Is Faith A Watering Hole?
I remember Omar Sheriff galloping towards a watering hole in David Lean’s Lawrence of Arabia, a whirlwind of sand and anticipation following him.
I remember his beautiful steed, his brilliant desert clothes, and the weapons he held in his leather belt. He was initially just a speck of sand, yet as he drew closer to the watering hole, he became much more.
What an entrance!
He embodied adventure as he moved toward the unknown.
He held the secret of the desert as easily as he held his horse’s reins. Those secrets burned like the desert sun: too hot to touch and too deep to excavate.
As his steed galloped forward, I thought of the water and how rare it was in the desert: it was more than just water.
Yes! It was life-giving and maybe, it could feed one’s soul!
His journey to that watering-hole was simply a test. Did he have the courage and fortitude to continue? Would he fail in the face of such hardship?
Sherif Ali, Omar Sharif’s character, embodied individual ruggedness. Yet, even that ruggedness, was not enough: he needed to drink from the watering hole and yet had enough compassion to think of others.
He had the strength to find a watering hole in a vast desert and not only drink from it but carry enough bags of water to his tribe.
We do not know how long his journey was or what he thought as he galloped into the unknown. Perhaps for him, it was a simple exercise, like saying a prayer. He knew the valleys and the wadis and the dangerous places where bandits lay in wait. Despite these obstacles, he found his way.
Was he only taking water to his people or was it something more? Maybe it was the courage to keep moving forward!
The watering hole could have been a wishing well of sorts. It could have been an oasis where he and his tribe drew their hopes and dreams.
Secrets Revealed
I often wonder why so much of my time writing The Leper Messia has been spent in the ancient deserts. I often wondered what it was I hoped to find there. Would long-held secrets be revealed?
I had no knowledge of watering-holes and wadis! I am not a desert chieftain! I have never ridden a horse or wielded a scimitar.
Yet, there I was, out in the desert searching. But searching for what? Would this thirst be quenched by one sip of water, or is this an ongoing search for something more?
I took what skills and equipment I possessed and journeyed far from home.
At first, panic set in! I was alone without a guide or direction.
Then, something happened: I gathered my wits about me and without the noise of a troubled city, or the voices of others, I began to feel one with the journey.
And so with the heart of a tribal chieftain, I made for the watering-hole.
Come, join me!
Robert
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