Water Blessing

DATELINE: July 26, 2013
Patricia E Lyon

Certain members of our group have gone beyond the restaurant level of crossing cultural barriers. We have left the familiarity and comfort of Methodism and delved into the world of Buddhism. We make comparative analysis of the stories of Buddha and Jesus. We participate in worship with our friends as we would do at home during Lent for pulpit exchange and soup suppers. Perhaps today's leap of faith was a longer leap.

And now I am retired so I have to not work so hard at being careful about what you might think or whom you may tell. And so, dear reader, here is a story I have reserved in the past for very trusted friends who would know me well enough to know I am not going off the deep end.

I prepared by wearing clothes that were not clingy or would take a long time to dry. I removed jewelry and did not take a purse. Only small travel bag for a little money. Prem would take us. At the last minute, Sky asked his boss if he could join us. We stopped at a small store that sells things for Water Blessings. Things Monks like in the monastery. Canned milk, candles, things I cannot remember, and a pack of cigarets. (Which I do remember) Into the bag we put also our offerings. The money is used for the monastery and also for building roads and community projects that help the poor.

We respectfully entered the monastery and I carefully copied what my friends are doing. With heads down, we put our hands on a basket that held the offering. The monk was an older man who survived the Khmer Rouge death camps. His eyes were warm and intelligent. He was covered in orange robes. Sitting at his side were two boys that reminded me of altar boys. Under the platform where the monk was seated, a dog lay peacefully asleep. An orange young tabby cat who looked better fed, tip-toed along a rack of freshly washed dishes.

We were directed to a set of stairs next to an orange rain barrel. Sky stripped down to his skivvies because he had to go back to work. In the car, I was thinking phrases like "cleansed by the blood of the lamb". Like "wash me whiter than snow." Like "create in me a clean heart, O God". Like "cleanse me from all unrighteousness." I was saying "create"...when we were asked to take three sips of water from an aluminum bowl with candle wax floating in it. I smelled incense. I could not see the monk, but I knew was behind us. I was shoulder to shoulder with friends. I knew this was between us and a Greater Power but also there was a power between us. I knew I should not drink the water, but like many missionaries before me, I did.

Then as I returned to the prayer, I was hit by the first splash of water and my shudder came out loud. The next splashes fell more gently. I was aware of the prayers behind me. Then we went back to the altar for closing prayer. As I rose to leave, I noticed a cigaret in the corner of the monk's mouth. On the way home, a friend recalled the cigaret and told us it was something rolled into a piece of notebook paper.

Perhaps in all of today's experience of crossing over into another culture, the cigaret was the most difficult to embrace.

Should we allow a cigaret to prevent us receiving a blessing...from any Holy moment?

Deanna had tea waiting for me when I got back to the hotel. It included Schwepp's Tonic water, Ritz crackers and Gouda. I was back in the safety of a non-smoking zone.

I took an anti-diahrrea, a Peptol Bismol and a Cipro to cover my tracks.