A Thirst for Water

PROPERS:          THIRD SUNDAY IN LENT, YEAR A      

TEXT:                EXODUS 17:1-7

PREACHED AT ST. JOHN’S CHURCH, PASCAGOULA, ON SUNDAY, MARCH 12, 2023.

 

ONE SENTENCE:        Thirsting for metaphorical water.       

 

            Years ago, during my early teen years, I was involved in the Boy Scouts. It was a great experience, and I am thankful for it.

 

            Each summer meant going south of my hometown of Meridian to Camp Binachi, a camp owned and operated by the Scouts.  Each session was one week, and I would attend back-to-back sessions.

 

            I have many memories of my times there – all good. But there were many I would not treasure today; the infrequency of showers, the heat, the bathroom facilities (or lack thereof), and the food.

 

            And, of course, there was the summer I adopted a three-foot snake.  It hung around my neck and went everywhere I went.  It even slept at the foot of my bunk.  My mother would not come near me on Parents’ Day.

 

            One memory stands out, though. It was the cross-country hike through the surrounding woods to the outpost camp.  I needed it in order to get my camping merit badge.

 

            Oh, did I tell you it was hot?  It was – Mississippi summer hot.  I was dressed in my scout uniform and was fitted with a backpack that was filled with various supplies necessary for camping, cooking, and sleeping at the outpost camp – tent, bedroll, canteen, and cooking kit.  I told myself it must have weighed 50 pounds – but you know how boys exaggerate.

 

            We departed from camp, walking down a dusty road.  Then we meandered through woods, swatting bugs and mosquitos all along the way.  The sun was high and beating down on us.  Our thirst grew and grew.  We could not access our canteens.  My tongue stuck to roof of my mouth. I told myself that we had hiked five miles… but remember what I said about exaggeration.

 

            Finally, we got to the outpost camp.  We shed our backpacks, realizing we had reached our goal. But I had not.  I had never been so thirsty in my life.

 

            So, I walked the short distance down a hill to a spring. Gurgling out of the ground was the coolest, clearest, sweetest water I had ever tasted. Refreshment, indeed!  I can taste it to this day.

 

+ + + 

 

            The Hebrews knew the feeling… and then some.

 

            The exodus from Egypt was not for the faint of heart.  The masses of Hebrews had moved out in stages, and the land they traversed was daunting.  It was a barren desert landscape, not fit for man or beast.  If you have seen the movieLawrence of Arabia, it was like that. A moonscape. Void of life. Rocks, sand, and dust… with a scorching sun and a dry, hot wind.

 

            Moses had led them out of Egypt, where they may have been slaves.  But at least they had the essentials of life.

 

            They were thirsty – literally dying of thirst.

 

            So, Moses – himself eighty years old – went ahead of them.  He went to Horeb, the Holy Mountain… also known as Mount Sinai. There he struck the rock, as the elders watched, and pure, clear water gushed forth.

 

            The people’s thirst would be quenched.

 

+ + + 

 

            I take this story as a metaphor – a biblical passage pointing us toward a greater truth about God. And it does. In spades.

 

            The Hebrews were thirsty. Parched. Weary. Grumbling.  We’ve all been there. Maybe not with a similar thirst for water, but a similar thirst for God.

 

            We hear Jesus’ words from the cross: “My God, My God! Why have you forsaken me?” “Eloi, Eloi! Lama sabachtani?”  We can all identify.  There have been times, I suspect, for each of us – after a death, or a broken relationship, or a disappointment, or a health crisis, or a wilderness experience. Perhaps you have wondered, “Am I alone?”

 

            The Hebrews wandered aimlessly in the Wilderness for 40 years.  This season of Lent reminds us that Jesus sojourned alone, with his temptations, in the Wilderness for 40 days and nights.

 

            The greater truth is that relief will come. Our thirst will be quenched, even if water has to come from a rock. We may not know or see from where relief will come, but it will come.

 

+ + + 

 

            Many, many generations before the Hebrews thirsted for that water, their ancestor Abraham nearly sacrificed his only son, Isaac, on a rock.  At the last moment, a ram appeared and replaced the child as the sacrifice.

 

            Abraham, father of nations, named that place Yahweh Yirah – the Lord Will Provide. Indeed he does, even to us, even today.