Water Communion, Ingathering Homily

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core. (1890)

So did William Butler Yeats write in 1890—more than 100 years ago. The pavements are never grey in our imaginings of the world back then, but the realities were very grey—industrialization, pollution that made the famous thick London fog and sooty layers over all production centers… and all the uncertainty and anguish that come with living at any time in history.

Sounding for all of us, against the beat and rush of modern existence and the anonymity of urban centers is always the world of nature, especially the power of water. It seems to call to all of us in some profound and primal way. We seek it out, we live by water, we eat by it, we stroll along it, we swim in it, sail on it, dive into it… and of the many things water does for us, one is incontrovertibly that water nourishes our souls. Being by water is part of most summer dreams - and a wonderful reality when we are lucky enough to realize those dreams, even for a day.

This is our service of ingathering, when we welcome each other back to our spiritual home after a summer of easier schedules here at UUCSS, and reduced programs. Water has many meanings for us, especially today. As in Yeats’ poem, one meaning of water is as a symbol of all in nature that keeps us alive, that eternally sustains us and renews us.

But there are other meanings as well. Like water flowing to the sea, we return from the mountains and rivers and quiet places where we ran out some time of our days in recent months, returning to this place. Joining together, we comprise this sea of continuity, filled with myriad currents carrying along our spiritual and emotional journeys in a cycle of change: ocean, mist, rain, trickle, stream, river, ocean, that keeps us alive and changing.

But nature is not all that refreshes and connects. Like water, this community itself is a source of renewal and relationship. We come here feeling weary, grieving, ill, worn-down - and words, actions, principles, opportunities here, all grounded in love and respect and aspiration—they comfort us, they hold our pain, they care for us, they energize us. So much, not everything—we’re human after al—but so much that happens here is itself as clear and cleansing as rainfall.

Our summers may have been peaceful or tumultuous, exciting or anticlimactic, domestic or far-distant, simple or extravagant. We will learn those stories in coming weeks and notice changes in others, who may notice changes in us, as well as much that is just the same, beloved and reliable. Like water, people come in many forms. Like water, we must come together to form anything worth noticing. Like water, we take many shapes and functions. Like water we are precious. Like water, we are sacred. Like water, we run hot and cold, spill and surge, ebb and flow. In more ways than I can cite in a brief homily, our ingathering is best symbolized by the real and virtual water we bring to represent our summers and our lives. Welcome back to all of us. It is good to be together.