The Blessing of Schools

First of all, let me say that the following is based strictly on observation. It is neither my opinion nor fact unless specifically identified as such. Second, I have been working on this post for weeks. The reason for its delay has been my inability to carefully weave an informative yet apolitical essay on a matter that involves the interaction between religion and government. After many attempts and several stressful paragraphs, I've decided to cut the informative yet potentially explosive preface and just explain the story. The links used in that prefaces, should you desire to imagine the potential controversy, are: Here, here, here, here, here, and here.

OK, let's see what I can do about a simply retelling. Ready?

A few weeks ago, following several tragedies involving students from my school during the winter holiday, an event occurred at my school which I'm sure most Americans (of the US variety) have never experienced. The school was blessed. Given the fact that the vast majority of Americans are Christian, in one form or another, this probably didn't bother most volunteers. However, I know that a significant portion of volunteers (as with Americans, in general) are non-Christian or even non-religious, and their experiences with such an event are probably beyond my imagining. I suppose I fall into the 'Christian, in one form or another' category, although primarily on grounds of theology, not practice. So for me, the event was intriguing, culturally educational, and even touching.

The school day began as normal. After the second or third lesson, all of the students at school convened in the foyer and milled around, chattering, while the priest prepared the ceremony, the three or four choir singers discussed something inaudible, and the teachers passed out thin, yellow candles to the students. Just before the ceremony began, one of the teachers noticed the absence of a candle in my hand, and (after confirming whether I wanted one) quickly found an extra for me. The ceremony was relatively brief, with the priest singing some beautiful prayers and the whole crowd repeated making the sign of the cross with dizzying speed and synchronicity.

At one point, a list of names was read, which I deduced to be the names of people specifically being blessed, of which my own name was one. Shortly thereafter, having finished the initial batch of prayers, the priest walked around in the crowd, flinging holy water onto the students and teachers using a bouquet of fresh basil. It should be noted that basil is only used for religious ceremony, here; despite it's delicious effect on food, adherents to Serbian, Macedonian, and Romanian Orthodoxy abstain from using basil as an ingredient.

Once the students had been blessed, they returned to their classrooms and continued with the daily lessons. But the ceremony wasn't quite over. Back in my English class, I explained that this was the first such event I had ever experienced. Then I asked them, "Why do you think that is?" Some of the students suggested it was because we don't have Orthodoxy in the States, which is a good guess. When I explained that such events would be considered illegal in schools in the USA, most of the students seemed very surprised. It stimulated a lot of interest in hearing about why government in the States is (supposed to be) secular -- where the idea comes from, and why such separation of church and state is so important for such a culturally (and religiously) diverse place as the USA.

About ten minutes into this discussion, the school blessing ceremony caught up to us. While we were discussing why religion is necessarily absent from public schools in the States, the priest and his choir were walking from room to room in the school, blessing all four walls and singing further prayer. The priest entered our classroom, threw water on each wall (and on any students or teachers in between), said another prayer (accompanied by the choir, in the hall), and then moved on to the next room. The ceremony wasn't very well explained to me, but it left me feeling honored to be included in such an event. It also left me with a feeling of curiosity and intrigue, which I hope to answer with discussions with the priest and other members of the community.