many remain careless, despite possessing such a potent accuser as conscience, which afflicts the heart and stings more harshly than any executioner, how could we possibly persevere without such an internal guide? Thus, even the first man, when aware of his sin and the presence of God, sought to hide himself. Why? Because he recognized the weighty voice of his conscience rising against him. He possessed no other accuser or witness apart from what he carried within, and in concert with his guilty conscience, the loss of the glory that once adorned him—like a luminous garment—awoke in him the reality of his transgression through the perception of his nakedness. When shame enveloped them following that grievous sin, they instinctively sought to conceal themselves.
They heard, it is recorded, "the voice of the Lord God walking in the garden during the cool of the day," and Adam and his wife concealed themselves from the presence of the Lord among the trees of the garden. There is nothing worse than sin, dear ones; it not only cloaks us with shame but also induces madness in those once wise and filled with insight. Consider how far the one once filled with wisdom—who exhibited such profound understanding and foretold future events—has now succumbed to folly. Hearing "the voice of the Lord God walking in the garden during the cool of the day," he and his wife sought refuge from God's presence among the trees of the garden. What folly it is to desire to hide from the all-knowing Creator who called all things into existence from nothingness, who perceives all hidden matters, and who knows the hearts of humanity intimately; it is He who observes human conduct, tests hearts, and discerns our innermost thoughts.
But do not be astonished, dear ones! This is the nature of sinners: despite their inability to conceal themselves, they strive to do so. Their efforts driven not by mere folly but by the unbearable shame that afflicts them following their fall from noble grace. Consider where they believe they can hide? Among the trees of paradise! Like ungrateful and incompetent servants who cannot elude their master, they dart from hideaway to hideaway, frantic with fear that unsettles their souls, finding no safe haven and instead seeking dwarfed shelter among the very creation that is home—paradise itself.
The timing of God's visit is intentional; they heard "the voice of the Lord God walking in the garden during the cool of the day," illustrating His merciful nature. He was not delayed—upon witnessing the gravity of the situation and the injury of sin, He rushed to bring healing, lest the wound fester into something untreatable. He immediately strives to address the condition and resolutely tended to it out of His overflowing kindness. The adversary of our salvation, who is perpetually envious of our joy, harbored malice, setting schemes in motion from the outset to deprive humanity of their glorious state. However, the all-wise God, who governs the course of our lives according to His wisdom, perceiving both the devil’s wickedness and humanity's negligence, which led man to such disgrace along with his wife, approaches them as a gentle and merciful judge, ready to reveal a judgment that invokes both reverence and trepidation, insisting that we must examine ourselves before judging others.
Note the perfect and merciful nature of the Lord. He could have swiftly punished the transgressor without acknowledging the one who committed such a grave offense. Instead, He exhibits patience, engaging in conversation, asking questions, and hearing the replies, encouraging the guilty towards justification, thereby demonstrating His compassion even in the face of such iniquity.
Now, let us turn to the judgment, examining the initial records of holy, incorruptible, and merciful judgment chronicled in timeless writings, with a memory that neither decay nor time can diminish. Listen! It is said that Adam “heard the voice of the Lord God walking in the garden” (Gen. 3:8). Adam recognized God's presence through sound and familiarity. Could God be revealed merely by noise? He did not appear as He genuinely is but as He desired to reveal Himself. Blessed be the God of saints, for He looked upon Adam then, and now looks upon the world from the cross this evening. Indeed, the Savior suffered during the very hours that Adam transitioned from partaking of the fruit to judgment, from the sixth hour until the ninth. At the sixth hour, he tasted, as nature dictated; after the sixth, he hid from God, who came to him in the evening.
Adam aspired to become divine but sought the unattainable. Christ fulfilled this desire rightly. You sought to attain what was beyond your nature; I willingly embrace humanity, and I can do so. God performed the exact opposite of Adam's error. You desired what is above you; I, however, willingly accept what is beneath me. You sought equality with God; I take on the likeness of man. Thus, Paul states, "being made in the likeness of men" (Phil. 2:7). You wanted to become God, and while I encourage you to aspire to godliness, I find fault with your attempt to elevate yourself against the will of the Creator. You sought to become divine but failed; I have taken on manhood and made the impossible achievable. The Lord conveys His intent to offer divine status. As He shared a meal with His disciples, as He who nourishes all creation dined, He expressed, "I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you" (Luke 22:15). Was I resentful of your desire for divinity? You sought to claim what is Mine but were unable; I willingly accept what belongs to you because I have the power to do so.
Consider this: when God approached in the evening, He called out, “Adam, where are you?” (Gen. 3:9). The former and the latter are interconnected because both the first man and the present are the work of a single God. It is not another who has come to suffer, but the same who descended into paradise. Adam attempted to conceal himself after experiencing the reality of sin from partaking of the fruit. Natural inclination remains noble; even in our most egregious faults, our conscience remains unshackled. A man may outwardly claim, “I have sinned not,” yet his conscience rebukes him relentlessly. Adam, devoid of deception or duplicitousness, confesses his wrongdoing.