Meditation on Genesis 2

Delivered at Wine Before Breakfast Wycliffe College, University of Toronto 25 September 2007 7:30am The image of the invisible God, the firstborn of creation is here at work. With sleeves rolled up, fingernails dirty, the work has begun. In the beginning, and from the beginning, it was his work, all along, being done. Before all things were, and because of him, all things are. Things are as they should be. Or are they? “In the beginning,” so the story goes, “when God created the heavens and the earth,” God transforms the formless into the formative sustaining force on which our very lives depend. As the spirit moves over the water, it brings substance to the void. The spirit’s movement over the water causes all that we now know to exist, for there is nothing that exists without its origin in God’s creative action. As the spirit moves over the water, light and darkness, water and sky and dry land appear with God’s refrain, “let there be.” Layer by layer, God creates the earth we know, and layer after layer of reality comes into being on the back of the previous. The land put in its place, becomes the creator of place, a creative force imbued with the ability to bring forth vegetation. We notice the change in the narrative movement, for where God brought forth light and darkness, water and sky, here he imbues the land with its own creative, sustaining power. God, creator, sustainer, invests his creative expression in and to and through the land. As the narrative continues to reflect on creation, God’s speech-act invests the land with the power to create ecological reality. But that reality depends not only on God, not only on nature, but also on the human community. The first account of creation, the debut performance, is perfect in motion, perfect in pitch. The dance, the songs of creation, are danced, are sung on a brand new stage, as the actors deliver line after line of creative, imaginative genius. The second account, the second scene zooms in much closer. For here the sweeping narrative of dance and song is traded for much more earthy, gritty detail. It is perhaps here that we first become aware that the whole of Creation exists only by participating in God’s life. In sharing his being, in breathing his breath, and in dancing his dance. And God’s dance is a square dance at the barn-raising of creation. A square dance involves more than one. From the beginning, and in the beginning, a square dance demands community. A square dance is not a dance to be danced alone. And it is not a dance to be danced in any sort of exhibitionist pride, like that time in undergrad, or rather, those many times in undergrad you flailed across the dance floor, hoping to replicate Usher’s choreographed scene from an overplayed copy of “She’s All That.” This isn’t quite so polished. The scene’s choreography starts with a few mis-steps, a few bruised hooves and one or two dislocated wings as Adam and the animals give it a shot. The scenery is ready, but dormant, awaiting Adam’s grand entrance. He enters, timidly, tepidly, and considers partner after partner. Each passes by, each a part of the dance, but none, not a single one is just…quite…right. The chemistry just isn’t there. But God clues in. God asks how it is even possible to produce a youthful romantic comedy without a solid female lead. The animals? Red herring. Writer’s block. Product of a maturing vision. Wheels in motion, God, like any good choreographer, sends the dancers to rest as he again goes over the steps, as he searches for the perfect partner. In fitful sleep, Adam dreams feverish nightmares of the crocodile rock, large smile, sharp teeth, and fingernails all too long. This has got to stop. There must be someone else. Upon waking, rolling out of bed, Adam with his daily espresso, strolls through the garden. Near a rocky outcropping, just past a cold, lifeless cave, she softly asks him, “are you the gardener of this place?” A chance encounter. He turns around. Stops. Gawks awkwardly. Doesn’t quite know what to say. And then, “would you care to dance?” And here they dance a world into being. What kind of world will we dance? What kind of world will this be? What kind of world will we cultivate? This here, this tile and brick is God’s garden. What will we cultivate in this place? I dream daily of the world this might be. I dream daily of what to create. But at times I think I dream alone. I dream daily of what my community could be. My neighbourhood, my neighbours, the crooked lamp-posts and violent city streets. The lives of my friends in the boarding home up the way…I dream daily of what a future of creational intent just might look like. I dreamed last night, and I will dream it again, that youth in my community will have food to eat. That they will not be stuck out on the street, or forced to sleep with parents fighting, yelling and shouting at them or about them, or both. I dream of what my church community might look life if only I could communicate the loving purpose, and the gentle call of Christ in whom all things hold together. It’s not so bad as all this, I might say. I know it looks bleak right now, but if we’d only turn our heads. If we’d only focus our eyes on the steps that God is already calling, right here, right now. I dream of what my home could be if only I were more forgiving, less judgmental, more honest, and less grumpy at 6:30 on a Tuesday morning. I dream of a world that is, and yet is not. I dream of a world of possibility, of hope and of justice. I dream of a world in which the possibilities become more than just that. I dream of a world where possibility turns to probability turns to fact. I dream of these things, and in my dreams, I dream of people with whom to dance these dreams into reality. And when I wake up, I look to my right and greet another dreamer, another beautiful dancer beside me. Walk to the car, and greet another dreamer who lives beneath me. I arrive in this place, look around the space and greet a whole host of bleary-eyed dreamers just like me. Some days it feels like I’m stuck in my own little creation dream. But I’m ready to wake up, and as we leave this place today, I’d like to ask you one last question. Would you care to dance?

Dealing the Word

If only I had a TV, I think I might be interested in watching how Mary-Kate's new character and Jesus get along. A pot-smoking Jesus-loving seductress? Yowzers.