The burning sand shall become a pool,
and the thirsty ground springs of water;
in the haunt of jackals, where they lie down,
the grass shall become reeds and rushes…
For I will pour water on the thirsty land,
and streams on the dry ground;
I will pour my Spirit upon your offspring,
and my blessing on your descendants.
- Isaiah 35: 7; 44: 3
It seems impossible to engage the Scripture’s themes regarding thirst and legacy and not be reminded of Dune right now. If you aren’t familiar with the story, the royal Atreides family has left their moisture-soaked home world to govern a sandy wasteland, prized only for a scarce, precious natural resource. They intend to “harness the desert’s power” by learning from an indigenous people captive to prophecies about a future Edenic paradise. This vision has them willing to sacrifice every present comfort to the promise of giving their future generations a heritage of water. Eventually the young messianic Paul Atreides faces a hauntingly familiar crisis: will he exploit the sword of Empire in order to force his Kingdom to come upon these parched dunes as it is in the saturated heavens?
Paul’s burden is the similar to the one Frodo carries, almost certain to overtake him: “At their last halt he sank down and said: ‘I’m thirsty, Sam,’ and did not speak again. Sam gave him a mouthful of water; only one more mouthful remained. He went without himself; and now as once more the night of Mordor closed over them, through all his thoughts there came the memory of water; and every brook or stream or fount that he had ever seen, under green willow-shades or twinkling in the sun, danced and rippled for his torment behind the blindness of his eyes.” Frodo and Sam, being mere hobbits, are less tempted by power than would be the gallant Aragorn, future king of Gondor. This story’s messianic figure could be reasonably convinced of the worthiness of his cause and the nobility of his intentions such that even he may have succumbed to grasping, given enough pressure.
We modern folks, too, have a great deal of power at our fingertips and in our pockets. And we too live in a sort of wasteland. Who on earth could be strong enough to envision such a paradisal oasis in the midst of hell and yet resist the cool satisfaction of taking up the readiest means for making it so? Who for heaven’s sake would choose to endure the burning sand; the thirsty ground; a haunt of jackals – when hosts of angels, or elven magic, or legions of jihadists, stand at the ready to obey his every command? Whoever he is, he must be thirsting for something more.