by The Rev. Dr. Max Lynn
SCRIPTURE READINGS Psalm 29, Matthew 14:22-36, John 4:7-29
Transcribed from the sermon preached on MARCH 19, 2023
Water as a spiritual symbol has mixed powers. On the one hand water is the archetypal image for chaos from which God brings the order of Creation. It is symbolic for the deep mysterious and frightening unconscious. There are dragons and whales and sharks and leviathans down there.
I remember after taking several series of swim lessons, the final exam was to swim two laps without touching the sides. I was very good and comfortable in the shallow end, but still had a fear of deep water. There is something frightening about deep water, especially deep dark water. It was only after joining the swim team where I would eventually be swimming 100 laps that I realized I could float and swim as well in deep water as shallow water that I lost that fear.
And yet God calls us out. It is easy to get used to our comfortable place and our comfortable lives, those places and things we have grown used to, our house, our lounge chair, the comfortable way of doing our comfortable job, the inside of our sanctuary. We grow comfortable in the shallow end.
But then Jesus asks us to get in the boat and go to the other side. Time to reach out for something new, something unknown, something that requires some risky travel to get to.
Now after feeding five thousand people Jesus needs some solo time, some meditation time. So he goes off by himself to pray. The guys get in the boat and head out, but then they get hit by a squall.
Squalls are frightening and dangerous. In Guatemala I had to drive a giant 40 ft carved out log of a boat loaded with supplies and four young children 6 kilometers from the bridge and road down a jungle river to the orphanage, a 35 to 40 minute trip. We took off in still, calm waters just as the last light of day turned to darkness. About halfway down we got hit by a squall, and the wind went from zero to sixty knots in about two minutes. The rain was pelting us straight on, and lighting was hitting all around us. I was literally driving by lighting light. Swells rose up fast and started to fill the boat, the guys were bailing as fast as they could. I didn’t have enough gas to turn around so I pulled over by someone’s dock just so I could gather myself. Terrified of having the fate of these four children in my hands, I asked my friend if he wanted to drive. He said no. Even though we were on a dock, we were still out in the wide open, with no end in sight, so we continued on, and I prayed, “God, help us get to the other side.” Then a lightning bolt hit the side of the river, and the rain was so thick that we felt a charge of electricity through it. With about a kilometer to go a lightning bolt came down and split into four, like a pitchfork, and drilled the ground at the orphanage directly in front of us. We made it, soaking wet and heart rates pumping, very happy to be under a roof.
We have been stung a bit by the last few years. Social divisions have grown so volatile that we are frightened of trying to go to the other side. We have been frightened by the pandemic and have grown comfortable hunkering down in our secluded caves. I know I have. Whenever we start something new, go someplace new, we do not know what will happen. There is the risk of the unknown. The possibility that we might get hit by a squall. And yet Jesus calls us to go, go to the other side.
Where is the other side for you? Where is Jesus calling you to go? Who are the people on the other side? Samaritans, people of a different race or religion? Republicans, people of a different gender? Maybe Jesus is asking you to travel across the lake that is your soul to see the frightening storms within your own psyche.
You could just stick with the comfortable routine, and you would survive and be less likely to face risk you are not experienced with already. Or we can join Jesus on this awesome adventure of life in union with God. And even get out and walk through that dark and stormy water.
Of course, there are many different spiritual metaphors with water. Water is life giving. The book of Revelation sees a heaven where the river is the water of life, clear as crystal. If you have ever been thirsty with the possibility of not having water, you know how precious water is.
On a planet with 8 billion people, water is the number one most important resource. Certainly, God is asking us to get in the boat and go to the other side of excessive use and exploitation, and toward sustainable living and respect for ecosystems fed by rivers and aquafers, and for the preciousness of water itself.
We saw when a regular mostly white town didn’t want a pipeline going by their town, the pipeline was shifted to go through Dakota territory, and under a river that is the lifeline for the tribe.
Down in Honduras we saw water protectors trying to protect the indigenous livelihood, land, and water against a giant corporate takeover to put up a huge damn to power mining operations.
One of those Honduran water protectors was Berta Caceres, who was assassinated in her home in 2016. Mark Coplan has been joining the Share foundation on accompaniment visits in which to testify to work for sustainability and justice, and to witness the storms of injustice that indigenous advocates face. Maybe if we go to the other side and tell the story, injustice will be less likely to happen.
In 2015, Berta Caceres received the Goldman Prize for her leadership on stopping the dam.
“In our worldviews, we are beings who come from the Earth, from the water, and from corn. The Lenca people are ancestral guardians of the rivers, in turn protected by the spirits of young girls, who teach us that giving our lives in various ways for the protection of the rivers is giving our lives for the well-being of humanity and of this planet.
COPINH, (National Council of Popular and Indigenous Organization of Honduras) is walking alongside people struggling for their emancipation, validates this commitment to continue protecting our waters, the rivers, our shared resources, and nature in general, as well as our rights as a people. Let us wake up! Let us wake up, humankind! We’re out of time.
We must shake our conscience free of the rapacious capitalism, racism and patriarchy that will only assure our own self destruction. The Gualcarque River has called upon us, as have other gravely threatened rivers. We must answer their call.
Our Mother Earth – militarized, fenced in, poisoned, a place where basic rights are systematically violated – demands that we take action. Let us build societies that are able to coexist in a dignified way… in a way that protects life. Let us come together and remain hopeful as we defend and care for the blood of this earth and of its spirits.
I dedicate this award to all the rebels out there, to my mother, to the Lenca people, to Rio Blanco and to the martyrs who gave their lives in the struggle to defend our natural resources. Thank You.
It is hard to maintain hope in difficult times and difficult situations. We are threatened by the stormy chaos. We want to just hold onto what we have. But Jesus would have us, not only weather the storm, but get out of the boat, to walk through the chaos.
In difficult times, we thirst for hope. Maybe we are an outcast. Maybe we are thirsty for love rather than judgement. Maybe we feel powerless. We thirst for intimacy and agency. Jesus comes to us where we are and asks for help. He asks us for a drink. But in turn he offers us living water, deep hope that doesn’t run dry. Deep love that envelops us, nourishes us, cleanses us, inspires us.
Nourished by this living water, let us move on out through the storms, trusting God will sustain and empower us along the way.