In the beginning, there was the Word. The Word was with God, and the Word was God. The Word came to Earth, was twisted, brutalized, mutilated, destroyed, in order that His words not be forgotten. The Word was not forgotten, not physically, but His words have been twisted, destroyed, forgotten, and so, the Word, Himself, too, has been forgotten.

He gave us His word, though, that He would return, to show us more of His words, even to teach us to speak ourselves, though slowly, stupidly, impeded by our own inadequate tongues. The tongue of the Word is Creation - passion, beauty, love, radiance, feeling. The tongue of man is incompetent, incabable of defining such a Word. And yet we try. We create words to describe Him. Awesome, we said, but even so do mutilate our own beliefs with words that even awesome does not begin to bring definition to this completely intangiable undefinable perfect Word.

This Word, in His incomprable wisdom, understood our words, our tongues, and explained the unexplainable, taught the unteachable, knew the unknowable and loved the unlovable, in words we all understood. When there were no words to describe the wonders of the Word, he spoke softly, to small children who do not feel bound by words, but communicate through pure innocence, laughter and connection beyond the pitiful bridges we build with language. "Let the little children come," the Word said, and no more. He needed not speak, because the Word is so much more than just words.

The Spirit came upon the disciples of the Word, enabling them to use words even they did not understand. The Word spoke through them in all tongues, sharing the words of the Word with all. What one language could not encompass, others stated plainly.

Indeed, a God of all languages and yet a Word of none.



And that's my deep, philosophical, non-StarWars-related blog entry about Jesus. May the Force be with you all. Amen.