Trouble listening? Try updating your Flash player.
Two springs pour forth in the shade of the forest, one warm and gushing, the other cold and peaceful. Their waves rush joyously down over their rocky beds, then unite and glisten in the rays of the morning sun. Thus begins the symphonic picture of the Moldau River as painted in music by renowned Czechoslovakian composer Bedřich Smetana.
The Moldau, the longest river in the Czech Republic, is almost 300 miles long, flowing from its source, those two streams in the Bohemian forest, finally to empty into the Elbe River. As you listen to Smetana’s composition, you can almost hear the Moldau grow from its humble beginnings into a mighty river.
I love the mental picture of that river, flowing with a sense of purpose, rolling on past farmland and forests, carrying boats, giving of itself, perhaps providing a refreshing drink to birds and animals, supplying water for farmers’ fields and beauty to all who gaze upon it. To me it typifies the constant flow of life, coming from a hidden source and continuing in eternal existence. The Moldau is a river with a purpose—not only a thing of beauty but also a worthwhile function, a raison d’être.
In sharp contrast to the Moldau is the Dead Sea. The Dead Sea is fed by the Jordan River and some small canals that drain into it. But unlike other seas, it has no outlet—no river or stream originates from the Dead Sea—and, as a result, water leaves only by evaporation, leaving behind a high concentration of salinity. Over time the water has become so salty that it does not support life; hence, the sea’s name. Many years ago, the Dead Sea was much larger than it is today and was not as salty, but lack of an outlet and the resulting stagnation have left it lifeless, purposeless in the cycle of life.
When I think about the Dead Sea, with no outlet, and the vital, living Moldau, I can’t help but consider that contrast as a metaphor for our lives. I ponder which one have I become, and often think it would be wise for us all to ask ourselves often: “Will I be the Moldau today? Or the Dead Sea? Do I have a sense of purpose? Am I a living, bubbly river of joy, happiness, and selflessness; am I willingly receiving God’s love? Or am I closed off and aloof, not wanting to share all the good I have and the lessons I have learned? Am I perhaps satisfied to sit and do little, even while I have so much to share?”
The temptation for some folks as they reach retirement age is to, in effect, “shut down.” You may have witnessed it to some extent in otherwise wonderful, talented, loving people who accept the general world belief that older people don’t have much to offer or can’t be very productive. A longtime friend recently asked why I kept so busy. This friend said: “When I retired … I retired! I don’t do anything.” I thought to myself, “But you have so much to give, so much to share of your experience, so much love to impart to a thirsty world.”
Am I living in a way that benefits others? Or am I living only for myself, my limited goals and objectives?
That conversation inspired me to keep moving! I have found it helpful to ask myself: “Am I living in a way that benefits others? Or am I living only for myself, my limited goals and objectives? Am I becoming saltier and saltier, filling up with no outlet?”
Each one of us has the innate ability to be like the Moldau River, to support and to give, to shine our reflected light to all—especially to those who are seeking love and companionship, maybe themselves searching for a more meaningful life, maybe just needing a gentle touch or a warm handshake and a smile.
In that book that contains remedies for everything we need, the Bible, Jesus sets the example for us to follow, selflessly sharing what he had with all who were receptive. On one occasion he met a woman at a well and asked her to draw some water for him (see John 4:1–42). She questioned him as to why a Jew would be asking for water from a Samaritan, since the Jews usually had no dealings with the Samaritans.
Jesus, seeing her need for moral and spiritual help, told her that if she had asked him, he would have given her “living waters.” He added, “Whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life” (verse 14). Jesus, that loyal servant of his Father, whose life defined the phrase “sense of purpose,” whose every breath reflected the Creator as divine Love, Life, and Mind, shared the “living waters,” the healing truth of God’s love for humanity, and he blessed all whom he encountered.
A wonderful poem depicts the blessing of flowing, living waters as opposed to “Dead Sea living.” It demonstrates how, in sharing with others, we ourselves are refreshed!
Make channels for the streams of Love,
Where they may broadly run;
And Love has overflowing streams,
To fill them every one.
But if at any time we cease
Such channels to provide,
The very founts of love for us
Will then seem parched and dried.
For we must share, if we would keep
That blessing from above;
They cease to have who cease to give:
Such is the law of Love.
(Richard C. Trench, Christian Science Hymnal, No. 182, © CSBD)
May we all leave behind a Dead Sea life and choose the Moldau, the “living waters,” today and always.
Patrick Collins lives in McCaysville, Georgia.
Access more great articles like this!
Welcome to JSH-Online, the home of the digital editions of The Christian Science Journal, Sentinel, and Herald. We hope you'll enjoy this article that has been shared with you.To learn more about JSH-Online visit our Learn More page or subscribe to receive full access to the entire archive of these periodicals, and to new text and audio content added daily.
Thank you for visiting JSH-Online!