While Wikipedia is quite explicit that the Lilith/Adam marriage story is at the end of the myth’s evolution, I want to turn things around a bit and suggest that in terms of our collective psyche, Lilith and Eve represent two halves of the feminine falsely separated into opposites–one powerful, confident and independent, the other submissive and compliant. Let’s say for the sake of argument, that the traditional patriarchal cultures that have dominated most of history have, either consciously or unconsciously, promoted this split to make sure they can keep control over women, i.e., teach the message that an uppity, independent, and egalitarian-minded woman is Bad and a submissive, “weaker”, and obediant woman is Good. If women believe this, women will do what men want because it is the ‘natural’ or ‘good’ order of life.
Instead, what if we unify the personalities/personaes of Eve and Lilith? The true companion of a complete Adam and his masculinity is a complete woman and her femininity (Evelith?), who is both powerful and good, nurturing and strong, independent and committed. The Mother of All.
Really, our LDS conception of Eve is evolving this direction anyway. She’s no longer the one who botched things for the rest of us, she’s a hero who made a brave, scary, and righteous choice (i.e., God wanted her & Adam & the rest of us to experience mortality, it was his will that they transgress one law to keep another, making her decisions a transgression, not a sin, sin being to knowingly act against the will of God). Now, it’s obvious that the ‘power’ issue is currently in flux among the Saints because we’re always back-and-forthing about how women and men are equal, but we (instituationally and culturally) still cling to a strong directive of men being the power wielders–they being the ones with the priesthood and presiding authority (though after Elder Oaks’ conference talk last fall, I’m not sure what that really means anymore).
I enjoyed the versions of this conversation that I had with LDSers during the summer I spent worshipping with them. This reimagining of Eve as a strong woman who made a courageous moral choice for the sake of all humanity appeals to my feminism. The women I know and respect are no more likely to neglect righteousness than the men I know and respect, so it seems unfair to lay the moral responsibility for 'the fall' at Eve's feet. I don't agree that the traditional Adam and Eve story is weighted against Eve, necessarially, but the LDS version of the story takes the guesswork out of the interpretation.
The LDS version of the tree of knowledge of good and evil is a comforting one for me, as a feminist, and therein I think it holds a danger for me. I'm more than a set of gendered expectations; I'm a whole person, and act as such across a field of moral choices. While it rankles me to hear founding stories told as though the responsibility for evil in the world lies with a stupid woman who didn't obey the law, I'm also uncomfortable with a version of the story that seems to remove the very real matter human participation in evil from both human characters.
Without getting into bizarre ideas of original sin, people really do have a tendency to break the commandments of God simply for the sake of doing so. I can witness to such times in my own life; I know the good, and I choose the evil for no better reason than rebellion. Choosing the evil feels freeing, in the short term, like I'm suddenly powerful, charting my own course across the sea of moral thinking.
That's a vapid metaphor, and I won't expand it with thought on what happens when the storms come, and the inevitable lighthouse that sneaks into such stories. Perhaps this is a better (and more relevant) image for the sense of power that comes with choosing evil: I am queen of my own garden. The plants and animals are mine to control, instead of mine to tend. When I rebel, as Adam and Eve do in the traditional story, I lose my sense of submission to God and a rightful place within an equality of creation.
I don't see how the LDS version of the story addresses this concern, but perhaps I haven't spent enough time with it. I'd love to have a more woman-affirming story, but a story that doesn't address head-on the human willingness to rebel for the sake of rebellion doesn't seem adequate. One of the things I've learned most clearly from feminist study is an awareness of power hierarchies as the root of violence in the world, and I can't seem to stand within the LDS story and see it as a founding narrative for a world that contains so much violence over power.
On the bright side, though, I'm all about the Lilith stories. And, Artemis is a much better writer than me, so go read her post.
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