Jewish tradition has some pretty amazing, awe-inspiring imagery about that very question.

Imagine this: a God of pure, untamed power, riding not on a cloud, but on the very wings of the wind. Fiery lights blazing all around, crimson fire swirling. Four immense storm-winds whipping about, a tempest as God's chariot, the storm itself as his throne. It's a vision of raw, untamed energy.

Before creation, the world wasn’t empty, but filled with water… upon water, wave upon wave, gale upon gale. You get the picture – a chaotic, roaring ocean. According to Genesis Rabbah 5:1, it was a tempest within a tempest, storm-wind within storm-wind, creating a deafening clamor. Until, that is, the voice of God silenced it all.

Think about that power for a moment.

Then, something amazing happens. From the waters themselves, a sound of praise rises. Can you hear it? A primal chorus, an echo of gratitude from the unformed deep. And God, hearing this, says to himself, "If these that have neither mouth nor speech praise me, how much more will I be praised when man is created?" It's a profound moment. God, in a sense, is moved by the potential for even greater praise. He gives his consent, his haskamah, for the world to be created. As it says in Psalm 33:9, "For He spoke, and it came to be."

This image of God riding the storm-winds isn't just pulled out of thin air. It echoes passages like Isaiah 66:15, "For behold Yahweh will come in fire, and like the storm-wind," and Psalm 97:3, "Fire goes before Him." It’s a powerful, almost overwhelming picture of divine might. As we find in Midrash Tehillim 68:3, God "rides upon the skies," reminiscent, perhaps, of a god from Greek mythology.

Interestingly, this association of God with storm-winds might also connect to Marduk, also known as Bel, the Babylonian god of thunderstorms. Marduk, who rose from a local Sumerian deity to become the head of the Babylonian pantheon. It's a reminder that religious imagery often draws from a shared cultural pool, transforming and reinterpreting existing motifs.

Exodus Rabbah (15:22) tells us that there were three pre-existent elements: water, wind, and fire. And there they are, all present in this mythic description of God before creation. These three elements, swirling and churning, waiting for the divine word to bring order to the chaos.

So, what does it all mean? This isn't just a pretty story. It's a glimpse into the very nature of God – a God of power, yes, but also a God who values praise, who seeks relationship. A God who takes the raw materials of chaos and, with a single word, brings forth a world of beauty and meaning. It makes you wonder what kind of chaotic potential still lies within us, waiting for the divine word to shape it into something amazing.