Water, Water Everywhere

“Let there be light!”

No human being witnessed this singularity some 13 billion years ago. Nevertheless, Genesis 1 imagines primordial Mystery with the haunting beauty of a poetic astrophysicist. 

In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.

And the earth was without form, and void;
and darkness was upon the face of the deep.
And the spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters...

Water.  So ordinary – like tap water.  Yet so profoundly mysterious – like the untouched depths of the sea, like amniotic fluid, like the permafrost beneath the surface of Mars, like a human tear...

Water.  Even those of us who’ve never taken a chemistry class can identify the compound H₂0:  1 molecule, consisting of 2 atoms of hydrogen and 1 atom of oxygen, bonded together.

Water is a shape-shifter.  Just this morning, I experienced water as gaseous (in the steam from my shower), as a liquid (dripping through my coffee maker), and as a solid (coating my windshield with frost).

It makes up 60-70% of most adult human bodies.  Paradoxically, water can be as rare as it’s ubiquitous.  Yes, it covers 70% of the earth’s surface.  And yet only a tiny fraction of it – 3/10 of 1% (the water that's accessible in groundwater aquifers, rivers, and freshwater lakes) – can be utilized by humans.

Oddly, as common and plentiful as water is on this planet, clean water has always been a precious resource. Even in the United States, a fairly wet country, cities built in dry places look with covetous eyes, across many miles, to the Great Lakes.  As world population balloons and environmental degradation continues, clean water will become ever more central as a justice issue in economic and political life, not to mention a fundamental matter of survival for all life forms.

No one uses water like an American.  The average person in the United States – when all uses are added up – consumes anywhere from 80-100 gallons of clean water per day (most of it in the bathroom).

While not always a good steward of water, it seems humankind has always sensed its sacred nature. There’s more to water than meets the eye.  Water is elemental to life. Nothing can live long without it. Water refreshes; water cleanses.  Ironically, water can also bring chaos and death, so say the stories from ancient Babylon to contemporary New Orleans.

All the water the earth has ever contained is here now. Our planet is a closed system, like a terrarium. So the same water that existed on this planet millions of years ago is still present today. In other words, the water within us and around us is the same water over which the Spirit brooded so long ago...

  

Water, or its lack, is a huge theme in the Bible. Scripture was written by people who lived in an arid land. Its abundance was seen as a sign of God’s providence. Its scarcity was seen as a sign of God’s judgement. Moses saw the clear, fertile Nile turned to a bloody cesspool; he also saw sweet water gush up from a rock in the wilderness. The Psalmist imaginatively compared our thirst for God to a deer’s longing for the waterbrooks. Jesus turned water to wine. He healed with his own saliva and with local spring water. He stilled an angry sea. He engaged in multi-layered conversation with a woman at a well. He sweated as he prayed in the garden; he thirsted as he died on the cross.

 

The story of the baptism of Jesus is one of the most precious water stories in the Church. What a strange story it is. John, as usual, is out on the edge – both theologically and geographically. He’s standing in the Jordan River, the eastern border of the nation.  And he's preaching repentance as he announces the coming of a new kingdom, and a new king.

Why is John calling Jews to repentance? And why is he baptizing them? Haven't the Jewish people already, both historically and mystically, passed from bondage to freedom through the Red Sea waters by God's mighty hand?

Then Jesus comes along. He steps into the primordial water, that same water over which the wind of God once blew before there was even light. He stands with John, the atoms of hydrogen and oxygen swirling ‘round their legs, soothing their tired feet, soaking their cloaks.

John, for once, hesitates.  He senses Who this is.  It's an awkward moment.  Does Jesus need to repent? Does Jesus need to be washed before entering the Holy Land?

John says no. Jesus says yes. Who knows what all this means?  But Jesus seems to be choosing to throw his lot with us – to be with us, in every way, in everything, all the way.  "It’s righteous," he says – the way it’s supposed to be.

So John cups a handful of cool river water and pours.  Love is heard, and Life gushes forth...

We Christians are baptized in water. That same sacred, primordial compound – we see it poured, we hear it splash the font, we touch its wetness, smell its freshness, even taste its tastelessness. But, like the ancients, we sense that there’s more going on than meets the eye. Somehow, this water makes us clean, cleaner than any new year’s resolution or any hot soak in the tub ever will.  This water slakes our thirst, satisfying more profoundly than the most refreshing cocktail or sports drink. This water sustains our lives for the journey – even through danger and chaos and death – leading us into new and deeper life, over and over again – forever.

In this water we hear the song we long to hear, yet still find so difficult to believe:  we too are God's beloved.

The Baptism of Jesus (1987)

by Lorenzo Scott