We Are Adam and Eve

On the unity of our fall and the unity of our salvation

“Adam, after his fall, became the image of all mankind.”

— Isaac the Syrian

A brother once asked an Elder, “Why do the Fathers say that we must love every man as ourselves?”

The Elder answered, “Because every man is yourself.”

We are Adam and Eve.

Not only in the beginning, but now.

Their story is not ancient history. It is the present condition of the human heart.

Every day the same drama unfolds within us. God speaks and invites us into communion. Yet we turn toward another voice that promises something else. Knowledge without obedience. Fulfillment without surrender. Life without God.

And so the same illusion is born in every generation.

Adam hid among the trees.

And we hide behind identities.

One man hides behind wealth.

Another hides behind knowledge.

Another hides behind power.

And the religious man hides behind virtue.

He builds a self made of fasting, prayer, correct theology, and good works. Yet secretly this self lives outside communion with God. It is a structure built to protect the ego from death.

This is the oldest deception.

Adam did not become free by grasping.

He became afraid.

The religious ego does the same. It clings to an image of holiness while avoiding the naked poverty that alone can stand before God.

But the Gospel reveals another mystery.

Christ did not shed His blood for isolated individuals.

He shed it for Adam.

When Christ stretched out His hands upon the Cross He embraced the whole human race. The blood that flowed from His side fell upon the entire earth. No man stands outside that mercy.

This is why the Fathers say we must love without distinction.

The one who hates his enemy hates his own flesh.

The one who despises the sinner despises Adam.

The same wound that lives in you lives in him.

The same illusion that deceived Eve deceives us all.

The same fear that drove Adam into hiding still governs the human heart.

Therefore the ascetic does not stand apart from the world as a judge.

He stands within it as a penitent.

He sees that every sin he condemns outside himself is alive within him. And because he sees this, his heart begins to widen.

Gradually the heart learns a strange compassion.

It no longer sees strangers.

It sees Adam everywhere.

The addict is Adam.

The liar is Adam.

The enemy is Adam.

The saint is Adam healed.

And when the heart finally understands this, something within it dies.

The false self collapses. The religious ego loses its throne. The soul stops defending its illusions and begins to cry out like the publican.

“Lord have mercy on me.”

This is the beginning of communion.

For only when the false Adam dies can the true Adam appear.

And the true Adam is Christ.