Sunday, September 11, 2016

Letting freedom flow




Sometime last year I decided to do more to conserve water at my house.  I’d already stopped irrigating my lawn a year or two before, but with the severity of the ongoing drought here in California I considered what further measures I might take.  I’ve never been a big one for washing my car, or taking long showers, or letting the tap run while I brush my teeth or shave my whiskers, so I didn’t see much room for improvement in those areas.  But there are the toilets.  We have two of them, and as far as I know they might very well date from when our house was built in 1972, because they have those big old tanks that probably use five gallons every time they are flushed.   So, when I was at the hardware store one day getting something else and spotted a product on the shelves that seemed to offer at least a partial solution, I took a closer look. 
It was a fancy replacement for the old flapper valve, and instead of a handle like a little lever it has a couple of push-buttons, one of which will measure out a smaller flush when less water is required.   And, though I was skeptical that the thing would really work, it was inexpensive and I figured “what have I got to lose?”  I only bought one, to begin with, and installed it in the bathroom off the hall, which gets the most use, and for a while it worked as advertised.   But after a while the valve started getting stuck the majority of the times you use it.  You can release it, if you wait a second or two after flushing, and then do this thing where you push the bottom button in and then release it rapidly a couple of times until you hear the little “click” of the valve snapping shut. 
Which would only be a minor inconvenience if we remembered to do that every time.  But human nature being what it is, we don’t.  And of course the times we forget are, often enough, when we’re rushing out of the house to go somewhere, and there has been more than one occasion when I’ve returned home to find the toilet running and I know that no one has been in the house for hours.  So it’s hard to say at this point whether the contraption has saved more water than it’s wasted, and I’m grudgingly coming to accept that it’s time to bite the bullet and buy a couple of new, high-efficiency toilets. 
It hurts to know that my plumbing wastes water, but I have been able to live with the pain of it longer than I otherwise might, because there is a layer of abstraction that distances me from the problem and softens the blow.  It costs me money, of course, but lots of things cost money, and many of them cost more.  And there’s the emotional cost of feeling guilt about it, and ashamed of myself for procrastinating, because I know that we are in a drought and I am wasting a precious resource, but my actual lived experience is that there is plenty of water and however much I use, I can always get more.  That is because my toilets are hooked up to the pipelines and pumping stations of a modern municipal water system.  And that system has access to the reservoirs and the aquifers of the Russian River watershed, which not shown any signs, even in this historically-bad drought, of running dry. 
It would be far different if I lived in Judea in the 6th century BCE, which also had a summer-dry Mediterranean climate like ours, and if my household water system was a cistern containing what I’d been able to catch of last winter’s rain.  If that cistern leaked, it would soon be empty of water, and there would be no way to get more.  It is to people in a dry land, who were acutely aware of the precious and tenuous supply of water on which their lives depended, that the prophet Jeremiah spoke. He was not addressing them as individual householders, but rather, as he makes clear at the beginning of today’s first reading from scripture, he speaks to the whole “house of Jacob, and all the families of the house of Israel.”   And he did this during a time, when the nation faced an ongoing existential threat, with the shadow of expansionist Mesopotamian empires constantly looming over the land.   But there is a greater crisis, says Jeremiah, a religious crisis of which this political precariousness is just a symptom.  Speaking on behalf of Israel’s God, he says: “my people have committed two evils: they have forsaken me, the fountain of living water, and dug out cisterns for themselves, cracked cisterns that can hold no water.” 
In the eyes of our secular and pluralistic age, prophets like Jeremiah can seem kind of ridiculous.  The conventional wisdom about religion, if people are willing to accord it any value at all, is that all faiths worship the same god.  Their essential truths are the same, they just have different outward forms, different rituals, and languages, and names for the divine.  But when Jeremiah accuses Israel of having gone after worthlessness, and so become worthless, and of what changing their glory for that which does not profit, he is not talking about making the wrong choice from a menu of equivalent and interchangeable options, all of which are good.  He is talking about a critical difference in the way we think about and relate to God, a difference that we are prone to lose sight of no matter what “religion” we say we “belong to”.
As human beings we can, through various ingenious means, build an artificial fountain; but even our most advanced technology cannot create a spring.  If a spring goes dry, we can dig a well, and if the well goes dry, we can dig it deeper, but we can’t replace an aquifer.  The domain of things we can produce, predict, and control may be vast.  But it has its limits, and the Word of the Hebrew prophets comes from the other side of those limits, from the realm of the infinite and free.  From that strange and awesome remove it speaks, and strenuously, even violently, resists our attempts to give the things that we have made the honor that rightfully belongs to that which made us.   Any image of the divine in a created form, any sorcery that tries to steal power or knowledge from heaven or hell, any cultic sacrifice that claims to be able to pacify or animate the deity, is an insult to the freedom of God.
And this freedom matters to us, not least because it is the source of our own.   Jeremiah says to the families of Israel that they are in danger of losing their freedom, and this is because they stopped asking “Where is the Lord who brought us up from the land of Egypt?”  They stopped seeking the God who broke them out of the house of Pharaoh, and saved them from his army.  They stopped looking for the God who brought them through the drought, and darkness of the desert, to a land whose abundance was their gift of freedom and equality.  They contented themselves instead with a god who was a kind of domestic pet.  Forsaking the fountain of living water, and dug cracked cisterns for themselves.
In a Presidential election year in the United States, you can count on a lot of talk about greatness and freedom—our greatness, and our freedom—though very little is said about what these words might really mean.  You also hear a lot of passing references to “God”, whose job, it seems, is to bless us, in a manner of our choosing.  And none of these glib invocations shed any light on God’s greatness, let alone God’s freedom.  For that, you have to come to a place like this, where people still listen for the Word that speaks from beyond the sphere of our illusions and contrivances.   That word reminds us that freedom is a gift that grows out of the land, when we dwell there in equality and justice; that it is still an arduous journey to get there, one that leaves the false peace and illusory stability of domination and subservience behind; and that our only sure guide on that journey is a true and living God—a God who is free. 

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About Me

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Petaluma, California, United States
I am a priest in the Episcopal Church, and have been (among other things) an organic farmer and gardener, and a Zen monk. I have a lifelong interest in social and spiritual renewal on the basis of contemplative discipline, creative nonviolence, and ecological practice. In recent years my work has focused intensely on the responsibility of pastoral ministry in the humanistic, evangelical, and catholic branch of Christianity known as Anglicanism. I'm married with a daughter, and have three brothers and two parents.