(Meditation for Gayton Road Christian Church's Worship on July 21, 2019, Proper 11)
A few of you may be familiar with
the Dos Equis advertisements in which the world’s most interesting man tells us
all, “Stay thirsty, my friends.”
It strikes me that this slogan echoes the message of an even more
interesting man, whose words we read in today’s scripture. If you remember nothing else from
today’s homily, I hope you’ll remember this sentiment: “Stay thirsty.”
A Garden Parable Of Thirst
Once upon a time, there was a
garden. In that garden were a
multitude of flowers, including a rose and a buttercup.
The rose looked down on the
buttercup. No one had purposefully
planted it. It didn’t really
belong in the garden. But the
gardener watered all the flowers just the same.
Some days the gardener would not
come with water. On those days,
the buttercup would cry out, “I am so thirsty!” When the gardener returned, the buttercup would exclaim to
any flower who would hear her, “Oh, how good that water feels! How cool, how refreshing, how
invigorating!” And she would sway
and sing songs and smile at everyone.
But the rose stayed silent and
stared with judgment at the buttercup.
How weak and needy it was.
It didn’t really belong in the garden.
One day when the gardener
returned after having been away for a couple of days, the rose made up its
mind. Wanting to prove its place
in the garden and its natural superiority to the buttercup, it decided to
forego the gardener’s water. As
soon as the gardener left, the rose bent over and with its petals it scooped up
the water from its base and flung it away. “I don’t need this water,” it said to itself. “I’m better than the buttercup.”
The rose repeated this behavior
several more days in a row. Though
it would never admit it to anyone else—or even to itself—it began to feel dry
and weak and thirsty. Its petals
withered and all that remained were its thorns. As the buttercup continued to sway and sing and smile, its
thirst continually quenched, the rose smoldered, its thirst unacknowledged and
therefore crippling.
He Who Does Not Thirst, Will Not Drink
When Simon the Pharisee invites
Jesus to eat with him, the last thing he expects is that a prostitute will
crash their meal with tears and kisses and her hair scandalously let down. She shouldn’t be here. She’s ritually impure, morally
unclean—and she’s uninvited!
Perhaps Simon doesn’t say anything because he wants to avoid a scene. But even so, we hear his thoughts, “If
Jesus were really a prophet, then he’d know that this woman is a sinner. He’d know she doesn’t belong here.”
Jesus hears his thoughts
too. And after telling a story
about how the larger the debt is, so the love is larger too, he makes a raw
observation: Simon has not given him half the welcome that this woman has. He greeted Jesus with no kiss, no water
for his feet, no oil for his head.
Simon respects Jesus—he addresses him as rabbi, teacher—but he does not
love Jesus.
The reason for this, Jesus
suggests, is that unlike the woman Simon does not know his own lack, his own
need. Simon does not know his own
thirst. And he who does not
thirst, will not drink. He will
not sing the joy of water. The
woman knows her thirst. So she
drinks and she sings. She
overflows with love.
Is the Church Still Thirsty?
In a 2004 survey of young adults outside
the church, the Barna organization found that 87%
think Christians are “judgmental,” 85%
consider Christians “hypocritical,” and 72%
say Christianity is “out of touch with reality.”[1] That can be painful for the church to
hear. But to dismiss these folks’
perspective is also to dismiss their
pain. Many of these young adults
are thirsty for community, for a home, for a place of belonging, and they have
not found it at the church. I
wonder if that’s because at church they find more Simons than they do
scandalous women. (That didn’t
come out right!) They find
respectable people who’ve got it all together, people who do not admit their
own thirst. There’s an unspoken
pressure at many churches to put on a perfect front: after all, you’ve been
saved. How could you still be
broken? How could you still have
struggles? How could you still be
thirsty?
The truth, of course, is that we
are all thirsty. Even Jesus knew
the limitations and hardships of this human life. Even he prayed out to God in tears and in sweat. And it was from this thirst that he
drank deep and loved without reserve.
Is it any coincidence, I wonder, that Jesus is always telling stories
about seeds and flowers, brothers and brides, and feasts—wedding feasts,
homecoming feasts, celebration feasts, any kind of feast you can think of? Is it any coincidence that he would
come to be known as a drunkard and a glutton? Jesus thirsted for the goodness of life, for love and trust,
for peace and joy, and so he drank deep and enjoyed the fullness of life and
lived in the fullness of love.
I am happy and filled with hope
about our church because on one more than one occasion, visitors have used the
word “authentic” to describe the feeling of our church gathering. I know that is true of us, because I
have seen great thirst here. I
have seen tears shed and tough, honest words spoken and stories of struggle
shared and raw, heartfelt prayers lifted up. And from this great thirst, we have drunk deeply of God’s
love and it has overflowed. For I
have seen embraces exchanged and food shared and creative talents celebrated
and hard work dedicated. Like the
buttercup, we sway and sing and smile, full of life.
Acknowledging Our Thirst
Because our thirst is what draws
us closer to God’s love and the fullness of life therein, I’d like to invite us
now into a moment of quiet, when we might contemplate just what our thirst is
at this juncture in our lives.
Are you thirsty? For what? For acceptance—to know that you God loves you and embraces
you just as you are, even if you never changed? Are you thirsty for direction—to hear a call that will
enliven you and give your life meaning?
Are you thirsty for forgiveness?
Or perhaps you’re not
thirsty. Why is that? Are you afraid of your true self—your
need or your limitations or the dark corners of your soul?
Wherever you are, acknowledge
that to God. Acknowledge your
thirst. Ask for whatever it is you
need. Or acknowledge your
non-thirst. And ask God for the
courage to confront your lack and your need.
….
Know now
That God is giving you what you
need.
Acceptance, forgiveness,
courage….
Whatever it is that God gives
you—
Drink from it deeply.
And love will overflow.
Prayer
Compassionate Christ,
Our thirst draws us
Shamelessly
Honestly
Into your company:
Quench us
That we might know
The fullness of life
And love largely.
Amen.
[1] David
Kinnaman and Gabe Lyons, unChristian:
What a New Generation Really Thinks about Christianity…and Why It Matters
(Grand Rapids: Baker, 2007), 28ff.
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