JOCHEBED SINGS TO GOD:
* This passage was originally written as the voiceover for the feature film Genesis.
In the beginning we had everything.
Our souls were full.
We reached into the fog and found the hand of God waiting for us.
The Creator scattered beauty across the face of the earth and throughout the skies.
He wove the stars and the earth together with the seas and gave us a home.
A place to work and rest.
To give and receive.
He made man in his own image.
And man lived free in his heart.
But our beginning was the end of something else.
What did you move to make space for us?
What did you lose when we first called out to you?
That lonely friendship you held with a voiceless creation.
An obedient canvas.
Our father Adam walked the garden in the cool of evening.
His feet in the soil, the wind brushing against his skin.
Always God was near to him. Close enough to hear a whisper.
That was long ago, but we still carry Eden in our blood.
Flowing out of our hearts to our feet.
The tips of our fingers.
The beauty and suffering of a covenant made long ago, a home we spend our lives trying to recover.
Some people have called this a heritage, or a history, but they are wrong.
This is our inheritance.
He gave you to me, little one.
And he put a dream in my heart to save your life so that one day you will lead us back home.
But I am not the first to be given a dream from God.
Through dreams he spoke to Joseph and told him that he would one day lead the house of Israel.
Our moments are materialized as a reflection of your heart.
What you desire comes to pass, and we are swept away in the waves of your stirring.
What words did you speak to Abraham?
Did he feel the touch of your fingers?
Did all the world fall silent in his ears, as it does before the hurricane?
Listen to the warning of the birds.
You point us to where we are going and we tremble.
We think your vision is intended for someone else.
The dreams you whisper in our ears and bury in our hearts invite us to die.
Do not be surprised by our terror.
We want to keep on living.
The thread you weave into the tapestry of air and fire and space and all else born from the overflowing cup you carry from one mountain to the next cannot be removed.
Your word is rooted in the center of the earth.
We run like blind men not knowing that we run within the palms of your hand.
Jacob ran from his deceits, but you found him in the still of night and showed him a dream for his life as you did with the others.
And to Noah you gave the strangest dream of all.
How can we trust your wildness?
Many men are called into this wild place, but the language of the call is one only a few can understand.
You lead us to the edge of the earth.
There you ask us to die, and be reborn as the person we were always intended to be.
Faith is our agreement.
I don’t want to die.
I pray for the courage of Noah.
The righteous madness.