In the Beginning

“In the beginning was the Word”  (John 1:1)

At the very beginning of the world as we know it, the Spirit of God hovered over the frightening prospect of a dark chaos unmarked by any of the distinctions we need to find our place in the universe:  the passing of time, changes of landscape, varieties of being all set in relationship[ to one another (Genesis 1:1-2).  It’s hardly surprising that God did not drop human beings onto the scene till the final day of creation, when all those markers were in place, at least as the story is told in Genesis 1, the  first book of the Bible. 

Into the chaos of this watery darkness, the Spirit (or Breath) of God bore words.  God’s words.  Words that reached into the seething cauldron and named on by one all the realities familiar to us:  light and darkness, sun and moon and stars, sky and earth, dry land and water, living creatures of every kind including, at the end of the story, human beings made in God’s image, enabled to speak, and charged with sharing God’s responsibility for the unfolding of creation’s future. 

Every day begins in darkness.  Depending on how much light you have in your room, that darkness can seem as undifferentiated as the primal chaos.  As a frequent traveler, I sometimes have to start with the basics:  what town am I in, whose house is this,, what side of the bed do I get out on here?  Even when I rediscover that I’m at home, I have to start with: what month is this, what day is it, what time is it, and when do have to be in the chapel for prayers?  Get one of those wrong, and the day unravels into chaos after all.

At the same time, wherever and whenever I am, this day is just beginning, at least for me.  As a writer, I love nothing better than a fresh page, all the ill-chosen words, garbled sentences, and muddy thoughts swept away and a whole new start awaiting me.  The earliest Christian monks,  living in the deserts of the Middle East,  treated each day as a fresh start.  Leave all the mistakes, all the sins, all the guilt and regret on yesterday’s page and start over.  Otherwise you’ll find yourself carrying a load to heavy to bear (see Psalms 38:5;  65:4).  It isn’t that we forget our history, including the sorry tale of our harmful choices, but rather that we learn what we need from it and leave the rest in the hands of God’s mercy where it belongs.  Then we do as Jesus so often says to the sick, the disabled, the paralyzed:  “Get up and walk!”

Reading Genesis 1 first thing in the morning can give a new view of what a fresh start means.  What awaits me?  Call it by its name.  The name gives each thing and each person a reality that is separate from me:  I don’t own it or him/her, nor am I owned.  I start out not with old judgments but new discoveries to be made about each one’s identity, purpose, and place in the scheme of things, including God’s scheme of things and mine.  God does all that for each reality drawn out of the primal sea of possibilities.    What kind of order will I put all these realities in?  Who and what are my priorities, baked fresh this morning?  Where might each one lead me?  Maybe down a different path than yesterday’s.  Who and what are the solid rock that grounds my life, and who or what are the murky waters and shifting quicksands that will suck me down into darkness again if I don’t choose my path with a care born of experience?  You get the idea.  Genesis 1 can map out a new plan for today, even though  I may not actually have time over that first cup of coffee to figure it all out.  Just listen for which bits of the story emerge for you.

There are other stories of course.  Starting the day with a Gospel passage or a psalm, even a snippet, can still create a new reality for today.  All of God’s words are creative.  And all of us are born listeners, called into being by the Spirit of God hovering over all the possibilities and speaking the words that brought us into our own unique being, identity, purposes and relationships, as the Word did in the beginning and does in every new beginning.  Remember the word that begins the Rule of St. Benedict:  “Listen!”

Sister Genevieve Glen, OSB

Copyright 2013, Abbey of St. Walburga