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AUDIO PODCAST

In the serene tranquillity of the Garden of Eden, a momentous encounter unfolded between Adam and Eve and the cunning serpent, a being whose subtle words beguiled humanity into a tragic descent. Genesis 3:1 records this pivotal moment—a turning point, an event horizon whose implications continue to reverberate through the world today.

At the heart of this cosmic drama lies the enigmatic nachash (נָחָשׁ), a spectre shrouded in mystery, whose very name hints at divination, deception, and an uncanny wisdom that masquerades as enlightenment. A closer examination of this term reveals a fascinating linguistic phenomenon, shedding light on the deceiver’s character and the broader themes of temptation, subversion, and spiritual transformation.

When Adam and Eve partook of the forbidden fruit, Scripture tells us,

“Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realised they were naked” (Genesis 3:7).

The Hebrew words here carry a profound irony: the term for crafty (‘ārûm—עָרוּם) used to describe the serpent (Genesis 3:1) shares the same root as the word for naked (‘ērôm—עֵירֹם) in verse 7. This is no mere coincidence. The wordplay reveals a deeper truth: the serpent’s craftiness led to their exposure, their nakedness, and their sudden realisation of vulnerability. Before the fall, their nakedness was innocent; afterward, it became a symbol of exposure, shame, and defenselessness.

Instead of ascending to divine wisdom, Adam and Eve became like the serpent—naked and crafty. Their loss of spiritual covering covering was not merely physical but spiritual. Nakedness here is emblematic of a loss of divine protection, thrusting humanity into an existential crisis where survival, deception, and self-preservation became necessary skills. It was the tragic initiation into the world of figuring it out—where craftiness and cunning became essential for existence in a broken world.

This is the insidious nature of the yetser hara (יֵצֶר הָרַע), the evil inclination. As the sages teach:

“At the outset, the evil inclination is like a passing visitor, then like a guest, and ultimately like the master of the house.”

Sin does not demand full surrender at once. It whispers, invites, and inches its way into the soul until what once seemed foreign becomes familiar, and what was once resisted becomes routine. Like the serpent’s deception, its entrance is subtle, but its dominion, once established, is total.

The Serpent’s Lingering Echo: A Linguistic Trail

The cunning nature of the nachash is not merely theological—it is imprinted in language itself. The words nick, Nick (the name), gnash, sneak, and snag all bear striking connections to נָחָשׁ (nakhash, “serpent”), both linguistically and thematically:

• Nick (to cut or wound slightly) suggests subtle but harmful damage, much like the serpent’s deceptive influence.
• Nick (as a name) is often associated with cunning or trickery, as seen in Old Nick, a folk name for the devil, reinforcing the serpent’s role in Genesis.
• Gnash (to grind or bare teeth) evokes enmity and aggression, reminiscent of the conflict between the serpent and humanity (Genesis 3:15).
• Sneak (from Old English snican, “to creep, crawl”) directly parallels the movement and stealth of the nachash, emphasizing its secretive, deceptive nature.
• Snag (a hidden obstacle or something that catches) aligns with the serpent’s role as a stumbling block, ensnaring humanity in deception.

Even the word snack (a small bite or nibble) holds eerie resonance, recalling how humanity’s entire fate was altered by one bite. These words, through their meanings and etymologies, reflect the nature of the nachash—a creeping, cunning, and dangerous presence that deceives, wounds, and ensnares.

The Heel Grabber: Humanity’s Bent Nature

The ripple effects of the fall did not end in Eden. The narrative of human craftiness, bentness, and deceit echoes throughout Scripture. Consider the name Jacob (יַעֲקֹב), derived from the verb aqab (עקב), meaning to heel or to supplant. Traditionally, Jacob’s name has been associated with deception, but a more nuanced reading reveals a deeper meaning. The related Hebrew word ‘aqal (עָקַל), meaning crooked or twisted-the very definition of wicked-shares this root, painting a picture not just of deception but of something bent out of shape. It also explains the “angle” of an “ankle.”

This idea finds an eerie parallel in Greek mythology with Achilles (Ἀχιλλεύς), whose name bears a resemblance to ‘aqal. The hero’s fatal weakness, his heel, mirrors the biblical theme of vulnerability and fallen nature. Interestingly, the Greek ἄγκυλος (ankylos), meaning crooked or bent, is also closely linked to ankle, reinforcing the concept of the heel as a symbol of weakness and distortion. In the same way that Achilles’ heel was his downfall, so too does humanity suffer from an innate flaw, a spiritual Achilles’ heel that traces back to the serpent’s deception in Eden.

The prophecy of Genesis 3:15 declares:

“And I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and hers; he will crush your head, and you will strike his heel.”

With our deeper linguistic understanding, we now see that the “heel” symbolises humanity’s innate wickedness—a distortion caused by the venom of the serpent. The serpent’s bite has poisoned mankind, leading to a slow death marked by corruption, deceit, and spiritual paralysis.

Jacob, in a sense, represents the first Adam—a man whose nature was bent, twisted by his own cunning and self-preservation. Instead of guarding the door against deception, Adam let the serpent in, and humanity has been grasping at its heel ever since. We are all children of this fallen man, carrying his spiritual blood, tainted with the same ancient corruption.

From Jacob to Israel: The Restoration of Humanity

But the story of Jacob does not end in deception. His transformation into Israel (יִשְׂרָאֵל) marks a pivotal moment—not just in his life, but in the biblical pattern of restoration. The name Israel is often translated as “one who wrestles with God” or “God prevails.” It is formed from śārâ (שָׂרָה), meaning to contend or struggle, and El (אֵל), meaning God.

Jacob’s name change represents more than a personal transition—it symbolises humanity’s reinstatement in relationship with God. Left to his own devices, Jacob—like fallen humanity—was crafty, crooked, and self-reliant. But when he wrestled with God at Peniel (Genesis 32:28), he emerged with a new name, a new identity. This foreshadows the ultimate transformation available to all mankind.

Without divine intervention, man is doomed to his own craftiness, forever trying to cover his nakedness with fig leaves of human effort. But when God renames, He restores. The shift from Jacob to Israel is the shift from self-reliance to divine dependence, from bending to being made upright, from wrestling against God to wrestling with God.

A Blood Transfusion: From the First Adam to the Second

Yet, our story need not end in despair. The weakness of Achilles need not be the fate of humanity. If we have inherited Adam’s corruption, then we require more than mere wisdom, more than mere craftiness—we require a transformation.

The great reversal is underway. The serpent’s cunning was not the final word, for the promise stands:

“He will crush your head.”

And that day draws ever closer.

DEVOTIONAL PRAYER

Father, I come before You, aware of my own vulnerability.
Like Adam and Eve, I have listened to whispers that have led me astray. Like Jacob, I have relied on my own cunning instead of trusting in Your perfect wisdom. But today, I lay down my striving. I refuse to let the enemy’s deception define me.

Lord, cover me where I have been exposed.
Where I have tried to fix my own brokenness, remind me that You have already made me whole. Where the enemy has struck my heel, let me stand firm in the promise that You will crush his head.

Transform me as You did Jacob.
Give me the courage to wrestle with You—not to resist, but to embrace the struggle that leads to blessing. Rename me, restore me, and align my path with Yours. I do not want to be ruled by craftiness but by faith.

I surrender my heart to You, trusting that You are the God who clothes, redeems, and calls me by name.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.

QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION

1. Where do you see the serpent’s subtle influence in your own life? Like the yetser hara, sin often starts as a passing visitor before becoming the master. What small compromises have you made that may be leading you down a path of deception?
2. In what ways do you rely on your own craftiness instead of trusting God? Jacob tried to navigate life through his own cunning, yet his true transformation came when he surrendered to God. How might God be calling you to move from self-reliance to dependence on Him?
3. What “heel” in your life is the enemy striking? The serpent aims for our vulnerabilities. What weaknesses, temptations, or struggles do you repeatedly face, and how can you invite God into those areas?
4. How does your understanding of nakedness and covering impact your view of redemption? Adam and Eve tried to cover their shame with fig leaves, but God provided a lasting covering. Where do you need to stop striving and allow God to clothe you with His righteousness?
5. What does it mean for you to “wrestle with God” as Jacob did? True transformation often comes through struggle. Is there an area where God is inviting you to wrestle—not to resist Him but to seek deeper intimacy and breakthrough?

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