"Even a cup of cold water"
Victoria Falls, Murphy Creek and the here and now
I have a snapshot from my visit to Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe, in 1995. (The falls are also officially known in the Lozi language as Mosi-oa-Tunya, “Thundering Smoke.”) In the foreground, a small group of visitors to the national park, children and adults clad in summer clothes, are walking across a grassy area near the falls. Three people carry colorful umbrellas. The path they follow seems to run to the edge of a cliff, with water seen falling off the opposite cliff, a mere hundred feet across the canyon. I am still struck by the lack of signage, fences or warnings of any kind.
The land on the other side is Zambia. The water flowing off the cliff is part of the Zambezi River. It flows for miles over a plateau of basalt until it reaches the transverse chasm separating Zambia from Zimbabwe.
Though the cascade is of modest height - 350 feet - the fall line is over a mile long. That’s a lot of water.
I was reminded of this colorful procession recently when I joined a congregation of worshippers walking a mown path across a field to witness the baptism of three children, the youngest of whom was my six-week old grandson, introduced in previous essays (Preparing the ground, Waiting for Lewis, One grip at a time, Big idea, small package, and Baysian Baby).
We were headed to the banks of Murphy Creek, a slow and shallow stream barely 15 feet across, maybe two feet at its deepest, shaded by oak and poplar and hidden under maple saplings, willow and spice bush edging along the forest.
Pastor Neal held sleeping little Lewis, lowered the back of his head until it touched the water. Not surprisingly, Lewis cried out in dismay. After bravely enduring two more dips, he was delivered into the waiting arms of his mother and fell promptly back to sleep.
These kinds of rituals are a mystery to me. I have felt through the decades an increasing curiosity about religion in general and the practice of Christianity specifically. It is part of my heritage that I am trying to understand. So, I was interested in Pastor Neal’s take on baptism. Daughter Molly sent me a page of his thoughts about the meaning of baptism. Here is an excerpt:
In baptism, we reject the death-dealing powers and principalities that seek to control and manipulate the Earth and all living beings. We are cleansed from all that destroys life, violates love, and erodes trust and are refreshed by grace, relationship, and resilience.
For Lewis, the ritual was a momentary interruption of a nap. But in this passage, Neal is talking about the effect of baptism on the witnesses. In a sense, we are all cleansed and refreshed to face the travails of this experience of life.
He could be talking about all of us in these times. Our country deals in death on a daily basis. Love is violated in ways large and small. The land of the free feels oppressive, like the recent heat wave sitting on the east coast, punishing the vulnerable and those without power; like the dramatic surge this week of heartless ICE arrests.
On the banks of Murphy Creek, Lewis was anointed with oil; Neal made a tiny cross on his forehead, and welcomed all three newly baptized. He beseeched the Lord:
Give them an inquiring and discerning heart, the courage to will and to persevere, a spirit to know and to love, and the gift of joy and wonder in all your works.
However you feel about the particular deity, or deities in general, this is a darn good ask. May these three have occasion years hence to reflect on how they might let their lives speak the felt truth in their hearts.
The congregation then walked back through the field. May we find the opportunity to walk in goodness, refreshed as we are “by grace, relationship and resilience.”
A cup of water is the humblest of offerings. It is a hospitality motif dating back millennia. Water has revived the shipwrecked, the fugitive, the fleeing hero, the dispossessed. Roughly two thirds of the human body is water. We are drawn to the water, to see it, to hear the “Thundering Smoke,” to refresh and sustain ourselves in a most basic way.
May we become even more emboldened to hearken to the thirst of others. If anyone gives even a cup of cold water1 to a stranger, both taste joy here and now.
“And whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple, truly I tell you, he shall in no way lose his reward.” John 10:42 MEV The reward is not specified, but might have to do with the joy of being of service to others.