Cairns, "The Entrance of Sin"

Yes, there was a tree, and upon it, among the wax
leaves, an order of fruit which hung plentifully,
glazed with dew of a given morning. And there had
been some talk off and on – nothing specific – about
forgiving the inclination to eat of it. But sin
had very little to do with this or with any outright prohibition.

For sin had made its entrance long before the
serpent spoke, long before the woman and the man
had set their teeth to the pale, stringy flesh,
which was, it turns out, also quite without
flavor. Rather, sin had come in the midst of an
evening stroll, when the woman had reached to
take the man's hand and he withheld it.

In this way, the beginning of our trouble came to
the garden almost without notice. And in later
days, as the man and the woman wandered idly
about their paradise, as they continued to enjoy
the sensual pleasures of food and drink and
spirited coupling even as they sat marveling at
the approach of evening and the more lush
approach of sleep, they found within themselves a
developing habit of resistance.

One supposes that, even then, this new taste for
turning away might have been overcome, but that
is assuming the two had found the result
unpleasant. The beginning of loss was this: Every
time some manner of beauty was offered and
declined, the subsequent isolation each conceived was irresistible.


Scott Cairns