n February 1984, David Mamet’s Glengarry Glen Ross premiered at the Goodman Theatre in Chicago. The play follows four real estate salesmen who are desperate to outperform one another with the leads handed down by office manager John Williamson. The men live under the tyranny of a sales board. First prize is a new Cadillac. Second prize is a set of steak knives. Everyone else is disposable.

Shame drove them further east,
and sorrow followed.

Now the language of the image bearers
is a chorus of Lamentations—

dust on the head,
tears in the night,
bitterness in the mouth,
the soul weighed down within.

While Adam and Eve wore
their God-sewn apparel,
Eden was behind them.

They walked eastward
in covered shame—
clothed by mercy,
but driven from perfection.

As the loving Father of his family,

he saw them

poor and wretched,

weak and wounded,

bruised and broken by the fall.

Fear takes over.

Shame consumes them.

Now their own skin feels like a problem.

Now the garden feels too exposed.

Now the first instinct is not worship,

but hiding.

But in the quiet perfection of Eden,
an adversary slipped into paradise.
While the man stood at a distance,
the serpent drew near
to the innocent woman.