Today, The Church celebrates the Feast of the Dedication of the Lateran Basilica in Rome, the Bishop of Rome’s church … the “mother church of Rome and the world.”
You might say this is the point from which flows the graces and teachings we rely on to thrive in our Christian lives – no matter where we hang our hats at the end of the day. A church that serves as the font of Christ’s love and mercy that we need to drink in order to live.
This is what Ezekiel must have had in mind in our first reading today when he described the temple as a life-giving source of water.
“I saw water flowing out from beneath the threshold of the temple toward the east … the water flowed down from the southern side of the temple … ‘This water flows into the eastern district down upon the Arabah, and empties into the sea, the salt waters, which it makes fresh. Wherever the river flows, every sort of living creature that can multiply shall live … Along both banks of the river, fruit trees of every kind shall grow; their leaves shall not fade, nor their fruit fail.”
Biblical scholars note that this passage from Ezekiel was indeed a reference to the Dead Sea, a salt lake known for having the highest concentration of salt on earth, such that it supports no life at all. No fish, no plants. Nothing.
The opposite of the waters that trickled from Ezekiel’s temple and those that trickle today from the Lateran Basilica into the “dead sea” of our own sinful lives.
Waters that have been blessed by God, transforming into purifying liquid so strong that it can turn that Dead Sea into a life-giving body of water; turn our sinful lives away from death and back toward life.
Gaining life through death: A familiar theme on Easter Sunday.
Today, the Dead Sea is still dead. It is the lowest point on the face of the earth, but is also a body of water so deep that it evaporates more water than it takes in.
And although much of what we read in Scripture is symbolic, isn’t it interesting that the Dead Sea is where millions visit in order to “heal the body” by floating in the salty waters? They spread the Dead Sea’s mud all over their skin so that they can absorb its unique minerals. They spend vacation days on the water’s edge in order to breath the salty air that is believed to provide some internal healing.
That is not unlike what we Christians do. We “heal the soul” by immersing ourselves into the Liturgy of our faith. We float on the waters of Scripture, letting the healing words of Christ soak into our hearts. We coat our skin with the spiritual graces of the Sacraments, feeling the mercy and forgiveness in our souls. We breathe the incense, hear the hymns, speak the prayers and lay our hands on those we love when we come together for Mass.
Just as the water from Ezekiel’s temple promised ever lasting life on the edges of the Dead Sea, the water from our mother church in Rome trickles down the many deserts of doubt and isolation, into the fonts of every parish and diocese in every land – until it fills the cups we are given to drink.
Are you not thirsty?
Come to the water and drink.
