Sermons

Crossing the River

God of the waters below and the waters above, keep us safe as we pass through. God of whirlwind and of breath, inspire us. Amen.

For years, I regularly drove from DC to Oklahoma and back so that I could bring my dog with me when visiting family. Google Maps will tell you it’s 20.5 hours, but with stops for food, gas, and walking the dog, it’s about 24 hours, or two 12-hour days. And I always looked forward to anything that would chop up the days, any landmark I could mark time with. One of my favorites was the Mississippi River. I would cross outside Memphis on Interstate 40. There, the Mississippi is majestically wide, as much as three-quarters of a mile across. There was always something transcendent about making the crossing, relying on just a bridge to keep me from the water below. It marked the second day of my journey.

I must admit, it’s one of the only times I would think about a river much at all. Our network of roads, bridges, and tunnels has made rivers an afterthought in most of our lives. I often notice that in older maps, the rivers are so much bolder and more carefully drawn, and the roads are merely an afterthought. Now the networks of roads take the forefront, and our waterways fade into the background. You may have crossed a large river to get to church today, the Anacostia or the Potomac, and probably barely noticed, either while driving or via Metro. Crossing rivers just isn’t like it used to be.

Rivers and similar bodies of water play a huge role in scripture. As early as the 2nd chapter of Genesis, four rivers are named, those which are said to flow out of the Garden of Eden. The children of Israel, whom God freed from bondage and led into the promised land, passed through the Red Sea and later through the Jordan River. The gospels of Mark and Matthew explicitly state that Jesus is baptized in the Jordan River. Today in our Hebrew Scripture reading, we meet Elijah and Elisha as they are each at a transitional time in their lives, one preparing to meet God and the other preparing to take on a new role. Elijah has been a faithful prophet, and he is ready to pass his prophetic authority onto Elisha. Using his mantle, Elijah parts the waters of the Jordan, and then he is taken up to heaven. And Elisha is so distraught to lose his mentor that he tears his own clothes to pieces. But, look, Elijah’s cloak is still there. If Elisha has indeed received the inheritance he asked for from Elijah, he should be able to part the waters and cross through the Jordan, just as his mentor did. He takes up the mantle, strikes the river, which parts, and he walks through.

And before moving on from here, I want to point out some things about this story, because I just think the Hebrew scriptures are really cool and interesting. In Hebrew, the words for “waters” and “heavens” are very similar. Waters is mayim, and the word for heavens is shemayim because in the Biblical worldview, there are waters below and also waters above. That’s why in the Genesis 1 creation story, God creates a dome and says, “let it separate the waters from the waters.” And so, as Elijah and later Elisha are parting the waters below, so God is parting the waters above to send down chariots.

The second connection I want to make is how Elisha asks Elijah for a double share of his spirit, which in Hebrew is ruach, or literally breath. And Elijah says if you see me be taken up to heaven, that will happen for you. And so it is the same whirlwind that takes Elijah away that gives Elisha that double share of spirit, that breathes into him, that inspires him. He receives the ruach. And finally, we see the echo of clothes. Elisha’s cloak, torn to shreds in his grief, shows us that his old life is over. But the cloak, the mantle, he takes up, installs him as a prophet. Okay, but what does all of this have to do with us?

I want to focus on the element of river crossing. There is something about this action that is transformative, an echo of baptism. You may walk into the water one way, but you will be coming out another. Each of us has these turning points in our lives. Often, you don’t know when you’re going through it, but you can see on the other side: having children, choosing not to have children, caring for aging relatives, leaving a relationship, accepting or leaving a job, taking a stand on an issue you care about. My conversations with you suggest that this is a community in deep discernment about what the future holds. We are standing on one bank of the river, wondering how we will make it to the other side.

When I entered discernment for the priesthood, one thing I heard repeatedly was, “This experience will change you.” And to be completely honest, I didn’t really like that because I liked the life I had. I liked the values, views, and thoughts I had, and I didn’t want to change them. But I was also told that receptivity, a willingness to be taught and integrate feedback, was the single most important quality for someone in my place.

When those ordeals came, they changed me; indeed, it was a very challenging time, and sometimes it felt like I was going to be pulled under. But I came out of the water ready to assume a new responsibility, not in the form of a mantle but rather as a stole.

And so my question is: Are you in the river, being transformed? And if not, how do you
want to enter the river, and how do you hope to come out of it? Whose example are you
following?

One final note: A part of the story I failed to mention earlier is that fifty men are
standing nearby Elijah and Elisha during these events, perhaps offering to help or
simply witnessing what is happening. From that congregation, I must conclude that
none of us needs to face these challenges alone. This community is here to be with you.
Michele, Patricia, and I are here to be with you. We can all find the way to cross over,
together.