Wells We Did Not Dig

Rev. Kerry Mueller

Travelers across a long and seldom used trail in the Amargosa Desert would pass an old pump that offered the only hope of fresh drinking water along their journey. Wired to the pump handle was a baking powder can and inside the can was a handwritten note: "This pump is all right as of June, 1932. I put a new sucker washer into it and it ought to last five years. But the washer dries out and the pump has got to be primed. Under the white rock I buried a bottle of water out of the sun, the cork end up. There's enough water in it to prime the pump, but not if you drink some first. Pour about one fourth and let her soak to wet the leather. Then pour in the rest medium fast and pump like crazy. You'll git water. The well has never run dry. Have faith. When you git watered up, fill the bottle and put it back like you found it for the next feller." (signed) Desert Pete. "p.s. Don't go drinking up the water first. Prime the pump with it and you'll git all you can hold.
From Dare to Live Now by Bruce Larson

"We drink at wells we did not dig." So began our opening words this morning. Here we gather, in this beautiful sanctuary, surrounded by old friends and new connections, enjoying the music of the choir, ready to take up the joys and challenges of another church year. For some few of us here, the very newest among us, this place has always been here. The network of volunteers, the hours of preparation, the very cleaning of the surroundings are seamless, invisible. Turn on the tap and the water flows out. Some Desert Pete has replaced the washer, filled the priming bottle, and left us a note. Truly we drink at wells we did not dig.
Others here this morning recall what it took to get here. They were at choir practice, or gardening or cleaning or making lunch or taking part in teacher training here yesterday. They know how the sound system works, how to turn on the air conditioning. They have primed the pump. They remember the design and stitching of these beautiful memorial quilts. They remember when this community outgrew its earlier sanctuary. They banded together to raise this building. They remember when Donna's water communion offering was scooped from a puddle in the construction. Yet these builders, too, drink at wells they did not dig.
Before them came others who saw the need for an administration building, people who saw that the congregation could grow and thrive only if they had a building dedicated to office and classroom space. They knew that this congregation could take its place on the community stage only if it had good workspace where the day to day work of the volunteers and staff could go on, and where the nursery school could nurture the children of the community and where our own Religious Education classes could educate our children. And so they dug the foundations of the present administrative building.
But before them came the pioneers, those few still here today who in 1952 saw the need for a Universalist congregation in Silver Spring. This church was not here in 1950 when I was a second grader, living a couple of miles from here in the Northwest Park Apartments, or my parents might have found a church home earlier. I have seen the pictures of the ground breaking - today we might call it a ground blessing - the people who dug the well at which we all drink today, who first organized this community, who moved from the first Fellowship House to the first sanctuary building, who made it all possible, with vision and courage, and not a little of their pooled financial resources.
And yet even these people drank at wells they did not dig. This congregation did not spring full blown from the head of its visionary founders. It began with help from the Universalist National Memorial Church in the District, the national gathering place of a faith with a long tradition in this country, men and women digging wells for every new generation.
And so it is today. As we gather, we are digging wells and priming pumps for those who will come tomorrow. We are creating community, whether we are the newest visitors this morning or the most respected pillars of the last half century here at Silver Spring. But we do not have to dig the whole well ourselves. Like Nobiah and his animal friends, we do together what we could not do alone.
That is the gift of community, wells to dig and water to drink. And when creating community, just as when digging a well, we must dig as deep as our heart and as wide as our thirst.
So let us celebrate our water communion, pouring our water together after a summer apart. In so doing we will reconstitute our congregation and have a chance to plumb the depths of our hearts and the width of our thirst.
This summer, as we have traveled far and wide, as we have taken exotic vacations, or comfortable family trips, or as we have just sat and appreciated the beauty of our own back yards, many of us have been collecting water in tiny jars and bottles. This morning we will mingle those waters together, just as we have regathered as a community, mingling our lives together again. The water collected in the bowl will represent the way our lives come together in a beloved community. By using the very earthy, physical reality of an ordinary substance, we experience our connectedness in a very concrete way.
What has been your journey this summer? Has it been light and carefree? Did you finally take the children to the theme park of their dreams? Did they spend time with their grandparents while you had a break? Did you join other UU's at General Assembly, or UUMAC - the UU Mid Atlantic Community? Or did you have a more difficult journey? Did you have to think through an issue in your life? Is your water from the tap in a hospital room? Was this the summer you had to say farewell to a loved one? Perhaps your work has changed this summer, or you have had to face new and difficult challenges. Perhaps the challenge has been joyous -- a new member of your family or a new skill developed in your life. But a challenge, nonetheless, and a journey.
Share with us a little of that journey, if you will. Please come forward as individuals, or as families. Pour your water into the bowl. Share a few words from the story in that tiny jar. If you weren't able to bring some of the actual water of your journey, pour a little of the water from the pitcher, and we will view it symbolically. Everyone here has a part in the life of this community, from the founding members, to the visitors who decided just this morning that this was the day they would check out our church. You are all welcome here. We have dug a well for you.
The very first water to go into the bowl is a little water representing all the years of water communion in this congregation. I have to tell you that it is symbolic water here this morning -- the bottle of literal water has returned mysteriously to the source of all water. But just think of all those molecules of water -- countless drops from all of our lives, joined together in a the bowl. [Pour the water] At the end of the service, we will take out a little for next year, connecting our lives with each other across the years. And then we will use the contents of the bowl to water our garden. So please come forward now, to mingle the waters, to share the depths of our hearts and the width of our thirst.
Would you start at the back and make a line at the right of the sanctuary. And please, rejoice with us in the large number we make this morning. Please save the long version of your story for coffee hour.

Water Communion

Hymn #209 "O Come, You Longing Thirsty Souls"

Closing Words

Postlude

Wells We Did Not Dig

Sermon

Wells We Did Not Dig