Homily for the Water Communion Service
Given by James Covington on September 12th, 2004
Water is a basic element of all life. Over 70 percent of our bodies are made up of water. We can survive for a time without food, but without water we soon die. We need water for all our most basic needs: growing food, cooking it, staying clean. According to the United Nations, the human right to water is indispensable for leading a life in human dignity. It is a prerequisite for the realization of other human rights. In Hindu theology, the possibility of life on Earth is due to the release of heavenly water by Indra, the god of rain. The Muslim faith, coming from a land where water was scarce, cherished water. The Qu’ran states that “water is the source of all life.” In India they say “Each of us is responsible for the Kumbh—the sacred water pot.
Only one percent of Earth’s total water is available fresh water. The rest is in oceans, ice caps or inaccessible. Yet we take water for granted. In the United States, the average person uses 185 gallons of water a day. An average person in West Africa uses 7.6 gallons—one twenty-fifth of an American’s daily use. Over one billion people worldwide lack access to adequate clean water.
Water is indispensable. We seek water out, we live by water, we eat by it, we stroll along it, we swim in it, sail on it, dive into it. . . and of the many things water does for us. One is incontrovertibly that water nourishes our souls. Being by water is part of most summer dreams—and a wonderful reality when we are lucky enough to live those dreams, even for a day.
This is our service of ingathering, when we welcome each other back to our spiritual home after a summer of easier schedules and reduced programs.
Water has many meanings for us. Like water flowing to the sea, we return from the mountains and rivers and quiet places. Joining together, we comprise this sea of continuity, filled with myriad currents carrying along our spiritual AND emotional journeys in a cycle of change: ocean, mist, rain, trickle, stream, river, ocean that keeps us alive and changing.
But nature is not all that refreshes and connects. Like water, this community itself is a source of renewal and relationship. WE come here feeling weary, grieving, ill, worn-down– and words, actions, principles, opportunities here, all grounded in love and respect and aspiration—they comfort us, they hold our pain and care for us, they energize us.
Our summers may have been peaceful or tumultuous, exciting or anticlimactic, domestic or far-distant, simple or extravagant. We will learn those stories in coming weeks and notice changes in others, who may notice change in us, as well as much that is just the same, beloved and reliable. Like water, people come in many forms. Like water, we must come together to form anything worth noticing. Like water, we take new shapes and functions. Like water we are precious. Like water, we are sacred. Like water, we run hot and cold, spill and surge, ebb and flow. In more ways that I can cite in a brief homily, our ingathering is best symbolized by the real and virtual water we bring to represent our summer and our lives. Welcome back, all of us. It is good to be together.