For me, reading the Bible was at most a one-day task. For Abby it was at least a multiweek proposition. We didn’t have that time, and I didn’t have that patience. I suggested that we read several chapters at the beginning together, just to get started. After that I’d continue reading and would bring matters to her attention as I came upon them. She agreed to that plan.

We read the first chapter of Genesis, the primary creation account. I didn’t recall that it had a different tone than other creation accounts from the ancient world. Creation was orderly. It started with light—just as the universe actually had—and proceeded through the creation of the earth, the land and seas, lower forms of life, higher forms of life, and finally humans. Creation was the conscious choice of a single Creator, not the whim of one of numerous gods. Humanity was created in God’s image—whatever that meant—instead of springing up from the blood of a god shed during a battle with another god. At the very least, whoever wrote the story demonstrated a greater sophistication than the writers of other ancient myths.

Genesis chapter 1 didn’t shed any light on our investigation. Neither did Genesis 2. Genesis 3 was another matter. It referred to the original dwelling place of humanity, the mythical Garden of Eden, describing two specific trees there. God forbade eating from the infamous one, the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. If the first two humans, Adam and Eve, ate from it, they would die. That’s what allegedly happened. It was the second tree, however, that caught my attention: the tree of life.

“What does this tree of life represent?” I asked Abby.

“What do you mean, ‘represent’?”

“What does it stand for, symbolically?”

“It…was a tree in the garden. If you ate from it, you would live forever.”

I nodded. “I know. That’s what the story says. But are you saying that Christians believe this was a literal tree?”

She looked confused. “Of course. What else would it be?”

“Well—” Maybe reading this together wasn’t such a good idea after all. “My guess is that most commentators have taken this to be a symbolic representation of something. Alistair…”

“Yes, Creighton.”

“Historically, how has the tree of life in the third chapter of Genesis been interpreted?”

“I reference 218 different interpretations in the records I have access to.”

By that measure it could have meant virtually anything. “Was there a predominant view by the twentieth century?”

“Jewish or Christian?”

“Christian.”

“There were two predominant Christian views. The tree was a literal tree with literal fruit that provided the key to everlasting life. Or the tree was a figurative representation of Jesus Christ.”

That was interesting. I pressed on. “And what was the primary Jewish view?” I looked at Abby. “Just out of curiosity.”