Water for Life
Address by the Secretary General of the Middle East Council of Churches
Professor Michel Abs
at the Celebration of the Season of Creation
Sunday, September 6, 2026
National Evangelical Church of Beirut
Professor Michel Abs
The Secretary General of the Middle East Council of Churches (MECC)
Your Eminences and Reverend Fathers,
Your Eminences and distinguished religious leaders,
Dear sisters and brothers,
We gather today at the National Evangelical Church of Beirut to inaugurate together the Season of Creation, this time during which the Church invites us to reconsider our relationship with creation—not merely as the material setting in which we live, but as a gift from God and a trust placed in our hands by the Creator, so that we may use it wisely, preserve it, and pass it on to generations yet unborn.
At the heart of our reflection this year stands water—that substance which appears so simple, yet is so profound in meaning, and without which life cannot exist.
But before speaking about water, we must stand in reverence before the majesty of the Creator and the greatness of the very act of creation. Creation is not merely the shaping of what already exists. In the understanding of faith, it is the passage from nothingness into existence. That something should exist where previously there was nothing, and that life, order, beauty, and diversity should emerge, is a mystery beyond the human capacity fully to comprehend or grasp. When we contemplate creation, from the smallest cell to the vastest ocean, we are not simply contemplating silent matter; we stand before the traces of a divine act that brought existence out of nothingness and endowed life with the capacity to continue and renew itself.
Within this created existence, water occupies an indispensable place. The human body itself consists largely of water. Water is essential to the functioning of our cells, blood, tissues, and organs, to the regulation of body temperature, and to the transportation of the elements necessary for life. Human beings can live without many things, but they cannot live without water. Our relationship with water therefore begins with the most basic biological truth: water is a condition of our individual existence and of the continuation of our lives.
Yet its importance extends far beyond the human body. Water is fundamental to agriculture, food, health, industry, energy, and the stability of populations. Civilizations arose around rivers; villages and cities developed near springs; agriculture flourished through water, and societies were organized around its availability. Water security is therefore also social and economic security. When water becomes scarce or is poorly managed, the consequences are not confined to agricultural fields; they reach food security, health, employment, migration, and social stability.
Water is the foundation of every living thing.
And here we encounter one of the painful paradoxes of human history. Water, which the Creator gave for life, has sometimes been transformed by human beings into a cause of conflict and war and into an instrument of control and pressure. Control over rivers, springs, dams, and water resources has become part of conflicts between states and communities. What should have been a field for cooperation and the sharing of life has, in many instances, become an instrument of power and monopoly.
This paradox places a profound moral responsibility before us. Water is not an ordinary commodity, nor is it a resource that may be governed solely by the logic of power. It is a fundamental human need and a gift over which no generation can claim absolute ownership. We use water, but we are not its sole owners. We have a right to it; others have a right to it; and generations yet unborn have a right to it as well.
Hence the necessity of using water wisely and refusing to waste it. Every drop of water that we carelessly waste is not merely a material loss; it is an expression of a distorted relationship with creation. We must reconsider our patterns of consumption, the management of drinking water, irrigation and wastewater, and the protection of rivers, springs, and groundwater from pollution and depletion. Respect for water begins with individual behavior, but it also requires just public policies, sound governance, and cooperation among communities and nations.
Yet, in the Christian faith, water goes beyond biological necessity, economic resource, or human right. It enters into the very heart of the language of salvation. The water that sustains the body becomes, in Holy Scripture, a sign of the life granted by God; the water that washes the body becomes a symbol of inner purification; and the water that quenches the thirst of the dry earth becomes an image of the grace that quenches humanity’s thirst for God. Thus, in the biblical vision, water moves from the realm of creation to that of covenant, and from being a necessity for sustaining natural life to becoming a sign that carries the meaning of new life.
From the opening chapters of Genesis, water is present in the account of creation, and throughout the Bible it accompanies humanity’s journey with God: the waters of the Flood, the crossing of the sea, the water flowing from the rock, and the rivers and springs that symbolize blessing and life.
In the Gospel, this meaning becomes even clearer. At Jacob’s Well, Jesus Christ speaks to the Samaritan woman of “living water,” revealing that the deepest thirst of the human person cannot be quenched by water alone, but by an encounter with God. At Cana of Galilee, He transforms water into wine. He washes the feet of His disciples with water in an act that unites purity, humility, and service. And from His pierced side on the Cross flowed blood and water, an image that has carried profound spiritual meanings throughout the Christian tradition.
From here, we naturally arrive at the event that gives water one of its deepest meanings in the Christian faith: the Baptism of Jesus Christ in the Jordan River.
The water created by God to sustain life, and the water that accompanied the history of salvation, becomes in the Jordan the setting for a divine manifestation and a new beginning. At Al-Maghtas, the site traditionally associated with the Baptism of Christ, Jesus entered the waters of the Jordan—not because He was in need of purification, but to enter into the depths of the human experience and to give water a new dimension. There, water became explicitly associated with renewal, vocation, and the beginning of His ministry.
Baptism, therefore, is not a subject separate from our reflection on creation; it lies at its very heart. The water through which natural life begins becomes, in Baptism, a sign of the beginning of a new spiritual life. What is an element of creation becomes, in the sacrament, a means through which grace is expressed. In Baptism, the human person descends into the water and symbolically emerges renewed, leaving behind the old self and moving toward a new life in Christ.
This meaning places before us a spiritual responsibility no less important than our environmental responsibility. If we regard water as sacred in the act of Baptism, how can we accept the pollution of rivers, seas, and springs? If we see in water a sign of new life, how can we waste it, deprive the poor of it, or transform it into an instrument of pressure and domination? The sacredness of water in worship must find its continuation in our respect for water in everyday life.
Today, in 2026, we stand four years away from 2030, a milestone that brings us close to two thousand years since the period traditionally associated with the Baptism of Jesus Christ and the beginning of His public ministry. This occasion, notwithstanding the questions surrounding precise historical dating, can become a major ecumenical, spiritual, and humanitarian milestone through which the Churches rediscover the meaning of Baptism, water, and life, while calling the world to respect this gift without which no human being can live.
Commemorating the Baptism of Christ nearly two thousand years later should not be limited to celebrating a historical event. It should lead us to ask a question about our own present: What have we done with the waters that the Creator placed in our hands? Have we preserved them or polluted them? Have we shared them justly or monopolized them? Have we safeguarded them for future generations, or have we consumed what rightfully belongs to them?
Protecting water is an integral part of safeguarding the Creator’s trust. We were not given the Earth in order to consume it to the point of exhaustion, but to care for it. Nor were we given its resources so that a single generation might deplete them, but so that we might preserve their capacity to sustain life after us.
As we inaugurate the Season of Creation, let us make water a measure of the authenticity of our relationship with the Creator, with creation, and with one another. Let us protect it from pollution and waste. Let us reject its transformation into an instrument of coercion and conflict, and let us work to ensure that it remains justly accessible to every human being.
To preserve water is to preserve life, and to care for it is part of our faithfulness to the trust of the Creator, so that we may pass it on to future generations as we received it—and, indeed, in a better condition than we received it.
Water is a gift, and a gift calls for gratitude.
Water is life, and life calls for protection.
Water is a sign of renewal, and renewal calls for faithfulness.
Water is a trust from the Creator, and a trust calls us to preserve it for those who will come after us.
To preserve water is itself an act of thanksgiving to the Creator, and through thanksgiving, blessings endure.