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Coming Home
An sermon delivered by The Reverend Don W. Vaughn-Foerster
At the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Grand Traverse
Traverse City, Michigan
November 28, 2004

Yet the dream never really goes away. It can still beckon. And we can poignantly discern the difference between where we are and where our dream once promised we would be. And thus we lead our lives, busy with the needs and hungers of the moment but faintly aware that something deep inside us calls us to be more than we usually attempt to be. 

That is what I want to talk about today. But, unlike the way I usually approach Sunday services, I will tell you a story. It is a "once-upon-a-time" story -- meaning that it may never have happened at all or that it may never really stop happening. It speaks to the way we lose the dream of our heart's remembering both as individuals and as communities. I should warn you that I am not going to tell you what the story means. That will be up to you to determine -- as it has been up to generations of Sufis for whom this story was first told. Here is the story. 

In one of the high mountain ranges of the world there was a valley. This valley was so removed from the usual paths of commerce and tourism that outsiders seldom visited it. Besides, the way into it was up a narrow trail that was passable only a few weeks in midsummer. The rest of the year it was obstructed by snow and ice; but that didn't matter to the people who lived there. Once inside the valley, the weather was mild. The high ridge, which completely surrounded it, kept out all but the fiercest winter winds. The valley itself was broad and long enough that the sun kept it warm most months of the year and the growing season was adequate to keep the people in food. A river ran down the middle of the valley and was fed by fresh streams that cascaded down from such mountainous heights that the valley's inhabitants never attempted to explore the headwaters. Besides, before the time of my story, there was little reason to explore the mountains or leave the valley. Life was easy and satisfying within a very "paradise-like" world. 

However, the people of the valley were not ignorant of the outside world. From time to time visitors would brave the high paths and stumble into this hidden place. The visitors brought with them tales of the hunger and suffering, the selfishness and insensitivity of the cities on the plains beyond the mountains. These tales did not paint an inviting picture of the outside world as a place to visit. Consequently, none of the people of the valley ever ventured away from their isolated home. Besides, the visitors who came were themselves testimonials to the virtues of this Shangri-la-like valley. Hardly any of them ever wanted to leave it once they found it. 

They wanted to remain in the valley not just because it was comfortable and beautiful but also because of the people. The people of the valley were unusually compassionate and intelligent. Each person had his or her work, which did not take more than half a day, leaving them time for leisure and artistic pursuit. They filled their leisure with friendly conversation or games designed to enable the players to express themselves at their best. Their art -- the painting, the sculpture, the music, and the literature -- celebrated human life as noble and virtuous. 

Throughout it all sounded a strength and a compassion that held a high image of humanity continually before their eyes. As a result, the houses they lived in were works of art and were designed for careful balance between privacy and community within the family. The streets were wide, easily accommodating the light traffic of horses and wagons and other conveyances. Public events always went smoothly and with great courtesy. The trade in the market place was fair and generous on the part of both the seller and the buyer. Friends hardly ever found fault with one another. But, if they did, their disagreement was handled with the utmost congeniality and understanding. The members of the governing council of the valley were persons whose intelligence and intentions were trusted by all. This council had only to indicate its plans for the people to uphold them, so confident were the people that matters had been carefully and honestly worked out. In short, the people of the valley were everything we would like human beings to be: congenial, mutually supportive, intelligent, creative, and reliable. 

One day, into this Eden-like valley with its remarkable inhabitants, came a man of great learning and powers of observation. He had heard legends of this valley and had waited until the propitious time in the middle of the summer to climb the tricky path, which led over the mountain pass. As was their habit, the people of the valley greeted him warmly and went to great lengths to tell him everything he wanted to know. They showed him their houses, museums, and public halls. They welcomed him into their gatherings and shared their games and pastimes with him. They took him into their rustic factories and then into the council chamber. 

But, as they were showing him the fields and then the river and, finally, some of the major streams that fed the river, the man's mood changed from eager interest to an air of deepening concern. Then, he made a request that, to the people, was very unusual. He asked for someone to guide him up the mountainside to visit the several sources of the water that flowed through the streams. No one had ever asked such a thing before. Every time before, the visitors had been increasingly impressed by what they saw so that, when the streams were reached, their request was usually to be permitted to remain in the valley. But this visitor wanted to see more than the valley itself. He wanted to see where its water came from. 

However, the man, who had been acting as guide for the tour, said, "But, this has never been done. We know nothing of the source of our water. None of us have ever been in the mountains above this valley. We do not even know where the headwaters are." 

At this, the visitor's face lost its look of sadness and became merely impassive. He said, "Permit me to make the trip by myself -- unless one of you will go with me." The tour guide thought a moment, then, replied, "Certainly, you may go if you wish. And I will accompany you." 

Early the next day the two set out together. They were gone almost a week before they were seen descending the slope near the council chambers. Without pausing or speaking they walked determinedly to the square in front of the council chambers and sounded the bell that called the whole community to gather. When everyone was assembled, the visitor began to speak: 

"Friends before I came into your midst, I saw many things happening far from here that I feared might affect you. Since I have come into your midst, I have been troubled that a tragedy I have seen befall others might befall you. You have a fertile land and a beautiful life together, but all that is about to change unless you do some special planning now. For I have determined that, on a certain day in November, the water will stop flowing in your river and in your streams. The water will begin to flow again the next day; but it will be changed. The water you now drink is good water, healthy, life-giving water. But the water that will flow after the river is stopped will make you mad. If you would keep your valley fertile and your life together good, then store up all the water you can until the river stops flowing. Thereafter, drink only the water you have stored and, thereby, escape madness. This is a warning I must give. But, you yourselves must make your decision for madness or for sanity. I will return next summer to see what you have done."

After the visitor had gone, the people turned to the man who had accompanied him up the mountain. "What did he discover up there? they asked. The man replied, "I cannot truly say. He looked carefully at the way the streams flowed. He examined the soil between trees and the lichens on the trees and rocks. He made tests with strange, small bottles. All the while he talked about how deeply related are the world we live in and the way we think. Then, he said something about depletion and erosion but, whether he was referring to the mountains or to our minds, I cannot say. I only can say that I believe him." 

But the others said, "We do not see how this can be so. Waters changed to make us mad, indeed! He is just one of those low country tricksters we have heard about who travels around to make trouble for others. If we do as he says, our whole way of life will be disrupted. We will have to carry water and store it when there is no need. The river always stops flowing when the ice is too thick. We are used to that. We shall forget this incident and go about our usual business."

And the people did just that -- except for one person. The person, the man who had accompanied the visitor, secretly stored a large quantity of water while the others did not. Then, in November, the day came. The river stopped flowing; but the people paid little heed. The next day the river flowed again. And the people went to the river and drank of it, saying, "See, the stranger was wrong. Nothing is changed. We are not mad; we shall not lose our sanity."

But, while they were still at the river, a small woman accidentally jostled a large man. "Watch who you are pushing!" he yelled. And he shoved her and sent her sprawling. Later, during a card game, one player, after he had lost the hand, took a sip of water and kicked the table over, yelling, "I should have won that hand. Someone's cheating!" 

This kind of behavior spread over the valley. People who had cared for one another became suspicious and vengeful. The honest weights that were used in the market were tampered with; some persons began to make more profit than others. The wide streets began to be filled with litter because people felt that cleaning them was too menial a job. When the spring came and planting was to begin, those persons who were strongest or cleverest took control of the fields and kept exorbitant profits for themselves. Families joined against other families, creating rival clans. Persons within families connived against one another and tried to use their kinship to their personal advantage. Soon brute force seemed to be needed for self-protection because it was not long before some people began to use violence as the easiest way to get what they wanted. Before the spring arrived, the first murder in the valley's history occurred and people began to settle into a turmoil of resentment and self-concern that had never been so before. 

However, through these months, the one man drank only from his hidden store of water. His behavior did not change. When someone was hurt, he would try to help. In the many arguments he encountered, he would seek compromise or common ground. He shared his food as hunger for some began to result because of the private hoarding of others. He even devoted some time each day to painting and music while everyone else drifted away from these aesthetic pursuits. 

The people around him became suspicious of him. More and more they resented him. And then, in the late spring, when he alone would do a full day's work, they began to mutter, "The man is mad. Let us avoid him." 

And so he was ostracized. He spent long days and weeks alone, becoming hungrier and hungrier for human company -- any human company, even that of people who mistreat one another. But, every time he would approach someone, that person would mutter, "Don 't come near me. You are mad." And they would move on. Finally, deep into the summer, he could stand it no longer. "Why," he asked himself, "should I live a lonesome life of misery just because I did not drink the changed waters." And, in despair, he went to the river and drank. 

On his way home from the river, a child yelled, "There goes 'crazy loony'!" This upset him, so he threw a rock at the child. The child's mother came out of the house to complain and he screamed at her, "Keep that brat away from me!" -- whereupon the father rushed out and a fight ensued. Both men were hauled before the Council and the story was told. The man's defense was, "I don't have to put up with this stupid mistreatment that everyone has been handing me. I have a right to attack when I am attacked and to resent whatever I want to resent -- just like the rest of you!" 

There was great consternation in the council hall. Everyone looked at him very hard, wondering if what he or she saw was true. Then, the leader of the Council spoke, "Citizens," he said, "I don't know how it has happened, but we are witness to a miracle. Here is a man who was mad but now he is sane." Then, turning to the man, he said, "You must pay a small fine for disturbing the peace; but, welcome home, friend!" 

It was just a few days later that the visitor returned. He didn't come very far into the valley. He didn't stay long. He merely looked at the littered streets and scraggly fields and saw the people arguing. Then, he said to himself, "They no longer benefit from the protection of these high mountains. It is here as if I had never left the cities on the plains below." Then, he turned and walked away. 

I end with only this question: Do you drink the same water as everyone else in town?

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