Quran, Genesis, and the Many Trees
By Jean-Philippe Gabriel — frameworklove.com | February 5, 2025
"And the LORD God commanded the man, 'You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat from it, you will certainly die.'"(Genesis 2:16–17)
This passage is often interpreted as a simple test of obedience between two trees. Yet we tend to overlook the abundance of other trees in the garden—symbolizing the fullness of the known universe, rich with countless possibilities. The narrative, however, draws our attention almost exclusively to two, reducing the vastness of choice to a stark binary.
Why this focus? Adam and Eve could freely eat from the Tree of Life and from all other trees except one—the Tree of Knowledge. While countless choices were open to them, the restriction on that single tree reframes the story as a choice between life and death, grace and law.
Seen through the lens of the cross and love as a self-sustaining system (autopoietic), this narrowing makes sense. In a world where flawed and harmful options abound, the ultimate question often distills to only two paths: grace or law.
The Tree of Life embodies love and grace—a system that renews itself through forgiveness and perpetual regeneration. The Tree of Knowledge represents the law—an unyielding system where every wrong must be answered for, inevitably leading to death. In this light, the binary choice reflects the fundamental decision we all face: live by grace, which gives life, or live by law, which ends in death.
Crucially, choosing the law is not a neutral stance. It is an active rejection of love, because the law, by its nature, cannot forgive. It can only record, measure, and condemn, without the restorative power that only love can offer.
A Parallel in the Quran
This same rejection of love appears vividly in the Quran’s creation story, which captures the same essential conflict—law versus grace—alongside the contrast between sacrificing the innocent and self-sacrifice.
In the Quran, Satan’s refusal to prostrate before Adam becomes the decisive act of defiance that severs him from divine grace. His refusal is not mere disobedience but a rejection of humility itself. Satan argues that his creation from fire makes him superior to Adam, made from clay.
From a Christian perspective centered on love, this demand for prostration may seem as paradoxical as love’s own demands, which often appear unreasonable. Yet here lies the striking parallel: while Satan refuses to humble himself before a “lesser” being, Jesus willingly endured humiliation and suffering at the hands of those far lesser than He, embodying love’s radical humility.
In a way, when viewed through the cross, the Quran’s telling has a striking clarity—perhaps even more than the Genesis account. Instead of a vague, non-descript fruit, it centers on a concrete and visible rejection of grace and humility. This act points directly to the deeper problem behind the war in heaven: the existential paradox that what is created finite cannot overcome its own finitude through itself alone. Only under love—symbolized by the Tree of Life—can what is finite transcend finitude and truly live. The Quran’s scene paints this paradox vividly, showing the very barrier that love must overcome.
Disobedience and the Weight of Choice
Both narratives—Genesis and the Quran—lead us to the same reality: the freedom to choose carries the moral weight of responsibility. Every decision shapes our identity and leaves its imprint on the world. Harm, selfishness, or avoidance of truth create consequences that reverberate far beyond the moment of choice.
When stripped to its core, the decision remains binary: grace or law, life or death. The law tallies every act, leaving no wrong unaccounted for, and thus points toward death. Grace restores and renews, offering life.
In the end, each choice we make forecloses other possibilities, and no path once taken can be entirely undone. This is the existential reality the garden story—and its parallels—lay before us: we are defined by our choices, and bound by their consequences.
The Trees and the Gospel
The choice between the Tree of Life and the Tree of Knowledge in Genesis is more than an origin story—it foreshadows the central decision of the Gospel. In the garden, the Tree of Life represents love’s abundance, freely given and sustained by grace. The Tree of Knowledge embodies the law, a system that records every deed and demands an exact accounting.
In the Gospel, this same structure reappears in human terms: the invitation of Christ to live under grace versus the pull of the law to measure ourselves by our own righteousness. Just as Adam and Eve stood between two trees, humanity now stands between two systems. One offers life without ledger, because love forgives and restores. The other promises clarity and order, but at the cost of life itself, because the law cannot erase a debt—it can only tally it.
Paul captures this choice clearly: “For the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life” (2 Corinthians 3:6). The “letter” is the law—unyielding, precise, and ultimately fatal to the imperfect. The “Spirit” is the life of love and grace, regenerating without measure.
On the cross, Jesus embodies the Tree of Life, taking into Himself the full weight of the law’s demands and breaking its claim. In doing so, He restores access to life, not through merit, but through the gift of grace. Genesis shows us the first presentation of this choice; the Gospel shows us its final resolution.
Disobedience and the Law
In Genesis, the act of eating from the Tree of Knowledge is often seen as mere rule-breaking, but the deeper meaning lies in the system it represents. To eat from that tree is to step into the realm of the law—a realm where every act is measured, every fault recorded, and every debt must be paid. In that system, perfection is the only path to life, and anything less leads to death.
The Gospels reveal that the same choice still stands. Jesus said plainly, “Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged” (Matthew 7:1–2). Choosing the law is choosing to be judged by the law’s standard—a standard no one meets. Paul echoes this: “All who rely on the works of the law are under a curse”(Galatians 3:10). Under the law, even one failure marks us as disobedient, and, as Genesis foreshadows, disobedience ends in death.
This is why the cross is so decisive. Jesus fulfilled the law perfectly and then took its penalty upon Himself, offering an alternative: to live under grace rather than under the law. Just as Adam and Eve’s choice brought death through the law, so the Gospel offers life through the Tree of Life—Christ Himself. In both narratives, the structure is the same: choose the law, and you will be judged by it; choose love, and you will live.
Two Perspectives on the Same Conflict
Genesis gives us the systemic narrative—a wide-angle view of the human condition. The two trees are not just about a single act of disobedience; they represent two governing systems: the law, which measures and condemns, and love, which forgives and restores. It’s the structural choice humanity has faced from the very beginning.
The Quran, by contrast, offers a specific example of that same conflict. In the account of Satan’s refusal to bow to Adam, the rejection of humility and grace is put into direct speech. We see the pride, the reasoning, and the unwillingness to submit to what feels beneath one’s dignity. This moment makes visible the same underlying choice Genesis describes: the decision to live under the self-exalting logic of law, or to yield to the self-emptying humility of love.
When viewed through the cross, the two narratives converge. Genesis shows the framework of the choice; the Quran gives us a vivid case study. Together, they point to the same existential paradox: what is created finite cannot overcome its own finitude apart from love, symbolized by the Tree of Life. Only under love can the finite transcend its limits and truly live.