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“Who knows maybe God didn’t even make the serpent. Maybe the serpent was here first. Maybe the serpent created God.” – The Mother in THEY, a biblical tale of secret genders

 

I’ve noticed a surge of interest in the Gnostic Gospels. The Gnostic Gospels can help you think in new ways, critical for this time period. Consider that “gnosis” is the common Greek noun for “knowledge.” Perhaps, the reason the Gnostic Gospels are scorned is in the name: Gnostic (“knowing”). Apparently, it is heretical to know your own truth.

I’ve decided to post short excerpts of my book THEY, a biblical tale of secret genders (Adelaide Books) that were inspired by the Gnostic Gospels. When I came across a story of the serpent (who talks!) in the Gnostic Gospels, I was fascinated. So today I am going to bring you excerpts of my novel that were inspired by the serpent.

The Gnostic Gospels were discovered in Nag Hammadi, Egypt in 1945. There are some conflicting theories about when they were first written, but some historians say that they were written before the New Testament was written. The Gnostic Gospels are very different from Genesis in telling the story of how the human race was created.

The Gnostic Gospels were known throughout history – particularly in the Middle Ages – but were always banned by the Church.

Those who were known followers of the Gnostic Gospels were deemed as heretics and burned. Granted, in those days you could be burned at the stake for many things. But the last time I searched Twitter for the Gnostic Gospels – people were still saying to be careful of the Gnostic Gospels – because you could still be branded as a heretic.

So, I’m sharing these excerpts in the hope that you may also be inspired to think in new ways:

“I’ve read this story to you before, but today I want you to think about the serpent. You know what a serpent is, don’t you?”

“Yes, Mama. I’ve seen them in the desert. Some are poisonous, and some are friendly. I don’t touch them unless you say it is okay,” said Tamar. She picked up her stylus. She drew a squiggly line and looped it around in the shape of a serpent. It had a fat body and held its head up.

“That’s right,” said Mother. “And that’s a very good picture. But serpents usually have a forked tongue sticking out. This one has to stick out her tongue and hiss to get Eve’s attention.”

“Okay, Mama.” Tamar picked up her stylus and drew a forked tongue in the soft wax.

“That’s very good,” said the Mother. “Now when I read the story to you again, think about the story from the serpent’s point of view. Remember the serpent is also known as the Female Principal and the Instructor.”

“What is an Instructor and Female Prin–?” asked Tamar.

The Mother looked at Tamar as if suddenly realizing that she was speaking to a child. “Oh. What I mean is that the serpent has the wisdom of the goddess and is teaching the humans in the Garden how to live. Do you understand?” Tamar nodded and smiled. She really did understand.

“Now the serpent was more subtle than any other wild creature that the Lord God had made. What do think is meant by the phrase ‘more subtle?'”

Tamar looked up and gave the Mother a blank look.

“The person who wrote this might have meant that the serpent was more intelligent than the other creatures, less likely to bow down to God,” said the Mother. “Who knows maybe God didn’t even make the serpent. Maybe the serpent was here first. Maybe the serpent created God.”

Tamar looked at her mother and nodded. She was silent as she thought for a moment. “Maybe, the serpent wouldn’t let God tell her what to do.”

“Exactly,” said the Mother. She nodded her approval. “He said to the woman, Did God say You shall not eat of any tree of the garden?” The Mother stopped reading. She looked puzzled. Then she said, “I knew that there was something wrong with this sentence. The author refers to the serpent as He instead of She. Maybe it’s a typo.”

“Maybe the serpent was both,” said Tamar.

“Both? What do you mean?”

“Maybe the serpent was both male and female,” said Tamar.

“Oh, I see. I hadn’t thought of that. Maybe you have something there.”

The Mother smiled down at Tamar.

To learn more about my novel THEY, a biblical tale of secret genders (published by Adelaide Books New York/Lisbon), click here.

 

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Note: I recently co-lead a workshop on exploring myth in words and visual art at the Art Room in Philadelphia where I read the following excerpt of my novel THEY, a biblical tale of secret genders. The YouTube video is below and under that the text of my reading — which features the biblical version of Ruth and Naomi. There is a lesbian tradition of linking Ruth and Naomi together as lovers. (Ruth and Naomi are frequently pictured embracing.) And the writer and Biblical historian Gore Vidal agreed that it looked to him like Ruth and Naomi were lovers. I know it certainly informed my vision of traditional religion — and I’m honored to pass this tradition along.

 

 

 

Tamar looked down on herself. Her body lay on her bed.
Tabitha was at Tamar’s side. Her eyes were wet. Tamar knew why her sister was crying. They were almost the same person, from the same womb, from the same egg split into two. They were identical in looks, if not in spirit. They shared the same secret — that of tricking Judah. Zerah and Pharez were still living in Egypt with Judah.
Tamar saw a well-built man, younger but no longer young, dusting sand from his hands. He must have been digging the hole outside. Tamar somehow knew that the hole was where her body would be buried.
Shaggy salt and pepper hair brushed his shoulders. Light circled his head. She remembered that he was the young shepherd who had lain with Tabitha. Tamar had met him several times when he was a boy and his mother had brought him to her tent.
Tamar came back to herself, opened her eyes, and stared at her sister.
Tabitha looked down at her and said, “I am past my bleeding time now, so there won’t be a scandal.”
“Good,” Tamar said. That was her final word.
Tamar took her last breath — or so she thought. But in death, she found that she was breath.
She was the gentle breeze sweeping from her mouth as her lifeless body was put in the ground.
From the sky above their heads, she looked down and saw a small group of mourners. Judith was there. She was wearing her brown and white striped robe. It did not look like she was wearing her silver necklaces. A fat tear slid down her face, leaving a glistening trail. Judith was holding the hand of her youngest. She was now old enough to walk and to understand that the woman she had known as “Auntie” was no longer with them. But Tamar was not sad. She felt like herself — only like more of herself. She was the silence. Then she realized that someone else was with her. Aziz. (Her late pet camel) He had gone before her. He had died in the last growing season. She had made arrangements to leave Azizi (the baby camel she adopted when she was still alive) to Tabitha who had matured and was more of an animal person. When she was still living, Tamar had thought of Aziz every day. Now she felt a soft furry breeze next to her. They were together again. She caressed the face of the mourners. She lingered for a moment on Judith’s tear stained cheek. Then, in a gust, she took off across the desert. She had places to go.
Her first stop was the marketplace. She had told Tabitha not to tell Naomi that she was dying.RandN 4 stained glass
She only saw Naomi when she went to her tent to make the camel cheese. But they had struck up a friendship. Naomi’s daughter-in-law Ruth was left on her own when Naomi’s son had died.
Naomi had confided to Tamar that she loved Ruth. The famine was still bad in the land, and Naomi feared that Ruth might starve since she was on her own. Tamar had known that Ruth was fretting, and that was why she forbade Tabitha to tell Naomi that she was dying.
Tamar was a breeze blowing through the marketplace. She wanted to caress Naomi’s rough face, to thank her quietly for bringing her Azizi and for teaching her to make the camel cheese. But most of all, she wanted to thank Naomi for being a friend. A friend was hard to come by in the harsh desert. But Naomi’s stall in the marketplace was empty. So Tamar flew to her tent and found that she could slip inside the flap.
Naomi was still small and stooped. Tamar recognized her black and white striped robe. But it was no longer new. Time had left it in tatters. Ruth had aged too. Tamar had been right about Naomi’s skin. It had become brown and crinkled like the skin of an almond.
Ruth was beseeching Naomi: “Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.”
The two women embraced.
“I will think of a plan,” said Naomi, in her gravelly voice, “so that we can be together.”
The younger woman looked at Naomi with shining eyes. Tamar saw that they loved each other as lovers. The two women began caressing each other so tenderly that they looked like they might create a daughter.

 

 

With They: A Biblical Tale of Secret Genders, author Janet Mason posits that there could have been a hidden tribe of intersex children, kept under the radar by a pair of savvy twin sisters. Matriarchs Tamar and Tabitha can set the record straight on biblical heroes like Joseph and Jesus, along with other miracles of conception and reincarnation they’ve had to keep to themselves. — Windy City Times

available in bookstores and online where books are sold

Amazon link https://amzn.to/2UgefCb

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