I suppose God could have made the human mouth a terribly boring piece of corporeal machinery. Just a football-shaped tunnel down which to pour food and drink, and out of which rumbles a few words now and again. But that’s not how the Creator rolls.
There were no cakes baked, candles lit, and “Happy Birthdays” sung to that first couple who made their living on the outskirts of Eden. No mother’s tummy bulged with baby Adam in it. No sonogram took a snapshot of Eve in utero. One began in dirt, the other in a rib, but neither had their genesis when two lovers had a pleasurable roll in the hay.
Reading the Bible is a little like being jettisoned to the other side of the globe. We find ourselves where they speak strange languages, tell jokes that go over our heads, celebrate strange customs, and basically leave us feeling lost and bewildered a big chunk of the time.
The Lord is my shepherd, but I still want. I want whatever my heart desires. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures, but I spy grass that is greener on the other side of the fence. He leadeth me beside the still waters, but I know of still more exciting places where I’d love to drink my fill.
Many 1st century Jews awaited a messiah who would flex his celestial biceps, body slam Rome, and beat his chest to the applause of the liberated masses. Just as David iced Goliath and sliced off his head, so the New David would be an ass-kicking, pagan-thrashing, political powerhouse who would make Israel great again by decapitating their Roman overlords.
Want to do something that people really love? Commit an act of infamy. It doesn’t have to be a mind-boggling evil. Something run-of-the-mill will do. It just needs to be simple, scandalous, and public knowledge. Think Monica Lewinski.