A Sandcastle That
Outlasted the Waves
They arrived early in the morning as the sun was just beginning to peek over the waves. The man secured the umbrella deep in the sand, the woman unfolded a few faded chairs, and the three children ran down from the dunes to the shore, where the cool water kissed their toes. They splashed deeper into the ocean and danced with the waves. Soon their lips were shivering—yet still upturned in irrepressible smiles. Finally they stumbled out of the water. After retrieving some tools from underneath the umbrella, they returned close to the waves and began work on a sandcastle.
They worked painstakingly for hours. The oldest of the three carefully plotted out the towers and the ramparts, using several sizes of buckets and a shovel. The middle child dug a moat around the castle and then used her fingers to transform some of the higher towers into turrets. The youngest scoured the shore for small seashells to stick into the castle as decoration.
When their father wandered down to admire their work, he pointed out that the tide had turned and soon their creation would be lost to the waves. Would they like help recreating their kingdom somewhere safer? Engrossed in their work, they shook their heads and carried on. Even as the waves came closer, they persisted, patiently putting the finishing touches on their masterpiece. Just when they finished, the first wave filled the moat. Soon after, another wave crashed into a rampart. The children stood back and watched with awe. Within minutes, their sandcastle was gone. There was no crying, however, for they were hungry, and lunch was ready. As the children devoured their sandwiches, they reminisced. Had anyone ever seen such a castle? It was magnificent, wasn’t it? And indeed, it must have been, for it lasted a long time in their memory and inspired a tradition that they would maintain for years and eventually pass on to their own children.
A Pointless Purchase
This tale was inspired by a recent picture book written by JonArno Lawson, who was himself inspired after a day at a beach in Virginia with his three children. He puzzled over why his kids built their sandcastle so close to the waves. Why bother building something that was sure to be destroyed?[1]
Today’s scripture presents us with a similar question. It is the tenth year of King Zedekiah, which is the very year that Babylon conquers Judah and destroys the temple and sends many of the people into exile. It is the end of the world for Judah. But right before the end, Jeremiah’s cousin, Hanamel, who has fallen upon hard times, comes to Jeremiah and asks him to purchase his field in order to keep it in the family. This request actually originates in an important Hebrew law. When God delivered the Hebrew people from slavery in Egypt and gave them the promised land, God also gave them a set of laws designed to ensure that no Hebrew person would ever again live as a landless slave. These laws permanently assigned plots of land to Hebrew families. In the worst-case scenario, if land was sold outside the family, then after fifty years it would revert to the family to which it had originally belonged. When Jeremiah’s cousin asks him to purchase his land, he’s following a stipulation of this ancient law that is designed to preserve the people’s freedom on their own land.
But here’s the thing. Babylon is besieging Jerusalem, and it’s only a matter of days before all of the land is lost. In view of this certain outcome, any transaction of property seems pointless. It would be like buying a seafront cottage on a beach that is fast eroding. Why bother? Yet God tells Jeremiah to fulfill his duty and to purchase his cousin’s land. Today’s scripture recounts Jeremiah’s scrupulous fulfillment of his responsibility. To get a sense of the absurdity, try to imagine the sounds of war just outside Jerusalem’s gate—steel clashing on steel, the spinetingling cries of the wounded, the desperate shouts of commanders. But on the other side of the gate, there is Jeremiah along with a small group of witnesses; he is delicately weighing out silver for the purchase, piece by piece, patiently reviewing the terms and conditions, line after line, and carefully signing the deed to complete the transaction of a piece of land that will soon be trampled and destroyed by the Babylonian army. When Jeremiah is finished, he gives the deeds of purchase to his associate, Baruch, and then relays God’s instructions: put these deeds of purchase into an earthenware jar, so that they may last for a long time, because, according to God, “houses and fields and vineyards shall again be bought in the land” (32:14-15). Although this is certainly a word of promise and hope, we should remember that it is not a promise that Jeremiah will live to see. It will only happen after his lifetime.
Which leads me to ask the same question that JonArno asked
about his children building the sandcastle close to the waves: “Why bother?” It’s
a question worth asking. Faith in God will inevitably bump up against the
question, “Why bother?” because faith in God will inevitably bump up against
difficult realities that we cannot change. These circumstances are where the
rubber really hits the road—or where the waves hit the ramparts. Why bother
with love when love seems powerless?
For example, why bother with listening when your conversation partner does not listen to you? Why bother with a troubled teen when he flagrantly throws away all you have given him and stubbornly sets a course for destruction? Why bother with recycling your plastic when nations and corporations maintain practices and policies that are exponentially worse for the environment than your little bit of waste? There is a saying in our culture that has come to express a spirit of cynicism: “I don’t give a…”—I’ll let you fill in the blank! The idea is clear. “I’m not going to bother.” I’m not going to care. If whatever I do will just come undone, then what’s the point? It’s a waste of my time and effort.
The Bird in the Cage
Sings
I never saw the movie Titanic, but I’m very familiar with one of its famous scenes, which is based on historical fact. As the ship was sinking, the band leader Wallace Hartley and his string quartet played beautiful music, including the hymn “Nearer My God to Thee.” Why bother? There was nothing in it for them. They wouldn’t get a raise for their fidelity to the job. I doubt they were expecting a rousing applause. They had no guarantee of fame. Why bother? There would be no reason—unless their music was their utmost expression of life, even more expressive of life than breathing. Perhaps they were saying, to steal a phrase from Timothy in our lectionary scripture, “This music is ‘the life that is really life.’ We believe in it, even in the face of death.”
For people of faith, the question “Why bother?” is met with an insistent, “Because. Because this is the life that is really life. We believe in it, even in the face of death.” When I consider the string quartet on the Titanic, or the children on the beach, or Jesus on the cross, the common thread that I see is this: their faith insists on a reality that is more than meets the eye. Their faith insists on a deeper reality, a longer reality, a reality that resists the weathering of time. When Jeremiah gave the deeds of purchase to Baruch, he told him to put them in a jar “in order that they may last for a long time” (32:14). These acts of faith, whether they are remembered in family lore or celebrated on movie screens or preserved in clay jars, or not, are defiant declarations of what is really life. The result of the deed has no bearing on the declaration itself. The children on the beach declared, even as the waves came in, “This sandcastle, this fun is worth it. This is life!” Jeremiah signing the deeds declared, “This heritage of freedom that God gives us, it’s the truth!” Jesus on the cross declared, “This love is life, and I believe in it, even in the face of death.”
Jesuit priest Gregory Boyle, who helps ex-gang members to reenter society, likes to say that if he’s getting burned out from his ministry, he knows he’s doing something wrong. If he finds himself asking, “Why bother?” he’s thinking too selfishly. Faith is not about us changing the world. Faith is about celebrating the life that is really life, even (or especially) in circumstances that threaten to take it away. To steal an image from the poet Maya Angelou, the bird in the cage does not ask, “Why bother?” The bird in the cage sings.
Prayer
Faithful God,Whose love is patient
And bears all things—
Empty us of the belief
That we need to be in control.
Fill us instead with the faith
Of the caged bird, and Jeremiah, and Wallace Hartley and his string quartet.
Attune our hearts to the life that is really life
That we may sing its goodness,
Regardless of the result.
…
In Christ, who sings your love: Amen.
[1]
Samantha Balaban, “A Kids’ Story Unfolds Without Words in ‘A Day for
Sandcastles,’” https://www.npr.org/2022/05/22/1093588533/a-day-for-sandcastles-book,
accessed September 19, 2022.
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