Blessings and More

Because The Villages, our community here in central Florida, is so very large and still expanding, our parish receives many new parishioners every month. Part of our welcoming process includes an offer to bless each family's new home. Many folks accept this offer.  

The Church actually has a specific rite for the blessing of a new home; indeed, it has rites for the blessing of people, homes, businesses, religious articles, vehicles, pets...you name it. And here in our parish, we permanent deacons are often called on to perform many of them...sort of a "Blessings are Us" kind of thing. 

October 4th is the feast day of St. Francis of Assisi, a saint who was particularly fond of all God's creatures. And so, on that morning, shortly after morning Mass, two of us, Deacon Greg and I, spent some time blessing a large gathering of family pets our parishioners had brought to the parish. We conducted the blessing rite outside, under a portico, so we would all remain dry in the event of rain. As it turned out the day was perfect. After the readings, prayers, and general blessing, we then blessed each animal individually, while sprinkling it with holy water. Given the circumstances, and the large number of animals, I'm amazed at how placid most of these wonderful creatures remained.    

As I recall, the animals that morning were all dogs and cats, nothing too odd or too wild, so this year was fairly normal. In the past I've been asked to bless snakes, tarantulas, lizards, and a few other of God's not very domestic critters. A few of our local farmers and ranchers have also asked me to bless cattle, goats, and horses. Yep, we do it all.

One of our parishioners, Maria, had asked if I would go to her house that morning and bless her two birds. She didn't want to take them to the parish blessing rite because it would probably upset them, being surrounded by dozens of noisy dogs and cats. Of course I agreed.

My experience with birds as pets is limited to a single bird. When I was a child, our family had a parakeet named Heinz, a clever little bird with a fondness for learning new words. Heinz had developed a close relationship with our female Weimaraner, Heidi. Heidi, a very tolerant dog, readily accepted her new flying friend. Heinz often landed on her back, then made his way across her head, and down to her nose. There he would stand, sometimes for ten or fifteen minutes, just looking at her. Heidi accepted all this and seemed to enjoy his walking on her back. Perhaps she appreciated the massage delivered by his little bird feet.

I won't go into the details of Heinz' sad and premature demise in which Heidi played no part. Although accidental and certainly unintentional, it was all my doing, a truth I have tried to repress for the past 70 years.

Anyway, when I arrived at Maria's home, she, her husband, and their little dog greeted me. I was then introduced to their two birds who were enjoying themselves out of their cages. Other than the limited knowledge I picked up from my childhood experience with Heinz, I know very little about tropical birds. Parrots, cockatiels, cockatoos, mynahs, and others are mysteries to me. They're very attractive birds, are long-lived, and seem quite intelligent. I'm also intrigued by their remarkable ability to imitate human speech and other sounds. 

I can't recall the names of Maria's two birds, although given the state of my aging brain, that's not unusual. But both birds, and the dog, seemed very interested in this man who had invaded their home, at least until I blessed them and sprinkled them with holy water. That led to some confusion. One bird, I believe it's a cockatoo (?), stood on my hand as I blessed it, and Maria captured the moment with her phone's camera. The bird, however, was eyeing my ear, so it was probably wise that I handed it back to Maria.

So, there you have a few hours in the life of a deacon, extending God's blessings to His people and His creatures. It's a small but enjoyable part of my ministry, and I'm always overwhelmed by the joy it brings to His people.