May 16, 2010 Sermon

Waters of Life     (Ezekiel 47: 1-12; Acts 16: 13-15)

Rev. Sally Harris
    
In the still glowing light of Easter morn, prepare within us a place so we may be signs of new life. Amen

In 2005, David Foster Wallace addressed the graduating class at Kenyon College in Gambier, Ohio with a speech that is now one of his most read pieces; “This is Water” He began with this parable:

There are these two young fish swimming along, and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says, “Morning, boys. How’s the water?” And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes, “What the heck is water?” He went on to say: If you're worried that I plan to present myself here as the wise old fish explaining what water is, please don't be. I am not the wise old fish. The immediate point of the fish story is that the most obvious, important realities are often the ones that are the hardest to see and talk about.... Here's one example of something I tend to be automatically sure of: everything in my own immediate experience supports my deep belief that I am the absolute centre of the universe, the most vivid and important person in existence….it's pretty much the same for all of us, deep down. It is our default setting, hard-wired into our boards at birth. Think about it: there is no experience you've had that you were not at the absolute centre of. The world as you experience it is right there in front of you, or behind you, to the left or right of you, on your TV, or your monitor, or whatever. Other people's thoughts and feelings have to be communicated to you somehow, but your own are so immediate, urgent, real - you get the idea. But please don't worry that I'm getting ready to preach to you about compassion or other-directedness or the so-called "virtues". This is not a matter of virtue - it's a matter of my choosing to do the work of somehow altering or getting free of my natural, hard-wired default setting…

Wallace offered a challenge to this graduating class of 2005 to consciously decide what has meaning and what does not. He told them: “You get to decide what to worship.” We get to decide what to pay attention to…. We get to choose what narratives we will live out of, what stories we will find meaning in and those we will discard as too shallow, fractured or hopeless.

We decide whether we will worship power, God or oil… or a myriad of other choices! I thought about naming my reflection “Crude Awakening” because the headlines that have painfully caught my attention these last three weeks is the oil spewing out into the waters of the Gulf of Mexico. Independent scientists reported last night that the public is being misled about the spill. They claim that at least 50,000 barrels of oil a day are flowing into the Gulf waters. That would imply that the Deepwater Horizon disaster could be releasing at least the equivalent of one Exxon Valdez spill every five days. Such headlines create a sense of despair and hopelessness for it is a story that reveals what we most worship: the insatiable need for oil at all costs: costs of lives, of war, of water, of life. Where are we going as people who live on a fragile planet? “How’s the water?” seems to be a very important question for our time – a crude awakening.

The importance of water is as old as the narrative that informs this church. We merely have to follow the trail of water through the scriptures. Wilderness, exodus, baptism, tempest: whether providing water, saving people from it, immersing them in it, or calming it, water is a vivid sign of divine influence, deliverance, and grace. Perhaps that is what led Ezekiel to the virtual reality of a river, teeming with life flowing under the temple – it was an alternate vision to the headlines of his day. Ezekiel did not challenge the common notion that you need technology, muscle and power for security. He never even commented on that assumption. He did not think efforts at defense and security were important, but he did not argue about it. When he saw death coming, he interrupted the planning and deployment with a different agenda. You cannot have peace if you lie to each other, he said. You cannot have well-being if you do not speak the truth to each other. All the weapons in the world will not save you from your lies. In exile, Ezekiel watched over Jerusalem. He watched as his people slowly, painfully began to notice; began to pay attention. He watched the lying stop and then he saw the hating, the killing and the fearing stop. That old brutal world was coming to an end. The prophet then noticed a new reality from God, made possible because the lying stopped. He saw a river flowing through the temple, cleansing it and bringing new life. The river carries a promise, cried Romero, in 1977… the church, with its message, with its story will meet a thousand obstacles, just as a river encounters boulders, rocks, chasms. No matter: “the river carries a promise: I will be with you to the end of the ages.” This is the narrative we are invited to attend to, to believe in, opening our hearts to listen so as to speak this truth to one another.

    God is at work, laboring to bring forth new life.
    God is somewhere in the middle -
    stretched between heaven and earth,
    pinned between left and right,
    pulled in every direction,
    claimed for the good by everyone,
    blamed as wrong by everyone,
    pushed about by everyone for their own ends,
    held without a voice,
    trapped in a failing body,
    used and abused by the powers.      [from a poem by Chris Udy]

Yes we are invited to: open our hearts to listen to the story, resetting our default setting
attend to truth-telling and to paying attention to where God is calling us
so that the river life may flow through us
live in wonder at the love that draws people together
to celebrate a few drops of water on a forehead,
embracing a story of new life and resurrection.
We come sharing our stories of waiting; of fear and great joy.
We offer prayers and hugs; tears and laughter
and the Presence comes among us once again.
Can you hear your name called? Mary! John! Peter! Guilia!
For here at the waters of baptism, at the waters of life we say to Guilia:
You now have a history, a story that will take you the rest of time to unravel.
You belong to a community. You are not alone. You live in God's world.
You have been named as God's very own. You are precious in the Creator’s sight. You are honored; you are loved!
Yes, this is the narrative we cling to amidst the rumors and lies, the pollution and greed.
Be not afraid I have redeemed you I have called you by name; you are Mine!
Thanks be to God!        (resource: W. Bruggeman)

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