Written by: Beatriz Teixeira
“On the last and greatest day of the festival, Jesus stood and said in a loud voice, ‘Let anyone who is thirsty come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as Scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them.’” John 7:37-38, NIV.
I was born in a region located in the Brazilian Atlantic Forest biome, in the state of São Paulo. I have lived there most of my life, and although São Paulo is probably most known for its industrialization, I have grown up loving its nature—the preserved parks, the beaches where the forest touches the sea, the mangroves, and even the green areas within the cities. The Atlantic Forest is abundant with water, and I have always felt connected to this element. Water is vital for any living being, and all mammals start life surrounded by water in the womb. Beyond that though, my feeling of connection to water — anterior and beyond awareness — has made many things in life more understandable to me, including within the Christian faith
That’s why the above passage of John’s gospel has stuck with me for years now. It somehow summarizes the relationship I believe Jesus establishes with us, God’s creatures. God is the one by whom we are sustained, through whom we live, dive in, and refresh ourselves, with whom we grow fruits, and by whom we enjoy life. And we who follow Jesus come to be channels of this living water, which I am going to discuss here.
I’m no biblical scholar, and I don’t mean to give a complete and exhaustive analysis of this text, but I do intend to tell how my experience of becoming an intersectional environmentalist and animal advocate have been shaped by my faith, hoping that it resonates with other people.
I believe personal identity is like a person’s relationship to water: we experience and grow into our identities even before we are aware of them or even before we can name who we are. Years before I formally learned that socio-economic class is an important distinction for life in a capitalist society, I was aware that I was privileged to have access to basic rights and necessities that others are not guaranteed—such as food, education, and a family that cared for me. Even before I knew the concepts of patriarchy or feminism, I felt wronged by how I was expected to behave as a girl—one who was assigned female at birth. All of these simple early perceptions—which came from my family, education, books, and experiences, and my early readings of the Gospels and other Christian ideas—gave me a strong sense of justice.
Also, I wondered what “having rivers of living water flowing from within me” should mean for bringing life to this world. And I’m not thinking about the birthing process. Rather, I mean daily acts that spread life-giving love, peace, and goodwill to humans, fellow creatures, and the earth. Considering the vital importance and multiple meanings of water, being a Christian should mean something more than caring for my own salvation or convincing other people to believe the same way I do.
Believing I’m a channel of living water has guided many of my life decisions and changes in my understanding. Although I have always questioned ideologies that are common in traditional Christian spaces in Brazil, it took time to recognize my place as a Christian who is also feminist, antiracist, antiableist, affirming, intersectional environmentalist, and most recently, advocate for animals farmed for food, just as it took time to recognize my identity and my personal relationship to these issues. Actually, I can say that the learning process is ongoing. The fact that we are creatures who live because of water, soil, non-human animals, and other natural elements, while we also impact nature is hidden and challenged by ways of life in capitalist societies.
An important moment in my journey was learning about the Black Lives Matter movement in 2020, after George Floyd’s murder. By that time, Leah Thomas, a Black environmentalist from the United States, had started the platform Intersectional Environmentalist to raise awareness of the intersections between Black racial identity and environmentalism. The platform and the concepts communicated there helped me start to further explore and study things about which I had only abstract or general perceptions. An important quote from Leah has stuck with me:
We can’t save the planet without uplifting the voice of its people, especially those most often unheard. We should care about the protection of people as much as we care about the protection of our planet—to me, these fights are the same. As a society, we often forget that humans are part of our global ecosystem and that we don’t exist separately from nature; we coexist with it each and every day.1
Leah Thomas is noting that the well-being of marginalized humans, like Black U.S. Americans, is often neglected in conversations about improving the well-being of natural environments and their non-human inhabitants. However, throughout my life, I absorbed the belief that human beings are more valuable than other animals and their habitats. For example, even with all of my just intentions and environmentalist inclinations, I have eaten animals, desired their flesh, and haven’t thought a lot about where my food came from or why I ate what I ate. Despite my desired connection to nature, when I thought about “having rivers of living water flowing from me,” I didn’t think that this water also flowed from non-human animals. My ideas of justice and love were very anthropocentric.
As I became more aware of environmental issues that directly impact food, I started thinking of going vegan, but I still had a speciesist view of non-human animals. I perceived humans as more valuable because of our cognitive capacities of creating cultures, civilizations, and art, and for being the stewards of creation. Even caring for non-human lives may be speciesist if we believe we have the ultimate power to condemn it or save it.
There’s a saying about women being like water, because we grow as we unite like streams and rivers grow as they reach the ocean. Well, I believe it’s true not only for women, but for all people who seek liberation for themselves and others. A river doesn’t end in itself, it’s part of a cycle and of a hydrographic basin. That’s why, since 2020, I have been progressively more involved in activism, and I have found wonderful groups of people with whom to fight for justice. However, it’s frequently difficult to find Christians who are committed to the issues I care about in my context. That’s why I decided to apply for the CreatureKind Fellowship Program. Although I still did not have a lot of connections with food issues, it seemed like a unique opportunity to learn with people who shared my faith and passions. And so it has been.
A few months ago, I decided to stop eating animals and go vegan. I’d like to share the living water with our fellow creatures rather than taking it from them. It has been a new challenge and a new way of putting my faith into practice, not only aligning my values to what I eat but also believing and acting for the liberation of non-human animals. Now, being Christian and an advocate for farmed animals also means practicing veganism by not consuming animal products and being politically engaged. More than the general challenges brought by a society with a strong animal product and dairy culture, it has also meant starting conversations with other Christians in my context who have never thought about these issues and are often resistant to discussing them. However, I consider that building communities is also part of my commitment as a Christian animal advocate. As Leah Thomas pointed out, the fights for people and the planet are the same, and I’d like to more explicitly add non-human animals to this scenario.
I believe diversity is present not only among non-human species and not only among human identities but all over the world, including in all the manifestations of water. I believe this living water is for every creature. I believe it may flow from all of us.