So, earlier this morning we stood in our pews and waited for the holy water to be dispensed (vigorously shook out) from the aspergillum and land on our palm fronds. This year, the whole ritual went without much glitch. A few years ago, too vigorous shaking sent the end of the aspergillus flying toward an unsuspecting church-goer, who really tried his best not to panic and maintain a calm, contemplative dignity as demanded by such a solemn procession.
“Our church isn’t a very big one, right,” a friend said as we sat under a sawo kecik tree after the mass. “So, I guess it wouldn’t be hard to shake an aspergillus about. But I wonder how strong a shake should be done in Vatican… I mean, it’s a large place.”
But obviously not one of us have been to Vatican or have seen a Palm Sunday service in the St. Peter’s. So, there were much shrugging and shaking of heads. And there was a short period of silence.
“Maybe they used a holy waterhose, or a holy watercannon,” a helpful friend piped up to break the silence.
Until now, I can’t quite reconcile the image of a priest walking around blessing coils of waterhoses or lines of watercannons placed strategically around Vatican.
Or the fact that one video-gaming nut friend pondered how a Holy Waterhose could be, “a name of a secret and very powerful weapon alongside the Holy Sword or the Holy Polearm…” you know, like Castlevania or Final Fantasy of sorts.
I hope that the Big Guy upstairs is in one of His forgiving mood and decided that I would not be spared and not smitten by a bolt of lightning where I stand.
