God created by His Word. Even before time, He was forever, and began time, and came forth from eternity, and became word, in the primordial unity, speechless, willing, breathing, and His Word became being and life. His word was before language and confusion, yet it was as powerful and gifting as no other word, for it was the one to whom everything came. And the word was made to God, and God was the word, because He came to it, and did not keep life unto itself, and did not rest in itself in eternity.
The creation, which was His Word, was understanding and turning until man came. A part of creation and of the Word, as well as within it, like everything else in this creation, and yet deaf and blind. And God, who had done this step out of his self-resting in eternity, for his own sake, went a little farther and made the word flesh. Incarnation of God in His Word, in His Immanuel, in Himself, since He wanted to reach people, to listen and to touch.
The Word, the Logos, which was God Himself, went among men, and touched them to bring them back to themselves and to the authenticity of life. And those who were touched by Him began to understand the realness and the life and the affection. But also the misunderstanding went with him. It was too little for them, as little as ever. Was it not enough for them to free their hearts and give their souls confidence? They wanted more. They wanted liberation.
“Be our deliverer, our Savior!”, they shouted to Him.
“I am your Savior in the Word,” He replied, but they only understood that He was their Savior. Savior before the occupiers. Savior from political oppression. Savior from hunger and distress. Savior before the snappy wife. Rescuer against bad stomach pain.
“Hosanna! Blessed be he that cometh in the name of the Lord!”, they were still glad this evening when he entered, for they understood not.
People never understand anything, especially not the word that is given to them. They rejoiced in him as the political Messiah. He had never wanted that. And the few who had understood were silent. But the disappointment was great, when the oppressors were still there the next morning, whether they were Romans or their own high priests. Still the shackles lay around her wrists. They still had to bow down before gentlemen, who played themselves into rulers, even gods. He had not done anything from what he had said, but he had said nothing more than to save them from dismemberment into the totality of the Word. Nothing further, and yet the inexhaustible source of life. The Pandora’s box had been closed too early. The hope remained. They had understood too quickly, understood what they wanted to understand. Nothing else seemed to them urgent, as the salvation from the political oppression. If He was really the Son of God, His Word, then it would be easy for Him to drive the oppressors out of the country, but He did not. And just as fast as the enthusiasm was inflamed among men, this enthusiasm was transformed into mistrust and then into hatred.
“He promised to save us. In truth He has betrayed us and left us in our misery. He promised to be our liberator. Instead, He has made our yoke even more difficult,” they said. And hate brought them to betray Him, and to deliver Him to those who they most feared. He would never disappoint them again. Never again would He make false promises to them. But they should have listened only a little more closely, then they would have known that the liberation had taken place.