Yesterday we
had a great, world-wide celebration of this little land of ours that some call
Canada. Or maybe more accurately, a
celebration of the political system that has been in place for 150 years,
because as we are all aware, there were people here far before John A.
Macdonald ever came up with the idea to create our system of territories,
provinces, power and legislation.
I sat in the
basement yesterday and was approached by Lorna who asked the most important
question of the day. Tea or Coffee? In other words, what are you thirsty for?
I also
noticed that there was water and juice available for the folks who wanted a
caffeine free alternative. That’s
hospitality and welcome. And of course,
there was the beer garden down at the river front, and peach smoothies, and
there were all kinds of pop and soda available.
For those who wanted something else, Buylow was open as well as the
tavern and various liquor stores. We
know how to quench our thirst.
But Jesus
isn’t giving us a lesson on how to be a good server or bar tender. Jesus is talking about a different
thirst. The thirst of the soul. The thirst for something that we may not even
be able to put into words. The thirst for ‘living water’.
Nursing
homes talk about the three plagues of aging: loneliness, helplessness and
hopelessness. Those three are confined
to the elderly. We all struggle with them
and that struggle can lead us into trouble.
Loneliness
is easy to fix, right? Just hang out
with a crowd. Go down to the riverside
and watch the fireworks explode and hear Doug and the Slugs sing “Day by Day”
and “Making it work”. Look around and
see who else is singing along, and you have a friend for life, right?
Not so
much. There are times when the loneliest
place to be is in a crowd. Imagine a new
immigrant to Athabasca who doesn’t speak the language, know the music or
understand the references to people like Stompin’ Tom. Who wonder why everyone is jumping up and
down singing, “It’s a Heave Ho coming down the plains, stealing wheat and
barley and all the other grains”.
Or someone
who is caught in depression, or fearing the family bully that they will see at
the evening barbecue. Loneliness is
difficult one to fix because when we try too hard, when we collect people like
they are beads on a necklace or notches on a gun, we alienate them. We also find people who can be manipulative
despite our best efforts, who can be abusive, controlling or just having the
wrong opinion because they are the only folks in the world who believe
blackberries are better than apples or vice versa.
Helplessness
is vicious. We grew up with toxic family
systems, we got used to being bullied, abused, or controlled by people or
culture or politics. We feel like we
have no power. Often our response is to
grab on to it as hard as we can, which can also become toxic. We try to get on every board in town, we
control every inch of our house, we organize the cans on our shelves like
soldiers, we still have hospital corners on our beds, we tell our children and
friends how to behave where and when.
This can be fine, but it can also get out of control and the next thing
we discover our adult children challenge us on our own attempts to control and
fix them. How many stories have we heard
of countries who rise up to defeat a political system like apartheid or
communism, only to hear that chaos is still erupting as people scramble to
replace them with something just as ruthless?
Then there’s
hopelessness. We ask, “is that all there
is?” and think that if we keep dancing, we can ignore the hole we feel at that
thought.
We give up
on life and don’t try anything new. Or
we put our hope in money or stuff or politics or our autograph collection or
our house or our stocks and bonds. I
read about Eldon Foote on CBC yesterday.
He was born and raised in Hanna Alberta, and went to the University of
Alberta. He also became a
multimillionaire, and on his death gave most of his money to charities, and
only a token amount to his third wife or his numerous children. Money doesn’t quench our thirst for hope.
These three
plagues, loneliness, helplessness and hopelessness are rampant and we search
for a new Garden of Eden to cure them.
Canada is not the Garden of Eden.
Hopefully it is evolving in that general direction, by such historic
events as the Truth and Reconciliation commission and future opportunities to
listen to each other. But even the most
naïve optimists will never claim that Canada is a Garden of Eden. We can get angry at that, and there are times
when we must stand on guard for that, but I think we miss an important
opportunity.
We are
called to be in reconciliation not just with each other, but with the very
heart of creation, the giant mystery that we put a tiny label on, God. When we work to reconcile ourselves with God,
we find our thirst finally quenched. We
find real community. We find a shared
voice that speaks loudly and strongly for equality. We find the ability to practise radical
hospitality. And we find an amazing picture of hope for the future, one that we
build together with others who share in our thirst to seek justice, love
kindness and walk humbly in this beautiful land the Creator has given us. When we serve living water to our thirsty
neighbors, through our kind looks, our careful listening and our willingness to
support them in our journey, we are making a great legacy, on earth as it is in
heaven. May it be so.
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