"O Heavenly Father, of whom the whole family in heaven and earth are named: Be present in this house, that all who live here, being kindly affectioned one to another, may find it a haven of blessing and of peace."
-Book of Occasional Services
So, how does one exorcise the demon-haunted space of 407 after the hurricane? It helps to have a good friend who's a priest, and who has a wife willing to play along.
Peg's not been sleeping well at the condo these days. Maybe it's the years of 5:30 wakeups that are throwing her off. But in her mind, it was all the bad juju this place had accumulated for years before the storm blew out the windows and coated the inside of the unit with potting soil.
So she reached out to our friend, who said he'd be happy to don a stole, dig out the old aspergillum and give the place a fresh coat of spiritual paint. Peg promised heavy hors d'oeuvres and a nice bottle of Amarone. Everyone wins.
I actually blessed a home years ago, when I was allowed out in public wearing a stole, a place that also bubbled with bad karma from some terrible and poignant days, and their aftermath. Whatever lurked there before seems to have moved on since my admonition from the divine. It's become our laughing place.
For those of you not of the Anglican tradition, the blessing of a home is a short liturgy in the Book of Occasional Services, the church's guide to what we should say together at events as varied as adopting a child and breaking ground on a new church sanctuary. Sometimes there's something to be said for having a script, for ritual and a sense that a cloud of witnesses going back two millennia stand with you as you utter the words. This was a happy occasion, but you really come to appreciate the ritual guidance when you're trying to find what to say at a friend's child's funeral, or some other overwhelming moment.
So we gathered at the front door, P reading the antiphon and me the prayer as we processed from room to room, our friend sprinkling holy water from his aspergillum on us and our furniture and fixtures.
I'm guessing you've never seen an aspergillum. Here's an example.
Of course, that's a pretty fancy example. The one we used was a gift from way back, all of us there in the room having had a couple decades together.
And last night Peg slept like a rock. I did a little better, as well. Was it the permeation of the space with the holy, the transformation of that beautiful sky and sun setting across the bay into something liminal again? Or was it the amazing Greek mezze (tapas in that part of the world) Peg prepared for all of us afterward, washed down with a little ouzo? Maybe a little of both. Either way we woke up in a better place today. Whatever taunted us from the master bedroom chandelier seems to have moved on to someone else's condo.
And this morning looked like a pastel oil painting, ever changing right outside our bedroom door.
Now to make a little coin before we wander our way back to Wyldswood for a quick night or two in another blessed space.
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