Sermon: September 25, 2011

Based on the readings from Exodus 17:1-7 and Matthew 21:23-32

I’m standing fifteen feet in the air, on the edge of a concrete wall about eighteen inches wide. Below me is a river surrounded by tall grass and trees and populated with birds I have never seen before. Huge storks. They’re almost as tall as I am. Someone next to me has pointed and asked, “Is that an alligator?” For miles and miles around there is nothing but dry, dusty earth. Here in this place, this river is teaming with life. Everything around it is thriving. Here, water is the source of life.

Two years ago, I travelled to Ethiopia with a group of Seminarians for a cross-cultural experience. I have heard about drought, and I have seen hot dry summers on the prairies, but nothing really prepares you for the heat of the sun that burns the skin in less than five minutes; for thirst so strong that you can easily drink four litres of water in a day; for a land so desolate that nothing grows for miles around you. We travelled to a region in the northeast part of Ethiopia called the Afar region because CLWR wanted us to see what work was being done in this place, with their help and with the guidance of a non-profit Ethiopian organization.

Fifteen feet in the air we are walking on a weir that diverts a tiny amount of water from this life-giving river. The water taken is such a tiny amount that even in the driest time of the year, the river continues to sustain its own environment. The diverted water then travels five kilometres through channels, all dug and created by hand, pushed by gravity and stepped layers, flowing to a camp and a field. We are taken along those five kilometres to show how the water moves. And we came to the end at the field and camp. This water is life-giving. The land around us, the desert, barren of anything great or spectacular, is laying in wait. It is incredibly fertile land, we are told, and you simply need to add water and it is amazing how fast everything grows. There is so much potential here.

The people who live in this desert region are nomadic goat and cattle herders. They are also vegetarians, they don’t eat their cattle. They are nomadic because they might have to travel for a full day for their animals to find enough to eat. They were open to any solution that would help them and keep their animals, or them, from starving or dying of hunger and thirst. By the work of their own hands, with the guidance of concerned neighbours, they have learned to grow rich, lush, and vibrant crops that will feed their herds and feed themselves. Water was the key.

The absolute lack of anything in the desert was trying for the Israelites too. When there’s nothing to look at, our minds can wander, complaints surface, and hardship seems even more difficult to surmount. The journey through the wilderness of Sin was really more like a moonwalk without the fun of discovery and limited gravity. There wasn’t much excitement in this journey. While in the Afar desert, all the seminarians were filled with curiosity and wonder. Everything was new and exciting to us. The ground beneath our feet was filled with fascination the second we drove onto the desert road. The people around us who were from the region thought we were all pretty silly, shuffling in the sand, making moon tracks, picking up handfuls and letting it pour out of our hands. The word "Sin" (sh-EEn) in Hebrew means 'moon'. The wilderness of Sin is most likely so-named because the only significant landmark of this region was the moon.

The Israelites were tired and thirsty. They had been travelling for weeks, moving toward a goal and a promise that only God really knew about. It didn’t take long for the grumbling to start. Even though we were filled with wonder and fun, it certainly didn’t take long for us to begin to grumble and complain either. We were in the Afar to see not one, but six of these river diversion projects. We would arrive late at night at a camp, get up early in the morning to look at a site in the cooler weather, then drive almost all day to the next camp through the heat of the day. A dry place like the Afar is fun for a short while. The dust in Ethiopia is unique. It gets into everything. Your hair, your skin pores, your lungs, your nostrils, your ears. It’ll turn a white shirt red, nigh permanently. We would arrive tired and hungry at a destination. It wasn’t the final destination, and we were prone to grumbling. I have a lot of sympathy for the Israelites. At least I knew that I had a place back in Saskatoon. They were unsure of where they were headed.

God may have been providing manna and quail daily for their hunger needs, but water became the issue of the day. Human beings are made up of mostly water, and it needs replenishing when we are taxing our bodies, when we are hot, when we are wandering around in a desert. Water is a source of life. The grumbling can quickly turn to blame. Moses became the target as the authority of the group, the so-called leader. Yet, Moses when talking to God, is just as quick to overstate the situation to God, who is the ultimate authority in this tale. The Israelites are going to stone me, they’re going to kill me. Do something to show them who’s in charge.

It’s interesting how water and authority are themes in both the Old Testament and the Gospel reading. In all the synoptic gospels, Jesus is often asked by whose authority he does something. When Jesus is questioned about authority in today’s lesson, he responds with a question of his own. The questions to Jesus aren’t usually about Jesus or learning more about this man. They are usually about the people asking the question. So, Jesus responds with a question of his own: about the baptism of John. Where does the authority for that act come from? From the divine or the human? Who do we blame for the problems we’re facing right now as we wander about it our own wilderness situations?

Sometimes the question is more important than the answer. Sometimes the question gives us a better understanding than the answer. It doesn’t always matter what one says, it matters what one does. The people asking Jesus about his authority are concerned about their own places of power. They are the community leaders and teachers. They have the training and the call. John and Jesus are threats because the people follow them, the people give them the authority to lead, but who made them the leaders? Was it Divine or human? The Pharisees and elders aren’t sure how to answer the question because it isn’t clear. They get tangled in their own thoughts. Their grumbling and accusations surface because the time they are living in is changing – they are looking for a solution to help them survive.

Jesus says that John came to everyone in the way of righteousness. The ‘outcasts’ of the Jewish community found purpose and help in walking the way of John and Jesus. It might not be the only way, Jesus does say that they will go into the kingdom ahead of the other “leaders,” but a new action has generated new thoughts. The authority that John has is both divine and human in origin. Oh. That’s an interesting thought. Likewise, the authority that Moses has is both divine and human. It’s not about power, it’s about relationship. It’s not always about what someone is saying, but it does matter what one is doing.

Discovering how quickly sustainable environments could grow up from just a little water was an incredible blessing on that Ethiopia journey. To know that these giant oases that greet us as we travel from newer developments to older ones was incredible. To know that a simple thought about water generated these huge gardens and fields and horticultural training was incredible. To see all of the actions, people working as a community, sustaining each other and learning from each other to go in the way of righteousness. This wilderness is now turning into an Eden and Promised Land, flowing with growth and abundance. To see the potential turn into reality was awesome and inspiring. We desperately wanted to get involved, and so the question was asked: How can we help?

The reply: Tell our story. Tell it because it is now also your story. You now have the authority to speak, so go. You have seen, you now know, only you can tell your own people what is happening here. We have seen the actions and I am now sharing with you a story about the wilderness bearing forth promise and potential. Was it divine or human, or maybe it was just both.

I would like to end this tale as Jesus began his parable: What do you think?