Live (Very) Long and Prosper

We recently received an excellent question:

“Why did people live for so long?”

Presumably, we’re talking about the remarkably long lifespans of the antediluvian (a $5 word for “pre-flood”) people in Seth’s line, specifically found in the genealogy of Genesis 5. We’re told that Adam lived 905 years, Seth lived 912 years, Enoch lived 365, Lamech lived 777, and Methuselah lived a record-breaking 969 years.

But by the time of Moses (who lived 120 years), the lifespans had diminished — almost rhythmically, consistently. And when King David rolled around, 80 years was considered “elderly.” What’s up with that?

Let’s make a few observations and see what conclusions we can draw:

First, let’s observe that the further we get from Eden (chronologically), the shorter the lifespans. Individually, it can seem random. But if we were to chart it out on a point graph, we’d find a trend line. The garden in Eden was the place of God’s blessing, with free and available access to the Tree of Life — which aptly granted unending life — until sin entered the picture. As humanity is exiled from the garden and moves further East (literally and symbolically) away from the epicenter of God’s blessing and life, their lifespans diminish.

Second, let’s compare Genesis 4 with Genesis 5. Chapter 4 traces Cain’s line and provides a genealogy, like chapter 5 traces Seth’s line with a similar genealogy. But there’s a big difference: Cain’s genealogy omits their lifespans and instead focuses on technological and cultural advancements. Meanwhile, in Chapter 5, Seth’s genealogy omits technological and cultural comments and instead focuses on lifespan. Could it be that the author is artfully drawing our attention to the idea that God’s blessing (through his chosen line of Seth’s family) comes with Life, above-and-beyond temporal quality of life?

Third, let’s observe that the lifespans of Seth’s line (and everyone’s, apparently) rapidly dwindles after the flood. Perhaps God’s watery judgment on the sinful world changed the environment in such a way that the creation that once welcomed the care and company of humanity now, in this “post-diluvian” world, fights against it with new vehemence.

It brings to mind Romans 8:19–21,

“For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God.”

One day, a renewed and redeemed race of Humans — quickened by God’s full and unending vitality — will lovingly and gently care for this planet that God has entrusted to our care as his image-bearers.

With new access through the blood of Christ to Him, the Tree of Life Himself, we can again receive God’s ever-long life. And as the Prophet Isaiah suggests, I think even the trees will stand up and clap in relief, praising God!

One final note — a little more academic. We receive the book of Genesis as both artfully literary and historically true. As literature, it is in conversation with the ideas and literature of its time. It is artfully structured and designed to move the heart and engage the mind — of both its original and contemporary readers. As historically true literature, we have no reason to doubt the veracity of its claims, particularly when we understand it in light of both these things, literature and history. Scholar Bruce Waltke helps us think through these two things, knowing that we modern, Western readers can feel a tension between them. Here’s an excerpt from his excellent commentary on Genesis:

The expansive and incredible ages of the antediluvians have led some to explore the symbolic and poetic functions of numbers in the genealogy. In light of the narrator’s schematized use of ten and seven, it should come as no surprise if the other numbers in this genealogy also have symbolic value.
M. Barnouin has proposed connections between the ages of the antediluvians and the astronomical periods known to the Babylonians. For instance, Enoch’s 365 years (5:23) equal the days of the year, Lamech’s 777 years (5:31) equal the synodic periods of Jupiter + Saturn, and Yared’s 962 years (5:20) equal the synodic periods of Venus + Saturn. Also, if the sum of the years at the time of fathering and of the total life spans from Adam to Lamech are each divided by sixty—based on the Babylonian sexagesimal system—the sum of the remainders is 365, again perhaps representing the perfect life span. The cycles of a man’s years may match the cycles of the heavenly spheres to show that their lives follow a meaningful pattern and end with a completed cycle. The symbolism is significant!
However, it would be mischievous to pit this possibly symbolic use of numbers against their historical use. In Book 1 the narrator showed himself competent to present a story as both historical and symbolic. We have no reason to think that his artistic use of numbers is not restrained by real history. Its historicity is enhanced by its comparison and contrast with the list of Sumerian kings. The total number of years of the eight kings detailed in the Sumerian King List is 241,000. By contrast the total in Genesis 5 is a modest 1,656. The Sumerian King List then details twenty-three kings, who ruled 24,510 years, 3 months, and 3 1/2 days, which parallels the shorter generations of Gen. 11:10–26.