Another biblical story. Based loosely on Proverbs 8; Psalms 74, 89, 104; Job 28, 38-41; and Genesis 1-2.
It's entirely possible that there will be a recording of this available on iTunes sometime. (Where it will join this one.)
UPDATE: Audio posted here.
--
The morning stars didn’t always sing. Why would they?
Before there were any cities or buildings or people to build them,
before there were any rocks or trees or iron to build them with,
before there was light to see by, or warmth to enjoy …
before there was seeing or enjoyment at all,
before any of that, there was nothing.
No, not nothing, exactly. No-thing. No thing distinguishable or discernible or defined. The universe was like … rush hour on the subcontinent--all turmoil and tangle and congestion and humidity. Or like the bedroom of a slovenly teenager, maybe--all disarray and rebellion and noise and odor.
Wild, waste, and welter; Leviathan and Behemoth and nothing. No thing.
And in the midst of all of it, Wisdom. And hovering over all of it, God.
And God sought Wisdom.
God parted the No-thing and reached into the recesses of the deep, and extracted Wisdom. While Wisdom watched, God quieted the commotion, constrained the chaos. While Wisdom watched, God sifted through the confusion and separated light from darkness, sea from land, fish from fowl, animal, plant, and mineral one from another. While Wisdom watched, God made humans--male, female, parent, child. Then God withdrew, and rested.
Still there was chaos. Disease and injury and pain. Drought and flood, thorns and thistles and weeds and unruly plants. Dirt and rock and rubble. Still the morning stars remained silent. Still Wisdom watched.
And humans sought the withdrawn God.
Humans observed the world around them. They saw creatures of whimsy and industrious insects, and they created instruments and tools and work and play. And Wisdom watched.
Humans brought order to the rock and rubble and created places to live. They cultivated soil and vegetables and banished weeds from their fields. They created agriculture and science and technology and society and civilization. And Wisdom watched.
Humans delved deep and in the dirt and the dark they found gold and gems, precious metals and stones. They created mining and industry, and Wisdom watched.
Humans stared long into the heavens and wrested from the void language and ritual and meaning. They distinguished sound from noise and movement from motion and in the directionless discovered music and poetry and story and dance and performance. And in the midst of all of it, Wisdom.
And God grew curious and drew near and hovered over all of it, and said, “Good.”
And at dawn each day, the stars sing.
It's entirely possible that there will be a recording of this available on iTunes sometime. (Where it will join this one.)
UPDATE: Audio posted here.
--
The morning stars didn’t always sing. Why would they?
Before there were any cities or buildings or people to build them,
before there were any rocks or trees or iron to build them with,
before there was light to see by, or warmth to enjoy …
before there was seeing or enjoyment at all,
before any of that, there was nothing.
No, not nothing, exactly. No-thing. No thing distinguishable or discernible or defined. The universe was like … rush hour on the subcontinent--all turmoil and tangle and congestion and humidity. Or like the bedroom of a slovenly teenager, maybe--all disarray and rebellion and noise and odor.
Wild, waste, and welter; Leviathan and Behemoth and nothing. No thing.
And in the midst of all of it, Wisdom. And hovering over all of it, God.
And God sought Wisdom.
God parted the No-thing and reached into the recesses of the deep, and extracted Wisdom. While Wisdom watched, God quieted the commotion, constrained the chaos. While Wisdom watched, God sifted through the confusion and separated light from darkness, sea from land, fish from fowl, animal, plant, and mineral one from another. While Wisdom watched, God made humans--male, female, parent, child. Then God withdrew, and rested.
Still there was chaos. Disease and injury and pain. Drought and flood, thorns and thistles and weeds and unruly plants. Dirt and rock and rubble. Still the morning stars remained silent. Still Wisdom watched.
And humans sought the withdrawn God.
Humans observed the world around them. They saw creatures of whimsy and industrious insects, and they created instruments and tools and work and play. And Wisdom watched.
Humans brought order to the rock and rubble and created places to live. They cultivated soil and vegetables and banished weeds from their fields. They created agriculture and science and technology and society and civilization. And Wisdom watched.
Humans delved deep and in the dirt and the dark they found gold and gems, precious metals and stones. They created mining and industry, and Wisdom watched.
Humans stared long into the heavens and wrested from the void language and ritual and meaning. They distinguished sound from noise and movement from motion and in the directionless discovered music and poetry and story and dance and performance. And in the midst of all of it, Wisdom.
And God grew curious and drew near and hovered over all of it, and said, “Good.”
And at dawn each day, the stars sing.
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