A Sermon for Trinity 24
November 10, 2024 at Holy Communion
Ezekiel 47:1–12
“Their water flows from the sanctuary” (Ezekiel 47:12). In the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. ☩ Amen.
Growing up my family would spend as much time as we could camping and hiking. Hiking is thirsty work, and I remember one time coming across a little brook babbling its way down the hill. I asked whether I could drink it, and I was told, “Actually, out here I think you definitely could. If it’s clear and it’s moving, it’s probably excellent.” And it was.
Where do the rivers come from? Even driving up the South Shore can be a mystical experience. Every half hour or so you cross a broad river, breaking suddenly through the trees, carving a valley out to the Atlantic. They come from the back country, perhaps from the Tobeatic Wilderness, from the little hills, each funnelling a few drops into streams. If you wanted to follow the river all the way back to its end, you would find the secret springs that make this land green.
In Genesis, the four great rivers of the world are said to flow out from Eden, the garden God planted (Genesis 2:10–14). This is one of many details which help us understand that Genesis presents creation not only as the planting of a garden, but the building of a temple. In the ancient Near East, temples were also gardens. They were built like little mountains tapering upward, and ancient paintings often show them with a stream flowing down each of their four sides. The message is simple: God dwells on high, but the blessing of God flows down and gives life to the world.
This motif appears again in the Psalms. Psalm 46 imagines a world in which water is in conflict with water. The waves of the sea, representing the nations of the earth, crash against the mountain of God, trying to pull it down. But the people of God are not afraid, because
There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
the holy habitation of the Most High.
God is in the midst of her;
she shall not be moved (v 4–5).
God’s presence on his holy mountain is represented by a spring and its stream, flowing from the holy place in the Jerusalem temple, giving life even while the powers of the world threaten death.
Our Old Testament reading (Ezekiel 47:1–12) is a prophetic vision from a later time, after the temple in which Psalm 46 expressed so much confidence had been destroyed by Israel’s enemies and the nation had been taken into captivity. The Prophet Ezekiel sees a new temple—and not just a temple, but a city and a garden and mountain: a dwelling place for God and his people in the middle of the land.
What we read this morning is the portion of that vision in which Ezekiel sees the river which flows out from the sanctuary. His angelic guide first shows him the river’s beginning, where it is just a trickle of water (v 2). But he goes a quarter-mile downstream and now it’s ankle deep (v 3). Another quarter-mile and it’s knee deep (v 4). Another quarter-mile and it’s waist deep (v 4). One more quarter-mile and it’s over your head and its current is too strong to swim in (v 5). Then the angel shows Ezekiel that the plants on every side of the river flourish like nothing he’s ever seen before (v 7, 12). He tells Ezekiel that this river flows down into the Dead Sea, the world’s saltiest body of water, and even there its water is so sweet that the sea loses its saltiness and teems with fish (8–10).
The prophet’s has a message of hope. The people of God wait for a time when God will live with his people: in that day, the goodness of God will flow out from the holy place and give life to the world.
The temple–river theme doesn’t end there. The Gospel of John consistently presents Jesus himself as a new temple. And each believer, as a member of Christ, is also a temple—as St Paul says, a temple of the Holy Spirit (1 Corinthians 6:19). In John, Jesus says, “Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water’” (John 7:38). The Christian heart is a temple where God’s Spirit lives, and a holy river flows out giving life to the whole person and to everything he touches.
The perplexing thing is that Jesus appeals to scripture to make his point, but nowhere in the Old Testament does it say what Jesus apparently quotes it as saying. Jesus is probably referring to our Old Testament reading, and to Psalm 46, and to Genesis, and to every place where living water flows from the dwelling place of God. He interprets what all these passages mean. When God comes to fulfill his promise that “my dwelling place shall be with them, and I will be their God, and they shall be my people” (Jeremiah 32:38): in that day the people of God will have the source of life springing up within themselves, giving life to the world.
But “that day” is not far away. In fact, this is Jesus’ other point: he announces that the day when God visits his people and makes them his life-giving temple has arrived. This is the message of today’s Gospel as well. A woman with a flow of blood that is killing her just needs to touch the hem of Christ’s garments, to dip her hand into the stream that flows from God’s incarnate presence, her death is transmuted back into life. Christ is the wellspring of life; wade in it just ankle-deep—just touch the hem of his garment—and you will have life in you springing up to eternal life.
Practically, there are two things you need to know about the water of life: it starts in the holy place, and it deepens as it flows. “It starts in the holy place” means that the healing of your stream starts here, in an encounter with God in his sanctuary. It starts at this altar, where just a little trickle of the immortal draught will be poured into you—and that draught will become an overwhelming flood if you just let it flow. When you approach the cup, say to Jesus, “Even this, dear Lord, is enough to save me,” because it is his life-giving blood gushing from his side like a spring from the riven earth.
And “it deepens as it flows” means that the life of your spirit has a direction, a trajectory of growth as your inward and outer life is immersed more and more in the blessing of God. Can you tell a story of how you are more immersed in God than you were when you first came to church? Can you feel within yourself that you are waist-deep in the river of life, and do you remember what it was like to be only ankle-deep? If you don’t really know what it means to speak of God’s presence in your life—better, God’s presence as your life—and you don’t know what it means for that presence to deepen daily, that’s alright. You just haven’t tasted the living water yet. But you can today. Approach this holy place in faith, and you will never be thirsty again.
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