Water in Faith and Art
Water As Part of Faith and the Arts
Julliete de Sombre walked through the giant wooden and iron doors of the Abbey of Saint-Étienne. Holding her newborn son, named after his father Richard, she looked around in awe at the majesty of this beautiful Cathedral, the first this large in Caen. She nervously took her place with her family while the priest, Père Guillaume, talked quietly with the sisters of the Abbey. Not long after, she watched with joy in her heart as the padre blessed the child as part of his first Sacrament. “Ego te baptizo in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti” (“I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit”). The infant Richard fussed, as the blessed water was gently poured over his dark locks. As the congregants laughed and clapped at the joyous occasion, Julliete looked up at the cross and spoke a silent prayer for her husband, that he may come home safe from the fighting in a far and distant land.
Far off, in the desert outside Acre, a mother wailed, as her only son was put to rest. Yusuf ibn Ahmad was only 20, struck down by the enemy in fighting outside their town. His mortal wounds were tended, then his body cleaned with water from the town well. The gentle but thorough washing of the young man was solemnly performed three times by his fellow soldiers – the ritual of ghusl. Even in death Yusuf seemed to have that impish smirk that made him so popular with all he met, and his friend Ibrahim openly wept as he covered the natural grin with the simple white wrap given to them by a merchant, his shop now all but destroyed in the fighting. From head to toe was the shroud – the ritual of kafan. The group of soldiers, and the imam, or priest, gently caried Yusuf to a prepared spot in the ground, rested him in the ground, facing Mecca, and with the backdrop of friends and family paying and weeping, filled the grave.
Half a world away, Aiko knelt before her low wooden table, set the small inkstone before her and cautiously poured a few drops of water onto its surface. With practiced hands she pressed the sumi inkstick in slow, deliberate circles, coaxing out the deep black that would form the bonsai’s trunk. Beside her, a porcelain dish held a pinch of ground malachite, shimmering green as spring, ready to capture the living greens of the garden. Another bowl cradled the powdered azurite, blue as the sky after rain, while a third offered the warm iron earth that would become the soil beneath the roots of her bonsai in the painting she had yet to put from mind to parchment. Carefully, she added water to each of the small bowls, each filled with pigment, and with slow deliberate movements, mixed each until they became one with the water. She chose a bowl, dipped her brush, each stroke a blend of discipline and care, and on the sheet of washi the tree took form — roots, trunk, branches and leaves, reaching outward, alive in colour. Though still a young woman, the art she made was more than pastime; it was harmony with the world, a noble act of seeing and rendering. From the doorway, her father Lord Fujiwara Takamichi’s and his wife, Lady Tomoe quietly watched in pride as their daughter created another magnificent piece for their shogun’s collection.
Across these moments—baptism in a Norman cathedral, burial after a desert battle, and artistry in a Japanese garden—water emerges as a universal thread. Water flows through the heart of human expression, weaving together faith and art. It’s not only ingrained in culture or time, it wraps itself around the human experience, through the ages. In faith, it represents purification, both as we come into this world, and also as we leave it. Water is also part of the medium of artistic creation, allowing the imaginations of artists young and old to make manifest their visions. Whether the solemn rites of faith or the delicate strokes of a painter’s brush, water ties together our deepest beliefs and most profound creations.
Resources
1.) Baptism In Early Christianity
2.) Ghusl
