Rivers in the Desert
“Do not remember the former things, / forget the events of the past / ignore the things of long ago / do no consider the things of old. / Look! I am about to do a new thing! / Now it springs forth! / Can you not see it? / Do you not perceive it? / I am making a road in the desert / I am making a way in the wilderness / I am making rivers in the desert— / setting waters to flow over parched earth.” — Isaiah 43:18-19.
I am sure some of you know about this computer thing, this Internet thing called Facebook. Indeed, I am sure some of you have a Facebook account or, in the terminology favored by the denizens of Facebook, you have a Facebook wall on which you can write and on which people whom you’ve designated as friends can see what you’ve written. And, in turn, those friends can write something back to you, can write on your wall.
For those of you who don’t know a thing about Facebook, let me offer this brief explanation by way of an analogy. Facebook is what the town square used to be. You went to the town square to see and to converse with friends.
On Facebook you can talk with friends, even without seeing them and even when your friends are not there. You see, on Facebook, you can leave messages, broadcast your activities or tell your friends whatever is on your mind. And your friends will get the message when they look.
On the town square, you could not do all that. Of course, on the town square you could have left a message with the town gossip. But that seemed a little dangerous, didn’t it?
Now, Facebook affords another opportunity. Besides being friendly with the folks currently in your circle, you can also try to track down folks you have not seen or spoken to or even thought about in years, like people you once knew in High School.
I graduated from High School in [the pastor mumbles something]. Even back then, I was involved in music. I was the librarian of the School Chorus. I was the manager of the School Dance Band.
The year I graduated, the Senior Play was The Music Man. I was involved in that too.
You may remember, this musical features a Barber Shop Quartet. Well, here’s how we put one together. It was the '60s (let the cat out of the bag there, didn’t I), so there was a trio of guys— to use the vernacular of the time, they were “Greasers”— there was a trio of guys who did doo-wop in the halls. They could often be found singing in stairwells, listening for their echo as they sang in three part harmony.
We recruited them for the show and taught them the melodies of the songs— Lida Rose, Sincere, It’s You. I developed a bass part and sang underneath those harmonies. It worked... perfectly.
The character of Harold Hill was played by a very talented fellow named Jeff Spolan. At the time, he and I became friendly. But graduation came along and we went our separate ways. He went off to Post College to study theater. I went off to Vietnam (theater of war).
But we did both wind up in professional theater. He was an actor and I was a writer. His passion was seeing the world— traveling. And he did.
How? Mostly, he hooked up with non-profit companies and toured, largely overseas. Probably the only continent he missed in his travels was Antarctica. He concentrated on doing the classics and avant-garde plays with these non-profit companies.
My career was more local and in a sense more parochial: it was confined to professional theater in New York City. I was not at all involved in the classics or avant-garde. I concentrated on new material, new plays, commercial plays. Hence, though we both wound up in professional theater, our paths never crossed.
That is, our paths never crossed until I tracked him down by way of... Facebook. Yep, it was like walking into a time machine. We exchanged information and we were both surprised to find out where life had taken us.
The renewed contact with Jeff also reminded me about how different my life is now from what it was. I would not exchange where I have been and what I have done for the world. But where I am now and where I am going is more vital to me than anything which has gone before.
Could I go back to where I was and where I had been? Perhaps. But, as Shakespeare said in The Tempest: “What’s past is prologue.” (Slight pause.)
And these words come from the Scroll of the Prophet Isaiah: “Do not remember the former things, / forget the events of the past / ignore the things of long ago / do no consider the things of old. / Look! I am about to do a new thing! / Now it springs forth! / Can you not see it? / Do you not perceive it? / I am making a road in the desert / I am making a way in the wilderness / I am making rivers in the desert— / setting waters to flow over parched earth.” (Slight pause.)
This Prophet, the second one recorded in the Scroll of Isaiah, writes from the Babylonian Exile. We need to note something about this location in time. Conditions cannot be good. The Jews are in captivity.
Given the situation, the Prophet makes a stunning statement. Even though the Israelites are held captive, the much cherished Exodus event, their prime piece of remembered collective history, is not of first import. Why? God is doing a new thing.
Further, using an amazing metaphor despite the dire situation of the Jews, the Prophet insists God makes rivers flow in the desert. And their call, the call of the Jewish people, is to be aligned with God in newness. (Slight pause.)
All well and good for them, but how does this Word, clearly a Word of hope, apply to us today? (Slight pause.) A colleague recently asked a question of the church he serves: “what makes a ‘real church’?” (Slight pause.) He offered this list.
Trusting the Spirit enough to welcome anyone and everyone. Being as surprised by God as by one another. Letting down our hair and our guard rather than pretending and defending. Shouldering each other’s burdens; celebrating each other’s blessings. Opening ourselves to God loving us as we are; opening ourselves to growth.
Respecting others as they are, not as we wish they were. Honoring one another when we differ; seeing creativity in disagreement. Accepting that we all fall short and that church, itself, falls short. Valuing doubts and questions alongside of faith and assurance.
Aiming to be an alternative community wherein we learn to be different, apart from what the world would have. Looking to God for help with all this. Recognizing, in ways subtle and glorious, Jesus is always with us. [2] (Slight pause.)
It is both the first and the last piece on that list to which we Christians especially need to hold firm. Trust God; Jesus is with us, always. (Slight pause.) Still, the metaphor of “rivers in the desert,” wonderful though it is, is just that: a metaphor. How can it be real for us? What makes it real? (Slight pause.)
I invite you to look around. Look at the quilts we will dedicate in a couple minutes. They do not just represent the work of those who made them. They do not just represent the needs of those who will use them. They represent the reality of hope.
They represent the fact that those who made them and those who will use them and we who dedicate them believe a river can flow in the desert. They represent a belief that God has been among us, is present to us and will be among us. (Slight pause.)
Reacquainting myself with old friends and old times was and is heart warming, even when it is done over the Internet. But, as the words of the opening hymn indicate— ‘Let us hope when hope seems hopeless’— this means we need to be aware of the full possibilities of life moving forward, especially the possibilities which are to come, more so than what has passed.
When we realize those possibilities, we are empowered to trust God, to be aware that life with God is like a river, flowing, moving, ceaseless. Indeed, trusting God means being aware that the love of God is present, real, tangible and can be life giving. Trusting in God allows us to realize that the hope God wants for us is always forward looking, written in the present tense and realized in the future tense.
And so, let us be aware, as the advent of the Messiah helps us be aware, that there are rivers in the desert. Let us be aware that the hand of God is with us. Let us be aware that the Spirit of God surrounds us. Let us be aware that Christ is present to us.
And let us be aware that the love, the goodness, the wisdom and the peace of God etches its image in the sands of time and then, once more seeks out dry sand, new horizons, carving new and different pictures, yet again. And let us be aware, therefore, that the words of Isaiah (quote): “Can you not see it? / Do you not perceive it?” — these words both present us with a challenge and help us to be mindful of the constant, faithful, present and forward looking love of God. Amen.
03/21/2010
United Church of Christ, First Congregational, Norwich, New York.
ENDPIECE: It is the practice of the Pastor to speak after the Closing Hymn, but before the Benediction. This, then, is an précis of what the pastor said before the blessing: “Now, having said that blessings come and go out of style in the church, but you hear me give one every week. But you are all standing here. Let’s see if we can all hold hands as I offer the blessing. [People held hands and then the pastor offered this blessing:] ‘In Christ, we experience God’s presence together. Where Christ leads, let us follow. Where God calls us to service, let us go. And may the peace of God which surpasses all understanding keep our hearts and minds in the knowledge of God, the love of Jesus, the Christ and the companionship of the Holy Spirit, this day and forevermore. Amen.’” [3]
[1] This week the Quilts from Chenango Piecemakers were dedicated in the course of the service.
[2] The Rev. Mr. Michael Caine.
[3] The people had gathered around the quilts for their dedication. The quilts had been placed on stands and tables all over the nave. The people were still standing in those places through the final hymn, as they had been instructed to bring the insert for the final hymn with them to the quilts. Additionally, at the beginning of the dedication of the quilts the pastor had spoken about how blessing had come into and gone out of fashion in cycles over the history of the church.
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