Waiting for the Water to Ripple

Andy Bachmann

John 5:2-9

“Now in Jerusalem by the Sheep Gate, there is a pool, called in Hebrew, “Beth-zatha,” which has five porticoes. In these lay many invalids—blind, lame and paralyzed, waiting for the water to stir; for an angel of the Lord went down at certain seasons into the pool, and stirred up the water; whoever stepped in first after the stirring of the water was made well from whatever disease that person had.

One man was there who had been ill for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had been there a long time, he said to him, ”Do you want to be made well?” The sick man answered him, “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up; and while I am making my way, someone else steps down before me.” Jesus said to him, “Stand up, take your mat and walk.” At once the man was made well, and he took up his mat and began to walk.

If you’ve never seen them, the Redwoods of California are worth the effort to visit. To behold such trees is to experience both magnificence and awe. To be so dwarfed by a living thing is a humbling experience; one that causes pause in the old and the young alike.

Such giants of the earth have, as you might expect, a rich and mysterious root base and grounding. To stand on the same ground as such behemoths is to feel their energy, their peace, and their eternal patience, as can be only expected of one so solitary for so many centuries. But to stand next to them is also to experience that which gives them life; because the roots of a redwood only go so deep – less than 10 feet, in fact. They draw their strength by reach out, not digging deep; and the strength of their groves comes from their unity; because beneath the humus of the earth their roots entwine and even join together; meaning that they are literally woven together beneath the surface of the earth.

There is a quietness to a forest so old; to trees that can date their seeding to the age of empires and dynasties and kings. Some of those California giants were already hundreds of years old before Jesus was born. So to walk among them is to walk through the history of not just the known world, but really, the history of the known universe. To touch them is like touching the fingers of God.

My favorite poet and prophet, Wendell Berry says that that is where we should invest our faith. In the two inches of humus that will build under these trees every thousand years. You want to have hope for tomorrow? Invest in the millennium. Plant sequoias, he says. “Say that your main crop is the forest that you did not plant, that you will not live to harvest.”

I got to experience what John Steinbeck called the, “cathedral hush” of standing in the Redwoods recently. And it was a breathtaking experience. And I’ve admitted to you before that I am a tree-hugger. I’ll bet I could tell you the difference between a maple and a cedar and a birch tree just by feel; so It shouldn’t surprise you that of course I reached out and invaded the body space of these old pines. But I was surprised to discover that when I reached out to touch their ancient skins, I felt something that I was not expecting. Vulnerability.

The bark of a redwood feels deceptively fragile. In fact, it felt as if I could have burrowed my hand through the bark and sunk my entire arm into the base of these majestic trees. It was unlike anything I had ever felt before; And I was surprised by that. And even a little fearful. What does it mean that these giants can feel so fragile? This presented an opportunity for a bit of reflection on my own sense of strength in a world where I too am feeling increasingly vulnerable; So I turned to the preachers, the writers and the poets, as I often do when I’m feeling particularly susceptible to my fear or anger.

A few years ago we brought UCC pastor and author Robin Meyers here for a weekend of lectures. In his last session with us, he was breaking down what he felt the characteristics of a resurrected, relevant and radical Christian church could and should look like in this new era of seeming progressive decline in American culture. At a time when truth has become post-truth, when church has to fight just to remain relevant, and when issues of social justice are more and more pressing in a climate of rising distrust and fear, I thought it would be worthwhile to look back over my notes to see what he had to say.

I was…disappointed…in what he had to say. His final message to us? Patience. In fact, he said, “we need to practice sequoia like patience.” Patience, he urged, “as the vast mysteries of God combat the intricacies of the messy human condition.”

This was not the good news I was hoping to hear.

Clearly, at the time, Robin Meyers did not recall the fierce urgency of now that Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. demanded during the civil rights movement in the early 60’s.

Instead he offered a progressive minded, justice seeking faith communities like ours a prescription for patience when it feels increasingly like patience is the last thing we an afford.

But perhaps Dr. Meyers had a point. Perhaps he and Wendell Berry and others of their ilk were not just blowing off the need for a cultural revolution, and were suggesting a deeper truth that might reveal something worthwhile for those of us who are indeed feeling deeply the fierce urgency of now in a world gone inexplicably mad.

So I turned to scripture, and spent some time with this funny little story.

In today’s scripture, our primary character is an invalid man who has been lying by a pool of water for 38 years, waiting for the water to ripple. One day Jesus comes along, asks him a simple question, “Do you want to be made well?” The guy’s answer is not even a response to the question asked; he simply offers an excuse to why he HASN’T been made well yet. “There’s no one to help me get into the pool FIRST. Others always beat me to it.” Jesus simply says, “Get up, take your mat, and walk.” And that’s what happens.

It’s a strange little story; but perhaps there’s a kernel of truth in there for us to pop.

In this story, there is an expectation that God is going to perform or behave in a certain way; and when that behavior happens, this story would have us believe, if we’re quick enough to pounce on it, we’ll receive the reward we seek– Literally a Pavlovian response. Stimulus, reaction, reward. A behavioral pattern entrenched in this man for 38 years. But without the reward. That is dedication. Or insanity.

Isn’t it interesting how in this story, Jesus does nothing to dissuade the ripple-watchers from their vigil? And isn’t it interesting too how there is nothing in the character of this crippled man that would give any explanation of why Jesus would choose him to be healed; other than his 38 year pedigree of patience. It doesn’t say, “Jesus took pity on the man.” It doesn’t say, “Your faith has made you well.” In fact, this guy doesn’t even know who Jesus is. The story continues that the man got up, took his mat and walked away, and quickly was called out by the priests of the temple for working on the Sabbath. They say, “why are you carrying your mat?” and he says, “this guy told me to get up and take up my mat and walk away, and so I did.” They say, “who told you to sin on the Sabbath in such a way?” And he literally does not know. “Some guy.”

This was not the good news I was looking for.

So I took a step back from the scripture to try to see what metaphor’s may be present, maybe I just needed a new perspective. The watchers gather at the Sheep’s gate. Like sheep, they are docile; patient, waiting for the ripples of God– their shepherd, to spur them to action. But then one day the spirit of God and the grace of healing is given in a form most unexpected and unknown; but still, it comes.

Perhaps the message is that we must be patient in our own brokenness before we can (learn to) walk with God’s blessing.

I have a hard time with patience. I’m a check-list, time-line, deadline kind of guy. And I’ve had to work at patience. But I’ve come to appreciate it; and I understand how important it is to my life. Through the practice of patience, I have learned to listen for the still, small voice of God; and I’ve come to anticipate the whispered words of encouragement and challenge that I need. I’ve come to see that you can’t force the hand of God; but you can watch the waters and pray for the ripple to come.

I have a strong belief that our community has the potential to be agents of change for good in a world greatly in need.

But I have also come to understand that in order to create change one must first embody it; in one’s beliefs, in one’s actions, and in one’s biases; and with that, it is imperative that one must first explore the implicit biases that are present in one’s own heart before one can affect any change in someone else’s; and don’t think you don’t have them because you do. Just ask Pavlov.

We must be patient in our own brokenness before we can walk with God’s blessing. How can we take the sliver out of our neighbor’s eye if we’ve got a giant plank in our own?

The newest incarnation of our justice ministries at UCG is our Racial Justice Task Force. As we began our work; hoping to address the systemic issues of racism and inequity in Gainesville (and the world at large) we quickly learned that we first needed to address our own personal biases and understandings of race. And it was probably one of the most difficult things I personally have ever had to do. And it is a continuous work in progress. I was surprised when I confronted my own issues of racism (which I never thought I had, I’m a progressive liberal minster, after all), But we know that in order to embody the change we wish to see, we must first address the changes we need to make in our hearts.

As a task force, we spent significant parts of our meetings going through the UCC’s curriculum called, “Sacred Conversations on Race,” and had many hard discussions and faced many areas of brokenness in our lives. And it was hard work—because it required us to be vulnerable to ourselves, and to one another. But it has been so worthwhile. This spring, we’re going to have a small group participate in the newest curriculum from the UCC in their Sacred Conversations on Race series called, “White Privilege.” And it is a powerful and incredibly moving curriculum to go through. I hope you’ll consider joining it.

I’ve heard similar stories of transformation from our volunteers who travel to Lowell Prison and meet and read with the incarcerated mothers there. I’ve seen it when Members of our youth groups aren’t afraid to reach out to IDD members of our community, because they know that they are people just like us who need love and friendship, just like they do. There is a young family in our church who volunteers to be overnight hosts every time we host homeless children and their families through Family Promise. For their young child it’s an adventure, but for the parents it’s an opportunity to raise their daughter with an honest and loving approach to anyone she comes into contact with; regardless of where they are on their life’s journey.

Through my own life experience, I’ve learned that to be an effective agent of transformative change, I must challenge EVERYTHING I have come to believe about others; and witness firsthand the multi-layered challenges that everyone faces.

I know that IF my heart is not properly grounded in the most fundamental and basic beliefs that all people truly are created equal—and by all people I mean ALL people– People who are black, white, brown, yellow, and even orange, then I am just a clanging gong or a noisy cymbal, and I am missing an opportunity to enact a more beloved community. I know that I must be able to witness everyone in Love, and I must learn to love people where they are, and trust that through grace and the spirit of God a more just, equitable and beloved community will come about.

Love is, after all the predominant message of the gospels. It is the fuel that drives the engines of justice and change. As Hafiz suggests, why not become the one who lives with a full moon in each eye, saying what everyone wants to hear; simply, I love you.

The redwoods of California have stood proud and tall for hundreds if not thousands of years. And perhaps their strength, and their majesty and their power come from their vulnerability; their reliance upon one another for life and strength and protection.

So perhaps we too, as we seek to become agents of change in a world gone mad, should lower our shields and expose our vulnerabilities. Because, in so doing, we too can one day stand like giants, and heal our broken world, and weave together a life giving network, through which the ripples of God may flow.

May it be so.