the material world (the same in Heb 11:3).
The theological point is that whatever exists, be it material or
functional, God made it. But from there our task as interpreters is
to evaluate individual texts to see what aspect of God's creation
they discuss.
Finally we need to address the question of what actually happens in the seven days. What would a comparison of the "before"
and "after" pictures look like? What would an observer see if able
to observe the process of these seven days? On these we can only
speculate, but I will try to explore the implications of this view.
The functional view understands the functions to be decreed
by God to serve the purposes of humanity, who has been made
in his image. The main elements lacking in the "before" picture
are therefore humanity in God's image and God's presence in
his cosmic temple. Without those two ingredients the cosmos
would be considered nonfunctional and therefore nonexistent.
The material phase nonetheless could have been under develop ment for long eras and could in that case correspond with the
descriptions of the prehistoric ages as science has uncovered
them for us. There would be no reason to think that the sun had
not been shining, plants had not been growing, or animals had
not been present.' These were like the rehearsals leading up to a
performance of a play. The rehearsals are preparatory and necessary, but they are not the play. They find their meaning only
when the audience is present. It is then that the play exists, and
it is for them that the play exists.
In the "after" picture the cosmos is now not only the handiwork of God (since he was responsible for the material phase all
along, whenever it took place), but it also becomes God's residence-the place he has chosen and prepared for his presence to
rest. People have been granted the image of God and now serve
him as vice regents in the world that has been made for them.
Again it is instructive to invoke the analogy of the temple before
and after its inauguration. After priests have been installed and
God has entered, it is finally a fully functioning temple-it exists
only by virtue of those aspects.
What would a college be without students? Without administration and faculty? Without courses? We could talk about the origins of the college when it first opened its doors, enrolled students
for the first time, hired faculty, designed courses and offered them
and so on. In another sense this process is reenacted year by year as
students return (or are newly enrolled), faculty again inhabit their
offices, courses are offered. Anyone in academics knows the difference between the empty feel of campus during the summer
compared to the energy of a new semester beginning.
Before the college existed, there would have been a material
"construction" phase. What a mess! Partially built buildings, construction equipment, torn up ground and so forth. This is all part
of a campus taking shape-but it is only preliminary to a college existing, because a college is more than a campus.
What would the observer have seen in these seven days of
Genesis 1? At one level this could simply be dismissed as the
wrong question. It continues to focus on the eyewitness account of
material acts. But perhaps we can indulge our imagination for a
moment as we return to the analogy of the college.
The main thing that happens is that students arrive. But
even that would not necessarily mean much if faculty did not
begin offering courses. In the light of those two events, however, everything else that was there all along takes on energy
and meaning. The course schedule brings order to time. Time
had been there all along, but the course schedule gives time a
meaning to the college and the students. Even the course
schedule had been there a long time (designed months earlier
with students registering), but it has no existence until the semester begins. Dorms had existed filled with furniture.
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