4 min read

The Serpent Stood Upright Before the Curse Took Everything

Before the fall, the serpent walked on two feet and stood as tall as a camel. What it lost when Eden ended was everything it had gambled to gain.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Most Calculating Creature in the Garden
  2. The Envy That Drove It
  3. The Question That Was Never Asked
  4. What Was Stripped Away

The Most Calculating Creature in the Garden

The serpent before the transgression walked upright. It stood on two feet and reached the height of a camel, and it was the most intelligent creature God had made besides the human beings. Not merely clever in the way an animal is clever. It reasoned. It understood cause and effect across stretches of time. It could plan. This is why it was the serpent, and not some other animal, that approached Eve. It had assessed the situation and reached a conclusion: if it could destroy Adam's relationship with Eve, or better yet destroy Adam himself, it might take Adam's place. It chose Eve over Adam for the approach because it understood that Adam was harder to persuade through words alone and that a long conversation with Eve had a better chance of success.

What it failed to calculate was what would happen to it when the plan worked. It had thought about Adam's death. It had not thought carefully enough about the sentence that would fall on the one who caused the transgression.

The Envy That Drove It

The serpent wanted what Adam had. Not the Garden, not the authority over the animals. It wanted to be the center of things, the companion of the human being who stood at the center of the created world. The midrash reads the serpent's motivation not as malice toward God but as covetousness, the creature that had the most was still watching what the human beings had and wanting it.

So it engineered the transgression. It went to Eve at the tree and began the argument it had prepared, and Eve listened, and the argument worked, and Adam ate, and death entered the world. And then God appeared in the Garden in the cool of the day and called out: where are you?

The Question That Was Never Asked

God questioned Adam. God questioned Eve. Both answered and neither confessed, and both were sentenced. The serpent was not questioned at all. The sages explain why: the serpent had a good argument ready. If asked, it would have said: You gave them a command. I contradicted the command. They chose to listen to me rather than to You. Whose servants are they? The argument would have been technically accurate, a piece of legal reasoning that would have shifted blame and complicated the proceeding indefinitely. The wicked are expert debaters. God skipped the hearing and went directly to the sentence.

What Was Stripped Away

The curse was a catalogue of deprivations. First: its feet were removed. The creature that had walked upright beside human beings was reduced to crawling on its belly in the dust, the most complete physical humiliation the tradition could imagine, the very posture of degradation. Second: its tongue was damaged at its root. The instrument of its plan, the organ it had used to construct the argument that brought death into the world. Third: the food it ate would now be dust. Not grain, not the fruits of the earth, but dust, the substance of Adam's body and the substance of Adam's death. The serpent's food would be the material of human mortality.

Fourth: God placed enmity between the serpent and the woman, and between the serpent's offspring and the woman's offspring. This was not just a description of how snakes and humans would feel about each other from then on. It was a permanent sentence of war between two lineages. The human heel would bruise the serpent's head. The serpent's mouth would bruise the human heel. Neither would ever be free of the other. The creature that had tried to take Adam's place in the garden would spend the rest of its existence being stepped on by the descendants of the people it envied.

SerpentEdenAdamEveCreationDivine PunishmentAnimals
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From the tradition

Sources

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The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Legends of the Jews 2:55Legends of the Jews

In Ginzberg's retelling in, Legends of the Jews, this serpent was no ordinary animal. It was, in fact, the most remarkable of all creatures. Imagine this: standing upright like a human, as tall as a camel, and possessing incredible intelligence. Had things gone differently, had the "Adam's transgression" not occurred, a pair of these serpents could have taken over humanity's workload, providing us with silver, gold, gems, and pearls! Sounds like a pretty sweet deal. So, what went wrong?

Well, it was precisely the serpent's exceptional intellect that led to his downfall – and ours. His superior mental gifts caused him to become an infidel, leading to envy, particularly of Adam's relationship with Eve. This envy fueled his plot to bring about Adam's demise. But the serpent knew Adam too well to try any tricks of persuasion directly. Instead, he targeted Eve, believing women were more easily deceived.

The conversation with Eve was meticulously planned, a calculated trap. The serpent starts with a question: "Is it true that God hath said, Ye shall not eat of every tree in the garden?" Eve responds, explaining that they can eat from any tree except the one in the center, which they can't even touch, "lest we be stricken with death."

Here's where it gets interesting. Eve's response isn't exactly what God commanded. God only forbade eating the fruit, not touching the tree. in the story, Adam, in his zeal to protect Eve from disobeying God, had added the prohibition against touching. As the proverb says, "Better a wall ten hands high that stands, than a wall a hundred ells high that cannot stand." It was Adam's exaggeration that gave the serpent an opening.

The serpent, seizing the opportunity, pushes Eve against the tree and says, "See? Touching the tree hasn't killed you. Eating the fruit won't hurt you either. God is just being malicious, because as soon as you eat it, you'll become like Him."

The serpent goes on, "As He creates and destroys worlds, so will you. As He doth slay and revive, so will you. He Himself ate first of the fruit of the tree, and then He created the world. Therefore doth He forbid you to eat thereof, lest you create other worlds. Everyone knows that 'artisans of the same guild hate one another.'"

The serpent continues his twisted logic, arguing that every creature has dominion over the one created before it. "The heavens were made on the first day, and they are kept in place by the firmament made on the second day. The firmament, in turn, is ruled by the plants. The sun and the other celestial bodies. have power over the world of plants. The creation of the fifth day, the animal world, rules over the celestial spheres." He even mentions the ziz, a giant bird whose wings can darken the sun!

Then comes the final, tempting offer: "But ye are masters of the whole of creation, because ye were the last to be created. Hasten now and eat of the fruit of the tree in the midst of the garden, and become independent of God, lest He bring forth still other creatures to bear rule over you."

The serpent's argument isn't just about eating a piece of fruit. It's about power, independence, and a fear of being surpassed. It’s a challenge to the established order, a promise of godlike abilities. It's an incredibly compelling narrative, even if it is based on deception.

So, what does this all mean? Is the serpent simply a villain, or a symbol of something deeper? Perhaps the serpent represents the allure of forbidden knowledge, the temptation to question authority, or the inherent human desire to become something more than we are. Maybe the story isn't just about a snake, an apple, and a garden, but about the very nature of choice, ambition, and the consequences of our actions.

Full source
Legends of the Jews 1:67Legends of the Jews

Because according to some fascinating corners of Jewish tradition, even the animals weren't always as they are now.

Take the serpent. The familiar version gives us the serpent. The smooth-talking tempter in the Garden of Eden. But according to Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, this wasn't just any snake. Oh no. Before the fall, this serpent was the cleverest of all creatures.

Get this: it looked remarkably like a human being!

That for a moment. A creature of immense intelligence, standing upright, perhaps even… handsome? It’s a far cry from the slithering, legless reptile we picture today. The implications are. What kind of conversations could Adam and Eve have had with such a being?

But, of course, after the fall, everything changed. The serpent, as punishment, lost its superior intellect. It also suffered a dramatic physical transformation. It was stripped of its legs, forced to crawl on its belly, unable to hunt and kill with ease. As Legends of the Jews tells it, the serpent’s downfall was as complete as humanity's.

It makes you think, doesn't it? About the cost of disobedience, the ripple effects of choices, and how profoundly things can be altered.

And the serpent wasn't alone in its pre-Fall perfection. The tradition paints a picture of a world where power had to be carefully balanced.

Think about the mole. Can you imagine a mole with eyes? According to this tradition, it would be an unstoppable force! So, the mole was made blind, to prevent it from wreaking havoc.

And the frog? We see it as pretty harmless. But picture a frog with teeth! Legends of the Jews suggests that if frogs had teeth, no creature in the water would be safe. So, they were rendered toothless, ensuring a more peaceful aquatic ecosystem.

These details, found in Ginzberg's Legends of the Jews, based on earlier midrashic (rabbinic interpretive commentary) sources, offer a glimpse into a world where even the physical attributes of animals were carefully considered, divinely regulated to maintain a delicate balance.

It's a powerful reminder that everything is interconnected. That even the smallest creature plays a part in the grand scheme of things. And that sometimes, limitations are necessary to prevent chaos.

So, the next time you see a snake, a mole, or a frog, remember this story. Remember the potential they once held, the roles they might have played in a world before the fall. It's a world that, in some ways, still echoes within our own.

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Legends of the Jews 2:63Legends of the Jews

God didn't hold back when addressing the serpent. It wasn't just a slap on the wrist; it was a complete overhaul of the serpent's very being.

"I created thee to be king over all animals, cattle and the beasts of the field alike; but thou wast not satisfied," God declared. Can you imagine? The serpent, already a ruler, craved more. And isn't that a familiar human flaw? That nagging feeling that what we have isn't enough?

The punishment fit the crime, so to speak. God continued, "Therefore thou shalt be cursed above all cattle and above every beast of the field. I created thee of upright posture; but thou wast not satisfied. Therefore thou shalt go upon thy belly." The serpent, once upright, now condemned to slither on its belly. A constant reminder of its transgression.

It gets worse. "I created thee to eat the same food as man; but thou wast not satisfied. Therefore thou shalt eat dust all the days of thy life." From shared meals with humans to a diet of dirt.

But the most profound part of the curse, the one that resonates even today, is this: "Thou didst seek to cause the death of Adam in order to espouse his wife. Therefore I will put enmity between thee and the woman." This sets the stage for the eternal conflict between humanity and the serpent, a battle that plays out in countless stories and myths.

The story concludes with a powerful moral lesson: "How true it is--he who lusts after what is not his due, not only does he not attain his desire, but he also loses what he has!" A timeless message about the dangers of unchecked ambition and the importance of contentment.

It makes you think, doesn't it? Are we ever truly satisfied? Or are we constantly chasing after something more, something just out of reach, potentially losing what we already possess in the process? The tale of the serpent's downfall serves as a potent reminder to appreciate what we have and to be wary of the seductive allure of insatiable desire.

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