Sermon by Rev. Russell Daye
St. Andrew's United Church, Halifax

Crossing the River

Joshua 3:14 - 4:7

The passage from Joshua that Cindy read for us this morning marks the end of one great story and the beginning of another. The first story is the Exodus: the dramatic, bloody escape from Egypt; the 40 years of wandering; and the arrival at the threshold of the Promised Land. That story began with one parting of the waters and here it ends with another. It began with the nation of Israel fleeing Egypt through the Red Sea; it ends with Israel's piercing of the Jordan River. Most of us are familiar with the beginning of this great narrative: the flight from Egypt behind the pillar of fire; the pursuit by Pharaoh's army; the driving back of the Red Sea under Moses' outstretched hand. But we are less familiar with its climax, which is unfortunate because, in its own way, it is equally dramatic. After 40 years of wandering in the wilderness, after times of terror, after near death by thirst, after betrayal and experimentation with the religion of the golden calf, after Moses' descent from the mountain with his face aflame and the tablets in his hand, after the death of every person who departed Egypt, including the greatest of all prophets and leaders of Israel; after all this, the 12 tribes have arrived at the cusp of the land sworn to them so long ago. They have arrived at the doorstep of their future.

When they stand on that land they will be able to look back across the Jordan River and say, 'that was then. This is now!' They will look across the water to the grave of Moses and say, 'that was then. This is now!' They will look back upon their wanderings and say, 'that was then. This is now!' They will look back upon the lost generations and say, 'that was then. This is now!' They will look back to the wilderness of Sinai, where they were struck with a plague for their idolatry, and say, 'that was then. This is now!' They will look toward Egypt, with its fleshpots and luxuries and slavery, and say, 'that was then. This is now!' And then they will turn to flourish in the land pledged to their ancestors, the birthright of their children.

But an obstacle lies in the way of these 12 disparate tribes, these tens of thousands of people. It is the Jordan River overflowing its banks at the time of harvest. So, how will this multitude cross? How will the 40,000 armed for war cross? How will the children cross? How will the elders cross? How will the Reubenites, and the Gadites, and the half-tribe of Manasseh cross? How will the generations of Dan and Zebulun and Judah and Simeon cross? How will they make the break from the old story of wandering and begin the new story of the building of the nation?

Imagine for a moment that it is not the tribes of Israel assembled before the Jordan, but rather the tens of thousands who make up the United Church of Canada. Not the tribes of Asher and Naphtali and Assachar, but another people that has been wandering in the wilderness for 40 years. For have not we as a denomination been wandering in the wilderness for four decades? Was it not 40 years ago that our buildings and budgets and Sunday schools began to empty? Was it not 40 years ago that we began to lose our place of honour and influence in Canadian society. Was it not 40 years ago that our growth toward the million-member mark reversed to a decline toward half that.

Let us imagine that it is the United Church assembled before the Jordan, and let's listen in to the conversation. 'We can't cross this river; we are running too large a deficit to start building boats.' 'We can't enter the land of promise, we don't have enough young people to carry our goods.' 'How could we possibly build a bridge to the new land? Don't expect our men's group to start lugging boards and swinging hammers - heck, their youngest member is a veteran of the First World War.'

No, our denomination is not assembled at the river, but our congregation is assembled there. That's right, if we can free our hearts and minds from the pervasive gloom of the larger church, then it is our time to accept our blessing and cross the river. We have had our time in the wilderness. 'That was then, this is now.' We have had the excruciating fights and losses and departures of 1988. 'That was then, this is now.' We have had our years with no taste for mission. 'That was then, this is now.' We have had our years of declining givings. 'That was then, this is now.' We have had our loss and gain and loss again of young families. 'That was then, this is now.' We have had our years when we could not talk through our disagreements. 'That was then, this is now'. It is time to cross the river.

It is time for us to cross the river. Are we not a people growing in confidence? It is time for us to cross the river. Do we not have children to enliven us and university students to challenge us? It is time for us to cross the river. Do we not have generations with great experience, wisdom, and faithfulness? It is time for us to cross the river. Do we not have two million dollars in invested funds and our givings up dramatically? This is no time for a poverty mentality. It is time for us to cross the river. Are we not learning how to be open and inclusive of all, regardless of race, class, gender, or orientation? It is time for us to cross the river. Are we not becoming passionate about mission to people and the planet again? It is time for us to cross the river. It is time to accept the blessing. It is time to flourish and grow.

So now we return to the issue of how this river is to be crossed. We will cross the same way that the nation of Israel crossed. What got the twelve tribes over the flooding river? Not a great boat, not a great bridge, not a deep tunnel, but rather a covenant. While in the wilderness, in the midst of fretting and fussing against each other, in the midst remonstrating with and rebelling against God, the twelve tribes formed a deep bond with each other and with God. That bond was given words and promises in a covenant, and those words and promises were placed in a vessel, an ark that the priests carried from place to place.

How did they cross the river? The priests carried the ark to the river and as soon as their feet reached the water's edge, the waters upstream stopped flowing and piled up in a great heap! The whole nation walked across on dry land! And when they were across each tribe sent a strong man back into the riverbed to pick up a great rock. The twelve rocks were piled together to make a monument to the cutting off of the waters.

Now let me suggest that two symbols together serve as the key to this whole passage. Two symbols - the ark in the middle of the river, and he twelve stones - together make the central clue to interpreting the shift from one great narrative to another. Was there a moment in history (as we moderns understand that word) when the waters of the Jordan pulled back and the whole nation of Israel walked across with dry feet? Almost certainly not. This story is not true in that way. It is true in a more important way. The writers and redactors of this story, inspired by God, are looking back at the formation of their nation Israel and asking the question, 'how did we change from ungainly, feuding tribes, lost in the wilderness to a people with a home and a special blessing from God?' 'How did we cross that boundary between homelessness and belonging?' 'How did we move from meaninglessness to mission?'

Then the writers answer their own question with the dual pictures of the ark being held in the middle of the riverbed and the 12 stones piled together on the shore: we became a nation when we found unity in our diversity; we became a people with a land and a blessing when we found unity in our diversity. The twelve tribes did not cross the river in a boat or on a bridge. They crossed on a covenant and arrived a people, still diverse, still twelve, but now one.

Friends, members of this faith body we call St. Andrew's, this is how we too will cross the river. Covenant, unity in diversity, is what will carry us across the river. Covenant, unity in diversity, is what will carry us from wilderness to home. Covenant, unity in diversity, is what will give us our blessing and our mission.

Not a unity that denies or is ashamed of difference, but unity in our diversity. Not a unity that forces new generations to think like, worship like, celebrate like, and volunteer like their elders, but unity in diversity. Not a unity that forces our elders to abandon what has long shaped their faithfulness in favour of the new, but a unity in diversity. Our covenant will give words to and will live a unity that embraces both the time tested and the innovative.

Our covenant will see diversity not as a scandal but as a blessing. Our covenant will see diversity of generation not as a scandal but as a blessing. Our covenant will see diversity of music tastes not as a scandal but as a blessing. Our covenant will see diversity of worship styles not as a scandal but as a blessing. Our covenant will see diversity of sexual orientation not as a scandal but as a blessing. Our covenant will see diversity of theological orientation not as a scandal but as a blessing. Our covenant will see diversity of opinion on same sex marriage not as a scandal but as a blessing. Our covenant will see diversity of call to mission not as a scandal but as a blessing.

So here we stand on the bank. Our task for 2008 is to cross the river. To finally get over that river by building a covenant as our vessel - a covenant between the tribes of St. Andrews, but also a covenant with God and with the larger community. A covenant that is not written first on paper. A covenant that is not written on stone. Rather, a covenant that is written on our hearts and lived in our actions. Our task is to build a covenant that lives as a deep bond in worship. Our task is to build a covenant that expresses itself as a deep bond in celebration. Our task is to build a covenant that shows itself as a deep bond in mission. Our task is to become dynamically unified in our diversity. It is going to be an interesting year. This year we cross the river.