To the modern reader, the serpent of Genesis 3 seems fantastical—mythic, even absurd. A snake that speaks? Really?

For centuries, skeptics have dismissed the Garden of Eden story on this very ground. Museums and children’s Bibles show Eve chatting with a coiled reptile, perched innocently in a fruit tree, whispering deceit in perfect Hebrew. But beneath that cartoonish imagery lies one of the most profound and misunderstood figures in all of Scripture.

In Hebrew, this serpent is called NAHASH. And the deeper one digs into this word, the more the ground begins to shift under the reader’s feet. What if this “serpent” was never meant to be imagined as a snake at all—at least, not as we think of snakes today?

The Many Meanings of NAHASH

The word NAHASH is indeed used in Scripture to refer to serpents and snakes (e.g., Numbers 21). But like many Hebrew words, NAHASH carries more than one layer of meaning.

It comes from a three-letter root—nun-chet-shin—which means:

To hiss like a snake, to divine (as in occult practices), and to shine.

This last sense connects NAHASH to the word NEHOSHET, which means bronze or copper—a polished, gleaming metal. This root idea of shining, glowing, gleaming appears in multiple biblical texts, often associated with divine or angelic beings. Which means that NAHASH might not suggest a serpent—but a reptile-looking shining angelic being.

In fact, the International Standard Version of Genesis 3:1 translates it this way:

Now the Shining One was more clever than any animal of the field…

This is not just poetic license. It’s grounded in language, tradition, and theology.

Paul, a Hebrew of Hebrews, writes that “Satan himself masquerades as an angel of light.” (2 Corinthians 11:14)

John, in Revelation, speaks of “a great fiery red dragon” (Revelation 12:3) and “the great dragon… that ancient serpent, called the devil, or Satan.” (Revelation 12:9)

So, who—or what—was Eve actually speaking to?

Not a Reptile, But a Rebel

According to an ancient Jewish midrash (Bereshit Rabbah 20:5), the NAHASH in Genesis was not a lowly creature slithering in the dirt—it was a radiant, upright, possibly winged being. Some rabbis describe it as an angelic entity or a celestial creature capable of speech and glory, who was only later cursed to crawl on its belly.

This interpretation harmonizes with a broader biblical worldview, one where the divine and human realms are not fully separated. In Eden, God Himself walks with humans. Even angels appear (Genesis 3:24). The supernatural and the natural mingle freely. In such a setting, it would not have been surprising for Eve to converse with a celestial being.

Indeed, Eve shows no alarm when the NAHASH speaks. Why? Because she likely recognized it as one of God’s creatures—familiar, impressive, perhaps even beautiful. She had no reason to distrust it. Not yet.

The text says the NAHASH was “more crafty” (ARUM) than the other beasts—a word that can mean shrewd, cunning, or discerning. But it does not suggest evil—at least not at first. The danger wasn’t in the serpent’s shape. It was in his speech.

What begins as wisdom soon becomes deception.

Serpents in the Divine Realm

Biblical imagery is full of serpentine divine beings.

In Isaiah 6, God is surrounded by seraphim—fiery, winged beings whose name (SARAPH) means both “to burn” and “serpent.” The same word is used in Numbers 21 to describe the “fiery serpents” that plagued Israel in the wilderness.

In fact, seraph may be understood as a fiery, serpentine being—one who radiates divine presence. These are not garden snakes. These are radiant creatures of flame and flight who dwell in God’s throne room.

Even outside Israel, the ancient Near East was filled with serpent-deities associated with wisdom, immortality, and protection. Egyptian mythology revered the serpent Uraeus as a symbol of divine kingship. Mesopotamian tales often included shining, reptilian beings who guarded secrets or tempted humans.

Thus, when Genesis 3 introduces a radiant, intelligent NAHASH in Eden, ancient readers would not have seen a common snake. They would have recognized a supernatural being—perhaps a divine guardian gone rogue.

The Curse and the Fall

After deceiving Eve, the NAHASH is cursed by God:

Because you have done this, cursed are you… You will crawl on your belly and eat dust all the days of your life.

(Genesis 3:14)

This verse suggests that the NAHASH had not always crawled. The curse removes something—perhaps legs, wings, or both. It strips him of glory and casts him to the dirt.

Just as Adam will return to dust, so will the serpent be confined to it.

The curse evokes Egyptian imagery, where underworld serpents are humiliated and crushed beneath divine feet. It also mirrors later visions of judgment in Isaiah and Ezekiel, where rebellious kings (and the powers behind them) are cast down from heavenly heights to the grave below (see Isaiah 14, Ezekiel 28).

The fallen NAHASH becomes a symbol of rebellion—a creature once exalted, now humiliated. And this fall is echoed in the rest of the biblical story, from Eden to Revelation.

Not All Serpents Are Evil

The biblical image of the serpent is not one-dimensional. While NAHASH becomes a symbol of deception and rebellion in Genesis 3, the serpent is not universally condemned throughout Scripture. In fact, in one of the most surprising twists in the Torah, God commands Moses to craft a serpent—not as a symbol of evil, but as a means of healing.

In Numbers 21, Israel once again complains bitterly against God. In response, venomous serpents (seraphim, fiery snakes) bite the people, and many die. The same God who cursed the serpent in Eden now uses serpents as instruments of judgment. But even here, mercy triumphs over wrath.

God tells Moses to make a bronze serpent (NAHASH NEHOSHET—a word play) and lift it on a pole. Anyone bitten who looks upon it will be healed.

A serpent to save from serpents. Death lifted up to bring life. The irony is almost too rich.

Why a serpent? Why not a lamb, a dove, or a symbol of purity?

Because healing begins when we face what has wounded us. The people were not asked to look away, but to look directly at the source of their suffering—transformed by belief. The shining bronze serpent became a mirror. To look at it was to see both the consequence of sin and the promise of healing.

But they had to choose. Just like Eve in the garden. Just like us.

Some surely scoffed. “Look at a metal snake? That’s absurd.” Others obeyed. And they lived.

Jesus and the Serpent

Over a thousand years later, Jesus invokes this strange story to explain His mission:

Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in Him may have eternal life.

(John 3:14–15)

The parallel is astonishing. Jesus likens Himself to the serpent—the very image of the curse (cf. Galatians 3:13). He who knew no sin became sin (2 Corinthians 5:21). He became what wounds us, so we can witness the consequences of sin and could be healed.

But this is not simply a theological transaction. It is a visual reversal. Jesus becomes the NAHASH NEHOSHET—the shining one lifted high. And we are invited to look—not just glance, but behold, think, meditate, understand—and believe.

At the cross, we see humanity’s sin at its worst: betrayal, cowardice, violence, hypocrisy, mockery, torture. We see all the venom of the human soul distilled into one grotesque moment: the murder of Messiah.

But we also see something else. We see light.

The cross, like the bronze serpent, gleams with a terrible beauty. It is the place where death is not denied, but defeated. Where shame is not hidden, but healed. Where we meet the truly Shining One. Not the one once fallen, but the Shining Savior.

When we look to the cross, we are not simply asked to feel guilty. We are asked to see ourselves—our brokenness, our rebellion, our need. But also, we are asked to see what God has done about it.

He did not abandon us. He became the cure.

From Tree of Knowledge to Tree of Life

In Eden, humanity reached for a tree to take what was not theirs—knowledge, control, power. The result was exile, shame, and death.

On Calvary, Messiah hangs on a tree—not to punish, but to forgive. Not to take, but to give.

The serpent had said, “Your eyes will be opened.” And they were—but only to their own nakedness.

Jesus now says, “Look to Me, and live.” And our eyes are opened again—not to shame, but to grace.

The cross becomes the new Tree of Life. What was once a place of execution is now a place of resurrection. What was a symbol of cursedness becomes the doorway to Eden restored.

This is why the early Church saw Christ crucified as a second Eden. Not only was Jesus the Second Adam, but the cross was the reversal of the first temptation. The serpent deceived by promising life. Jesus redeems by giving it.

The Shining One Redeemed

Ironically, NAHASH—“the shining one”—finds its truest fulfillment not in the deceiver of Eden, but in the Redeemer of all creation. The enemy still masquerades as an angel of light, offering illusions of glory without sacrifice, brilliance without love. But Jesus is not a masquerade—He is the Light itself.

Where Satan seduces with the glitter of false wisdom, Jesus invites with the fire of self-giving love. His glory is not borrowed; it is born of being.

Revelation describes Him with eyes like flames, feet like burnished bronze, and “a face like the sun shining in all its brilliance” (Revelation 1:16). This is no borrowed glow—it is the very radiance of divine glory. As Hebrews declares,

The Son is the radiance of God’s glory and the exact representation of His being.

(Hebrews 1:3)

Jesus is the true Shining One—the radiance that does not deceive, the brilliance that does not fade, the glory that does not consume but calls us home.

The serpent sought glory without obedience. Jesus embraced obedience and was glorified.

The serpent corrupted through lies. Jesus restores through truth.

The serpent brought death through pride. Jesus brings life through humility.

Where the NAHASH in Genesis slithered into rebellion, Jesus shines in obedience, showing us not only what God is, but who we can become.

Looking at the Cross Today

Golgotha stands as the summit of humanity’s darkest crimes—pride, rivalry, scapegoating, violence, and the lust for domination—all laid bare and brought under judgment. It was the moment when human civilization, with all its claims of order and justice, was unmasked for what it truly is: a power struggle maintained by violence so corrupt that it did not hesitate to crucify God Himself in the name of “truth” and “righteousness.”

Yet Golgotha is not only the site of humanity’s greatest sin—it is also the place where we encounter the greatest revelation of divine love. There, in the suffering of Christ, we see sacrificial love in its purest and most powerful form: a love that absorbs violence without returning it, that forgives while being pierced, and that conquers not by killing, but by dying.

Thus, to gaze at the cross is to see more than wood and nails. It is to see every twisted impulse of the human heart exposed—and every wound answered by grace.

The lies we believed—He took them. The shame we carry—He bore it. The judgment we deserve—He absorbed it. But that’s not the end.

Because the cross is not just a mirror—it’s a window. Through it, we see what God is like. A God who shines, not with pride or vengeance, but with sacrificial love.

A God who walks through our venom to heal us. A God who takes the very image of the curse—and transforms it into salvation.

In the end, the serpent is not just a villain in a garden. He is a shadow of something deeper—our capacity to fall, to deceive, to want wisdom without humility. But the cross is God’s answer to every NAHASH in our lives.

Where we see death, God offers life. Where we see judgment, He offers mercy. Where we see darkness, He becomes light.

The cross is not only a place of atonement. It is a place of revelation.

It shows us what we are capable of. But more importantly, it shows us what God is capable of.

And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to Myself.

(John 12:32)

The cross is lifted. The Shining One is raised. The serpent is reversed.

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