Article
Belief
Care
Creed
4 min read

Understand what we thirst for

Whether for water or meaning, it’s a primal force.

Helen is a registered nurse and freelance writer, writing for audiences ranging from the general public to practitioners and scientists.

A child wearing a wool hat holds a glass and drink water from it.
Johnny McClung on Unsplash

Quenching thirst is a global problem. It can also be profoundly personal, impaired by illness. For nurses, it can be ethically and emotionally difficult, when treating dying patients. But is there ultimate relief? 

Thirst is the subjective sensation of a desire to drink something that cannot be ignored. The world is thirsty; globally, 703 million people lack access to clean water. That’s 1 in 10 people on the planet. 

Thirst is a life-saving warning system that tells your body to seek satisfaction through swallowing fluid. It works in partnership with other body processes - such as changes in blood pressure, heart rate and kidney function - to restore fluid, and salt, levels back to where they belong. Failure of any part of this beautifully balanced system leads to dehydration (or water intoxication), and perhaps to seizures, swelling of the brain, kidney failure, shock, coma and even death. 

Sometimes it’s difficult to quench thirst, because of problems with supply. According to the World Health Organization, at least 1.7 billion people used a drinking water source contaminated with faeces in 2022. Sometimes in war, water is weaponised, with systematic destruction of water sources and pipes. Water laced with rat fur, arsenic and copper has meanwhile been reported in prisons across the USA.  

At other times, there may be “water everywhere, but not a drop to drink” because of individual problems with swallowing. As a nurse, some of my most heartbreaking moments have been when I have been unable to fulfil a need as basic as a patient’s thirst; when even thickened fluids have led to intense coughing and distress, and a realisation that I can only moisten mouths and give so-called “taste for pleasure”: very small amounts of a favourite liquid or taste using a soft toothbrush, or a circular brush gently sweeping around the mouth and lips to release some of the liquid - even, and especially, at the end of life when the patient is unconscious. 

Difficulties in drinking are common in dementia when fluid can seem foreign and swallowing a surprise to the system. It’s thought that over 50 per cent of people in care homes have an impaired ability to eat or drink safely; 30 to 60 per cent  of people who have had a stroke and 50 per cent of those living with Parkinson’s may struggle to swallow. 

Other conditions that may affect swallowing include multiple sclerosis, cerebral palsy, and head and neck cancers. Diabetes is characterised by a raging thirst owing to problems with insulin (diabetes mellitus) or an imbalance in antidiuretic hormone levels (diabetes insipidus). In intensive care, patients are predisposed to thirst through mechanical ventilation, receiving nothing by mouth, and as a side effect of some medications. But thirst is a “neglected area” in healthcare, writes palliative care researcher Dr Maria Friedrichsen.  

“Knowledge of thirst and thirst relief are not expressed, seldom discussed, there are no policy documents nor is thirst documented in the patient’s record. There is a need for nurses to take the lead in changing nursing practice regarding thirst.” 

Is there another thirst that is also being missed in nursing, and in life in general – a spiritual thirst, beyond the physical desire to drink? In his book, Living in Wonder, writer Rod Dreher argues that humans are made to be spiritual, and that a critical sixth sense has been lost in a “society so hooked on science and reason”. We humans crave love in our deepest selves; we have an insatiable thirst for everything which lies within – and beyond – ourselves. Auschwitz survivor Viktor Frankl, who was later appointed professor of psychiatry at the University of Vienna, became convinced that human beings have a basic “will for meaning.” “The striving to find a meaning in one’s life,” he wrote, “is the primary motivational force in man.”  

In the harsh sun of a Middle East day, an ancient story of a man and a woman encountering each other at a water well illustrates this dual thirst for water and meaning. The man, Jesus, thankful for a drink of water given to him at the well by an outcast Samaritan woman, said that “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” In that midday sun, such imagery made a powerful statement.  

Being mindful of spiritual thirst when drinking water is something also captured in a Ghanaian proverb and pictured perfectly in the many birds that drink by gravity, so tipping their heads back when they swallow.  

“Even the chicken, when it drinks, 

Lifts its head to heaven to thank God for the water”. 

Unsatisfied thirst is part of the human condition, we long for something more; it’s living proof of our immortality, says French poet Charles Baudelaire. Despite his Olympic success, athlete Adam Peaty said that society didn’t have the answers he was seeking, and that a gold medal was the coldest thing to wear. He “discovered something that was missing” when attending church for the first time, and now has a cross with the words “Into the Light” tattooed across his abdomen, symbolizing his spiritual awakening. We are more than mechanical machines with physical needs. We are rather gardens to tend in a dry and thirsty land, with souls in need of intensive care.   

Explainer
Creed
Easter
Resurrection
5 min read

Beyond immortality there’s restoration

The resurrection strikes at the heart of the cold reality of the human condition.

Barnabas Aspray is Assistant Professor of Systematic Theology at St Mary’s Seminary and University.

A fine art painting depicts a risen Jesus hold a flag in one hand and raising his other hand above his head, against a dark background
Caravaggio's The Resurrection, detail.
Art Institute of Chicago, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

No one on the planet can pretend not to care about death or about a way to overcome it. The heart of the Christian message is that death has been overcome. This isn’t just about immortality. It’s about Resurrection: the triumph of life over death. If we want to see why that matters we need first to face the reality of death squarely and without flinching. The best person to help us do that is Martin Heidegger.  

It is unfortunate that one of the most influential philosophers of the twentieth century is also among the hardest to understand. There are even philosophy professors who avoid Heidegger’s work and refuse to talk about it (his associations with Nazism and antisemitism don’t help either). Yet for all that, his fame and influence continue unabated. Why? Perhaps it is due to the bold way he points to realities at the heart of the human condition. Realities like death.  

Nobody can avoid death. No matter how rich, healthy, successful, or famous you are, death comes to you as it came to everyone before you. 

If you dare to open Heidegger’s most renowned work, Being and Time, you will find a description of human existence as being-towards-death. What on earth does that mean? It starts with Heidegger’s claim that time is part of our very essence. We are time-bound beings. And the way in which we are time-bound has a direction: the future. Anxiety about the future constitutes our existence. We never stop being anxious: about where our lives are going, whether we will achieve our goals and dreams, whether our loved ones will be safe and happy, even (for some) whether we will survive another day. Only the most downtrodden and dehumanised in society have lost this forward-looking drive. The rest of us live most of our lives in our own projected future. Earning money, getting engaged, buying a house, getting a secure job, raising children: almost everything we do is future-oriented. 

Yet our ultimate future faces us all as a horrifying reality we can’t avoid, that we spend most of our lives trying to ignore. We are all going to die. 

Nobody can avoid death. No matter how rich, healthy, successful, or famous you are, death comes to you as it came to everyone before you. The greatest emperors, the wealthiest entrepreneurs, and the most famous superstars in literature, music or art have no advantage over the lowliest peasant. Death is the great leveller. And what of all that achievement then? What does it mean?  

Death puts an end not only to ‘worldly’ ambitions like the above, but also to more meaningful pursuits like love, family, and relationships. Whoever you love will die too. This was the terrible truth that the Russian novelist Leo Tolstoy learnt. After decades of promoting family as the true meaning of life, he realised that he was simply passing the buck to the next generation. Unless each individual life had its own meaning, he had nothing to offer his children: like him they would end their lives six feet under the ground. He could neither stop them from dying nor give them a meaning to their lives that outlasted their death. 

Heidegger said we should spend more time in graveyards. He believed that facing the inevitability of our death would make us live more authentic lives. No doubt he was right. But wouldn’t something else change how you lived your life? Namely, if you believed death was not the end? 

There’s a point being made here that goes far beyond immortality: it is about the restoration of life by the author of life who defeated death. 

The Christian tradition is founded on an event with a unique promise. Christians claim that Jesus defeated death by dying and rising again. This means that even though we still die we will one day rise with him and never die again. There is no greater hope on offer. Nothing could be more relevant, more urgent, more meaningful than this central Christian claim. It is equally relevant to someone gasping for breath on a sinking ship and to someone bursting with health in the prime of life.  

If Heidegger is right, the Christian message strikes at the heart of the most horrifying and cold reality of the human condition. The event of the Resurrection has the power to transform every anxious future-oriented human being facing their inevitable death. The reality is cold and horrifying no more. Jesus’ death broke the curse of death and robbed it of its power. If we follow him in dying, we will also follow him in rising. Just as Jesus rose again (and because Jesus rose again), we will rise again one day and death will be no more. 

But is the Christian claim really unique? Don’t other religions believe in life after death? 

Not like this. Not bodily resurrection. We must not confuse the Christian claim with a general belief in immortality, though that is an essential part of it. Other religions hold that our souls continue after death. Some teach reincarnation, an endless cycle of birth and death. But there’s something more to the Christian claim. The Gospel accounts tell that Jesus died and was buried in a tomb. If all Jesus wanted to prove was that the spirit outlives the body, then his body could have remained in the tomb. No big deal: it’s just a dead body. His ghost could have still wandered around and appeared to people. 

All four Gospel accounts begin their scandalous news with the inability to find Jesus’ dead body. Three days after he dies, the women go to his tomb, and the tomb is empty. When the risen Jesus appears to the disciples, he takes pains to prove he is not a ghost. He invites them to touch him. He eats breakfast with them. He walks among them as flesh-and-blood. There’s a point being made here that goes far beyond immortality: it is about the restoration of life by the author of life who defeated death. 

That’s why the Christian teaching on immortality is unique: because immortality is just the beginning. It’s about far more than that. It’s about restoration to life in the world God made: the bodily world in which we live. God created it. He doesn’t want us to leave it after we die. He wants us still to live in it. Jesus’ death empowered us so that we can live in it forever.