I COULD read it on their faces: utter incredulity and bewilderment. I had not expected this when, as CME director, I led a gaggle of 30 curates to the east bank of the River Jordan. The theme of their pilgrimage was “Developing Leadership”, and I used to be hoping to encourage them by the account in Joshua 3 of the priests courageously standing in dangerous waters, ahead of the people, as they bore the Ark of the Covenant across the treacherous currents. I believed it was a strong image of priests standing within the place of risk. But the curates were unimpressed, as they looked down on the muddy trickle of the Jordan. Treacherous waters?
Today, the waters of the lower Jordan are murky and sluggish. It’s a great distance from the cry of the psalmist, “Deep calls to deep on the thunder of your cataracts; all of your waves and your billows have gone over me” (Psalm 42). Since 1948, each Israel and the state of Jordan have diverted a staggering 96 per cent of the Jordan’s water after its outflow from the Sea of Galilee — for irrigation purposes. This has reduced a once mighty, fast-flowing river coursing down the rift valley to little greater than a grimy stream.
In addition, pollution has change into a major problem, as effluents seep into the river system, while pilgrims to the baptismal site see the uninviting sign “Danger! Mines!” Today, the dangerously contaminated river has change into too polluted for baptisms, and, in 2010, pilgrims were advised to not enter the water in any respect. Once-sacred waters have change into desecrated.
IF EVER we wanted a catalyst or impetus to do something in regards to the pollution of our rivers, at home or abroad, we’d look again on the baptism of Christ as celebrated within the Orthodox Church.
In the Orthodox tradition, one emphasis — rarely considered within the West — is paramount: in the approaching of Jesus to the Jordan, we see the entry of the divine Creator Word made flesh (John 1.18) into the very midst of creation, because the deep and powerful currents of the Jordan swirl around him.
The early church Fathers noted its significance. Cyril of Alexandria (376-444), in his commentary on Matthew 3, declares: “Christ was not baptised as one repenting but as one sanctifying the waters” (Fragment 29, Stromateis). Maximus of Turin (380-420), in his sermon for the Feast of the Epiphany, puts it: “Christ is baptised, to not be made holy by the water, but to make the water holy, and by his cleansing to purify the waters which he touched. The consecration of Christ involves consecration of the water. When the Saviour is washed, all water is made clean, purified at its source for the meting out of baptismal grace to the people of future ages.”
CHRIST, by his baptism, sanctifies this water and makes it the means, not only of our healing by partaking of it, but of the renewal of the creation. With the sanctification of water, all creation becomes good, pure again; it becomes what it first was, potentially returning to its first beauty. The Orthodox celebration of the baptism of Christ within the Feast of the Theophany isn’t any mere recalling of a historical event, but quite a celebration of present possibilities.
The celebration reaches its climax with the ceremony of the blessing of the waters, happening at an area river or around a font or bowl of water placed within the centre of the church constructing. Surrounded by candles and flowers, this water stands for the gorgeous world of God’s original creation and supreme glorification by Christ within the Kingdom of God, and this hymn is sung:
Let us the faithful praise the greatness of God’s plan for us.
For He Who alone is pure and undefiled
becomes human due to our transgressions . . .
within the Jordan, sanctifying each us and the waters,
crushing the heads of the dragons within the water.
Therefore, allow us to draw water in gladness,
for upon those that attract faith
the grace of the Spirit is invisibly bestowed by Christ God,
the Saviour of our souls.
As the priest casts a wood cross upon the waters, this great hymn by Sophronios, Patriarch of Jerusalem, is sung:
Today the character of the waters is sanctified:
The Jordan is parted in two.
It holds back the flow of its waters,
because it beholds the washing of the Master.
Today You appear to the universe,
Your Light, O Lord, shines upon us:
You come to disclose Yourself, Light Unapproachable!
This celebration uniquely draws us to a key meaning hidden within the event of the baptism of Christ within the Jordan. The entry of the Word into the centre of creation reconsecrates creation, and declares the natural world sacred, to be treated with reverence, since it is infused with the divine — indeed, it’s God-bearing, God-revealing, an epiphany, theophany, making of the earth a veritable sacrament. It invites all of the baptised to work in a synergy with the divine as participants in the brand new creation — themselves, just like the earth, Christ-bearers and God-bearers.
AT THE UN COP27 in November 2022, the Israeli and Jordanian governments signed a declaration of intent to partner within the ecological restoration and sustainable development of the River Jordan. There is a glimmer of hope for the environmental renewal of the Jordan.
Meanwhile, as we rejoice the baptism of Christ, allow us to reverence the physicality of the Jordan and of all rivers, campaigning and dealing for his or her restoration, by word and deed, to play our part within the groundswell of motion to revive our wounded planet. And allow us to enjoyment of the spirituality of rivers, a primal sign of God’s windfall and renewal.
“For with You is the fountain of life; in your light we see light” (Psalm 26.9).
The Revd Dr Andrew D. Mayes was formerly course director of St George’s College, Jerusalem, and spirituality adviser to the diocese of Cyprus & the Gulf.
This is an edited expanded extract from Unlocking the Fountains: Inspiration and challenge from biblical rivers and is derived, published by Wipf & Stock at £18 (Church Times Bookshop £16.20); 979-8-3852-6222-9.
