Cathedrals, Water, Promise is the first in a series of essays on the Spirit of Water by the Water Stewards II. Published in the Marquette Monthly September, 2024.
– Jon Magnuson
Not long ago, I visited St. Louis for a work project. I arrived on a Sunday afternoon and checked into a small hotel near Washington University. Having the evening free of obligations, I decided to visit the city’s renowned Cathedral where a Mass was scheduled. I slipped into a back pew. During the ensuing liturgy and ancient ritual, folks from all walks of life proceeded up a marble aisle to receive a Sacrament of bread and wine. There were individuals who arrived in limousines, dressed in suits. Others came forward to the altar in unwashed tattered shirts and jeans. Children were there, immigrants from Mexico, the aged and infirm, and crowds of tourists. No tickets were required to enter that historic sanctuary filled with symbols of hope and promise. All were welcome.
Returning to my hotel room an hour or two later, I turned to the sink to find a sign that said: “Water is not safe to drink.” Near the faucet were two 10 oz bottles of water, each with a price tag of $2.50. A thought arose: What kind of society are we living in that clear, pure water is not available for all people, regardless of their ethnic background, age, or economic status? Why should not clean water, like religious sacraments that provide meaning of grace and blessing for many, be available to everyone?
Fresh water is an essential human concern. In Michigan’s Northern Great Lakes Basin, we are surrounded by lakes, rivers, ponds, and streams. Insuring clean, healthy drinking water is something we can do better. Even here.
In “Troubled Water: What’s wrong with What We Drink (2019), Seth Siegel, an attorney and journalist, provides a disturbing look at the state of municipal water systems and drinking water sources across North America. It’s a fascinating read. Lack of coordinated planning, inadequate testing, and an increasing profusion of toxic chemicals have resulted is a situation no one saw coming.
We most certainly have a beautiful environmental landscape here in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. We also have an opportunity to take a closer look at this gift and understand the challenges we face in building a deeper consciousness about our water systems and private drinking wells. We may, one day, be able to work together to make a bold claim: That although our rural populations in our Upper Peninsula may reflect the lowest household incomes in the state of Michigan, we have joined together with local governments and regional tribes to make sure we are among those who have the best drinking water in the United States. With healthier water and healthier communities, we will no longer need to buy water bottled in Atlanta or New Jersey.
The country of Sweden and California’s Orange County are examples of places that have done exactly that. Bottled water is regarded in those settings as inferior to what is available at any public tap. We can do this.
Pure water is not simply a necessity for life. It’s also a prism for helping us see the world in new ways. Over the next twelve months, the Marquette Monthly will be publishing columns written by physicians, Native Americans, researchers, poets and geologists, about how we can begin to work toward this goal.
Last winter a dream was shared with me from a participant in a dream series in which I participated. It had to do with water. One individual, a member and retired leader in her faith community, shared the following:
“I was standing in Lake Michigan. The water was very still. And clear. I saw the glistening of the pebbles and rocks by my feet. I felt overwhelmed by a sense of peace. Safety, beauty and peace.”
One of the other members of the dream circle remarked, “When rocks and pebbles are removed from the water, they lose their glistening shine. Is that your experience as well?”
The dreamer responded in the affirmative. So did the rest of us. Without exception. I’ve thought about that dream. How through quiet, pure water we are able to see the goodness of and beauty of everything. It’s a particular way of seeing. An invitation for us all.
Confidence in the sanctity of the very water that we choose to drink, its purity and reliability, provides a kind of doorway into the sacred, the transcendent. It’s a glistening promise of well-being for the planet and all our neighbors here in the Northern Great Lakes Basin.
Let’s begin by taking a bow of thanks to the important work of our public officials who monitor our water sources. Next, prepare to explore the condition of our local groundwater and treatment facility operations. Such a collective effort can bring together rich and poor, the immigrant, the indigenous, the young, the old. It will be a gift for the generations that follow us.
– Jon Magnuson
Jon is the Director of The Cedar Tree, a nonprofit organization in Northern Michigan that initiates projects and provides services in the areas of mental health, interfaith collaboration, and the environment.
