Image by Sixteen Miles Out (unsplash.com) It is a tree much like all the others: straight trunk, glossy leaves, pink-kissed blossoms followed by fruit that looks good to eat. Had he really been told that its name was Tree-of-the-knowledge-of-good-and-evil, and that if he ate of its fruit he would die that same day? And did the prohibition apply to her? And what did that mean, to die? And what was "evil”? Good, she knew. Elohim had made the world and everything in it. Elohim had made it, looked at it, and found it to be good. “Evil” too must be good, then. And so must death. But they were to live in ignorance, never knowing exactly what these words meant, how good evil was, and what it felt like to die. One bite would solve at least one mystery. It made sense that tasting the fruit would bring with it new knowledge. And it would quickly become apparent whether she felt different after. She could then decide whether or not to share that knowledge. Knowledge was good, surely! Elohi
Just what it says: a little midrash, a filling in of some of the lacunae Torah leaves in the lives of its characters. The stories lay no claim to being right, but they do explore what is possible. Texts don't sit still long enough to have fixed meanings; too often we assume that Torah is done and finished. It is never finished.