It is dark. Pitch black.
There is nothing.
Except the dark waters rippling, and the mighty wings of Spirit, hovering, brooding over the waters, a rushing wind, a storm from God getting ready for something amazing.
“Let there be light.” And it happens, a silent explosion, creation, the whole universe begins, and all there is to be seen is the brooding Spirit, watching over her nest, guarding her young world, stirring the waters getting ready for the next day.
And each day another explosion as more happens, stars, sun, moon, plants, birds, humungous beast and little bitty critters, men and women, scatter, invest, and fill every nook and cranny with teaming fruitfulness and vitality, and God say it is so good.
The Spirit, scattering the miracle of creation, more than we can see or keep up with, more than we categorize or count, always skittering about, too much, too big, too little for our comprehension.
All we can say is Bless the Lord my soul! Life happens! Watch where you step!
Time passes.
Something goes wrong.
The people, the human beings all start walking, talking, thinking and acting the same way. They no longer scatter and go forth, they no longer create a wild diversity of ideas and tastes and colors, they all come together and build only one city, with one mighty tower that is so tall.
Humanity became monolithic and homogeneous, narrower and narrower in their creativity, narrower and narrower in their ability to dream.
They all have marching orders, they all become cogs in a wheel, and if anyone doesn’t fit in, or falls out of place, or tries to escape they are run over.
God is not happy.
The Spirit gets ready; the brooding wings send froth the rushing wind to renew the face of the earth.
The people, despite their best efforts to codify and impose their pattern and language and thought, lose all control.
Many Languages explode forth; another day of creation, many peoples, many cultures, many tastes and attitudes and cultures, the human franchise monopoly collapses and scatters, the tower of Babel is abandoned.
Humanity becomes so much more than we can ever keep up with or define. The Spirit smiles at her young and she is proud of how different we all are.
God finds pleasure in the creative diversity of his creatures, doing just like God, the image of God born forth, no telling what humanity will come up with next. God is surprised again and again and smiles and laughs with delight.
Time passes.
The wild diversity of humanity becomes abusive, polluting, stealing every thing that it touches, they have forgotten that life can only be loved and nurtured, never beaten and bent into place. We forget the way of God. We cut ourselves off from the Spirit of Life.
So, God becomes flesh.
Oh the tastes, and feelings, of being human. It is still so good.
But oh the violence, the abusive, the greed, the crushing power that steps on all who fall behind, or fall out of order, or try to escape, or try to change what is devouring the world and the people.
God dies, crushed under the massive homogenizing machine of empire.
The spirit beats her wings and the wind blows, an explosion; another day of creation begins as the gates of hell and death are shattered.
Jesus rises from the dead, and says to get ready, the Spirit is coming, I made room, the Spirit will come and creation will be renewed, that wild explosion of life is going to happen again.
Time passes, fifty days after Easter.
Pentecost.
The surprise, rushing violent wind, and the good news of Jesus is proclaimed in all languages, and understood, the fertile gospel takes root among every tribe, nation and people, to be human is to be free to receive this rushing wind. The Spirit goes native wherever it is received and becomes something unique.
The creating Spirit begins another day of creation, an explosion, the gospel of Jesus goes forth, sent, driven before the wind, renewing the earth. Verdant life is being restored, scattering willy-nilly. The Storm of Spirit sends the Church forth, dismantling the tower of Babel, and humanity is being set free to become more than we can ever imagine or define.
The Spirit smiles, laughs, swooping and soaring.
Life in the Spirit.
The life of baptism.
It isn’t what we expect, predict or understand.
But it is always about scattering a wildly creative humanity, setting us free to dream, and love, saving and restoring the environment of what God has made, this world of many creatures, many languages and colors and flavors, this vast biosphere of cultures and species.
God’s judgment has been set lose on the earth, and it is not about damning people to hell.
It is about scattering us and busting us free from all that imprisons us, from all that destroys the many languages of the Creation, renewing the face of the Earth, all flesh seeing visions and dreaming dreams, prophesying, proclaiming the creative dynamo of God.
It is good news. God won’t let us work on the tower of Babel any longer.
The violent wind is blowing, a storm from heaven. The spirit is brooding over her young. Anything can happen!