A Place to Stay and Grow and Thrive
If Symborska is right, and all the water that is and ever was in the world is contained, somehow, in this single drop on my finger and in the drops in the water you brought with you this morning and in the sources from which you gathered your water–and there is scientific basis for that claim–and if we turn this morning to water as a metaphor for truth or enlightenment, than isn’t it a bit foolish that we come again and again to this specific place and time in search of what might be found anywhere there is water, at home or our neighborhood or our home towns or wherever we went for vacation this summer or pretty much anywhere? Perhaps. But it matters that we are here.
If Kabir is also right, and it is true that what we too often seek outside of our own being for what already exists within our own hearts, ours souls, that is to say, for God or Truth or Peace or Enlightenment–and many spiritual traditions preach some version of this wisdom–then aren’t we as laughable as a thirsty fish, when we come to this place and this time in search of what we already possess, wherever we are, at any time? Perhaps. But it matters that we are here.
For the world is vast beyond comprehension, and our hearts and souls often inscrutable, even to ourselves. We have a deep, abiding and nearly infinite longing for truth, for meaning, for peace, for God, for the divine. But we ourselves are finite. So, if we’re simultaneously awash in an ocean of truth and brimming with the holy in our very being, then in order to not be swamped or swept away by currents, in order to access both what is out there and what is within us, we need a protected harbor of sorts. A place of safety in which to practice listening to the wisdom of our hearts and souls, and from which to venture forth in search of the wisdom that is abroad in the world. A place to stay and grow and thrive for a time and over time.
When I chose Speck off a free-with-purchase table almost a year ago and set it aside for this morning’s service, it wasn’t simply because it had a water theme. It was mostly, in fact, because “a place to stay and grow and thrive” pretty much encapsulates my theology of church.
A stable, vital, vibrant congregation is a place where people can stay, find a place of belonging and security, but not stagnate, because it is also a place where they can grow and eventually thrive. Ideally all programs and ministries and committees and task forces and small groups of the congregation support staying, growing, and thriving.
The predictability of a regular order of worship invites staying while the ever-shifting tones and moods, eras and cultures and genres of songs, readings, stories and meditations foster growth. Sharing and listening in small groups, brainstorming, problem solving and service on committees and task forces, public presence and witness alongside others as representatives of the church in the wider community–all these facilitate thriving by adding meaning and purpose and connection to our lives, while also deepening relationships among and within the congregation, building a sense of belonging and encouraging us to stay. And when we stay, over time, we tell and hear stories–like the stories we told our fish partners about what we come to church looking for, and like the stories we’ll tell in just a moment about water–stories that through woven strands of commonality and uniqueness reveal truth, wisdom, holiness in the hearts of our companions, and in our own hearts. Stories that teach us how to replace the loaded gun in our souls with the holy.
The lure of an entire ocean, an entire universe, awash in Godstuff and miracle and truth yet to be discovered calls us to venture forth into books and retreats, pilgrimages and cross cultural exchanges, classes and explorations. And the harbor of this congregation, a place of staying and growing and thriving, calls us to return again and again, that together we might learn to meld all that we discover out there with all that is already in our very souls. Until it is laughable that we ever thought there was any difference between the atoms of the farthest stars and atoms of the cells of which we are made. Amen.
