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theo_book -> Lamech at the ancient campfire... (7/7/2008 4:50:50 PM)
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I sometimes wonder what it would have been like.....sitting as Lamech may have done at the ancient campfire, as he sat at the feet of Methusaleh, and asking him, "Dad, what went wrong in the Garden?" Methusaleh would gaze wonderingly at the old man in the center of the camp, scratch his grizzled brow, his eyes would water a little, and he would say "I don't know. I've tried to ask the old man a time or so, but he just cries every time I bring it up. But, boy, I sure would like to hear the answer." "Let's go ask grampa" he says, taking my little hand in his great old massive paw and off we go to the other side of the campfire.
We approach Grampa Enoch carefully, because everyone is just a little awed by that righteous man. No one has ever heard him swear, lose his temper, abuse his kids, or anything at all like the rest of the grownups.
He doesn't have the answer either, but just gazes into a vision unseen by the rest of us. Some say he talks with God, but you know how that makes the rest of us feel. Mainly we avoid grampa Enoch 'cause he makes us feel uncomfortable, but nobody knows why.
Hand in hand, we sorta mosey over to sit beside his father Jared, as he talks with some of his brothers and sisters, and aunts and uncles, cousins, neices, nephews, and etc.etc., all gathered into camp to listen to the old man.
Grampa Jared doesn't have time for our questions so we move on.
"Mahaliel looks kinda preoccupied," says Methusaleh, our guide for the moment; "Let's go ask grampa Cainan." So off we troupe to yet another side of the camp, a little further from the fire, but still abuzz with the voices of many people. I notice though, that we are getting much closer to the old man in the center of the camp.
Grampa Cainan is in hot debate with his father, Enos, and his grampa Seth, (the one who replaced uncle Able, according to the stories), so we try not to be too evident. We just sit with all the other thousands of youngsters and listen.
Finally the old man stands and, leaning on his son Seth's arm, steps forward to the front of the crowd. He turns, looks each family member in the eye, some with more spark than others, and tries to speak.
A voice interrupts from the crowd, "What happened in the garden Grampa?" All voices soften to a murmur before being quieted completely as all eyes turn toward the old man in the center. His head bows, his eyes tear up, his voice cracks as sobs shake his ancient frame. His wife of long years steps to the fore and gives her hand into his, which he grasps and holds tightly as he looks into her face and tries again. But he cannot continue. He is unable to formulate an answer. He, with his wife, exits slowly, heart-wrenching sobs shaking his ancient body; her tears mingling with his, and her sobs muted by sorrow and shame as they retreat into the shadows, away from the fire.
Eyes look frantically from one to another, as a hushed silence overtakes us all. Then a young voice pipes up "When are we going to eat?" The spell is broken as the people begin to respond to the needs of the youngsters and respond to family interests.
But, boy, I sure would like to have heard his answer; wouldn't you?
Imagine the lore that was handed from father to son 'round that ancient campfire of long ago. Adam lived 800 years during the life of Seth; shared 695 years with Enos; 605 years with Cainan, 535 years with Mahaliel; 470 years with Jared; 308 years with Jared; 243 years with Mathusaleh; 56 years with lamech. And each of these venerable old men sired progeny for most of their lengthy lives. Children by the thousands gathered annually at this event, the old man's creation day (equivalent to our birthday) in celebration of his beginning. (He never had a birthday you know.)
The children, old folks all, gaze in awe at their progenitors, knowing that these were the "first" ones, and that they actually "walked with God" and "talked with God." That's all over now, and the children just wish they knew what happened.
Wouldn't you love to be there to hear Adam speak of the days spent walking and talking with his maker?
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