Leaving Harry, we'll start with the opening line: "In the beginning ("bereshit" in Hebrew; this has nothing whatsoever to do with anything, I just think it's a woody word, "beginning" being terribly tinny) god created the heaven and the earth". There you have it. One can imagine our unknown author leaning back in his chair, a satisfied smile on his lips, maybe even reading it to his wife, who nods in solemn concordance. Yep, that must have been how it happened. Simple and clean. Except… well, let's go through the sentence word by word, shall we. "In the beginning" - of what? Time & space? So what was before? Emptiness, potential? That could almost be Lawrence Krauss' "universe from nothing"... nice so far, maybe even accurate. So let's assume the laws of space-time kicked in when "god created" - uh, who? God? The beginning of everything, and there is already something there? Where did he come from? To avoid unnecessary embarrassment, let's play along for now and call him the prime mover, the uncaused cause, if only for convenience's sake, as any rational inquiry about god before C-Day can only lead to turtles all the way down, so to speak, and I don't want to crash my Rocinante against the wall of Unreason in the first sentence already. So alright, he was there all along, in the Big Fat Nothing (presumably really really bored). Next word: heaven. How does one create heaven? It's just space, innit? A natural distinction made by any casual observer standing on solid ground (e.g., a planet) and seeing the (not-solid) space above his/her head. Swiftly passing by the (innocuous enough) words "and the", last word is "earth". So our unknown author claims god first of all created our cute little planet. A mindblowingly egomaniacal and solipsistic assumption, violating virtually everything that hordes of very clever people have found out about our universe during the last 3000 years or so - for instance, the standard procedure that in any galaxy, stars (e.g., the sun) form first; from the debris, planets coalesce (science for dummies, but you get the point). But for a human whose ancestors only recently fell out of an African tree, it would feel consistent: loads of stuff all around me, big earth > tiny lights in the sky, so this must be the center, QED.
Next bit: we are informed that the earth was created "without form". I imagine our friend the scribe didn't have the faintest idea what earth looked like from "outside" (from the heavens), so "formless" would be a safe bet, although that seems a bit unfair to god - the first thing he creates, and it's just a formless lump of stuff, like a toddler's first clay encounter. How depressing. To mitigate things: it wasn't completely unrecognizable, there were "waters" (some sort of giant inundated pizza - sans anchovies - springs to mind; the tricky bit, obviously, how to keep the water from running off the sides... a nice crust? Terry Pratchett offers a rather neat solution in his Discworld novels, check them out). Then god utters his famous first words (at least: the first on record, but still, as there's no one there to hear, this must be the mother of all Amazonian crashing trees) "let there be light", and hey presto: there was light! An eyepopping special effect, as the stars and planets, including sun and moon, were not created until day 4. My shrewd guess: as our author wanted to describe the creation process in day shifts (as that is the way we humans live), he needed some light first, otherwise how are we to know the first day is over? Anyway, god calls the day day and the night night (silly, but someone had to do it) and goes to bed, creating a soddy lump of clay from nothing proving to be unexpectedly hard work (you try advanced sculpting in the dark... no wonder the result was "formless").
On day 2, work continues: a firmament is erected, to "divide the waters". The bit above the firmament he calls heaven. Although he already created that on day 1… so what does the firmament "do" or add? Me, I'd say nothing much. Some sort of scaffolding for holding the stars?
On day 3, all the waters on the earth are "gathered together unto one place", which he calles "Seas" (all the water in one place I would call "A sea", but let's not be too pedantic about it); the dry land that appears under the water (so the lump wasn't so formless after all!) he calls "Earth". Although that is also the name of the formless thing (dry land PLUS water) from day 1... confusing. The dry land is then decorated by trees, grass and herbs. Which incidentally rely on pollinators such as insects and birds to "bear fruit or yield seed", but sadly these were not created yet. This guy really has no clue.
On day 4, the bible author blithely informs us, the lights in the firmament are created, "to divide the day from the night". On "day" 4... really quite amusing and endearing. Even funnier: god makes two "great lights", the sun and the moon - the former to light the day, the latter to light the night. Like buying a desk lamp the size of Sydney Opera house (the sun is 109 times bigger than the earth). This is probably where it all went wrong in Galileo's time, as a light in the sky rather forcibly suggests the geocentric model (as long as you ignore basic stuff like distance and perspective, that is). One line of text, setting back humanity's progress and development for hundreds of years... makes you cry. And the "night light"... well, the crescent moon's lambent rays softly kissing the silent earth might inspire an insomniac poet to sharpen his quill, but any kid can tell you it's just a reflection of the sun's rays, with earth positioned inbetween throwing its shadow; the moon is just a chunk of rock doing nothing much in particular as far as illumination is concerned (equally, it doesn't pull faces at us - that's just pareidolia, like the face of Jesus in your soup). Concomitantly, the stars & planets are then added "for signs, and for seasons, and for days, and years" - another causation arrow awkwardly firing backward.
Day 5 sees the waters bring forth "the moving creature", including fowl that "may fly in the open firmament". I'm already developing a headache and I'm not even halfway page 1. Bugger. So we are told that birds originate from the water? Again, weirdly true, but in a way that the author surely never meant. And the "open" firmament? I thought it was put up there to separate the water - partly under it, partly over it (not that I understand how that is supposed to work either)? What is this bloody thing? Anyway, all fish & birds get the express command to, let's say, Fornicate Under Command of the King and populate the earth a.s.a.p.. A clever mechanism, procreation: you start with 1 male & 1 female, they take care of the rest, and before you know it you're knee deep in animals.
Day 6 is the most important day for us, as it sees both the creation of evil ("every creeping thing", presumably including the fabled serpent) AND: the creation of "man in his own image - male and female created he them" (god has this annoying habit of referring to himself in the royal plural, but this would suggest that god is actually dual? The idea has some merit. But read on, it gets even better), to have dominion over all the other animals. All of these - including the humans! - get the same command: be fruitful & multiply. It's very specific, as he adds the dominion bit so he really is talking to the humans. After which he is so exhausted that he takes the rest of the week (the 7th day) off. I'm not even going to bother asking why an omnipotent deity needs (a) 6 days to create the universe instead of just snapping his metaphysical fingers & going "let there be a froody universe, with all the bits in", and (b) a day off to rest. You figure it out.
Now comes the best bit. There is no rain (a technical glitch from that weird firmament gadget, no doubt), so all the plants need a gardener. As he is not planning to do any caretaking/maintenance himself, god creates... man. Again! Twice on the same page, I kid ye not (remember he already created man and woman - with express reproduction instructions! - on Day 6). I really, really do not understand this. Furthermore, this new man is created from "the dust of the ground", which seems unfair as all the other animals (including the D6 humans) were created ex nihilo - so why use dust now? Sounds like a hasty Monday morning job. Even the naming bit is messy: at first he's only called "the man", from 2:19 on he is suddenly called Adam (from Hebrew "ha adamah", simply meaning "ground" or "earth"). Also, quite significantly, the words "in his image" are left out here, suggesting this to be an inferior type of man, compared to the D6 couple, who are a self portrait, after all. Furthermore: this is the only time ever that he creates something without a partner/biological counterpart for procreation. Are we just gardening golems then, built from shoddy materials to mow lawns & clip hedges? Spooky, but it might explain a lot about humanity.