just watched and since there was no nitpick earlier… you have to have the right Saint’s cross (forget right now) to do this.
But you CAN make the rain holy with it, a useful feature of said artifact.
Nope. Actually, it’s a matter of presentation, for the viewing benefit of the congregation.
Not to be irreverent, but as with all other rituals, it’s essentially a performance, a show, and the audience expects certain things of it. One of those things is that the central item in the show not be displayed too soon in the show or neglected to be shown. This particular audience doesn’t consider the item to have been displayed if it’s not uncovered. That’s why we only remove the cloth from over the bread when we say the Sacrament prayer for the bread and then we cover the bread and uncover the water for its prayer. Leaving the waterpot lid on wouldn’t be uncovering that water.
It’s not so different from the way an Episcopal priest displays the communion cup to the congregation during the Eucharist service.
A real example of this, in a small church near Burgos there is a statue of Christ (a big, from-the-waist puppet) bearing a drawn wooden sword. This statue was used to knight… well, knights, as an indication that the rights and responsibilities of knighthood came not from any man but from God. The knight doing the knighting used a lever to bring the sword down on the former squire (hopefully, not too hard, as that puppet is a lot harder to control than a sword held in your own hand).
No, but it’s still a way to transmit the blessing from the priest to the parishioner without actually going up to him and saying “father, bless me.” In Spain we don’t cross ourselves with the water when exiting, do you in the US? The reason it isn’t done when you leave is, precisely, because you’ve just been blessed out loud.
hides from Nava after going on another round of religion bashing…
There’s too many durn religion threads recently.
I’m sure there must be references in there (not necessarily in Genesis) that say God made everything.
We do, but I can see your point.
All this time, I thought a clergyman made holy water by boiling the Hell out of it…
Watch the sweeping statements. Our Holy Water used to burn our eyes:
enter church, dip fingers, bless one’s self, get too much on the forehead and have it drip into your eyes as you finish and you realize it ain’t always straight water.
Did it hiss and make smoke? Do you have the same trouble trying to pick up a Bible? Does your head rotate 360 degrees? You might just be evil, that’s all I’m saying.
Spartydog writes:
I hadn’t heard that, but it wouldn’t surprise me. If there’s anyone who would water down the water, it was my church.
“Holy water” illustrates one of the prime features of religion that people generally miss.
It’s “holy water” not because anyone thinks there is something superstitiously different about it as a result of having been blessed [by God through the agency of the priest], but because it has been ceremonially set apart for the purpose of being used in a religious ritual – whether that be for baptizing someone, by sprinkling or by total immersion, for dipping ones fingers into and making the sign of the cross on oneself, for communicating Mormons in the sacrament (Mormons use water where other Christians use wine or grape juice), or for whatever purpose.
And ritual is for the benefit of human beings. For the religious, God is not limited in what He can do by ritualistic rules – He’s perfectly capable of doing something contrary to them, and often does [in, of course, the frame of reference that understands there to be a God active in the world and people doing things according to His rules]. Like hobbits, we humans enjoy re-enacting the familiar and stable. Ask any three-year-old why he or she enjoys having the same story read to him/her for the 47th time.
In the liturgical churches, baptism is the sacramental rite of initiation, the one through which God forgives sins and cleanses of sinful nature [or, actually, begins that process] and through which one “dies to sin and is raised to new life in Christ” and becomes part of His family the Church. (In Bibliocentric evangelicalism, it’s seen as an ordinance, not a sacrament – something done as a public mark of one’s commitment to Christ, not carrying any functional baggage but done because He ordained it as something properly to be done.) It’s important to note that sacraments are not seen as superstitious magic, but as God using the material world in which He has placed us as a method of bestowing His grace on us. He can and does work outside the sacraments; they are means whereby He can work through us, enabling us to be participants in His extending of grace to others. (All this is of course reported as tenets of sacramental theology, true within its frame of reference – the response to a hypothetical GQ question, “What do liturgical Christians believe goes on in a sacrament?” rather than an assertion of undebatable fact about the world.)
Just as my wife might tell me, “Don’t eat those four slices of bread I have set out on the counter; they’re for making stuffing for the turkey,” the ritual of blessing an object, e.g., a font of water, is ritualistic, just as Monty notes above, the setting apart of something for ritual use.
The piece of parchment enshrined at the National Archives that begins, “We the people…” is not in and of itself anything special: it owes its particular value to Americans in that it is the original Constitution, the physical representation of the compact by which we govern ourselves and protect each other’s rights as free people. Likewise, the water in a baptismal font, a Mormon Sacrament service, or those little sconces at the entries of Catholic churches, is not special in and of itself – but only because it’s been set apart ceremonially for use in religious ritual.
OMG! I am evil!
You know, all this holy water talk has made me think about my days as an ‘altar boy’ (ya know, in light of recent developments, that almost sounds perverse).
Anyway, our holy water – well, that water set aside for the little bowls in the church – was generally oily and salty. I called my best friend from my old neighborhood, and we talked about things like the sacaraium (sink that drained directly into the ground under the church) and all sorts of stuff.
Turns out we remembered a conversation we had with our local priest about the salty water. The short story is that salty versions were used because our priest didn’t want the wate to get ‘funky’, esp in a non A/C chruch. Yeah, there is some spiritual stuff about salts and what they do to cleanse, but our priest used to use the salty/oily stuff even when plain ol’ holy tap water was called for, because he had to dispose of some other funky holy water, which we poured down the sacrarium only to find out there was some serious debate about whether that was proper.
Turns out only the unused Eucharist and Wine were to be poured down the sacarium.
We were always reminded that despite all the rules, guidelines and aim towards some spiritual perfection, the church is run by people. We goof up, priests goof up and everyone adopts local ways and such. Oh well.
Hrm? The eucharist is saved for the next Mass, or eaten, and the wine is drunk after communion.
Actually, it’s a reminder that the overwhelming population of altar boys was not molested, and molestation was not the everyday occurrence it’s made out to be.
Maybe he was Episcopalian.
Except for the Catholic cite on the first page.
Yes, but the containers used for the Eucharist (the cups for the wine, and the trays or bowls for the bread) must be washed between uses. The water used for washing will have some trace of the Eucharistic elements in it, and must therefore receive special treatment: In this case, a special sink which drains directly into the Earth, and not into the sewer system, and which is to be used for no other purpose. Holy water, by contrast, can be disposed of in any convenient manner at all.
It depends on the power of the individual priest . . . not his heirarchical power received from the church itself, but through his individual command of the hold spirit. Sure, any priest can TRY to bless a swimming pool or a river, but if they aren’t powerful enough, only a very small percentage of the water will actually be blessed. The only way you can tell how holy the water ACTUALLY is post-blessing is by tasting it. Really holy water tastes very sulfuric and is quite disgusting. There was this really powerful priest in my parish who would stink up the joint by blessing all the water in the fountain in the back, it was like acid it was so holy. My dad would always dip his fingers in far enough to clean his wedding ring. They eventually had the deacon bless the all of the water instead, because this priest made such holy water, nobody wanted to be baptized since they thought the water would burn their baby’s scalp off, especially over their soft spots on their heads.
I believe Alan Smithee was making an oblique joke, regarding the word drunk. It’s a better joke, but more oblique than the “I’m Ecopalian” joke.
I was? 