Sometimes the Catholic Church is so full-on bonkers that it makes me wonder why I still pay my subs. Take today, for example. The Saints Day of St Blaise. Now I won't pretend I didn't lift all this stuff from Wiki, other than getting the idea from our parish priest, but the long and the short of it was that today, I had my throat blessed.
Yes, St Blaise is the patron saint of throat sufferers. As it was recounted from the altar, St Blaise lived in fourth century Armenia, and his accredited miracle was saving the life of a boy who was unfortunate enough to do a Queen Mother special and get a fish bone lodged in his throat. Some time after that, St Blaise was martyred by being beaten, attacked with iron carding combs (yes, I had to look that up too) and beheaded.
After communion, those that wanted were invited up to the altar to receive the blessing of the throat. The blessing is performed by the priest crossing two unlit candles and invoking the spirit of St Blaise. The candles are significant in that today is the day after Candlemas (the presentation of JC at the temple)and it felt an almost pagan rite because of it, having the candles crossed under one's chin.
The incantation is 'May God at the intercession of Saint Blaise, bishop and martyr, preserve you from throat troubles and every other evil' to which the recipient answers 'Amen'.
Probably two thirds of the worshippers opted to receive the blessing, strangely including myself. Why? Why would a free-thinking theologian purely attached to the Catholic Church by birthright and convenience choose to opt in to this mumbo jumbo? Juju, I tell you. Three main reasons; firstly, I lost my dear friend Dudley to cancer of the oesophagus (lovers of hot drinks please note - the scalding of the throat is exceedingly bad for you), secondly because I have just such a scalded throat which recurs whenever I'm too keen to get hot grub or drink down my neck, and a poor third, poor as it is, I want to hang onto my singing voice.
This carry-on added fifteen minutes to proceedings, and so vexed the non-blessed organist that he cut us down to two verses of Ave Maria as the closing hymn.
Still, my throat feels very holy tonight.
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5 comments:
Gosh. Didn't know any of that! Unfortunately, despite sharing my B-day with St B's-day, and there having been plenty of candles around (quite a depressing number of them, actually), I have, during the course of this very day, *completely* lost my voice!! (Maybe has something to do with my being other-footed by birth, convenience, etc?) I'm speechless, anyway. For which my children are giving thanks!
Poor you! Sorry to strike a not-so-vocal chord on your sainted day, so I hereby invoke St Blaise to cross the sectarian divide and see that you rise tomorrow hale and voluble.
Having a decent slug of scotch and honey might help too?
Thank you. We'll see what happens. (Not that volubility is my customary Monday morning mode at the best of times.) But Laphroaig, lemon and Mersea honey it will be.
Seems to have worked!
Good to hear! Sorry for my latent concern, have been madly flying about the place, and early evening meeting yesterday of the Hull Corn & Feed Trade Association in beautiful Beverley, then the first Monday session in unlovely Hull.
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