RIVER OR LAKE

There is an illuminating book about the condition of humanity, its downfall and ultimate redemption. It is entitled, "Cry, the Beloved Country", by Alan Paton. Its central character is a poor black pastor, Stephen Kumalo, in the back-country of South Africa. He is troubled because of the lack of news from his son and sister who left for Johannesburg to find work. As the story begins, the land is parched, the plants in the field have wilted, and there is an air of hopelessness – reflective of the brokenness in the relationships among the family members and society.

Kumalo travels to the big city, where his worst fears are realized: his son stands accused of murder; his sister surviving as a prostitute. After much struggling to put his house in order, saving the soul of his son (if not his life), he returns home a broken man, expecting all to reject his ministry and tribal leadership. Instead, they welcome him with jubilation, sensitive to his loss, and appreciative of his sacrifice and loving efforts. The book ends with life-giving rain pouring upon the fields, symbolic of new life and hope.

In our Advent and Christmas readings, we hear of the desert that Mary and Joseph traversed on foot, and of John the Baptist’s heralding the coming of the Messiah at the river Jordan. The landscape not only transports us to the time and place of the miracle of miracles, it is a reflection of the state of our being. The harsh terrain that is prominent at the birth of Jesus is symbolic of the evil in “our land” and our need of salvation. The river that cuts through the desert provides hope and life, and a lesson as well on how we might navigate our journey of life.

It is noteworthy that the Jordan River, which begin near the north of Israel, close to the border with Lebanon, flows to the Sea of Galilee, and continues south, near Jericho, and into the Dead Sea. Since the waters flow into and out of Lake Galilee, there is abundant life within the lake, and much vegetation surrounding it. However, the Jordan does not flow out of the Dead Sea…and there one finds neither life within it nor on the surrounding banks.

Some 1,500 years ago, a Chinese poet wrote:

I, like a river,
with a love as great as the sky,
gave my all to you,
flowing and changing into you.

You, like a lake,
caught in the delusion of your self-importance,
gave me no notice, but instead remained stagnant,
and failed to be transformed into me.

As we continue our Advent journey through the “desert” of our life, in preparation of the greatest miracle within us, and take stock of our personal geography, are we more like a river or a lake?