by Rev. Terry Davis
Delivered at Northwest Unitarian Universalist Congregation
on August 16, 2015
When I was preparing for today’s Water Appreciation Service, I got in touch with our Worship Associate Tony Barbagallo about the items we would need to set up on our center Ritual Table.
“We’ll need tablecloths, a starter candle and lighter, the bronze chalice, and an empty community water bowl,” I wrote in my e-mail to him.
“No water?” was Tony’s two-word response.
“Nope. No water,” I said.
As I was describing my plans for this service to my spouse Gail, I mentioned that there’d be no need to bring with us on Sunday the water we gathered on our trip to Savannah back in May. Rather than share it during the worship service, I told her we would be leaving it at home.
“No water?” was her two-word response.
“No water,” I replied.
And, this past week, as I was proofing the printed Order of Service for today, Northwest’s Publications Editor asked me if I had forgotten to indicate in it the time in the service when Northwest members and friends would be invited to come to the front of the Sanctuary, bring the water they gathered from their summer travels, add it to the community bowl, and tell their water stories.
This is what we did at last year’s Ingathering Service and Water Service, and the year before that . . . and the year before that.
I responded that leaving this ritual out of the printed Order of Service wasn’t a mistake on my part.
“No water?” the editor asked.
No water.
I imagine by now you’re probably getting the message . . . there is not and will not be water at our Water Appreciation Service today. If not bringing our water to this service or using it to celebrate the common bonds we share is disappointing or feels odd or wrong, maybe that’s a good thing.
Maybe it’s a good thing to miss water – to miss its simple beauty and the way it runs through our lives and connects us to each other.
Maybe it’s a good thing to notice when something that’s so available to us . . . something we might take for granted like water . . . is absent.
Maybe it’s a good thing to acknowledge a threatened natural resource by leaving it alone . . . by not using it for non-essential purposes.
At least, that’s what I thought when I decided to lead a waterless Water Appreciation Service on my first day back from summer break. That was the idea that popped into my head when you generously gave me the summer off to rest and to think.
Of course, I wasn’t thinking this way when I took out a plastic container and scooped a helping of water out of a flowing fountain in a town square in Savannah back in May. Back then, I was only thinking about the story I wanted to share with all of you . . . about my trip to Savannah, the significance of this water, and the fountain it came from.
I think it’s a good story and one that I can share during our potluck . . . where we’ll all be invited to share our water stories with one another.
Back in May, I wasn’t thinking about whether I had any right to take water out of the fountain.
I just took it.
It was a public fountain in a public place. It was only a little bit of water. No big deal. But, later, over the summer, I thought: Maybe this is a bigger deal than I realize. Does that water belong to me? Does any water really belong to me?
The water in my kitchen sink . . . the water that runs in my bathtub or through my garden hose . . . is it really my water? Whose water is it?
Today, we learned in Haiti that there’s a saying: the well may belong to you, but the water belongs to God. I think the modern message in the Haitian folktale we heard today is simply this: the water doesn’t belong to us alone. It belongs to all those living things that depend on it for life.
It just so happens that we humans, like the Lizard in the story, have been in a position to call the shots on how water is used and who gets to use it. We’ve been using and guarding – or you might say, controlling – the wells, the rivers and streams, and the lakes and oceans.
How are we doing . . . taking care of our water? Not very well. That we know.
Fracking and industries such as steel manufacturers, chemical plants, and food processing operations dump hundreds of millions of pounds of toxins into U.S. rivers every year. The Savannah River, which was likely the water source for that lovely fountain I saw, was ranked in a Mother Jones magazine article as one of the top ten most polluted waterways in the country.
And climate change, which we know is caused by human activity and is heating up our planet, is responsible for those prolonged and life-changing droughts that are occurring in California, Brazil, North Korea, South Africa and other places . . . as well as the flooding that we see happening around the world.
The Natural Resources Defense Council, a U.S. environmental action group, predicts that many of the most profound and immediate impacts of climate change will relate to water . . . and that more than 1/3 of the continental United States will face higher risks of water shortages by mid-century as a result of global warming. Other impacts will include sea level rise, saltwater intrusion, harm to fisheries and more frequent and intense storm events.
I know that this congregation cares deeply about environmental justice and is well aware of these issues. So, what can we do about them?
I think noticing what it feels like not to have water in our midst is a good first start. For myself, I’m hoping that this awareness will lead to changes in my behavior . . . that perhaps I’ll think more carefully about not just how I use water, but how I think about water.
Just because I can put water in my cup . . . or run it in my shower . . . or scoop it out of a fountain doesn’t make it mine. What is mine is the ability to appreciate it and the responsibility to protect it.
We could say that appreciating and protecting water is a large part of what it means to be a Unitarian Universalist. I believe that our Seventh Principle, which encourages us to have respect for the interdependent web of all existence, carries with it a mandate to care for the water we all share.
My guess is that many of you do, too. And that you’re doing things now to appreciate it and protect it.
Well, I want to hear your stories. I want to learn from you. I would like for us to learn from each other . . . which is why I’m inviting you to start conversations with one another about what water means to you . . . and about some of the things you do to care for this precious resource.
When you came into the Sanctuary this morning, you were invited to take a blue strip of paper out of a basket. Each slip of paper has a quote about water . . . and a question.
As Northwest’s children make and serve us delicious pancakes – and as we share in the abundance of good food that you brought with you this morning – I’m hoping you’ll use your question to start a conversation about water at your table. Let’s start a discussion about water . . . one that might deepen our appreciation for this beautiful and life-giving resource and also might inspire us to take new action to protect it.
Our waterless Water Appreciation Service today doesn’t mean that we won’t ever use water again at a Northwest service. We will. My hope, however, is that this service will get me thinking – get all of us thinking – not just about the water we share, but also this planet we share and have an ethical and spiritual obligation to care for.
Our Unitarian Universalist faith and that deeply wise Seventh Principle are calling us more than ever to remember that we are connected – to every person, every animal, every plant, everything that inhabits this earth.
The water belongs to us all because we belong to all. May we embrace this principle and eternal truth . . . and may we recommit ourselves today to care for our water and all living things.
May it be so. Amen.
(Image credit: Forsyth Park fountain on a rainy day by Jeremy Pullen.)